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Anonymous commission, featuring Kazooie, Mr. Patch, infatuation leading to transformation leading to inflation, and a bit of macro stuff that I'm not very good at ;w;
(Commission your own story for $10 per 1000 words! :D)
Kazooie huffed as she looked into New Witchyworld. The amusement park-themed death trap had been completely renovated now that Grunty had been reduced to the bonehead Kazooie always knew she was. But now that Witchyworld was free of evil mascots and killer slot machines, replaced with legitimate employees and attractions, the breegull was so, so…
Bored. She took one look at the place from Pine Grove and immediately realized what a stupid vacation spot it was. She knew she should have gone with Banjo to Jolly Roger Lagoon, but she had already argued to him that Witchyworld was better, so changing her mind would be admitting she was wrong.
And Kazooie was never wrong.
So she preened her red feathers, set her beak resolutely, and darted through the entrance on speedy talons. She approached the ticket stand, then stalled and groaned when she noticed the line. Right. She had to pay to get into this stinking place now.
So she waited as patiently as a breegull could, tapping a talon against the dirt, resisting the urge to peck the snotty brat in front of her who wouldn’t stop sniffling… but finally it was her turn.
A young, bored-looking raccoon waited inside the stand. “Welcome to New Witchyworld, how many tickets do you need,” he drawled out, monotone.
“Just one,” Kazooie squawked back. “And perk up! You look like a moron.” She pecked the hand slumped over the booth and giggled when he retracted it, yelping.
“Sheesh, you’re not my boss,” he grumbled, shaking his hand out. “Tickets are ten coins,” he added reluctantly.
Kazooie reached into her backpack (it was strange to carry what she normally considered home) and grabbed the payment in one wing, hopping up to drop it on the booth.
The raccoon proceeded to ring up and gingerly offer a ticket to the bird, seeming worried about being pecked again. As he should be! Still, Kazooie simply bit the ticket out of his furry hand and trotted to the toll gate. A stout, grumpy looking bear nearly a Banjo and a half tall took and examined her ticket for a moment. She would have pecked him for taking so long, but she was afraid of what such a burly guard could do to a little bird.
Still, it wasn’t too long before she got her ticket back. And finally, she was in New Witchyworld. The park bustled with tourists— a far cry from the abandoned carnival Grunty had appropriated back in 2000. Directly before her was the Big Top, with Conga still guarding the entrance. Honestly, she doubted the dumb monkey even realized the change in management. Around the circus tent were performers and vendors all clamoring for Kazooie’s (okay, technically Banjo’s) hard earned cash. And beyond them were Witchyworld’s iconic Space, Horror, and Wild West zones.
The smell of fried food began to waft her way. She trilled softly, taking in the scent with deep breaths. It smelled much better than that stinking excuse for burgers and fries from the last time she was here. So she followed her nose through the park to a vendor selling standard burger-chain fair. Her snark quelled by appetite, she eagerly ordered up a meal, enjoying it at a table alone, far from the other patrons.
But she was only halfway through her fries when a certain gorilla came walking up to her, to her surprise. Conga glared at her— the only expression the dumb ape could make— and said, “Hey, Kazooie. You’re needed in the Big Top, pronto!”
Kazooie frowned and flicked a fry in his face. “Whaddya need me for, monkey?”
“My name is Conga,” he grumbled, rubbing his nose. “And I don’t know. Mr. Patch specifically requested you months ago; if I ever saw you here, I was to bring you to him.”
“Mr. Patch?!” Kazooie exclaimed, laughing. Mr. Patch had been reformed— physically and morally— since she and Banjo popped him in their second adventure, and the now kind inflatable dinosaur had spearheaded the initiative to make New Witchyworld. Not that Kazooie really cared. “That big, dopey balloon? What, does he need some more holes ripped into him?”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Conga replied, rolling his eyes. “So are you coming or what?”
Kazooie shoveled a wingful of fries into her beak in response. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she replied with a full mouth, hopping off her seat. She swallowed and smirked. “Wanna bet I can sneak a Clockwork Kazooie up his plug?”
“No, Kazooie, I don’t,” Conga mumbled, turning around. “Come on.”
So the bird followed the gorilla to the Big Top. Based on all the fences and gates and signs around the entrance, it was painfully obvious that while the tent itself was off-limits a full circus act was “coming soon”, featuring Mr. Patch, acrobats, and a human cannonball.
Had— had Conga remembered her hoping for that?
Anyway, she followed Conga through the excessive number of gates into the tent proper. Brightly painted construction materials littered the perimeter— clearly to be used in setting up a proper circus— but the tent was otherwise as empty as when Banjo and Kazooie had first arrived. Except, sitting at one end of the tent, was Mr. Patch. The doofy parade balloon of a cartoony T. rex was at least eight meters tall, and gaudy patches covered his body where he had been previously punctured.
He was talking to a couple of foxes in suits far below him, but when he glanced over and saw Kazooie, he gasped, inadvertently swelling up and knocking over the businessfoxes. What’s more, the dinosaur blushed, as if red spraypaint had suddenly formed on either side of his snout. He turned back to the foxes and winced, quickly deflating to his previous size.
