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Macro March: Alliterative Addendum
by RaddaRaem
Writer
4 years ago
It be that time of year again. Yet more story requests for the month of Macro March to show off!
Requests made by:
T-Bone
REDstiza
Gatrzilla
Nimono
Alkali
Thumbnail by
PogonipTitle: Loss Leader
For: Max
Fingers steepled, Anita inhaled deeply. “Calm, deep, breaths,” the dragoness thought to herself. “You know better. You are better than this,” she mentally repeated. Biting at the inside of her cheeks Anita irritably took to rolling folds of flesh between her pointed teeth.
GRNNN
Anger abating, Anita's scaly green form audibly creaked as she sighed in relief. The buttons of her blouse, while pulled taut, held the line. The sleeves of her suit had only rolled up as far as her elbows. Her slow but steady growth had, thankfully, petered out. Brows arched, the dragoness slapped her palms against her desk. “Once more then,” she said with a shake of her head. Whistling through her teeth she flipped over her smart phone and willed herself to gaze upon the irascible emails that awaited her.
A sense of foreboding permeated her sky high office suite as she doom scrolled through them. “It only took auditing how long to get back to me?!” Anita all but spat as she glowered at their findings. Overhead, costs, and outflows at her company had reliably outpaced forecasts quarter after quarter. To Anita's exasperation her C-suite latched on to rosy, and notably blameless, excuses to explain it all away. Inflation! Geopolitical pressures! Regulation! They could always be counted on to explain why it wasn't their fault!
Eyes half-lidded, the dragoness sighed heavily while smoke trailed from her nostrils. This was her money they were pissing away and she would damn well know where it went. Given how reliably the metrics just barely missed their mark, how they always always always wavered within the margin of error, Anita had long suspected foul play.
Anita daintily papped a thumb, her digits having swollen to the point they all but enveloped the screen, against the provided attachments. Hmph. Only a select few had access to their internal estimates so, obviously, she started there. Or, more precisely, she had her auditors start there. “Now who among my department heads have gone over estimates this year?” Anita rumbled under her breath.
Her eyes glazed over as she scrolled through the provided spreadsheet of suspects. Hmph. Far more under performers than she would have liked. Leaning back into her decadent office chair, Anita's tail and ample rear bowing out the plastic arms, the ruthless reptile mused on how best to parse the provided data.
“Among those... who are the repeat offenders?” Anita mused out loud. She tapped into a tab of winnowed down results. “Better,” she hummed and hawed with a nod. “Now... who has been spacing out their extra expenses?”
CLICK
The firm and forceful pap of her thumb had bowed the screen of her phone in. Cracks, spidering out from beneath her digit, spread out to the edges of the glass. Cheeks puffed out, Anita steadied her breathing once more. She could barely operate her phone as it was at her marginally swollen size. Lips pulled taut, the dragoness tapped a clawed fingertip at the next spreadsheet tab with measured restraint. The answer turned out to be... well... almost everyone. “Who hired these incompetents?” Anita growled as the hard shelled casing molded to the contours of her grip.
Maybe a new tack, a new approach, was warranted. Eyes pressing against the sides of her sockets, Anita clicked her tongue against the ribbed roof of her mouth. “Who HASN'T been spacing out their expenses then? Who's been treating my coffers like their personal bank and making regularly scheduled withdrawals?”
WHUMPF
Peeling away her thumb from the indented and shattered screen Anita flashed a wicked and toothy grin. “Well who do we have here?” the dragoness cooed to herself. A further drill down revealed a certain someone had quite recently been spending well beyond their means. Investing in properties that ought to have been well ought of their pay grade. Reaching forward, Anita buzzed for her secretary. “Candice?”
“Yes, Miss Anita?” A blonde haired rabbit, buxom and bubbly, nigh instantaneously peeked her head into the dragoness' office.
“Do me a favor would you? Summon Bruno Hoffer. He is to report to my office immediately. Oh, and, while you're at it let Karin know that I want his office emptied and his security clearance revoked by the top of the hour.”
Ears perked to attention, Candice nodded in the affirmative and promptly made herself scarce.
“Hum?” Head cocked, Anita blinked curiously at the blur at periphery of her vision. A fresh phone, SIM card and contacts already preloaded, wobbled before her. “Tch. She already knows what I want before I even ask for it.” Shaking her head, Anita let her chin come to rest atop her interlocked fingers. In silence she seethed.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
“Mister Hoffer. Please, show yourself in.”
A brusque bear, clad in clothes that stretched the definition of business casual, sauntered into Anita's office. Flopping down into the chair before her desk, swishing side to side as he fiddled with the arms, Hoffer's eyes noticeably failed to make contact with hers. “What can I do you for, boss?”
“It's about your performance, Hofferman.” Her lips subtly scrunched at the sight of him shamelessly ogling her breasts.
