Floatin' About (Commission for PsychoFloatzel)

TAGS: Kobold, Inflation, Blimp, Bewingment

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Some might say that sneaking into a wizard’s tower in order to steal and then make off with a potion might be a bad idea; most others would call it actively suicidal and either attempt to dissuade the person suggesting it from the attempt, or encourage them further depending on their personal opinion of them. But for Anthony, this struck him as the best and quickest way for him to get exactly what he wanted, for after all, who better to beseech for a pair of fluffy, feathery wings to adorn his back than a wizard? They could probably brew up all sorts of potions if they were so inclined, and it just so happened that he wasn’t in the possession of a lot of coin (or any coin, for that matter), and as such alternative methods had to be found; besides, he was a kobold, so even assuming he got caught, he had ample experience being kicked out of lairs after trying to scurry away with their contents.

Infiltrating the tower itself proved to be the easiest part, given the complete lack of defences around it. A wizard’s reputation was often the best tool in their arsenal, and more often than not their actual homes were only kept behind lock and key rather than anything more arcane; after all, who would dare to break into a sorcerer’s home and take from them? Anthony, that’s who, and that’s exactly who ran close to the tower’s base under the cover of night, after noticing the homeowner leaving with a large basket; the ‘bold had been watching the man for some time, casing out his residence, and had learned that they often went out herb-picking when the moon was out, especially for mandrake roots and nightshade. If his notes on the subject were correct, he had about half an hour before the wizard returned, giving him more than enough time to go in, find the correct potion, and then get out as quickly as possible! He vaulted the stairs and practically slammed against the door, crushing the small magical crystal in his hand, a one-use Blink spell that allowed him to bypass the barrier and find himself safely inside the tower proper; assuming he found the potion he was looking for, he could just fly out of there on his own. If he didn’t… well, he was sure he could make the jump over to the river. Maybe.

No time to doubt himself now. Anthony bolted up the stairs, finding himself in a succession of different rooms and workspaces that spanned so many different fields of study that the kobold couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of respect for the old man living there; clearly, he was a wise old wizened wizard… which could only mean he was bound to have an alchemy lab somewhere! Indeed, somewhere just above the halfway point to the top of the tower, the ‘bold emerged onto a landing filled with wooden tables topped with a dizzying variety of glasswork and delicate measurement instruments, none of which he recognized by name but correctly surmised to look like the kind of stuff used to brew potions. Plus, there were whole cabinets and shelves filled with flasks, so there was that as well; he rushed forward, taking care to bring a small ladder next to him, and thanked the gods for his chosen heist target knowing how to properly catalogue their experiments. There was everything there, from simple healing draughts, to love potions, to concoctions meant to improve one’s luck, however that was supposed to work; it took him a bit of time, but he eventually stumbled onto a small section containing transformative brews, all of which were locked behind a glass cabinet with a piece of parchment attached to the front. “DO NOT CONSUME - Need to figure out the kinks here” was written on it, a warning that Anthony was all-too happy to ignore as he grabbed a small chisel and broke the glass panel, eagerly sifting through the contents of the cabinet for anything that might leave him bewinged. He found it almost immediately, in fact, and with a bit of paper that had wings drawn on it as well! It was almost too convenient… which is exactly why he uncorked it and immediately downed the whole thing without bothering to think about the consequences, then stood back to give his brand new feathers some room to grow.

They… didn’t. At least not immediately, leaving the ‘bold to wonder if the effects took some time to kick in, and if so, if they’d show up before he had to do a frontal spin dive into the icy river below the tower. He was beginning to panic slightly when he hiccuped once, then twice, then kept up flinching again and again as his body grew hotter and tighter, filled with some incorporeal substance that left him feeling like he was about to burst; he was ready to scream in agony when… it all stopped. And the kobold just stood there, wondering what in blazes had just happened, when a chance bump against a table revealed that his back wasn’t as barren as it used to be; believing himself to be dreaming, for some reason, he tried and failed to flip around and catch a good eyeful of what was happening to him, only to end up tripping and falling into what was, without a doubt, a pair of fluffy, feathery wings sprouting from just under his shoulders! They were so deliciously soft, so warm, that all he wanted to do was hug them and wrap himself in their embrace for the rest of the night as he fell asleep in the most comfortable self-hug ever; unfortunately, he was still trespassing, and there was no time for him to learn how to use them properly. He had to leave, immediately.

Luckily for him, the tower happened to have a very large window on the very top, from which the wizard conducted his observation of the stellar constellations; there was the slight issue of there being a telescope in the way, but he was certain he’d manage to find a solution for it. Anthony turned to face the cabinet again, drawing yet another crystal from his pouch and crushing it into dust before sprinkling it over the shards on the floor; they immediately began floating back into place, slowly reassembling the glass panel that he’d destroyed, and coincidentally taking all of his attention so that he couldn’t notice what else was happening with his body.