“Oh dear, I’m terribly sorry, sirs!” Mr. Patch exclaimed. “I agree to your proposal, a-and I’ll pay you a bonus on your commissions! But you both have to leave right now!”
“Wait, really?” one exclaimed, wagging a bushy tail.
“Yes, yes, now go! Everyone has to go— even you, Conga!” Mr. Patch motioned with puffy arms for them all to exit through the one small entrance.
Kazooie huffed, the first one to turn and leave. “So much for waiting on me to get here.”
“W-wait! Not you, Kazooie!” Mr. Patch lumbered to his feet, wobbling somewhat. “Just you need to stay! Please!”
Kazooie raised an eyebrow at the reformed boss, but stayed put while a grumpy gorilla and two gleeful foxes vacated the enormous tent. Soon it was just Kazooie, Mr. Patch, and a real mess of unconstructed circus stuff.
“So what’s up, airhead?” Kazooie snarked, fluttering atop some soft-ish fabric. “What’s so important that you waited months to tell me and Banjo about?”
“Oh! Not Banjo, my dear Kazooie; had he been here, I would have asked him to leave as well! No, this is something only you should know…” The wobbly inflatable cleared his throat, coughing up a beach ball that burst on contact with the ground. “Oh dear, how embarrassing! My apologies, Kazooie.”
“You’re acting weirder than usual,” she commented, rolling her eyes. “Out with it already!”
“R-right, what I wanted to say!” A silence fell, broken only by the light squeaking of Mr. Patch poking his arms together. “Erm… I believe this will help explain things!”
The ground rumbled beside Kazooie and she squawked in alarm, fluttering back away from the forming mound. She was about to chew Mr. Patch out for trying to attack her with those stupid boxing gloves, but when it sprung up out of the ground…
Clenched in the glove was a bouquet of roses. Kazooie’s eyes widened.
“F-for you, my dear!” Mr. Patch stammered nervously.
Suspecting a trap, but dominated by curiosity, Kazooie took the roses from the glove, which burrowed itself beneath the tent again. So far as she could tell, it was just a regular bouquet of a dozen fresh flowers.
As she examined the roses, Mr. Patch continued, “I was working under Grunty when we met, so I couldn’t not fight you. But ever since I saw you, and heard your adorable voice, and saw the way you fought and flew…” Kazooie gave him another incredulous look, then blinked in shock at the inflatable’s heavy blush and timid demeanor. Was… was this dopey balloon lovestruck?
“It would be wrong to deny that I have felt a longing for you!” Mr. Patch said furtively.
Kazooie sighed and cut straight to the chase. “You’re in love with me.” Her voice was flat, unimpressed.
“Why, yes! Haha…” The dinosaur rubbed the back of his head. “Your absence has only strengthened my affection, my dear!”
“Unbelievable. And how did you think a relationship between a big dumb balloon and a breegull would even work?” Kazooie snarked.
“Wow, what a girl!” Mr. Patch said, looking up in delight. “I’ve dearly missed your quips!”
“Answer the question, airhead! Actually, I don’t really have to be here. See you never, creep.” She tossed aside the roses and trotted quickly to the exit, only to find it was totally shut and locked. She pecked the tent, unable to poke through the tough fabric. “Hey, monkey! Open the door!”
“My name is Conga,” came a muffled voice.
“Then open the door already, Conga!”
“No can do; Mr. Patch’s orders.”
“Hear me out, Kazooie!” came a plaintive yet still booming voice. Mr. Patch had bounced over to the entrance, but seemed to maintain a respectful distance from the object of his affection. “Don’t you think I’ve been considering just that for months?”
“Open the door or I’ll blast it open!” Kazooie yelled, ignoring the parade balloon.
“Good luck,” the ever unimpressed Conga snarked. “Both the tent and Mr. Patch have been upgraded against your explosive eggs.”
Kazooie still tried, firing a grenade egg at the door. And she still failed. Looks like she was stuck.
“Fine.” She turned around and trotted back into the tent proper, glaring at Mr. Patch. “Why in the world should we be together?”
“Well, I’m not a very demanding partner!” Mr. Patch began. “I have all I desire already, running New Witchyworld. And my entrepreneuring has made me quite wealthy! I would gladly share my profits with my love, my queen!”
“How much money are we talking?” That much interested the bird.
“Millions, at least! You and Banjo could move in just outside New Witchyworld, in a manor that would make your dinky little home look like an outhouse shack! There would be room for both of us to live together as lovers, partners for as long as we both shall live…”
“Not interested, bubble boy. There’s no way I’m leaving Spiral Mountain!”
“Th-then perhaps I can build a home for us there!”
Kazooie slapped her wing into her face. “And there’s no way I could fall in love with a dumb parade balloon anyway. I’ll still take your cash if that’s still on the table.”
“No way at all?” Mr. Patch poked his puffy arms together again. “Even if we co-owned New Witchyworld…?”
“No way at all! Ugh, what do I need to say to you to get out of here already?” She vainly clawed at the tent with a talon.
Mr. Patch suddenly frowned and sighed. “Then, my dear, you leave me with no choice!” He coughed up another of his exploding beach balls— this one was headed right for Kazooie! She ruffled her feathers and trotted out of the way… right into a boxing glove mound.