“Well that's a heck of a way to break the ice!” the bear laughed. “So. I take it all that jockeying for a promotion has paid off, huh? Sure, Sales Lead is nice and all, but CFO has a certain ring to it you know?”
Anita's eye twitched as the seams of her designer jacket pulled apart thread by thread. “Your position is in... flux. I will confess that much,” the dragoness cooly replied. Shoulders bunching together, she forced down a subtle swallow while her undershirt untucked itself from her waist.
“I knew it!” Hoffer cackled. Leaning back into his chair, its wheels squeaking every time he so much as shifted in place, the bear unknowingly dug his grave deeper with every additional utterance. Leaning forward, his furred arms planted upon her desk, Hoffer took to thrumming his fingers as he spoke directly into her chest. “Now in terms of a raise I was thinking something along the lines of oh say...”
BADUMP
“Haven't you already skimmed enough?” Anita inwardly snarled to herself as her breasts heaved forward in a flood of flesh. That surge of anger and adrenaline sent her billowing up and out as her blouse blew apart in an explosion of cotton and polyester. Her buttons ricocheted around her office with explosive force while her bra, stretched beyond the point of no return, peeled apart in layers. Through it all the dragoness outwardly maintained a passive and stony demeanor even as her enormous ass pancaked her ornate office chair into splinters. The muffled shouts and screams wafting out from beneath her bosom were an afterthought at best.
Ridges formed along Anita's brow as she subtly brought more and more of her weight to bear upon Hoffer's flailing body.
“Mmph!” Head buried into her desk, the wood crunching beneath the bear's aching jaw, Hoffer gasped for breath as Anita's supple flesh molded around him. He tried to lift his head to no avail. His arms, splayed out spread eagle, refused to budge. Stripped of any and all light, and air, his thieving form could do little more than wiggle helplessly beneath Anita's heft as hundreds upon thousands of pounds of boobage bore down upon his back and squeezed the very air out of his lungs.
CRRRK
Whether it was his body, or her desk, crunching beneath Anita was irrelevant. “Candice?” boomed the dragoness.
Arms held out to her sides, Candice grunted as waddled in while hoisting up a freshly steamed and ironed wardrobe many times her own size. Wincing, she lifted her arms up as far as she was able lest it drag against the floor. “Yes, Miss Anita?”
“Would you be so kind as to see Mister Hoffer out?” Sliding a hand beneath her behemoth breasts, Anita plucked free the battered and beleaguered bear. Fingers pinched around his waist she roughly shook his limp and groaning form. “His employment has been terminated effective immediately.”
Eyes flaring to life, Candice hungrily licked her plump lips at the sight. “With pleasure, boss!”
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
THOOOOM
Street lights flickered and crackled.
THOOOOOOOOOOOM
Car alarms wailed as the countless vehicles parked along a nondescript side street rattled in place.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
A broad and scaly foot, spanning the whole of a city block, descended. Row houses, still in the process of being gentrified and remodeled, were all but atomized. Attics were compacted into cellars in the span of a second. Grinding her heel for good measure, Anita wordlessly grunted as she looked back over her shoulder.
Hoffer's illicit investments lay in ruins. Very profitable ones, at that. Irksome as it was, what with having the bastard of a bear stealing from her, at least he had the mind to take out very generous insurance policies on his ill-gained properties.
Twiddling her toes, Anita flashed a toothy grin as she struggled to peer past her chest. While his money, her money, wasn't as liquid as she would like it to be... she intended to recoup her losses by any means necessary.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMTitle: Cast of the Die
For: Red
“Another premade map? Really, Reep?” Peach fuzzed tail flitting behind him, Ray planted his hands upon the earth beside him and coyly arched his brows.
“I'm simply being...” Horned head tossing side to side, Radda swirled a hand about his wrist as he reached for an excuse. “Pragmatic! I mean, why go out of my way to painstakingly hand craft a town for my campaign when I can just, you know, borrow one?” Blue fuzzed hands held out before him the massive Mareep weakly gestured at the gray blot before his hooves.
Ray quietly curled his lips into a knowing grin.
“Fiiiine.” With a snoot, Radda shamefully acquiesced. “I'm lazy. What about it?”
“Nothing, nothing!” cooed the colossal kitty. Leaning forward, Ray papped a pink padded fingertip against the spire of a tiny and toy-sized skyscraper. Back and forth the curious feline rocked the not so super sized structure upon its base. “Just like seeing you squirm is all.”
“Rascal.” Dropping to a kneel, the sheep oopsed when waves of upturned earth emanated out from him following his rapid descent. He whistled through his teeth at the sight of the suburban sprawl that surrounded the ready-made metropolis being reduced to rubble.
“Should we wait for Red before we start setting up?” Ray asked as he purroudly plunked down his colorful assortment of dice before him. “He seemed pretty interested in spectating.”
The mite sized locals down below howled in terror as stray boulders, colorful and twenty-sided in shape, swallowed up the very skyline and bulldozed through entire city blocks with ease.
