Supremacy (Patreon Commission for VDO)

The gods gathered in the hall, patiently waiting for the guest of “honour” to arrive. None of them were happy to receive her, but as was custom for their gatherings, it was either stand at attention or risk being turned into her latest snack. A few whispers of dissent coursed through the two lines on either side of the starlit corridor, murmured at just the right volume to vanish after dancing between a couple of ears, lest the monstrous guest hear them and do something her patrons might regret.

They heard her before they saw her, once again as expected. Long gone were the days where the dracovixen would present herself in a halfway-decent form, easily contained by rooms and physical boundaries. After asserting her superiority over her “fellow” pantheons, there was nothing really stopping her from gorging on adulation and adoration until her body became as horrifically swollen as her ego, a perfect reflection of her inner self. Last gathering they widened the front door by a couple of feet in every direction, and it still was just barely enough; as soon as she walked up and huffed loudly enough for everyone to hear, it was clear that the brand new renovations still fell too short of her expectations.

The goddess at least had the courtesy of opening the doors before trying to squeeze through them, even if she was still too big to fit. Perhaps it was deliberate, given she had perfect control over her form, but none of her fellow divinities were going to be the one so stupid as to question her motives. No, they were quite content in simply letting her pass through, the doorframe creaking under the pressure before cracking into a dozen pieces of finely-varnished wood, one of the lower-level spirit majordomos wincing at the sight and making a mental note to replace what had been a perfectly serviceable doorway. It was normal for the dracovixen to pull off those kinds of stunts; when one’s breasts were several times bigger than one’s body, enough that walking down the corridor without veering to either side was still enough to smush the gods lined up waiting for her against the wall, it was difficult not to flaunt it in the most obvious way possible… or at least, that’s what she thought.

Why bother going through the trouble of becoming the top goddess if that didn’t mean displaying her form in whatever way she saw fit, especially if it meant her lessers weren’t able to do anything about it? Every door busted and body smashed were more evidence that she, and she alone, deserved to occupy the most honoured spot at the banquet table, while everyone else sat patiently and waited until she ate her fill. The thought alone was making her drool already, her incandescent saliva as strong as the hottest of magmas, dripping down onto the floor and creating enough holes that reality threatened to slip inside. A few of the wait staff tried to speak up, warn her that the enchantments keeping their materialization field up would fail if she damaged them too much, but a few glares from the other gods quickly put that thought to rest; better the field did fail, since at least that meant they could go back to their realms without having to put up with that… lovely lady.

Her body was, if not a work of art, then at least a work of mindless self-indulgence, sculpted both out of her own power and the stolen virtue of others. A few of the older gods recalled a time in which they believed they could fight her; coalitions formed, where whole pantheons would join together and direct their power at the dracovixen, only to have it repelled with seemingly very little effort on her part. The defeats were embarrassing enough, but the effects they had on their worshippers made it significantly worse in the long run; with every humiliation, thousands flocked to the newer goddess, something spawned from the deepest pits and whose power could not be adequately explained. There were few challengers nowadays, as the defeated veterans knew to warn newcomers not to sharpen their teeth against her hide; better to let her stew in her own broth than add more into the cauldron, even if they were reasonably certain she could wipe the floor with them and not break a sweat already.

This alone was the only reason she was allowed to ignore the millenary traditions and courtesies expected of someone of her station. Once, those halls had been sacred, their spirit inhabitants treated with the reverence they deserved. Every god would leave their rivalries at the door, to enjoy a reprieve from the game they played outside the walls of the meeting ground. The more cynical of the bunch were quick to point out that the “usurper”, as the beast was called, did nothing more than expose the thin veneer of politeness and civility for what it truly was: a polite fiction, shared between them and upheld purely for the sake of appearances rather than any practical effect. Others would disagree, while a third group preferred to remain quiet on the affair entirely; it was all pointless for as long as she was there.

The vixen took her place on one end of the long table making up most of the dinner hall, her customary five chairs having to be reinforced by a contingent of three more after the latest upgrade to her ass. Her bust alone made it impossible for her to actually eat anything off the table; her presence was merely a formality, something she did purely to remind everyone that they had no control over her whatsoever. If the vixen wanted to, the whole house would be torn down and remade in her image, but where was the fun in that? Being able to lord over everyone until they were literally shaking in their boots made the experience so much more delectable, plus the fact that the meeting ground’s spirits were forced to cater to her every whim gave her plenty of time to focus on other things.

Like growing.

