Holy crap I actually got this done before a month passed. If just barely. Shit's getting real, and to illustrate that,  rockytheprocy was only too happy to show off Conner enjoying himself in his new position... maybe a little too much. Chapter 10 is coming soon, stay tuned for what I hope to be an epic conclusion to everyone's favorite faux-high fantasy musclefur epic!

For those that want to view the story in a different medium, click the link here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/.....it?usp=sharing

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Art ©  rockytheprocy
Story © Moi
All characters © Their owners

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Something had gone horribly wrong in Virtus. The great capital of the Dominion had cut itself off from the rest of the Dominion mere days after the fall of Nova Remera, and its leaders were gone. Consuls Renard and Claudia had disappeared in the chaos of Nova Remera’s fall, and Consul Elagabalus…

Unless phrased as a warning, it was unwise to speak of Consul Elagabalus.

The day that the Palamani had waited for, the day prophesied by Valentulus since the Dominion’s foundation had come. The Temple of the Strong, that holy palace of marble and gold that loomed over all of Virtus, was no longer empty. It happened just like the prophecy said; an outsider from a still unconquered land would prove his strength in the fires of conflict, in service to the Dominion’s leaders. The mysterious slave-turned-gladiator that swept the Champion title was now easily the biggest and strongest being in Palamani history. How could he not be God of the Strong?

Besides, who was going to say no to him? Elagabalus had. And no one in Virtus wanted to be like Elagabalus. All around the temple’s towering marble walls and massive pillars, the red banner of the Dominion had been replaced with new regalia; dark green banners emblazoned with a swirling, archaic symbol that shined like an emerald. The Diviners, the mage caretakers of the Temple that waited for the day for someone to assume the Golden Throne of Strength, had now assumed their destined role as Priests, in service to the one true God of the Palamani Dominion: Conner. All around

Conner was not an angry god, but he was a demanding one. He was a god of old, a god out of the legends of the ancient Remeran Empire, and one that demanded his pound of flesh. He did not ask for the sacrifice of virgins or children, but what he did ask of the Palamani was just as horrifying to them; he took their strength.

The rich and powerful of Virtus, the Senators, Magistrates, and Army Officers, they were able to sate Conner’s appetite with their Jidou water. His almost daily demands for the precious resource were straining them, but they at least retained their size. The truly desperate or the truly unscrupulous offered their slaves, and the sacrifice was horrifying to behold. In the cool and dark interior of the temple, lit only by sickly, green flames, the shimmer of gold, and the unnatural, supposedly divine green glow of the god’s new symbol, Virtus’ worthy lined up to show their devotion and reverence, complete with sacrifices.

One sacrifice was like any other; Senator Sculla was disturbed by how routine it all felt, now. A stag of the house of Vorenii, one of the oldest houses in the Dominion, Sculla had been a pillar of the community and the lead Senator for Elagabalus’ faction in the Senate. He still wore the toga of a Senator, still showed off his muscular body, but he had never felt so weak and vulnerable. His older cousin had not been Valentulus reborn, but if his only vice was gullibility, that only meant the Vorenii clan could keep him in check more easily.

He had liked his cousin. Now, he couldn’t even bear to look at him.

The figure before him was hardly recognizable. A great ball of soft blubber covered in velvet fur, Elagabalus hid in Conner’s shadow, feeble, lard-swaddled arm wrapped around the monumental raccoon’s leg like a child. Or indeed, a pet; even slaves had more dignity. His antlers had shrunken to a size Sculla had not seen on him since they were children, his face was swollen with chipmunk like cheeks, and all the muscle he had carried with such pride, adorned with so much jewelry and gold, had evaporated like water in the sun. In its place was a belly so large it actively eclipsed the rest of him; a terribly large globe of weak, pliable flesh that wobbled at the slightest movement. Elagabalus now quietly picked at a plate left on the floor, loaded with rich food. His rich clothes were all gone, replaced only by a leather leash and collar, stamped with Conner’s swirling symbol, that pinched his multiple chins. His ears flattened, and his eyes had a cowed look in them as he glanced up at his master, who held his leash in a massive fist. As Sculla approached, Elagabalus didn’t even seem to recognize his cousin’s presence, lost in gorging himself on a chicken.

Conner, for his part, at least looked like the God of the Strong. He was awe-inspiring, towering over everyone, an absolute giant literally as large as a house. Elagabalus’ finery, still stamped with designs used by the Vorenii, had been refitted for him, with jewels and shimmering gold fitted wherever it would on his gargantuan frame. His arms alone, with biceps pressing into a pair of pecs like a shield wall, were bigger than Sculla’s torso, and emblazoned with a glowing green brand. The monstrously strong legs he possessed were thicker than the pillars, with calves and thighs flexing and bulging with the slightest movement. He was not all rippling, cut muscle however; his middle was heavy with abs so thick they pressed down on each other, creating a pronounced gut that curved out, a sign of his sheer gluttony as he consumed more and more strength and power. Amongst the mountain range of shoulder and back muscles, his face leered down at Sculla, smirking with smoldering, glowing green eyes.

“Who approaches the one true God of the Palamani?” Conner spoke in a deep, booming voice.

Sculla fell to his knees, jerking the slave he had bound down with him. “Oh, mighty God, the muscle of divinity itself, and master of all, I have come to show my reverence and devotion to your awesome strength.” Sculla recited, not daring to lift his head.

“Then you may do so-- hey!” Conner jerked at Elagabalus’ leash, and the stag let out a choking whine. “Look at your cousin when he’s speaking, Consul.”

Elagabalus whined, reaching for the chicken that was just out of reach.