“Nah,” Radda insisted. “What's there to show? We're just slapping down miniatures. He lives close by, right?”
TATOOOOM
“Reep! Ray!” squeaked an incomprehensible existence. Arms waving wildly over his head, a certain tiny tanuki bravely wandered out into the streets while countless others fled for cover. “This isn't what I had in mind! I want to watch your DnD games not be a part of them!” Hands cupped around his snout, Red shouted himself hoarse while he begged and pleaded for the owner of the sky-spanning sheep snoot to pay him mind.
BADOOM
Yelping, Red violently tumbled backwards when a mega-sized miniature was slammed down before him with deafening force. Clouds of concrete and steel billowed out from beneath the plastic, and not at all convincing, likeness of a particular fluffy Fighter as it pancaked a conference center beneath it into rumble.
“Ack!” The tiny tanuki, scrambling to his feet, brushed away the pebbles and mortar that had come to cake his clothes as he was forced to recognize his breath was better spent elsewhere. Panting, Red fled as fast as his little legs would carry him as entire city blocks just up and vanished beneath figurines.
“That's it?” Ray quizzically asked as he dismissively gestured at the uninspiring amount of plastic in play.
Snoot turned up, Radda crossed his arms defensively about his chest. “Every player's piece has been accounted for. What more do you want from me?”
“No taverns? No inns? No castles? No... nothing?”
“It's called the theater of the mind,” sassed the sheep. “Besides. We have a perfectly good tavern riiiight...” Tapping at his chin, Radda's face lit up at the sight of a still standing conference center. “Here!”
The nonplussed feline curled his lips into an unmistakable kitty grin. Padded finger papped atop a die, he flicked it forward. Its angular form bounced wildly between streets, effortlessly gashing and cleaving through a veritable sea of asphalt and concrete, before rolling to a halt just before the offered 'tavern.'
“Ray.”
Tail flicking knowingly behind him, Ray allowed the back of his fingers to brush against the boulder. “You were saying?” he teased.
Running for his life, his ears tucking close to his skull as skyscrapers and stadiums alike found themselves flattened, Red yelped when he dared look over his shoulder. A literal wave of debris, swelling higher and higher as cars and street signs and store fronts were swept up into, hurtled towards him. “Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! Rayyyyyyyyyyyy!”
An exasperated bleat tumbled forth from the Mareep's snoot. His eyes swiveled tiredly towards the crumbling buildings, collapsing one after another like dominos, that fell in the wake of the cast of the die. A faint, barely perceivable speck, that barely outpaced the destruction caught his eye. Jaw hanging slack... he recognized that crimson clad mite. Bahh. He had already started setting up and he couldn't be bothered to find a new map on such short notice.
“Fine, Ray,” Radda huffed. “I'll set down more miniatures. Just lemme figure out where to put them...”Title: Colossal Construction
For: Krig
“Easy now...” Krig repeated to himself as he vaulted over the scaffolding that lined the construction site.
THOOOM
The Feraligatr's massive footfalls, measured and careful as they were, still severely tested the as yet unfinished structure's integrity. Though its walls wobbled and wavered it remained standing.
“Phew!” Heaving a sigh of relief, his effortless exhale howling across the surrounding city blocks like a gale, Krig laughed nervously as he watched street signs and traffic lights nearly rip themselves out of their moorings at his unconscious actions. A-a-anyway!
Dropping down to a crouch, his spiny tail curling around his ankles, the vertically gifted Pokemon stroked at his scaly chin in thoughtful contemplation. Raised walls, comprised of concrete and steel, encircled him. It didn't look it yet but one day, hopefully soon, this site would play host to the city's premier concert venue! Given his prodigious, well, size this feat of engineering had proven more taxing than expected. Yet he welcomed the challenge all the same! “Let's see...”
Swiveling about side to side on the balls of his feet Krig hummed to himself while his heels brushed against rows of bleachers caked in dust and concrete. They crumpled and collapsed in on themselves at the faintest application of force. Eh. The Water-Type shrugged at the barely perceptible scritches and scratches. They were just stand-ins anyway.
“Here, here, annnnd here is where we'll put General Admission...” Krig happily mused as he booped at and traced a clawed fingertip into the bedrock. One by one he cordoned the ruined remains of the bleachers into sharp and angular trapezoids. Each shape, each section, was slated to become the seating for this up and coming concert venue!
Head cocked to the side, the Feraligatr hrrmed. “Didn't leave much space for the aisles did I...” Brushing the side of his hand against the scars in the earth, caking and compacting rubble into them with molten force, Krig slowly allocated in ample space for future concert-goers to slide into and out of their seats.
Speaking from experience, unintentional at that, the Feraligatr recognized just how critical it was that people were allowed easy venues of entry and exit. Shameful as it was to admit he had attended, and accidentally flattened, more arenas than he would have liked. Guh not to mention this wasn't even his first go at 'testing' something like this.