The following spring-loaded uppercut dazed Kazooie. While her vision swam and her muscles refused to respond, Mr. Patch leaned over, scooped up the bird… and dropped her right down his throat.
When Kazooie reacquired her wits, she was in the dimly lit belly of a parade balloon. Light shone through his belly, giving her enough light to see that his legs and air valve had too thin entrances for her to fall through. He felt like extra-smooth fabric, she discovered— even his patches! Well, the ones she could reach at least.
Still, she fluttered and squawked indignantly, hurling curses and grenade eggs in tandem at her inflatable predator. Her wings and talons began to feel itchy…
“Sorry, my love, but this is the only way!” The dino’s voice was oddly muffled from inside him. “Please, relax. It will be only be a little longer.”
Despite her fury, she was getting tired. Oddly so— she’d fought for much longer in the past without breaking a sweat. She felt almost as though she was melting… it was a bit warm in him, but… she felt herself stretching out, growing…
What… was happening to her…?
She couldn’t cough up a single egg anymore, she was so tired. And still she found herself growing, her wings turning into a fabric much like Patch’s… her feathers smoothing out… so tired… She shut her eyes…
…
Mr. Patch poked his arms together as he waited for his lover’s transformation to complete. He thought something like this might happen, so he asked around in the witch community for such a spell. A reputable mage named Humba Wumba had responded and gave him a potion, enchanting him so that whoever he devoured would not be harmed, but instead…
His eyes widened. It was hard to describe why, but he suddenly knew that the transformation was done. So he cleared his throat and summoned a beach ball from within his belly, the projectile scooping up something large and heavy as it curled itself into a ball encasing its cargo.
It was a bit painful to cough up a ball so heavy, but sure enough Mr. Patch spat it out on the ground. The ball burst into confetti, revealing a large, deflated breegull balloon, made of the same stretchy fabric as Patch himself.
The inflatable was in a daze from her transformation; her mind was still adjusting to its new form and trying to get a handle on where she was and what she was now… There came a gentle poke at her wing— something large, soft and malleable. Still, it was enough to properly wake her up, causing Kazooie to gasp for breath.
Huff… Air rushed into the inflata-bird, tingling as it forced its way into every crevice of her body, from talons to belly to tail feathers. Huff…! Kazooie swelled up, opening her eyes as her body lurched beneath her. Huff, huff, huff… huff…! Breath after breath the balloon bird took more by instinct than thought, leaning forward onto her talons as the seams running up and down her form were pulled taut from her inflation. She blinked her eyes open and looked around at the much smaller tent…
Except that the tent was the same size— Kazooie had grown! She squawked in surprise, flapping squeaky wings that brought her right up into the tent’s ceiling. She fell back down and bounced, slow and feather-light from her low density. Feeling distressed, she looked over herself, twisting a flexible yet rubbery body to see how flesh and feathers had become smooth, painted red fabric.
She maintained her lovely coloration— not an ugly patch in sight! Her feathers had mostly disappeared, aside from her longest feathers on her wings, her tail feathers, and the curly ones atop her head. Those feathers had all filled with air like her body, giving them a puffy, cartoony look. Seams ran up and down her body, dividing her up into sections that might have been sewn together if she was created this way.
She whirled around and glared at Mr. Patch, who was barely a head taller than her now. Her breathing was heavy, angry, and poor Patch couldn’t do more than poke his arms together timidly under her gaze. Kazooie could feel herself stretching, swelling from her own breath, air pushing her puffy wings and hollow faux-feathers to be bigger, wider, taller!
And taller she grew. She had nearly doubled in size from her literally swelling anger, making the once giant Mr. Patch a mere pooltoy and the enormously spacious tent a little cramped. She creaked lightly as her stretched, treated fabric rubbed against itself: puffy wings creaked against a hollow body, ballooned tail feathers squeaked as they wobbled into one another.
“You…!” she chirped out, enraged. “You jerk!” She slapped the dino hard with a wing, sending him flying sideways and making the inflatable bird herself wobble from the recoil. Kazooie stumbled over, bouncing harmlessly against the ground, and it was a minute or two before she found the balance to stand again.
Mr. Patch, meanwhile, bounced against the ground with all the grace (or lack thereof) of a balloon. Eventually he too managed to collect himself and face Kazooie again. “I’m sorry, love, but it was the only way! Now we’re both inflatables; we belong together! Can’t you see?”
“The only thing I see is your fat, overblown body ripped to pieces!” Kazooie spat back. She reached out a talon, intending to shred her kidnapped right open… but harmless, puffy claws merely indented into the living parade balloon. Her talons bounced back, knocking the puffy Kazooie off balance once again.
Mr. Patch looked just as hurt, though. “I… I just don’t understand! I’m offering you everything I have, a chance to live out the life of your dreams, hand in hand with me as fellow parade balloons!”
“News flash, moron; I don’t care. I never cared!” Kazooie gave him another whack and sent him soaring into the air, tumbling and whirling helplessly. She giggled and bounced the dino balloon around, ignoring his yelps of alarm. This, at the least, was fun!
She squished and squeezed the “little” inflatable, finding him to be too stretchy to pop with a hug… unfortunately. So she just batted him here and there instead! Eventually she decided to give him a couple puffs into his valve and hugpop him, but alas, he was just too tough.
