The Shoot Is On - Part 7 (Commission for VDO)

TAGS: Pokémon, Hyper/Mega Hyper, Macro/Mega Macro/Planet Macro/Universe Macro, Growth/Expansion, Milk/Lactation, Ascension/Goddess

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He was a creature of contrasts. Being twenty feet tall wasn’t the worst of it; there were plenty of people of that height or even taller, leaving him very firmly in “merely above average” territory if one were to go purely by that qualifier; even when considering his bust, the yeen wasn’t anything that special, since after all, there were plenty of hypers running around whose tits were twice the size of their head and constantly leaking with milk. Perhaps in another life, if he had been born in a time where genetic manipulation wasn’t as widespread as it was, Fenrir might’ve been considered enormous, gigantic even, but with the amount of alterations wrought to entire populations, it was perfectly normal for individuals to be completely “natural” and still end up with sizes and proportions far beyond what used to be considered normal. And indeed, if it were just that, the Mightyena would have no trouble blending into regular society, maybe getting a job and striking out a life on his own; he’d get his own place, preferably a tiny little studio apartment somewhere near the top layers of a residential arcology, and spend a significant chunk of his free time learning how to cook something more than just the basics. Hell, if he was feeling particularly frisky, the yeen might very well even try to use his own milk when baking confectionery, an idea that occasionally left him feeling incredibly blushy and embarrassed… whenever he could formulate it for more than just a split second. For he was a creature of contrasts, and if his top half and general height played the line between the normal and the fantastical, then his bottom half not only smashed through said line, it kept going until it circled the planet, crossed through it again, repeated the gesture about a dozen or so times, then promptly reached escape velocity and flew off into the heavens, where Fenrir now resided.

It was impossible for him to ever be on a planet anymore, regardless of how large it might be; even gas giants were simply not big enough to handle him, at least in any convenient fashion, leaving the poor guy to float in an orbit around his homeworld’s star while surrounded by so many dimensional stabilizers that he alone was responsible for about a quarter of all expenditures of the known universe. In a way, it looked as if his upper body had been plucked from a pair of legs that actually belonged to him and then reattached to the bottom of a creature of dimensions so vast that they strained the ability for mortal minds to truly comprehend it: with a pair of asscheeks of a scale so colossal that each one was capable of dwarfing his home planet, two legs that were somehow even thicker than that, he had become an astronomical landmark, something that tourists came around to see and marvel at, perhaps even do a little bit more if they could find a private spot to watch him from. In many ways, he felt incomplete, almost as if his upper body would just bulge outwards one day and complete the look, turning him into a solar system-sized titan, a beacon of perfection, which was precisely why so much money was poured into keeping such a thing from happening in the first place. For Fenrir was quite a bit older than most people would think, quite easily pushing his three hundredth birthday and yet looking just as young as he had back when his uncontrollable growth first began; for three centuries, the protective measures placed around him by an increasingly larger amount of governmental bodies had been meticulously well-maintained and exponentially improved upon, all for the purest sake of stopping Fenrir from growing even an inch larger. And yet, despite the fact that the entire operation only had a handful of failures over the course of its existence, despite how in three centuries the yeen had only gone from merely planet-sized cheeks to a pair that were about thrice as large, that still wasn’t the main issue at play; big butts they could deal with it, but his virility was another issue altogether.

If the Mightyena’s ass was something to worship and treat as a wonder of the universe, it looked positively nonexistent next to his shaft and nuts. In fact, one might say that the size of Fenrir’s lower body was to his package as his upper body was to his lower one: utterly insignificant and looking as if it belonged on a completely different being altogether. Each one of his hyperactive cum factories was so positively gigantic, so enormous, so densely packed and stuffed, that the only reason they hadn’t collapsed into a black hole were the copious amounts of compressors, dimensional distorters and outright black magic wielded from the darkest, deepest pits of arcane, eldritch knowledge, most of which had to be made up from whole cloth just to help along with the eternal watch over Fenrir’s size. It was a testament to his sheer ridiculous size that it was easier to just make magic exist than it was to try and mangle physics in yet another novel way, mostly because it was already so torturously warped that trying to do anything more risked collapsing the very fabric of existence as everyone knew it. The same could be said for his cock, which stood at fullest attention and was about as big as one could expect from a pair of balls that made up the near totality of the local star system’s mass; if the orbs were big enough to completely occupy every single orbit, thus having to be angled below the plane that the planets themselves occupied, then his dick rose proudly in the opposite direction, serving as a landmark that managed to clear straight through the halo of comets and icy asteroids surrounding that overtaxed star. This was, of course, nothing but their compressed size; it used to be that the stellar array of machinery and arcane sigils could keep Fenrir from bulging out of the local stellar system, but those days were long gone, and most of the people involved in the operation were just happy that he was even small enough to fit inside one galaxy. If only the tourists knew that the yeen’s full size was so incomprehensibly vast that the lower end estimates placed the size of a single one of his cumtanks at larger than the known universe, maybe they wouldn’t be so eager to get that close to him. Maybe if they were told the average expected size for his dick would require more mass than could possibly, feasibly exist without reality collapsing into a singularity, they would learn not to try and poke at the Mightyena in an attempt at seeing how big they could get.