Tail whapping gently against the top of his feet the Feraligatr cracked a toothy smile nonetheless. This time... this time he would get it right. The thought of building a concert hall, an arena, a stadium, an anything was simply too good an opportunity to pass up! Especially one that he could personally guarantee was him-proof.
“The VIP section will go there...” Krig hummed aloud as he tapped out prospective seats just before the raised semi-circle of concrete that served as the stage. The rafters, the catwalks, the supports... everything looked to be in place!
Squinting, Krig looked over the steel supports once more. Mmph. Those few right there... they were probably, hopefully, maybe structurally sound? His toothy smile faltered at the bowed imprints, molded to the faintest creases and contours of his fingertips, that pocked the beams embedded into the earth. Sighing, the Feraligatr wobbled back and forth on the balls of his reptilian feet. It wasn't that bad, that obvious, right? ...Right?
...Oh who was he kidding. He knew better than anyone that no corner could afford to be cut! Pinching the suspect supports between his blue scaled fingers Krig ripped them out of the bedrock with a mere flick of his wrist. Rolling them about in his palm, the most minute creases in the Feraligatr's palm casually crunching and compacting the metal even further, Krig rose to his feet and carefully deposited them just outside the curved walls that wrapped around him.
WHAM
“Oy. Fellas?”
A multitude of specks, clad in reflective vests and hard-hats, turned their gaze towards the snaggle toothed gator towering over them.
“Couple of supports failed inspection,” rumbled the prodigious Pokemon. He stifled a knowing growl, and blush, at the knowledge he was the reason WHY said supports failed. “Lob a couple more my way, will you? I'll have them in place in no time. Afterwards we'll put the dome through its paces.”
His fellow engineers nodded along wordlessly as they sprinted into action. Off in the distance the shrill siren call of a vehicle motion alarm carried across the worksite. Hrmph. Honestly, it would be faster if he just went and grabbed them himself but... then again the less time he spent with the materials the better. Since when was reinforced steel so damn fragile?
Resting his arms on the side of the structure Krig impatiently thrummed his fingers while he waited for the semis to mosey into view. Every tap, every slap, of his digits registered on the Richter scale. Blinking listlessly the Feraligatr was reduced to making grabby hands by the time the requested payload rolled into reach.
“Carefully... carefully...” Reaching over the scaffold lined walls, his palm held out before him as flat as he could manage, Krig brushed a handful of beams off the bed of the provided truck. So far so good. Dropping to a kneel, mindful to maintain his balance, the Ferligatr brought his rear to rest atop his broad heels. The beams wobbled and raucously clanked against one another within his grasp. Nerves tensed, the wumbo Water-Type delicately pinched the molded steel between his fingers and slotted them into the exposed cavities in the bedrock one by one.
To Krig's emphatic delight not a blemish, or finger print burned in by friction, was to be found upon them. “Phew!” Forcing himself back up to a stand the Ferligatr waved down the crew milling about the site. “That's a wrap, boys!” he smirked. “Let's slap on that dome and run it by the big boss, yeah?”
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
THOOOOOOM
Sitting down cross-legged within the venue Krig breathed in deeply of the crisp quarry air. Arms planted beside him, palms bearing down heavily upon the earth, the Feraligatr stifled a hacking cough. Bleh.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Squinting, the mega massive Pokemon turned his gaze skywards. A bubble of glass, pristine and bereft of so much as a smudge, lay atop the venue. He could already imagine leaning over it, his toothy face peering through the dome, and cheering on whoever was headlining that day.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
TUNK TUNK TUNK
A green scaled finger, rivaling Krig's in size and stretch, tapped against the glass from the outside.
“Boss!”
“Krig,” rumbled Terry. The dragon's visage swallowed the sky above and cast the Feraligatr, and the interior of the venue, in shadow. “You're not about to squander this second chance are you?”
“Course not!” Rubbing at the back of his neck, a nervous smile creased the gator's cheeks. “Last time was an accident, honest! Okay maybe not an accident but I should have known better than to, aheh, stress test it myself.”
THUMP THUMP
Climbing atop the concert venue, Terry brought the brunt of his weight to bear upon the dome. The city's, how to say, loomier demographics had proven time and again that they had a difficult time respectfully looking at the marvelous feats of engineering that surrounded them with just their eyes.
From beneath Terry's smudged toes, and heels, the dome's structural integrity began to show signs of strain. Faint cracks splintered out along the glass from where the pressure proved most potent.
“S-see? It'll hold!” Krig laughed. “Last time was a fluke! What with, w-well, me AND Anita putting the structure through its paces. At.. the... umm... same time.” The Feraligatr wilted beneath the dragon's glare. “I-it holds up fine under the strain of a single person just fine though! The engineering was sound it was just, you know, user error on my part.”
CRKKK
Hairline fractures within the glass exploded into fissures as wary pops and cracks echoed throughout the empty venue. Wide eyed, Krig and Terry both watched worriedly as, for an instant, the glass molded around the dragon's soles and digits.