The same force that had filled him just before his wings sprouted hadn’t really gone anywhere, merely lost its strength and began acting in a far stealthier manner, but it was still there; so much so that it had started to add a little bit more to the kobold’s body than just wings… a little bit more everywhere. Anthony would soon be finding himself very light on his feet, almost too light, but he chalked that up to the feeling of utter elation that he had spring up inside of him thanks to his new set of wings, wings that were also beginning to bloat out of shape as their interior was filled with some sort of gaseous substance. All of him had begun to bloat, in fact, enough for it to be quite noticeable, but the kobold himself wasn’t paying any attention; rather, he was too busy making sure that the glass panel was in perfect condition before turning around and running up the stairs to the observatory, only then being forced to smack straight into reality as his body refused to obey his commands.

The first step he tried taking failed to even meet the ground, needing him to struggle for a bit before he beat out gravity and managed to land his foot on the wooden floorboards. He was about to loudly ask what was going on when his eyes caught wind of what his body looked like at that precise moment: large, almost spherical around the midriff, with two pudgy arms and two equally rotund legs jutting out of it almost comically, while his wings looked more like a set of balloons than anything else, leaving the poor ‘bold quite confused as to what was going on with him. Flustered, he tried moving again, only to realize that such a thing was impossible, at least the way he used to do it; Anthony could still waddle, shuffling his body from side to side and flailing about like he could barely move at all, but even that was starting to feel like a chore, like it would soon stop working altogether.

With his face bright red, all he could think to do was the utterly undignified action of bouncing himself to his destination. He couldn’t say he wasn’t warned about the effects; he had chosen to disregard the piece of parchment glued to the cabinet after all, but it would’ve been nice of the wizard to actually specify what those were, seeing as he’d been so meticulous with everything else! His body was filling with a gas that was lighter than air, of that he was certain, and he was only slightly ashamed to admit that it hadn’t been the first time something like this happened to him; wizards were fickle folk, especially those who were stolen from, but it wasn’t the effects of the inflation that he feared; rather, it was the retaliation on the part of the sorcerer himself. Turning into a balloon was only ever a temporary state of affairs, but being caught by a powerful practitioner of the magical arts after not only breaking and entering into their home, but also stealing from their supply? That was practically begging for a curse, and those were a lot harder to get rid of. Even by putting all of his weight down on his increasingly-stubby legs and then pushing up, the arcs he described through the air weren’t enough to get him to move anywhere properly, as they were growing wider and taller, and very quickly would stop being arcs altogether. Anthony stopped hopping after a few tries, dreadfully afraid that he might just take off, and tried to think things through.

There was… one option to deal with the gas, but it wasn’t one he liked thinking about, nor was it in any way one that decent folk should consider. He could always try and divert it from one place in his body to another, but that would be temporary at best… plus, where could he even move the gas t-... the wings! Of course, how could he have been so stupid! The very things that he’d broken into that tower to get, they’d be the one to save him; if he could make his wings return to normal, then he’d be able to just fly out, being as light as he was! If only they too weren’t filling up with the phantom gas, leaving the poor ‘bold feeling slightly panicked at the prospect that they just might pop before he had the chance to do anything with them, and so soon after finally giving himself a pair as well… he was sweating, and quite profusely at that, trying his level best not to let his fear get the better of him as he ran through the possibilities in his head. There was always the simple solution, which was merely trying to flap those feathery appendages, very slowly and carefully to avoid them bursting from the strain, but that would never work with the amount of clutter around him; his wings were wide, beautifully so, but what would look great outdoors in the sun made it difficult for him to get any clearance to take off properly. At best, he could slowly unfurl them and then try and flutter the very tips as a way of controlling his descent after jumping, but that was very much a gamble. What was worse, as they continued to fill and bloat, they became harder to control, further taking agency away from him and leaving him one step closer to getting stuck on the ceiling after a mistimed hop.

If there was any way he was going to get out of there, it was by making his wings work properly, and he couldn’t do that while they were filled with whatever gas was turning him into a balloon. “Expelling” it was out of the question, but moving it around was perfectly possible; he just had to be extra careful not to strain himself too much, lest he pop more than a vein. Centering himself, he grabbed two tables on either side of him, anchoring his claws on the ground as best as he could; the ‘bold could still feel as his body grew lighter by the moment, the gentle creaking of his skin filling his ears as much as it itself was being pumped larger and more rotund. He took deep breaths, only really making matters worse, and focused all of his attention on his two wings: every inch of them, every contour, every tiny feather and every last tip, all of it filled his mind as he allowed his brain to process what was going on with it… and then promptly clenched for a full second, straining every muscle he had and several others he didn’t in an effort to dislodge the gas build-up inside of his fluffy new appendages and force it downwards into the rest of him. At first, this seemed like a resounding success; he could feel as the wings grew lighter and more manageable, several times more maneuverable and able to move around without squeaking quietly… though unfortunately, this did result in the rest of him undergoing a non-insignificant growth spurt from all the gas he’d forced to move, resulting in his already-spherical belly becoming even larger and his buoyancy to shift so hard that he had to practically sink his fingers into the table’s wooden surface just to prevent himself from flying off.