And yet, despite this, all that the universe managed to do was delay the inevitable; no amount of money, resources, created-and-summoned elder gods and whatever else the governments and corporations of the entirety of the cosmos decided to throw at Fenrir could do anything other than delay the inevitable, because he was still growing. Every day he’d gain something, be it inches, miles or AUs, and every day for the past few years had become a reminder that he, that Fenrir and the promise of release that his body held, was something that could never be held back. The yeen himself was incredibly apologetic about the whole thing, at least whenever he could think coherent thoughts, but being sorry for it hardly mattered when the countdown clock to the final explosion was not only speeding up, but outright skipping large chunks of the time left without rhyme nor reason. It was clear that he was going to blow, and sometime in the next year or so; three centuries of containment, the pooled resources of an entire universe and the thinning and fraying of the very backdrop of existence, all for the sake of holding back the final, apocalyptic climax that would break through every barrier and bring forth the now-mythical Orgasmarok, wasted. Nothing they had done had ever actually done anything beyond push the minute hand forward, and now it was finally pushing back, leaving them without many options besides trying to enjoy things while they lasted; the project began to bleed workers and technical specialists as the news began to spread and the population of the universe resigned itself to the understanding that, within a few short standard months, it’d all be over. No one quite knew what would happen afterwards, or if there even would be an “after” to consider; for all that the containment project had done to try and prevent the last ever growth spurt, they’d never spent a single cent on trying to figure out what the results of the worst case scenario would be like, leaving the entirety of existence in a state of mercifully blissful ignorance. Most chose to believe that Heaven awaited them, forever bathed in the virile seed of that gorgeous yeen, but it became harder to ignore the undercurrent of existential despair of bleak nihilism that spread through all societies like a cancer. Maybe there was nothing after it all went down. Maybe… this was it.

Obviously not the case. Vivian wouldn’t be so rude as to just end the universe right there and then, no matter how much her mom kept telling her that it would make for an “explosive money shot” and they could just put everything back afterwards; sure, she could easily snap her fingers and return the universe back to the state that it was in before everything turned into a cumsplosive apocalypse, but then that would mean people actually did suffer through an ending of sorts, and the Delphox just wasn’t about that. As such, she made sure that, when Fenrir did finally blow, when the floodgates opened fully and the yeen’s body was released upon reality, then everyone caught in the blastwave would simply be whisked away to a paradisiacal state of existence somewhere on her own body; after all, the whole point of creating a living time bomb like Fenrir was to give her universe a proper send-off, as now that her mom was there with her as an equal goddess, Vivian figured it was time to make her old universe give up the ghost and finally provide all those living within it the reward they had absolutely deserved. Why toil for a lifetime without knowing if there was anything waiting for them when they could simply live forever on the body of a glorious mega-goddess without a care in the world? And what better way to make sure that everyone experienced that moment of ascension in the best manner possible than to unleash the biggest orgasmic shockwave that meta-existence had ever seen? Granted, a lot of that was predicated on the fact that both Violet and Vivian began to feel certain needs, needs that, while they could easily satisfy for one another, were perhaps better spent being pointed at a precious, bottom-heavy, fat-cocked boytoy who they could service for all of eternity and still never be truly satisfied; a god of their own, in a way, a mortal handpicked to become their divine consort, that the three of them might also experience their own form of Heaven for as long as they could make time exist as a concept (and probably longer, to be fair). Thus, after a long discussion, mother and daughter agreed that they would finish off their universe in one final, glorious Orgasmarok (name pending), returning to Vivian’s idea of actually filming what she was doing for the sake of a future, hypothetical distribution. As her mom put it, it would be the best smut production that ever existed and ever could exist: the literal ascension of a new deity through the explosive, exponential expansion of a cock and pair of balls so big that an entire universe had to work together in order to keep them from growing and it still failed. It’d be like with Vivian, except the cameras would be safely pointed at the ascension site from outside universal boundaries, and thus would actually capture what happened that time around.