CRSHHHHHHHHHHH
The dome depressed imperceptibly until it didn't. All at once it exploded into a rain of shards as Terry, acking and flailing, crashed down through the dome.
Swatting away the clouds of debris, Krig grimaced at the sight of Terry reclining back into what had been the now ruined stage and rafters. “T-third time's the charm? Right, boss?”Title: Song of Storms
For: Nimono
KRAKAKOOOM
Groans, nearly perfectly synchronized, wafted up from just outside the studio apartment's front door. Rain, furious and flinging sideways, pelted against its windows an instant later.
“We were doing really well right until the part where we weren't,” Nimono hehed as he tried to slide a hand into his sopping wet pocket. The cream colored Miyoa, a fennec like fluff adorned with striking blue stripes, struggled to peel the black denim off his thigh enough to allow him access to his keys. “I mean, hey, we almost beat the storm!”
“Almost doesn't cut it.” Slouched forward, with his guitar clung close to his chest, Nimono's pink and purple furred counterpart shivered beneath the watery onslaught. “A-a-anytime now!” Rakagerl shouted through his chattering teeth.
CLICK
Caught between the door frame, Nimono and Rakagerl both desperately squeezed themselves through before flopping to the floor face first. Legs kicking and flailing behind them they slammed the front door shut and sighed into the hardwood floor.
“If I had bothered to watch the weather I would have canceled band practice...” the pink Miyoa mumbled as he forced himself to his feet and wrung out his shirt. His ears drooped at the shrill wail of Macro March sirens whirring to life outside.
“Don't be like that, Raka!” Nimono teased as he slung an arm around his band mate's shoulder. “C'mon some practice will do us good! Should warm us right up.”
Raka's ears drooped at the good natured pokes that repeatedly prodded and papped at his chest. “I'm inclined to think a change of clothes is what would do the trick but, eh, we'll agree to disagree.” He couldn't help but smirk as Nimono all but shoved him forward into his cramped living room in response.
“Want to lead us off?” Nimono beamed as he fished out his ocarina. Lips clasped against the polished ceramic the Miyoa thrummed his padded fingertips against the holes carved into its surface as he alternated between notes high and low.
Lips pulled flat, Raka unpacked his guitar. Its pack, soaked through and through, gave him cause for hesitation. Whistling through his teeth he tossed his head back in relief to see his instrument was untouched.
“See!” Twirling about in place, Nimono fweeted a note of celebration at his concerned companion. “We're fiiiine.”
Raka grumbled all the same and opted not to press his luck. Drying his hands on Nimono's living room furniture the Miyoa reluctantly went to retrieve his guitar.
PLING
Breathing easy, Raka strummed his fingers along the pristine and bone dry strings tuned to perfection. A woody and sonorous melody proceeded to carry through the compact living room, the claustrophobic kitchen, and even the winding hallways. “Oh! Uh... you sure your neighbors won't mind?”
Nimono shrugged. “They've been complaining less and less as we've gotten better! That and since we stopped using the amp.”
“Psh.”
“Enough about them though!” Nimono declared as he sidled up alongside his lead. “Count us down, Raka!”
“A one, a two, a-”
THROOOOOOM
As the steel strings nicked against Raka's fingertips the pair of Miyoa yelped as the floor buckled beneath them. Visibly swelling in height, their shoulders bunching together as their fennec ears flattened against the ceiling, they regarded each other with wide eyed shock. Nervously shifting in place their shoes, still sopping, squeaked all the louder as the planks of knotted wood beneath them frayed and bowed.
“Uhhh.” Looking over themselves in unison, Nimono and Raka both warily regarded each other as the Macro March sirens blasted on repeat just outside.
Blinking, the cream furred Miyoa cupped his ocarina to his maw once more and puffed. Save pieces of stray plaster crumbling down upon their heads nothing happened.
Raka returned the gesture and strummed at his guitar once more.
BWOOOMP
Bent over, their backs pressing against the light fixtures embedded into the ceiling, the swollen and gigantified Miyoa hummed as they mulled their options.
“...You sure you don't want to cancel band practice?” Raka asked as he dropped to a kneel. His many tails, flicking nervously behind him, sent a cofee table and stray chairs crashing into the walls.
Nimono rolled his eyes nonchalantly. “Eh. No use in pretending I'll ever get my security deposit back.”
“Sooooooo...” Eyes pressing at the sides of their sockets Raka scrunched his lips. “What now?”
Knees knocking against Raka's own, Nimono hummed. The room filling pair found themselves strapped for space and at an impasse. “I know this isn't quite how we envisioned it happening but... want to blow the roof off of this place?”
Raka couldn't help but snort as Nimono took to fweeting once more. Much to his constrenation, Raka's tails betrayed him and took to wig wagging happily behind him. “From the top. A one, a two, a one two three and-”
BADOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Thunder and footfalls filled the air as Raka and Nimono both burst out of the apartment with their backs to one another. With every string, every pling, the duo surged upwards and out as they serenaded the storm itself while furniture and insulation crashed down around them.