Every god grew, or shrank, in proportion to their following. Though some of the eldest ones preferred to take the “traditional” route of becoming larger overall, others, the dracovixen included, took a more careful approach with their forms, opting to sculpt them into something more befitting of both their inner desires and what they supposedly stood for. The beast at the table, being an entity of lust and desire at its very core, had eschewed even the flimsiest of limits and dedicated herself to crafting the most obscene body possible, fueled by the raw worship of a congregation that spread about as quickly as she herself did. Whether it be through conversions or direct theft of followers from other divinities, the vixen was the fastest-growing, most powerful being in that house, and the way she chose to display that simple truth was by sitting back and letting herself balloon outwards with additional size.

On occasion, she would do that in her own realm, away from prying eyes, usually whenever her hands drifted a bit too south for her liking or a suitor bothered to show up at her doorstep. Most of the time, however, her growth spurts were reserved for the divine meetings between pantheons, precisely so she could show off to as many people as possible. Thus, it was unsurprising that when the rest of the guests began to take their seats, the noises of murmuring and dragging of chairs were interrupted and replaced by a loud, whining creak, the sound of the draconic entity’s body stretching as it allowed her worshipper’s prayers to begin flooding it. Within seconds her tits were pressing against the table, easily twice the size they had been before entering minutes before, while her ass packed enough meat into it that the chairs underneath it shattered… not really changing anything, as the dracovixen could pretty much sit down without even bending her knees. 

All anyone could do was watch with mounting discomfort as the dining room was consumed, inch by inch, by a goddess that did not care, her chin alight with her copious drool, her body throbbing and pulsating as it bloated with each heartbeat, further empowered by the literal tons of food being poured down her hungry maw by the spirits of the house. She was in control, she decided what anyone did, and right now they were to sit there and be nice little things, remaining quiet while her body grew to even more absurd proportions than before. Just like every other year.

If not for her.

Of all the people to bother showing up, the sharkess was the last one the vixen wanted to see that day. The one person in the entirety of creation that still dared to deny the draconic goddess her rightful position as uncontested ruler of all reality… mostly by being too damn nice. There wasn’t a single hint of obsequiousness or feigned politeness in her tone; the woman really was as courteous as her tone indicated, which drove the dracovixen up the wall in so many ways that sometimes a few of the eldest gods even dared to chuckle at it. At no point would she, the top goddess, tolerate anyone approaching her with the level of casual lack of formality the shark did; problem was, nothing they did ever seemed to stick with that thick-headed dunce.

For her part, the sharkess was painfully aware of what that monster wanted out of her, but remained steadfast in her conviction that, so long as she kept on being the nicest she could, maybe one day they could turn the other one around and kickstart a new era of peace and prosperity amongst the pantheons (even if most of them would object to the use of the word “new”). She was by no means a minor goddess, though her unwillingness to participate in the grand games of backstage politicking meant she often went completely unnoticed; this had allowed her to maintain and even develop her worshipper base even while every other divinity had theirs under siege, giving her the second-largest frame in the whole room.

Though the dracovixen was still the biggest, the sharkess followed closely behind. Covered in a thick layer of smooth, inviting fur from head to toe, it was hard to decide which part of her was more imposing: her ass, heavy and wide enough to be used as a seat if she just bothered to bend the knee slightly, her breasts, twice as tall as she was and just as wide, their liquid contents so loud that they were a match for the other colossal bust across the room, or her tail… honestly, it might be the tail, considering she made her way to the dracovixen’s side and was still dragging that thing behind her, snaking its way across the room, into the access corridor, and a good hundred yards into her private divine realm. Everyone had learned the hard way not to say or do anything to make the sharkess excited; though utterly adorable and quite personable, the amount of damage done by her swishing her tail from side to side was usually enough to give the spirits of the house pause.

As was customary between the two, the sharkess approached the vixen and offered a short bow, making it very clear that she was doing it purely to keep up appearances, since her first action after doing so was to turn around, wink at the beast and then blow her a kiss with a sincere, warm smile on her face. No one understood why she did that, much less the supposed “top goddess” herself, leaving everyone in such a state of confusion that they failed to react in time when their draconic overlord threw one of the mugs next to her at the shark… who effortlessly caught it in mid-air, turned to place it on the table and then carried on to her assigned spot, angering the vixen to such a degree that she ordered extra food just to forget about the woman’s presence.