“I said, look at him!” Conner growled, wrenching the leash again.

Elagabalus didn’t even seem capable of speech anymore. With a submissive whine, wrapping his fat little hand around Conner’s leg, he glanced up at Sculla.

Sculla felt a shiver go up his spine, but refused to flinch. “O strongest of the strong, I offer this slave as tribute to your glory… may his strength which you have given be returned, by your will.” The stag pushed the slave forward, a burly dog that shivered and stared up at Conner with wild, panicking eyes.

“Scared, little man?” Conner leered at the dog. He stood from his throne, his head nearly brushing up against the ceiling. His arm came down on the slave, enveloping his shoulder entirely, and then some. “You should be.”

Sculla closed his eyes. The flash of green arcane energy, and then the screams. Sculla had been to battle, and he had heard the shrieks of soldiers being dismembered. It was something like that. When he opened his eyes again, the dog was bone-thin, shivering and curled up on the floor like a wild animal.

“We thank you for your tribute… scant as it may be.” Conner was already seated at his throne again, looking slightly larger. “You may go.”

Sculla did not need to be told twice.

The “faithful” went through similar ordeals. Those that did not have anything to Conner ended up like Sculla’s slave, no matter how much they begged. The rich and powerful tried not to think about how many of the poor or how many of their slaves were now reduced to such a state, and when it might be their turn.

But soon, thankfully, the sacrifices sated Conner. The Diviners collected Elagabalus, helped the disgraced blob to his feet, and led him away with more promises of food. Left alone with his own thoughts, Conner’s head began to grow heavy. He nodded off, but his chin didn’t need to travel far, or at all, until it hit the crest of his pecs. When he regained consciousness, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but there was no sunlight peering in from the high windows that lined the temple’s gold dome, and the green flames were sputtering.

Conner could feel his head clear a bit, and the green glow of his eyes dulled enough for him to see with his real, blue eyes. Conner felt uneasy. What had happened that day felt like it had happened to another person. But how was that possible? He remembered the words he said, the things he did with his own hand, and he felt sick. He knew he wasn’t a God.

“I’ve got to get out of here…” Conner rose, stumbling awkwardly on his massive legs.

“WHAT?!” A thunderous voice roared inside the raccoon’s, forcing Conner back into his seat.

“What did you say?” A figure, clad in black and with simmering green eyes, scaled Conner’s mass until they were face to face. His canine snout snarled from underneath a hood, and claws punctured the raccoon’s thick, leathery skin.

“I-I don’t think I can do this! I’m sorry, I just--”

“You don’t think you can DO this?!” Edathan, the ancient spirit and Remeran god of the Warrior’s Strength, roared indignantly at his erstwhile partner and current host.

“It doesn’t seem right! I’m not a God!”

“But I AM, you simpering fool! Do you want to save your Kingdom or not?!”

Conner gulped. He could still feel the massive strength in his body, but it seemed useless against Edathan. “O-of course…”

“Then do as I SAY!” Edathan growled, his claws digging deeper into Conner’s sprawling chest.

“But I don’t-- I don’t want to hurt people!”

Edathan exploded with rage. “The Palamani aren’t people! They are HEATHENS! THIEVES! SAVAGES! Their founder STOLE my power! Valentulus’ spirit and all his successors will PAY for usurping me, and that damnable little upstart Roland--”

“Wait… Roland?” A spark of remembrance fired off in Conner’s head. Roland, Sir Roland, the knight he had been sworn to. The knight he had fought to find again. Conner turned on Edathan, frowning for the first time. “You know where he is, don’t you?”

Edathan’s snarl eased, and he took on a more conciliatory tone. “Now, Conner…” He dug his claws out of the raccoon’s chest and patted it in a fond way, moving to rub his shoulders. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. We have a mission to do.”

“Tell me where Roland is.” Conner scowled.

“Conner, all in time--”

“TELL ME WHERE HE IS!” Conner felt a surge of righteous anger well up. He had been fooled, coerced to do Gods know how many horrible things. Not even the Palamani deserved this. He grabbed Edathan by the neck, and carried him like he was a ragdoll, slamming him against a pillar and leaving a few cracks in the stone. “NOW! No more games.”

Edathan glared at Conner. “Fine by me. You… impudent, ungrateful little WORM! You may look like a God…” he growled, and his claws dug into Conner’s fist like a dagger’s stab, causing the raccoon to howl with pain. “But you don’t know the power of one!”

Edathan pried Conner’s fist off of him with ease, and leapt back at his bulging chest, grappling him like he was getting ready to mount a horse. “YOU WILL SUBMIT! OBEY!”

Conner staggered backward, trying to hit Edathan off of him, but, to his great dismay, his own arms were overburdened with so much muscle, he couldn’t quite reach. “Get off me!”

“I SAID OBEY!” Edathan’s claws dug deeper, and then his hands fused into the raccoon’s chest like it was clay to be molded. Conner stumbled, and fell over backwards. As he slammed into his golden throne, the giant chair tilted back and fell down in a mighty crash.

Conner struggled, fidgeting and flailing his burgeoning limbs, until his eyes flashed green, and Edathan’s voice spoke through Conner’s smirking mouth, and his body started growing all on its own, taking on a new dimension. “You. Are. Mine.”

Far off, in the frontiers that were shared by the Palamani Dominion and the Da-Zhou Empire, Roland jerked awake in a cold sweat. The titan of a unicorn’s great body shivered, as he stared wide-eyed into the night.

Valentulus’ voice rang in his ears. “Edathan has taken a great and periless gamble. Sadly for us, he’s won that gamble. Whatever you intend to do, for the world’s sake, do it now!”