“Wow, what a girl!” Mr. Patch chuckled in a strained voice as Kazooie hugged him dangerously tight. His limbs and spikes were blown out to comical proportions by the squeezing, but he didn’t spring a single leak. “See how fun being a balloon can be?”
That made Kazooie flinch, and she dropped him. “I’m… I’m out of here!” she squawked as she turned around.
She prodded at the tent wall and trilled in thought. Her increased size came with enormous strength… she bet she could pull a few tent stakes right out and make her own mammoth-sized exit. She pushed at the base of the tent and nevertheless encountered resistance. She set her stance and pushed harder, all the while squawking back, “I don’t want to be ‘your girl’ or co-own this joint. I hate this stinking park, but more than anything now, I hate you for doing this to me!”
The tent stakes pulled free one after another like staccato strings. The gargantuan balloon breegull lifted the side of the tent up and over her head, revealing a surprised crowd of tourists below. She took a shaky step out, flapping her wings for stability, but that only made her hollow, stretchy form wobble more from the waves of motion. Still, she landed her talons to the side of the inexplicably cheering crowd, and just as awkwardly stepped over them.
And behind her called a dejected voice. “If… if you ever come back, I can teach you how to live life as a balloon! Show you how to live life when everything’s so small! I’ll wait for you, my love…”
The parade Kazooie half-walked, half-bounced over and around the stand and attractions, making a beeline for the park’s perimeter. It was an awkward, slow gait— much like Mr. Patch’s bouncy walking.
She fluttered up over the perimeter into Pine Grove, landing directly in the midst of the trees’ spiky branches. She winced, thinking she’d pop… but it seems she was made out of tougher stuff than that.
Now that she was alone, she took a moment to actually feel sad as she lumbered and bounced back home. Stupid Mr. Patch and his stupid crush! Now she was stuck as a big, fat balloon like him… at least she still looked better.
Kazooie climbed out of the forest onto the plateau housing Glitter Gulch Mine. She simply hopped right off to the Wooded Hollow below, trusting her airy form to not splatter hundreds of feet below. It was another wade through trees she could touch the tips of with a puffy wing before she returned to Jinjo Village, and a squeeze through the tunnel at its border back to Spiral Mountain.
Her valley home was so much smaller, now. Spiral mountain was just a hop and a flutter to its tip, and she figured she could drink up the nearby waterfall without spilling a drop, not that she wanted to walk with a water belly— getting home around while wobbling and bouncing in even slight breezes was challenge enough!
She trilled sadly and flopped down on her rump, blocking an entire path with her balloon behind. Banjo wouldn’t be back for a number of days at least, and there was no way she’d show up at Jolly Roger Lagoon like this. She wanted nothing more than to be back in Banjo’s backpack, or at the very least back home, but their little home would barely fit Kazooie’s wing at her smallest size!
She bounced around the valley, feeling melancholy as all the little alcoves she could roost in were too small for even her inflatable claw. She tried flying, and found that she hadn’t lost any strength with her weight— two flaps sent her soaring above the valley. There she tumbled in clouds and patches of sunlight, chirping in alarm as she tried to steady herself.
She ended up crashing right into the waterfall’s lake with hardly a splash. She sighed, taking a deep breath… then coughing in surprise when she really noticed how it felt to grow. She took another breath, feeling every inch of her fabric body stretch little by little, an effect that compounded across the bird to make her grow a couple meters in a matter of seconds. She even delighted in the massage like feeling, leaning back into the water.
Then she trilled as she seriously contemplated her options. No way was she going back to living outside, super-tough balloon body or not. She couldn’t face Banjo’s friends either and ask for help… she hated to admit it, but Mr. Patch was probably her best option. She seriously doubted she could fake falling for the fatty, but at the very least she could leverage his attraction to get some help out of him.
So the strange, wobbly, inflatable Kazooie paddled out of the water, got back to her talons and reluctantly made her way out of Spiral Mountain, reversing her homebound path right back to New Witchyworld. It was easier on the way back, at least— minus the misjudged flutter that left her half a mile above the plateau— she was getting used to her bouncy gait.
But soon enough, she was wobbling her way back into Mr. Patch’s tent. He once again gasped with delight upon seeing her, bouncing to his feet and coming in close for a hug. “I knew you’d come back for me, dearie!”
“Can it, Patch,” she grumbled, gently pushing him away. “Just… just teach me how to handle this body. Please.”
“Oh, of course, of course!” Mr. Patch nodded excitedly. “And maybe after we can go out and—”
“Not now, Mr. Patch!” Kazooie was really fighting the urge to gag at his lovey-dovey attitude.
“R… right. Anything you desire, of course.” Mr. Patch blushed shyly.
And so began Kazooie’s first lesson in “balloonhood”, learning how to walk smoothly (enough) and even fire her now-inflatable eggs again. Still, Mr. Patch’s affection for her was easily seen in his nicknames and doting for her. It was nice to receive so much attention and praise at a time when the bird felt as hollow as her body, but... still. It was all Kazooie could do not to just count down the days until Banjo got to New Witchyworld so she could get him transformed, too. She was sure he wouldn’t mind; she needed a much bigger backpack now, after all!