To her, it was an insult. She couldn’t take anything from the woman without there being a fight between them, and she could never pick a fight against her thanks to her extremely placid, borderline doormat personality; no matter how hard she pushed, the sharkess refused to push back, and yet somehow her worshippers continued to exist, refusing to turn over to her own side. The dracovixen was forced to watch as her chief rival grew bigger over the years; nothing like her, of course, but still enough to leave her worried about her future prospects. It was for this reason, chiefly, that she put such effort behind stamping out opposition in everyone else; the sharkess’ supplicants might be out of reach, but there was never any shortage of eager volunteers wanting to ignore their elders’ advice.

That night would not be different. As always, the dracovixen would be on her worst behaviour in a deliberate attempt at prodding the sharkess into action. Unreasonable demands were made of those standing nearest to her, such as surrendering entire cities to her own cult under penalty of being devoured on the spot, while others still were coerced into supporting her on the next Assembly meeting by way of rumbling her tits around so they churned extra loudly. The spirits surrounding her were ordered to bring more food than ever before, while a contingent of heavenly engineers continuously worked on the cracks in reality caused by the ever-flowing, searing-hot drool pouring from the vixen’s mouth. All of her body was covered in stains from her food and drink binge, while her tits and ass had ballooned to such immense proportions that even the sharkess looked tiny by comparison. And yet, the dracovixen refused to stop, or even slow down; if anything, her demands only grew worse, to the point where her chief rival… frowned.

It was a terrifying sight, so much so that the gods around her knew to run as quickly as possible away from the future blast zone. The fluffshark knew better than to raise her voice; the “party” was going to be over soon, so all she had to do was keep quiet and everyone would go back home. Easier said than done though, especially when being forced to witness the kind of meaningless, mindless atrocities against sanity and good taste the vixen was perpetrating; it strained her own patience, her ability to swallow her pride and think ahead… to the point where, after the creature at the end of the table picked up one of the lesser gods and brought them close to her mouth, the sharkess rose to her feet and politely cleared her throat, uttering four words:

“Could you not, please?”

There, that should do it. She sat back down with a smile, content that things were dealt with, while on the other end of the banquet table the sheer amount of vitriol and hatred generated by that small, seemingly unassuming comment was such that everyone in a ten yard radius immediately bolted out of the room and into the nearest door, with the dracovixen herself seeming to exude so much heat that the very air around her began to tremble. The sharkess did nothing while her would-be rival struggled to get on her feet, their size working against them for a change, keeping her ground as the blubbery mountain of worship-stuffed fat that was the divine hybrid walked closer to her, shaking the whole building with how heavy she had become. They held a few feet away, which was to say their body stopped at a few paces from the shark, while the rest of her unceremoniously pushed the other goddess a lot closer to the walls.

“You dare speak out of turn, whelp?!” she bellowed, the house quivering underneath her sonic assault, “You dare speak to me out of turn?!”

“... yeah?” came the sharkess’ response, delivered in the most nonchalant tone she could muster, “I don’t see what the big deal is, we’re trying to have a good time and you’re ruining it, so I asked you to stop.”

The words were delivered with such little care for her position on the social ladder that, for a few brief moments, the dracovixen was actually cowed into complete silence. She had no frame of reference for when anyone acted so flippantly towards her, much less in a way that made it sound like they thought they were right. This… this upstart, this dumb, titty-wielding fish thought that she she could talk back to her and get away with it? Well, she had a whole ‘nother thing coming if that was the case; insults like those would not go without a proper response.

No more words were needed, simply a display of power. The vixen turned off her limiters, allowing her full power to flow into her body. The results were as spectacular as her dominance over her supplicants was complete, with her body growing so quickly that the house struggled to keep its dimensional boundaries in one piece, for a moment forcing everyone to be squeezed against the walls by a singular breast. She carried on regardless, her form bloating into a monstrous display of debauchery and obscenity, her curves expanded and flared until none could even see them properly, lost as they were in a fraction of the dracovixen’s full body. All were forced to confront themselves with their pitiful state… all except the shark. She just kept sitting on her chair, pushed to one end of the room though it may be, arms crossed over her chest and sighing while rolling her eyes. She really didn’t want to respond in kind, but with every foot her opponent gained, it became obvious there would be no reasoning with that… lovely lady. 

Still, the sharkess held back until the very end, hoping to fool the other goddess into thinking she achieved something resembling a victory. It was normal for them to completely miss obvious cues; with an ass that big, it was easy to get lost in it, and more often than not even the smallest of divinities could get a good passive-aggressive shot in without the dracovixen even realizing it. Being slightly smarter than most, the shark decided it’d be best to just sit and do nothing, hoping things would settle down enough for them to just go home and not have to worry about that woman until the next meeting. Nothing more than kicking the can down the road, but what were they supposed to do, get mad? The vixen wasn’t worth the effort.