Vivian had to agree, it’d make for an amazing way to put an end to everything, especially if she made sure to make the experience of being swept away by a cosmos-blotting avalanche of nutflesh about as delicious as she personally felt it was. Easy enough to make it happen, even easier to get people to accept in that fleeting moment before their terrified expression turned into a warm smile when they realized that what they were witnessing wasn’t the end of reality, but the start of a brand new, eternal existence, one utter, utmost bliss and unending pleasure. And so… she began to prime the pump. Everything up until that point had been the usual stuff: Vivian just rewriting the story of her universe in such a way that it led to a specific endpoint that she could then exploit for the sake of a good shoot, one that she could rationalize away as just being something she did in order to sell copies of the movie, as opposed to the simple truth. That time around though, there were no such delusions, especially with her mom being there to bap her across the back of the head gently and remind her that it was fine to want to be horny, it was fine to want to experience pleasure, and now that she had grown up to become a literal goddess, then of course her needs were going to be proportionately bigger. Why waste time coming up with excuses about how she needed to get the perfect shot, when the whole reason why she did anything at all was to satisfy that tiny voice in the back of her head telling her to indulge? It didn’t make her any less of a person, nor any less of a goddess; in fact, denying her true nature and trying to pretend that she was something she wasn’t was itself, in a way, far more insulting to herself and everyone under her than just admitting she was horny and wanted to do something about it. Vivian’s face had been a bright red ever since then, one so hot that it could probably turn anything that came into contact with it to plasma, and it hadn’t abated for the aeons that had transpired since (or perhaps just days, time was weird in this not-space they lived in), but she eventually came around to accepting this, and eschewing any pretense that she was going through all of this trouble for any reason other than because she wanted Fenrir to be there next to her so she and her mom could share him. That said, the cameras were still going to roll; it just felt right, even after admitting they weren’t the primary concern, if for no other reason than because the Delphox really liked the idea of revisiting those moments whenever she felt particularly horny.

One finger-snap at a time, the binds holding Fenrir back began to falter, not because Vivian was removing them, but because the goddess began to stack multiplicative exponentials onto the many, many variables governing the Mightyena’s production. The poor thing could tell that something was wrong, that his body had somehow began to make cum and expand at a much faster rate than before, but being perpetually stuck in a state of near-climax had left him unable to communicate properly with the outside world; there were a few who claimed they could interpret his moans, but no one really knew what went on in his head, in that turbulent maelstrom of incomprehensibly deep and vast pleasure that threatened to overcome his sanity at every waking moment. That he lasted that long without completely breaking was nothing short of miraculous, even with Vivian’s help, but he wouldn’t have to worry any longer; within a few short moments, every single compressor, every spell, every piece of equipment designed to keep him from experiencing his final orgasm would falter. A catastrophic cascading collapse would occur, with one barrier after another falling prey to his inexorable advance, especially now that every time Vivian snapped her fingers, he just seemed to produce at a rate as high compared to his previous one as the latter did compared to a regular person. It was an untenable position, and something would have to break eventually… and seeing as he was a nascent god, that something would have to be everything else. For a fleeting moment, Fenrir returned to sentience, his eyes opening wide for the first time in literally hundreds of years. In that one instant, he knew everything: the reason for his existence, the nature of reality, who was responsible for making him the way that he was; he even managed to catch a glimpse of Vivian and Violet, looking down at him from beyond reality, their expressions just barely visible to him behind the backdrop of stars that made up the cosmos. Their smiles, their warm, inviting smiles swam in his vision, barely solid yet so very real, beckoning him to come closer, to join them in an embrace that would last forevermore… and to bring everyone else with him as well, that they may live forever in a glorified existence of pure self-indulgent lust and carnal bliss. And after that moment passed, when the final lever was flipped and the last finger snap delivered, there was no more Fenrir, only a rampaging beast that would take the universe by storm and forcefully ascend it to a state of being beyond that of even the gods. Everyone would feel what he felt in that one moment.

And they would rejoice.