...Well, she was sure enough. He’d be fine.
(Commission your own story for $10 per 1000 words! :D)
Kazooie huffed as she looked into New Witchyworld. The amusement park-themed death trap had been completely renovated now that Grunty had been reduced to the bonehead Kazooie always knew she was. But now that Witchyworld was free of evil mascots and killer slot machines, replaced with legitimate employees and attractions, the breegull was so, so…
Bored. She took one look at the place from Pine Grove and immediately realized what a stupid vacation spot it was. She knew she should have gone with Banjo to Jolly Roger Lagoon, but she had already argued to him that Witchyworld was better, so changing her mind would be admitting she was wrong.
And Kazooie was never wrong.
So she preened her red feathers, set her beak resolutely, and darted through the entrance on speedy talons. She approached the ticket stand, then stalled and groaned when she noticed the line. Right. She had to pay to get into this stinking place now.
So she waited as patiently as a breegull could, tapping a talon against the dirt, resisting the urge to peck the snotty brat in front of her who wouldn’t stop sniffling… but finally it was her turn.
A young, bored-looking raccoon waited inside the stand. “Welcome to New Witchyworld, how many tickets do you need,” he drawled out, monotone.
“Just one,” Kazooie squawked back. “And perk up! You look like a moron.” She pecked the hand slumped over the booth and giggled when he retracted it, yelping.
“Sheesh, you’re not my boss,” he grumbled, shaking his hand out. “Tickets are ten coins,” he added reluctantly.
Kazooie reached into her backpack (it was strange to carry what she normally considered home) and grabbed the payment in one wing, hopping up to drop it on the booth.
The raccoon proceeded to ring up and gingerly offer a ticket to the bird, seeming worried about being pecked again. As he should be! Still, Kazooie simply bit the ticket out of his furry hand and trotted to the toll gate. A stout, grumpy looking bear nearly a Banjo and a half tall took and examined her ticket for a moment. She would have pecked him for taking so long, but she was afraid of what such a burly guard could do to a little bird.
Still, it wasn’t too long before she got her ticket back. And finally, she was in New Witchyworld. The park bustled with tourists— a far cry from the abandoned carnival Grunty had appropriated back in 2000. Directly before her was the Big Top, with Conga still guarding the entrance. Honestly, she doubted the dumb monkey even realized the change in management. Around the circus tent were performers and vendors all clamoring for Kazooie’s (okay, technically Banjo’s) hard earned cash. And beyond them were Witchyworld’s iconic Space, Horror, and Wild West zones.
The smell of fried food began to waft her way. She trilled softly, taking in the scent with deep breaths. It smelled much better than that stinking excuse for burgers and fries from the last time she was here. So she followed her nose through the park to a vendor selling standard burger-chain fair. Her snark quelled by appetite, she eagerly ordered up a meal, enjoying it at a table alone, far from the other patrons.
But she was only halfway through her fries when a certain gorilla came walking up to her, to her surprise. Conga glared at her— the only expression the dumb ape could make— and said, “Hey, Kazooie. You’re needed in the Big Top, pronto!”
Kazooie frowned and flicked a fry in his face. “Whaddya need me for, monkey?”
“My name is Conga,” he grumbled, rubbing his nose. “And I don’t know. Mr. Patch specifically requested you months ago; if I ever saw you here, I was to bring you to him.”
“Mr. Patch?!” Kazooie exclaimed, laughing. Mr. Patch had been reformed— physically and morally— since she and Banjo popped him in their second adventure, and the now kind inflatable dinosaur had spearheaded the initiative to make New Witchyworld. Not that Kazooie really cared. “That big, dopey balloon? What, does he need some more holes ripped into him?”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Conga replied, rolling his eyes. “So are you coming or what?”
Kazooie shoveled a wingful of fries into her beak in response. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she replied with a full mouth, hopping off her seat. She swallowed and smirked. “Wanna bet I can sneak a Clockwork Kazooie up his plug?”
“No, Kazooie, I don’t,” Conga mumbled, turning around. “Come on.”
So the bird followed the gorilla to the Big Top. Based on all the fences and gates and signs around the entrance, it was painfully obvious that while the tent itself was off-limits a full circus act was “coming soon”, featuring Mr. Patch, acrobats, and a human cannonball.
Had— had Conga remembered her hoping for that?
Anyway, she followed Conga through the excessive number of gates into the tent proper. Brightly painted construction materials littered the perimeter— clearly to be used in setting up a proper circus— but the tent was otherwise as empty as when Banjo and Kazooie had first arrived. Except, sitting at one end of the tent, was Mr. Patch. The doofy parade balloon of a cartoony T. rex was at least eight meters tall, and gaudy patches covered his body where he had been previously punctured.
He was talking to a couple of foxes in suits far below him, but when he glanced over and saw Kazooie, he gasped, inadvertently swelling up and knocking over the businessfoxes. What’s more, the dinosaur blushed, as if red spraypaint had suddenly formed on either side of his snout. He turned back to the foxes and winced, quickly deflating to his previous size.
“Oh dear, I’m terribly sorry, sirs!” Mr. Patch exclaimed. “I agree to your proposal, a-and I’ll pay you a bonus on your commissions! But you both have to leave right now!”