In all respects, it seemed appeasement worked for once, as the burst of size ended with the “top goddess” finally deciding she had enough and halting her advance, in the process having become large enough that everyone could hear the house creaking around them, its limits tested by the colossus the vixen had turned herself into. To compare any part of her to anything at all would be a disservice to it, given that each tit alone was enough to completely fill their meeting grounds in its smallest state, and she was left with no choice but to sit down, her legs no longer capable of reaching the floor, feet wiggling as her tongue lolled from her mouth. They were clearly enjoying themselves if the sudden outpour of drool was any indication; the splatter of it was enough to force the many attendant spirits to start dragging pots from the kitchen in a desperate attempt at keeping the floor from being burned through, their pleas falling on deaf ears. The draconic monster had finally reached her apex, her form becoming everything it could be, and for once, she was satisfied. Not necessarily happy, but satisfied nonetheless.

Offhandedly commenting on how everyone present was so tiny and beneath her, she turned her attention to the many beings floating around her bloated self. Having “transcended” the need for walking, or so she put it, her next demand was clear: if she couldn’t move, everyone and everything else had to move for her; seeing as how she was on the other side of the table, the dracovixen demanded the room be turned around and rearranged such that she was once again at her proper spot. The spirits complained, arguing that such a thing would destabilize the house’s pocket dimension enough to collapse it, but the vixen would not be moved; in fact, just to show how little she cared, they picked up one of the attendants and squeezed them in her palm, utterly obliterating them before consuming whatever was left of their soul.

That was enough. The sharkess was happy to ignore everything her rival did up until that point; the giantess was obnoxious, rude, crude and lacked any semblance of empathy, but at least she respected the ground rules enough to shy away from actual harm. While everyone else present gasped in abject horror, some daring to raise their voices in protest at such a blasphemy being perpetrated, the fluffshark knew that simple words wouldn’t be enough. Someone like the dracovixen would not be moved by arguments, or even emotions; a display of power was needed, one that cemented her true place in the divine hierarchy.

Truth be told, the sharkess really didn’t want to do it. Her true power had always been expertly hidden precisely because she hated having to “show off”, as she saw it, preferring to keep herself at a modest size… comparatively. It used to be that she was only ever marginally bigger than most other gods, at least in overall size; she explained away the proportions as being a result of her dominion over fertility and love, wrapping it up in just enough politeness and overt generosity that even the most staunchly conservative of pantheons at least tolerated her presence. Now, few could hope to challenge her, and those that did wisely decided to stay as far away from the usurper goddess that was the draconic hybrid, preferring to focus their efforts on securing whatever worshippers they had left. The sharkess was the only one that still attended the meetings, and the only one who did so without being cowed into showing up to serve as window dressing for the spectacle of self-indulgence the dracovixen had turned the whole affair into; in her mind, she hoped to some day turn her around.

Not anymore.

The sharkess rose to her feet as harshly as she could, deliberately scraping the floor with her many chairs before turning to face her opponent. There were a great many words she could use, but none that would have nearly as heavy an impact as a simple action: the fluffshark outstretched her hand, tapping into her rival’s power and locating what remained of the consumed spirit’s essence. It was just barely there, but it was enough for the sharkess to drag it back out into reality, bringing with it enough lifeforce to grant it a new body, one that said spirit wisely decided to appreciate from the safety of the house’s kitchen rather than staying in the room any longer. 

This singular act of defiance, one that even the most powerful of the gods would never even dream of performing, was enough to bury the room under a layer of silence so thick it was almost visible. The dracovixen’s temple had a pronounced vein throbbing on it, the presupposed top goddess being all too aware of what had just happened… and not really knowing how to react to it. She’d already turned herself into the edifice of obscenity that she was, and… that was it. Never in her life did she ever need to do anything else; everyone they had ever met had been adequately intimidated into doing whatever they wanted whenever they pulled out that trick, and yet that bitch, that fuzzy excuse for a cetacean, dared to not only stand up to her, but steal what was rightfully hers?! It was so unbelievable that the dracovixen genuinely had no idea how to react, something compounded by how the smaller goddess seemed to be walking towards her.

“We’ve just about had it with you!” the sharkess declared, pointing an accusatory finger at her opponent and causing many of the minor gods around her to shrink away shaking their heads, “You’ve made a mockery of the proceedings, and now you break the most sacred rule of hospitality by harming the Servants? What is wrong with you, Marla?!”