“So...” Raka hummed as he stomped down a street. With every note played his shoes spread further across the asphalt until they spilled onto the sidewalks themselves. “I know we were always worried about people wanting to see us play but...”
“They don't really have a choice now do they?” Nimono teased. “Hopefully they like what they hear!”Title: Error Overflow
For: Alkali
Eyes clenched shut, practically crusted over with sleep, Saffron grumbled to himself as rain steadily pitter pattered against his home. Shivering in place he reflexively cocooned himself within his comforter as a brisk and frigid draft wafted in from the fraying seals of his windows.
“Macro March please...” the Eevee moaned to himself. All he wanted was warmth or, at the very least, temperatures above freezing. All he wanted was clear skies. All he wanted was to be able to wander outside his house and home without fear. Shoulders bunched together, Saffron reluctantly reached out to fish his cracked and outdated Rotom phone off of his night stand. Bags progressively accumulated under his amber eyes while he flipped through the photos that clogged his Media gallery.
Pictures of Macro Marches past haunted him in procession. A ruined car, his first and very last, sat before him. Its bowed out roof, its popped out windshield, flattened tires, and undercarriage scraping against the asphalt... oh how he missed it. “Memories, memories,” he forlornly thought to himself. He missed the days of not having to rely on his own two legs to shuttle him around.
He had outgrown it, mid-transit of course, because why wouldn't he? He had been drench, soaked to the bone, by a ferocious Macro March storm and he was looking forward to nothing more than slinking home to unwind after a grueling shift at the Poke Mart. Saffron still shuddered at the panic that swept over him when his feet spilled over the accelerator and the brake. Swerving back and forth, his bloated fingers caught in the gaps of the steering wheel, the Eevee desperately tried to maintain control of his car as claustrophobia overtook him.
The bite of his seat belt strangling his chest. The pinch of the plastic against his ballooning bubble butt. His knees knocking against and crunching through the dashboard. Not to mention the shudders, the sparks, the awful creaks and wails that assaulted his ears as his vehicle's undercarriage scraped against the road while his head bumped against and forcibly reshaped the roof.
The Eevee swiped right through the remainder of his Macro March mishaps. Next up was a... sundered classroom. Oh Arceus above.
Saffron's lips wavered, and his ears tucked in close to his skull, at the sight of ceiling panels popped out of place. How could he forget the cracked tiles, rent apart desks, and the chalkboard smashed to smithereens for good measure? Guhhhhhh and he had been so careful that day too! He had been watching the weather like a Braviary even! Moseying into class he had been pelted by all of a handful of sprinkles. Surely that wasn't enough to incur Macro Marth's wrath?
Suffice it to say though... upon squeezing his way into the classroom, and seating himself at a triple-wide desk custom built for him, he felt that familiar pangs of growth. He tried to ignore it at first. Button nose glued to his desk as he committed himself wholly and utterly to his exam. Saffron would show his work.
POP
The sandal straps coiled around Saffon's fat toes clung painfully tight to his digits, to the point of strangling their circulation, before they explosively snapped apart. Thrumming his toes in relief, their plump forms cracking the tiles beneath them with ease, the Eevee nervously tried to laugh it off as more than a few stray glances were cast his way.
RRRRIP
Legs tucked close together, and tail wrapped around his waist, Saffron desperately tried to focus his attention elsewhere. No question, however seemingly effortless, would escape a double or triple check! Or... at least that's what he told himself while his jeans pulled apart at the seams. Rips, snaps, and tears loudly emanated out from the Eevee even as he furiously denied what was happening.
CRNNNCH
His ample ass, spilling out over his seat, crashed down to the floor with a thunderous thoom as ceiling panels popped out of place and the light fixtures hanging overhead buzzed and faltered. By then his classmates had already started to flee against his pleading protests. “No no no! Please don't make them reschedule this! It'll wear off soon, I promise!” Head hung low, Saffron could do little more than pout as his thickening and fluffy thighs bowled apart and violently rent the desks beside him and his lengthening legs, and feet, pressed against the far wall.
...He still woke up in a cold sweat now and then just thinking about that day and what followed. Forced to crawl his way out of the building, covered in little more than scraps of cloth, with his tail tucked between his legs for the sake of maintaining some sense of decency. Sighing, Saffron chucked his Rotom phone onto the floor and pulled his comforter over his head before he could doom scroll through even worse memories.
“This year will be different though...” rang a familiar voice in the Eevee's head.
Saffron peeked his head out, chin resting upon a pillow, and harrumphed. “Will it really?” he griped to no one in particular as yet another Macro March storm, comparatively tame, thundered overhead. Dragging an arm out from beneath his bed sheets the Eevee grunted when he flopped it down before him. A band, comprised of plastics equal parts white, blue, and red wrapped around his wrist.