“Wait, really?” one exclaimed, wagging a bushy tail.
“Yes, yes, now go! Everyone has to go— even you, Conga!” Mr. Patch motioned with puffy arms for them all to exit through the one small entrance.
Kazooie huffed, the first one to turn and leave. “So much for waiting on me to get here.”
“W-wait! Not you, Kazooie!” Mr. Patch lumbered to his feet, wobbling somewhat. “Just you need to stay! Please!”
Kazooie raised an eyebrow at the reformed boss, but stayed put while a grumpy gorilla and two gleeful foxes vacated the enormous tent. Soon it was just Kazooie, Mr. Patch, and a real mess of unconstructed circus stuff.
“So what’s up, airhead?” Kazooie snarked, fluttering atop some soft-ish fabric. “What’s so important that you waited months to tell me and Banjo about?”
“Oh! Not Banjo, my dear Kazooie; had he been here, I would have asked him to leave as well! No, this is something only you should know…” The wobbly inflatable cleared his throat, coughing up a beach ball that burst on contact with the ground. “Oh dear, how embarrassing! My apologies, Kazooie.”
“You’re acting weirder than usual,” she commented, rolling her eyes. “Out with it already!”
“R-right, what I wanted to say!” A silence fell, broken only by the light squeaking of Mr. Patch poking his arms together. “Erm… I believe this will help explain things!”
The ground rumbled beside Kazooie and she squawked in alarm, fluttering back away from the forming mound. She was about to chew Mr. Patch out for trying to attack her with those stupid boxing gloves, but when it sprung up out of the ground…
Clenched in the glove was a bouquet of roses. Kazooie’s eyes widened.
“F-for you, my dear!” Mr. Patch stammered nervously.
Suspecting a trap, but dominated by curiosity, Kazooie took the roses from the glove, which burrowed itself beneath the tent again. So far as she could tell, it was just a regular bouquet of a dozen fresh flowers.
As she examined the roses, Mr. Patch continued, “I was working under Grunty when we met, so I couldn’t not fight you. But ever since I saw you, and heard your adorable voice, and saw the way you fought and flew…” Kazooie gave him another incredulous look, then blinked in shock at the inflatable’s heavy blush and timid demeanor. Was… was this dopey balloon lovestruck?
“It would be wrong to deny that I have felt a longing for you!” Mr. Patch said furtively.
Kazooie sighed and cut straight to the chase. “You’re in love with me.” Her voice was flat, unimpressed.
“Why, yes! Haha…” The dinosaur rubbed the back of his head. “Your absence has only strengthened my affection, my dear!”
“Unbelievable. And how did you think a relationship between a big dumb balloon and a breegull would even work?” Kazooie snarked.
“Wow, what a girl!” Mr. Patch said, looking up in delight. “I’ve dearly missed your quips!”
“Answer the question, airhead! Actually, I don’t really have to be here. See you never, creep.” She tossed aside the roses and trotted quickly to the exit, only to find it was totally shut and locked. She pecked the tent, unable to poke through the tough fabric. “Hey, monkey! Open the door!”
“My name is Conga,” came a muffled voice.
“Then open the door already, Conga!”
“No can do; Mr. Patch’s orders.”
“Hear me out, Kazooie!” came a plaintive yet still booming voice. Mr. Patch had bounced over to the entrance, but seemed to maintain a respectful distance from the object of his affection. “Don’t you think I’ve been considering just that for months?”
“Open the door or I’ll blast it open!” Kazooie yelled, ignoring the parade balloon.
“Good luck,” the ever unimpressed Conga snarked. “Both the tent and Mr. Patch have been upgraded against your explosive eggs.”
Kazooie still tried, firing a grenade egg at the door. And she still failed. Looks like she was stuck.
“Fine.” She turned around and trotted back into the tent proper, glaring at Mr. Patch. “Why in the world should we be together?”
“Well, I’m not a very demanding partner!” Mr. Patch began. “I have all I desire already, running New Witchyworld. And my entrepreneuring has made me quite wealthy! I would gladly share my profits with my love, my queen!”
“How much money are we talking?” That much interested the bird.
“Millions, at least! You and Banjo could move in just outside New Witchyworld, in a manor that would make your dinky little home look like an outhouse shack! There would be room for both of us to live together as lovers, partners for as long as we both shall live…”
“Not interested, bubble boy. There’s no way I’m leaving Spiral Mountain!”
“Th-then perhaps I can build a home for us there!”
Kazooie slapped her wing into her face. “And there’s no way I could fall in love with a dumb parade balloon anyway. I’ll still take your cash if that’s still on the table.”
“No way at all?” Mr. Patch poked his puffy arms together again. “Even if we co-owned New Witchyworld…?”
“No way at all! Ugh, what do I need to say to you to get out of here already?” She vainly clawed at the tent with a talon.
Mr. Patch suddenly frowned and sighed. “Then, my dear, you leave me with no choice!” He coughed up another of his exploding beach balls— this one was headed right for Kazooie! She ruffled her feathers and trotted out of the way… right into a boxing glove mound.
The following spring-loaded uppercut dazed Kazooie. While her vision swam and her muscles refused to respond, Mr. Patch leaned over, scooped up the bird… and dropped her right down his throat.