“You dar-”

“Oh, shut up!” the shark goddess carried on, ignoring how much she had just wounded the dracovixen’s ego by invoking her name, “It’s about time someone taught you manners. I really didn’t want to do this, you know? I used to remember when you were… better. Better than this, better than the monster you’ve become. What happened to you, Marl-”

“DO NOT SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT!” - the explosive force of Marla’s command was enough to shatter the table, turning it into little more than kindling, and send the minor divinities sitting at it flying towards the far wall, all of them collapsing into a heap and complaining about broken limbs. The dracovixen herself was fuming, her eyes glowing a fiery red and her magma-like drool having turned into a true waterfall of heat - “You will NOT invoke my name in vain, Sira!”

“Or what, you’re going to grow your fat ass out even more?” the sharkess quipped, crossing your arms, “Because it’s looking mighty small there.”

It was hard to tell what was funnier, the fact that Marla was left so flabbergasted by that ridiculously unoriginal comment, or the faces she was making trying to come up with a response. Clearly, the vixen wasn’t ready for someone being so brazen as to even insinuate she might be small, and yet not only did the sharkess do just that, she went the extra mile to turn up the insult to greater heights. This much Sira herself was aware of, hence why she had no intention of stopping at words; after giving herself this advantage, it was time to strike while the iron was still hot, while Marla’s ego was vulnerable enough that it could genuinely be wounded.

“I’ll repeat myself, Marla,” the sharkess spoke up again, putting as much venom into the last word as she could, “I didn’t want to do this. You did this to yourself.”

Terrifying words coming from a goddess that many saw as the epitome of friendliness, and yet entirely appropriate for what happened afterwards. Marla the dracovixen goddess was immense, enormous, so much so that the house they were all in had to work harder than ever to keep her contained in its dimensional pocket. Each breast would flatten cities, each asscheek would be a temple unto itself. Her power was immeasurable, so much so that merely trying to gaze upon it was enough to drive lesser deities completely insane. All in all, truly insurmountable and, to some degree, genuinely eldritch. She was unconquerable, unassailable, impossible to match, much less defeat. This was fact.

Sira made it not so.

In an instant, she allowed a fraction of a fraction of her true self to shine through. Most of it was kept under wraps of course; if she dared to even reach a single percentile point of her full power, it’d be impossible to keep most of reality stable, let alone that tiny house they were in. Even then, most of the energy released in that one burst went to the house itself, giving it enough of a boost that it could keep up with the sudden demand for space created by the sharkess unleashing her rightful, terrifying vengeance upon her draconic opponent. In that singular moment, she became more. Not just bigger, not just heavier, but more in every aspect. Her nipples alone could match the dracovixen’s entire rack, blossoming with rich, creamy milk, her rear colossal to the point where Marla could easily fit into each cheek and still have room inside of it to store several of herselves. Her thighs flared, her hips widened, her form burgeoned with energy of such magnitude that the gods piled on the end of the room practically went blind from trying to comprehend it.

And then she grew again. And a single fingernail would’ve put her second form to shame.

Sira was having trouble sensing anyone; seeing them was already out of the question, as was trying to transfer some of her power to let them keep up. All she could do was hope that this display was enough, because the house wasn’t going to hold out for much longer even with her helping it stretch out to contain her. The banquet hall, now turned into something akin to a state-sized stadium, rumbled under the onslaught of vibrations coming from within the sharkess’ bosom, her continental currents of cream roiling with enough strength that the pieces of wood left behind after Marla’s shout turned to dust, and most of the minor divinities had to run away to stop their bodies from suffering the same fate. The sharkess herself was actually kind of bored; unleashing her form like that always made for extremely dull arguments, it being hard to offer any rebuttal when she effortlessly outsized anyone that ever existed. Having to wipe out the memories of those events was tedious as well; the last thing Sira wanted was to be worshipped by her peers, but it was still mind-numbing busywork.

For a few moments, the fluffshark believed it was over. She had adequately humbled the dracovixen, who would go home, rethink her life and maybe come back a year later a lot smaller, far more contained and ready to turn a new leaf. Maybe it would herald a new age, and Sira could finally afford to stop being so big all the time; it was cute, yeah, but she desperately wanted to try out a new look and Marla had been the only reason she never did. Desperate hope and desperate thoughts, because anyone with half a mind would be able to tell her the vixen was nothing if not idiotic, her priorities so skewed that she would see Sira’s display of power as a challenge rather than the very clear warning that it was.