A Dynamax Band it was called. Brows furrowed, Saffron tapped through its many readouts in annoyance. An aspiring and brilliant Dewott, at the forefront of his field when it came to research, had approached the wayward Eevee with an offer. The specifics eluded Saffron but, for whatever reason, the Dewott scholar seemed to think that the principles behind Dynamaxing and Macro Marching were similar. Thus he had sought out the Eevee upon hearing how every year, without fail, Macro March had made it a habit to strike him down and force him to inch out and up ever further with every passing year.
“Think of it as a field test! Just conduct yourself how you normally would!” the Dewott had assured him upon the conclusion of their meet and greet.
Blowing a raspberry, Saffron grudgingly acknowledged that maybe the Dewott was on to something. Ever since slapping on the band his size became... manageable. With a tap here, a boop there, the Dynamax Band's energies went to work and converted his additional mass into raw energy to be stored and filed away. He had been able to live a normal life ever since.
Yet... the Eevee's attention turned to the rain slicked windows. He absolutely dreaded the thought of testing his luck and throwing away his chance at normalcy. He could walk through buildings as opposed to crawl through them! He could saunter down city streets without worrying about his thunder thighs scraping away awnings and window ledges! For Mew's sake he could drive again if he really wanted to!
Yet... he couldn't go on living his life like this either. Becoming a hermit, a complete shut-in, for months at a time. Saffron bit down on his lip as he nuzzled the side of his head into his pillow. There was Macro March, Ascendant April, and Massive May! The alliterations, and threats to his stature, went on and on!
Cheeks puffed out, Saffron reluctantly swung his legs over the side of his bed. “Well. This'll either work or it won't,” he mused aloud. Nostrils flared, he papped his heel against the rumpled pile of clothes gathering alongside his bed. One by one he dragged cleanish articles towards him and lazily dressed himself.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Clad in an over sized hoodie and gym shorts, Saffron tiptoed out beyond the sheltered confines of his front porch. His ears nervously twitched every time a single drop of rain plopped down upon him. “Not a word. Not even so much as a syllable,” the Eevee thought to himself. He would not, could not, tempt fate.
Arm held out before him his eyes warily regarded the read out on his Dynamax Band. His current size remained steady and unflinching. At just shy of six feet his hoodie hung heavily from his shoulders while his shorts kept trying to slide down past his waist.
Lip quivering, Saffron clicked over to the next screen. Just... just how much size had been siphoned away and digitized? His heart sank when it took its sweet time tabulating.
BADOOP
Ears glued flat to his skull, the Eevee nodded nervously at the readout. A pixelated picture of his likeness, standing beside a skyscraper, rendered on screen. Same as the day the Dewott clasped it around his wrist.
KRAKOOM
With a yelp Saffron retreated back to his front porch as peals of thunder roared overhead. Clutching at his chest with his free hand, the frazzled fennec held the Dynamax Band up before him once more. Arm shaking, he couldn't help but recoil in fear when it had started to recalculate his stored size.
BADOOP
Saffron whined pitifully as he watched the readout update. His pixelated likeness remained static and unchanging on screen. Whereas the skyscraper, once his equal, saw its pixels buzzed away line by line until it only came up to his waist.
Yet... here he stood. Upon his front porch. Still in his baggy and poorly fitting clothes. Blinking incredulously, Saffron stepped out into the downpour once more.
BADOOP
The screen refreshed yet again. Now those marvels of engineering, whose peaks pierced the heavens themselves, only came up to his knees. Lips pursed, Saffron wordlessly nodded before retreating back into his home and gently closing the door behind him.
“IT WORKKKKS! IT WORKS IT WORKS IT WORKS!” the Eevee screamed as he stamped his feet. “I can't believe it actually works! I. Ah. Augh.” Hands clasped to his face Saffron tried, and failed, to hold back the flood of ugly tears. “I'm so happyyyy. I-I-I don't have to hide away from Macro March anymore! I can suffer through it like everyone else!”
Fanning at himself, the Eevee mumbled a mile a minute as years of bundled nerves and anxiety washed away. Self-actualization, and a life worth living, now in reach left Saffron floating on cloud nine. Wholly at ease with himself the Eevee's mind raced at the possibilities that now unfolded out before him.
BRZZT
Which... was exactly the state of mind required for any Eevee to initiate evolution into a self-assured Sylveon. The cream coloring that tinged the mane of fluff wrapped around Saffron's neck dripped down along his limbs and torso while the dark browns that pocked his hands and feet glowed and sparkled with the bubbly intensity and bite of pink lemonade.
BADOOPDOOPDOOPDOOPDOOP
While torrents of evolutionary energies worked their way through Saffron's body, changing him from the inside and out, the Dynamax Band struggled to contain it. Sparks and arcs of electricity leapt out from the glowing Sylveon's wrist, tinging his pink furred limbs a pronounced yellow, as its calculations overflowed. These evolutionary energies they were having a multiplicative, nay, exponential effect on what was already stored.