When Kazooie reacquired her wits, she was in the dimly lit belly of a parade balloon. Light shone through his belly, giving her enough light to see that his legs and air valve had too thin entrances for her to fall through. He felt like extra-smooth fabric, she discovered— even his patches! Well, the ones she could reach at least.
Still, she fluttered and squawked indignantly, hurling curses and grenade eggs in tandem at her inflatable predator. Her wings and talons began to feel itchy…
“Sorry, my love, but this is the only way!” The dino’s voice was oddly muffled from inside him. “Please, relax. It will be only be a little longer.”
Despite her fury, she was getting tired. Oddly so— she’d fought for much longer in the past without breaking a sweat. She felt almost as though she was melting… it was a bit warm in him, but… she felt herself stretching out, growing…
What… was happening to her…?
She couldn’t cough up a single egg anymore, she was so tired. And still she found herself growing, her wings turning into a fabric much like Patch’s… her feathers smoothing out… so tired… She shut her eyes…
…
Mr. Patch poked his arms together as he waited for his lover’s transformation to complete. He thought something like this might happen, so he asked around in the witch community for such a spell. A reputable mage named Humba Wumba had responded and gave him a potion, enchanting him so that whoever he devoured would not be harmed, but instead…
His eyes widened. It was hard to describe why, but he suddenly knew that the transformation was done. So he cleared his throat and summoned a beach ball from within his belly, the projectile scooping up something large and heavy as it curled itself into a ball encasing its cargo.
It was a bit painful to cough up a ball so heavy, but sure enough Mr. Patch spat it out on the ground. The ball burst into confetti, revealing a large, deflated breegull balloon, made of the same stretchy fabric as Patch himself.
The inflatable was in a daze from her transformation; her mind was still adjusting to its new form and trying to get a handle on where she was and what she was now… There came a gentle poke at her wing— something large, soft and malleable. Still, it was enough to properly wake her up, causing Kazooie to gasp for breath.
Huff… Air rushed into the inflata-bird, tingling as it forced its way into every crevice of her body, from talons to belly to tail feathers. Huff…! Kazooie swelled up, opening her eyes as her body lurched beneath her. Huff, huff, huff… huff…! Breath after breath the balloon bird took more by instinct than thought, leaning forward onto her talons as the seams running up and down her form were pulled taut from her inflation. She blinked her eyes open and looked around at the much smaller tent…
Except that the tent was the same size— Kazooie had grown! She squawked in surprise, flapping squeaky wings that brought her right up into the tent’s ceiling. She fell back down and bounced, slow and feather-light from her low density. Feeling distressed, she looked over herself, twisting a flexible yet rubbery body to see how flesh and feathers had become smooth, painted red fabric.
She maintained her lovely coloration— not an ugly patch in sight! Her feathers had mostly disappeared, aside from her longest feathers on her wings, her tail feathers, and the curly ones atop her head. Those feathers had all filled with air like her body, giving them a puffy, cartoony look. Seams ran up and down her body, dividing her up into sections that might have been sewn together if she was created this way.
She whirled around and glared at Mr. Patch, who was barely a head taller than her now. Her breathing was heavy, angry, and poor Patch couldn’t do more than poke his arms together timidly under her gaze. Kazooie could feel herself stretching, swelling from her own breath, air pushing her puffy wings and hollow faux-feathers to be bigger, wider, taller!
And taller she grew. She had nearly doubled in size from her literally swelling anger, making the once giant Mr. Patch a mere pooltoy and the enormously spacious tent a little cramped. She creaked lightly as her stretched, treated fabric rubbed against itself: puffy wings creaked against a hollow body, ballooned tail feathers squeaked as they wobbled into one another.
“You…!” she chirped out, enraged. “You jerk!” She slapped the dino hard with a wing, sending him flying sideways and making the inflatable bird herself wobble from the recoil. Kazooie stumbled over, bouncing harmlessly against the ground, and it was a minute or two before she found the balance to stand again.
Mr. Patch, meanwhile, bounced against the ground with all the grace (or lack thereof) of a balloon. Eventually he too managed to collect himself and face Kazooie again. “I’m sorry, love, but it was the only way! Now we’re both inflatables; we belong together! Can’t you see?”
“The only thing I see is your fat, overblown body ripped to pieces!” Kazooie spat back. She reached out a talon, intending to shred her kidnapped right open… but harmless, puffy claws merely indented into the living parade balloon. Her talons bounced back, knocking the puffy Kazooie off balance once again.
Mr. Patch looked just as hurt, though. “I… I just don’t understand! I’m offering you everything I have, a chance to live out the life of your dreams, hand in hand with me as fellow parade balloons!”
“News flash, moron; I don’t care. I never cared!” Kazooie gave him another whack and sent him soaring into the air, tumbling and whirling helplessly. She giggled and bounced the dino balloon around, ignoring his yelps of alarm. This, at the least, was fun!
She squished and squeezed the “little” inflatable, finding him to be too stretchy to pop with a hug… unfortunately. So she just batted him here and there instead! Eventually she decided to give him a couple puffs into his valve and hugpop him, but alas, he was just too tough.