This gave the sharkess even more of a reason to sigh when she looked down and noticed a small speck growing off to her side, having to turn around and move her titanic mounds away to be able to get a good look. She recognized that signature as belonging to her would-be rival, her voice barely registering as she yelled out her supposed dominance over all things that existed. If only she knew her surge was possible purely because she was subconsciously tapping into some of the sharkess’ own immeasurable power, then maybe Marla would have shut up about it and stopped trying to embarrass herself, but things were rarely ever that simple. Bringing a hand to her temple, Sira was patient enough to wait until her opponent began to match one of her feet in size before opening her mouth, hoping her words would be enough to stop the dracovixen.

“You do know I’ve barely even started, right? You’ve been growing for what, two minutes? And you still think you can match me?” - no effect. Figures - “You’re never going to win this, Marla. Just stop, please!”

“Stop calling me that!” the miniature goddess shouted from below, shaking one of her fists impotently, “I will not be dethroned by some upstart prick who thinks they’re better than me! I reign supreme over this assembly of washed-out has-beens you call pantheons! I alone have conquered it! I alone will loom over it!”

Her tired, well-practiced words were accompanied by a growth spurt that, if Sira didn’t exist, might genuinely be called impressive. As it stood though, it was only enough to bring Marla up to the sharkess’ waist, at which point the fluffshark snapped her fingers… and let her “rival” grow faster. It was the only way she thought she’d ever get to her, letting the dracovixen match her pound for pound only to then sap her of all the strength she thought she had. And Marla made good use of it as well; her body began to bloat in every direction, not just in her feminine attributes, to the point that, when she reached Sira’s height, most of her mass was focused on a musculature so obscenely over-engorged that her head was covered up by neckbulk and their pectorals somehow outsized the gigantic tits they sported. Truly, they thought themselves to be the supreme being around those parts.

“Marla, I’m going to tell you one thing,” Sira sighed.

“What, that you’re sorry for ever trying to match my glory~?” was Sira’s reply, issued from a muffled place beneath her muscles.

“No, Marla. I’m truly sorry for what has to happen now.”

Limits ceased to exist.

Sira willed it. There would be no such things as limitations, now and forever. For a moment, it looked like this might even benefit Marla, who grew big enough to nearly vanish into the background, but it quickly became clear that, while the dracovixen immediately hit her peak, Sira was just beginning to approach hers. In a moment, distance and measurement no longer mattered; if Marla was the background of reality, then the fluffshark became the substrate upon which all things were built. If one were to take a single pore of Sira’s skin, divide it into a billion equal parts and then repeat that process for the duration of the lifetime of a star, they might just reach a size that was merely slightly bigger than Marla’s entire body… though by the time one reached that conclusion, even that infinitesimally small portion of the fluffshark would already have become big enough to consume a billion Marlas.

Her growth continued to accelerate, enough to break the laws of reality and restructure them around Sira’s needs alone; in a moment of blind panic turned to raw pleasure, the sharkess realized she could no longer go back, as reality itself had readjusted to keep her at her insane size. This was her now, unfathomably vast and impossibly burgeoning, enough that even telepathically contacting any of her lesser divinities was impossible… or would be, if not for her will imposing itself upon the cosmos.

The house was broken, turned to pieces by the explosive growth, and yet the dimensional pocket didn’t collapse. The many gods present found themselves floating in the endless expanse of space, watching as it was taken over by what they presumed was part of a single tuft of fur on Sira’s body. Much to their surprise, the dull grey of it all opened up to reveal a cosmic ocean of white, with a violet circle of such immense proportions that, when it blinked, it caused shockwaves to reverberate through their bodies. Sira was watching them, and in that moment, they felt safe. In that moment, Marla knew the folly of her actions. In that moment…

… Marla shrunk.

She joined the rest of the gods, her titanic form shed, her mind a confusing mess of emotions she never had to ruminate on before. She didn’t know what to do with them all; had she failed? Had she transgressed upon some kind of universal law? Where did Sira’s sudden size come from?

All questions that need not be asked, for the fluffshark was a merciful goddess, and thus soothed the dracovixen’s mind with her own. It was hard to describe, a tendril of pure joy that came to her and filled her body with some sort of ultra-divine sense of comfort and certainty. Off in the distance, a gleam heralded the opening of Sira’s mouth, her multiverse-sized chompers on full display for her former peers to see, stretched into a smile that radiated as much happiness as it did companionship.

She might be big, but she was still one of them.

They would never be alone.