No matter, at least his wings were functional… for about ten seconds. Anthony was getting ready to use them the proper way, allowing his body to float up just enough that he had room to flap those things around, when he began feeling their agility plummet to the same level it used to be at. Panic filled him again as he tried to turn his head around, only to find that doing so was impossible; it had sunk into his neck, which itself had been consumed by what used to be his torso, now little more than a round reservoir of helium, to the point where even talking was difficult, let alone trying to move his head from side to side. He had to rely on his sense of hearing, which itself was being battered by the constant noise of leathery groaning coming from his body, and air rushing in from every direction despite it not being what was filling him. Still, it was impossible to deny his wings were filling up again, and within seconds they were back to being just as useless as they had been before he forced the gas out of them. Trying to do so again was just not something he was willing to try, lest he end up making things actively worse for himself all over again… leaving only one, very desperate option.

Trembling all over, it was nonetheless unsurprisingly easy to let go of both the ground and the tables, seeing as his arms and legs were being subsumed into the spherical vastness that used to be his chest and waist. All that was needed of him was to relax, and soon enough he was floating upwards into the air, carefree, feeling like a leaf blowing in the wind from how easily he moved against the force of gravity; he knew, at that moment, that he was very lucky to be indoors, because a stray breeze could and would send him flying off into the distance with very minimal hassle, his wings no longer able to deal with his sheer girth. This did pose a problem for how exactly he was supposed to cure himself of this side-effect after getting outside, but that was an issue he could resolve later; nothing that could happen to him as a result of turning into a ‘bold balloon could compare to the wrath of a pissed-off wizard.

He gulped while he still could, convinced that his head would vanish into the bulging sphere that his body had become, then tried flapping his wings; very slowly at first, so as to not strain them too much, but as soon as he became convinced that he could put in a little more energy behind it, he did so, hoping he wasn’t going too fast for his inflating appendages. It was a constant juggling act between every force acting on him, from the buoyancy of the helium inside of him, to the wind gusts created by his wings, to the frantic flailing caused by his limbs trying to move when they were sinking further and further into him, it was an utter mess; the best he could do was keep flapping those things and hope for the best, even when it was becoming clear that the only thing he was accomplishing was flipping himself in midair and making it harder to control where he was going, and soon enough the kobold was literally spinning in place and growing more nauseous with every revolution. He had to stop trying to fly, but that didn’t really do much; still took a while before he stabilized again, though thankfully with his head the right side up, even if everything up to his snoot was now buried into his stretched-taut skin and forced him to look in a very tiny cone of view in front of him.

By this point, everything was over. Even his tail had been filled with the gas, helping to fudge up his balance even more, and he was halfway to the ceiling and accelerating slightly towards it. In a few minutes the wizard was going to be back, he was going to notice someone was inside his tower and then the fates would decide what horrible curse would be cast upon the kobold. Meanwhile, the only thing left for Anthony to do was float up and pretend to try and escape, occasionally moving his overfilled wings in ways that might charitably be called an attempt at flying, or at least pushing himself in any one direction; he did succeed in inching a bit closer to the stairs to the next level, but even that was out of the question now, as he was wider than they were. Even if he were to somehow hug the wall again, there was no way he was going to fit the path to the observatory; no, he was well and truly stuck there, with no recourse but to wait for the homeowner to show up.

The bump sealed the deal. A couple of minutes later, Anthony felt the hard wood planks that made up the floor to the next landing hit him on the head (or him hitting them, to be more precise), followed by his entire body rotating until it was very much stuck to the ceiling like the balloon that he was. If his body weren’t what it was at the time, he might say he had his back to it; as it stood though, his “back” no longer existed, and with his physical frame allowed to rest in a stationary position, the ‘bold could finally “enjoy” the sensation of having his hands and feet vanish into him, followed by most of his head, until only the top of it was left for anyone to see. He was, in essence, an immense blimp of a ‘bold, with the only odd thing out being the equally-inflated wings that looked glued onto his back more than anything else. Frankly, at that point, he sort of welcomed the wizard; how else was he going to get fixed?

Down below, the door opened some time later; the ‘bold had continued to inflate and fill with the phantom gas, until the bottom of his “belly” grazed the top of the fragile equipment laid out on the tables, enough that any longer and he’d start breaking some very valuable stuff. The wizard seemed to be at least semi-aware of this, as a string of expletives was clearly audible coming from the lower levels, followed by the heavy footsteps of a man who just learned that his private sanctum had been violated. He was probably expecting a random thief, perhaps a group of them, or bandits even! Anything but what he saw when he reached the alchemy lab and looked up to see a colossal blimpbold of proportions so absurd that the old man’s mouth flung wide open and he dropped his staff, right before bringing a hand to head to scratch it in sheer confusion. Anthony only wished he could explain himself.

“Who the blazes are you?!” the wizard shouted.

Oh, to be able to speak.

Time to flap his wings again.