“Wow, what a girl!” Mr. Patch chuckled in a strained voice as Kazooie hugged him dangerously tight. His limbs and spikes were blown out to comical proportions by the squeezing, but he didn’t spring a single leak. “See how fun being a balloon can be?”
That made Kazooie flinch, and she dropped him. “I’m… I’m out of here!” she squawked as she turned around.
She prodded at the tent wall and trilled in thought. Her increased size came with enormous strength… she bet she could pull a few tent stakes right out and make her own mammoth-sized exit. She pushed at the base of the tent and nevertheless encountered resistance. She set her stance and pushed harder, all the while squawking back, “I don’t want to be ‘your girl’ or co-own this joint. I hate this stinking park, but more than anything now, I hate you for doing this to me!”
The tent stakes pulled free one after another like staccato strings. The gargantuan balloon breegull lifted the side of the tent up and over her head, revealing a surprised crowd of tourists below. She took a shaky step out, flapping her wings for stability, but that only made her hollow, stretchy form wobble more from the waves of motion. Still, she landed her talons to the side of the inexplicably cheering crowd, and just as awkwardly stepped over them.
And behind her called a dejected voice. “If… if you ever come back, I can teach you how to live life as a balloon! Show you how to live life when everything’s so small! I’ll wait for you, my love…”
The parade Kazooie half-walked, half-bounced over and around the stand and attractions, making a beeline for the park’s perimeter. It was an awkward, slow gait— much like Mr. Patch’s bouncy walking.
She fluttered up over the perimeter into Pine Grove, landing directly in the midst of the trees’ spiky branches. She winced, thinking she’d pop… but it seems she was made out of tougher stuff than that.
Now that she was alone, she took a moment to actually feel sad as she lumbered and bounced back home. Stupid Mr. Patch and his stupid crush! Now she was stuck as a big, fat balloon like him… at least she still looked better.
Kazooie climbed out of the forest onto the plateau housing Glitter Gulch Mine. She simply hopped right off to the Wooded Hollow below, trusting her airy form to not splatter hundreds of feet below. It was another wade through trees she could touch the tips of with a puffy wing before she returned to Jinjo Village, and a squeeze through the tunnel at its border back to Spiral Mountain.
Her valley home was so much smaller, now. Spiral mountain was just a hop and a flutter to its tip, and she figured she could drink up the nearby waterfall without spilling a drop, not that she wanted to walk with a water belly— getting home around while wobbling and bouncing in even slight breezes was challenge enough!
She trilled sadly and flopped down on her rump, blocking an entire path with her balloon behind. Banjo wouldn’t be back for a number of days at least, and there was no way she’d show up at Jolly Roger Lagoon like this. She wanted nothing more than to be back in Banjo’s backpack, or at the very least back home, but their little home would barely fit Kazooie’s wing at her smallest size!
She bounced around the valley, feeling melancholy as all the little alcoves she could roost in were too small for even her inflatable claw. She tried flying, and found that she hadn’t lost any strength with her weight— two flaps sent her soaring above the valley. There she tumbled in clouds and patches of sunlight, chirping in alarm as she tried to steady herself.
She ended up crashing right into the waterfall’s lake with hardly a splash. She sighed, taking a deep breath… then coughing in surprise when she really noticed how it felt to grow. She took another breath, feeling every inch of her fabric body stretch little by little, an effect that compounded across the bird to make her grow a couple meters in a matter of seconds. She even delighted in the massage like feeling, leaning back into the water.
Then she trilled as she seriously contemplated her options. No way was she going back to living outside, super-tough balloon body or not. She couldn’t face Banjo’s friends either and ask for help… she hated to admit it, but Mr. Patch was probably her best option. She seriously doubted she could fake falling for the fatty, but at the very least she could leverage his attraction to get some help out of him.
So the strange, wobbly, inflatable Kazooie paddled out of the water, got back to her talons and reluctantly made her way out of Spiral Mountain, reversing her homebound path right back to New Witchyworld. It was easier on the way back, at least— minus the misjudged flutter that left her half a mile above the plateau— she was getting used to her bouncy gait.
But soon enough, she was wobbling her way back into Mr. Patch’s tent. He once again gasped with delight upon seeing her, bouncing to his feet and coming in close for a hug. “I knew you’d come back for me, dearie!”
“Can it, Patch,” she grumbled, gently pushing him away. “Just… just teach me how to handle this body. Please.”
“Oh, of course, of course!” Mr. Patch nodded excitedly. “And maybe after we can go out and—”
“Not now, Mr. Patch!” Kazooie was really fighting the urge to gag at his lovey-dovey attitude.
“R… right. Anything you desire, of course.” Mr. Patch blushed shyly.
And so began Kazooie’s first lesson in “balloonhood”, learning how to walk smoothly (enough) and even fire her now-inflatable eggs again. Still, Mr. Patch’s affection for her was easily seen in his nicknames and doting for her. It was nice to receive so much attention and praise at a time when the bird felt as hollow as her body, but... still. It was all Kazooie could do not to just count down the days until Banjo got to New Witchyworld so she could get him transformed, too. She was sure he wouldn’t mind; she needed a much bigger backpack now, after all!
...Well, she was sure enough. He’d be fine.
Category Story / Inflation
Species Avian (Other)
Size 117 x 120px
File Size 838 kB
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