As Saffron wiped away the tears and gazed upon the Dynamax Band once more, surprised yet at peace with his newfound change in perspective and sense of self, the Sylveon's jaw hung slack as he watched the Dynamax Band error out.
One moment it showed his pixelated, albeit, garbled self standing beside a toe-sized skyscraper. The screen shifted wildly in place, rapidly reloading as its calculations changed by the second, to show him alongside the his hometown as a whole. Then the Kanto continent.
Laughing nervously, Saffron tapped warily at the Dynamax Band when his ballooning limbs started to rather snugly fill out his baggy clothes.
BADOOOOOOOOP
The readout shifted once more to show Saffron equivalent in size to planet itself.
BADOOPZZZZT
Scratch that. He now far exceeded it. The planet now but a pitiful pixel in size compared to him.
BRZZZZZZZZZZT
LEGENDARY OVERFLOW
Donning a subdued smile, Saffron sighed while his amber eyes took on an otherworldly glow and a familiar energy overwhelmed him as his Dynamax Band started to crack and crumble. “Me and my big mouth.”
Requests made by:
T-Bone
REDstiza
Gatrzilla
Nimono
AlkaliThumbnail by
PogonipTitle: Loss LeaderFor: Max
Fingers steepled, Anita inhaled deeply. “Calm, deep, breaths,” the dragoness thought to herself. “You know better. You are better than this,” she mentally repeated. Biting at the inside of her cheeks Anita irritably took to rolling folds of flesh between her pointed teeth.
GRNNN
Anger abating, Anita's scaly green form audibly creaked as she sighed in relief. The buttons of her blouse, while pulled taut, held the line. The sleeves of her suit had only rolled up as far as her elbows. Her slow but steady growth had, thankfully, petered out. Brows arched, the dragoness slapped her palms against her desk. “Once more then,” she said with a shake of her head. Whistling through her teeth she flipped over her smart phone and willed herself to gaze upon the irascible emails that awaited her.
A sense of foreboding permeated her sky high office suite as she doom scrolled through them. “It only took auditing how long to get back to me?!” Anita all but spat as she glowered at their findings. Overhead, costs, and outflows at her company had reliably outpaced forecasts quarter after quarter. To Anita's exasperation her C-suite latched on to rosy, and notably blameless, excuses to explain it all away. Inflation! Geopolitical pressures! Regulation! They could always be counted on to explain why it wasn't their fault!
Eyes half-lidded, the dragoness sighed heavily while smoke trailed from her nostrils. This was her money they were pissing away and she would damn well know where it went. Given how reliably the metrics just barely missed their mark, how they always always always wavered within the margin of error, Anita had long suspected foul play.
Anita daintily papped a thumb, her digits having swollen to the point they all but enveloped the screen, against the provided attachments. Hmph. Only a select few had access to their internal estimates so, obviously, she started there. Or, more precisely, she had her auditors start there. “Now who among my department heads have gone over estimates this year?” Anita rumbled under her breath.
Her eyes glazed over as she scrolled through the provided spreadsheet of suspects. Hmph. Far more under performers than she would have liked. Leaning back into her decadent office chair, Anita's tail and ample rear bowing out the plastic arms, the ruthless reptile mused on how best to parse the provided data.
“Among those... who are the repeat offenders?” Anita mused out loud. She tapped into a tab of winnowed down results. “Better,” she hummed and hawed with a nod. “Now... who has been spacing out their extra expenses?”
CLICK
The firm and forceful pap of her thumb had bowed the screen of her phone in. Cracks, spidering out from beneath her digit, spread out to the edges of the glass. Cheeks puffed out, Anita steadied her breathing once more. She could barely operate her phone as it was at her marginally swollen size. Lips pulled taut, the dragoness tapped a clawed fingertip at the next spreadsheet tab with measured restraint. The answer turned out to be... well... almost everyone. “Who hired these incompetents?” Anita growled as the hard shelled casing molded to the contours of her grip.
Maybe a new tack, a new approach, was warranted. Eyes pressing against the sides of her sockets, Anita clicked her tongue against the ribbed roof of her mouth. “Who HASN'T been spacing out their expenses then? Who's been treating my coffers like their personal bank and making regularly scheduled withdrawals?”
WHUMPF
Peeling away her thumb from the indented and shattered screen Anita flashed a wicked and toothy grin. “Well who do we have here?” the dragoness cooed to herself. A further drill down revealed a certain someone had quite recently been spending well beyond their means. Investing in properties that ought to have been well ought of their pay grade. Reaching forward, Anita buzzed for her secretary. “Candice?”
“Yes, Miss Anita?” A blonde haired rabbit, buxom and bubbly, nigh instantaneously peeked her head into the dragoness' office.
“Do me a favor would you? Summon Bruno Hoffer. He is to report to my office immediately. Oh, and, while you're at it let Karin know that I want his office emptied and his security clearance revoked by the top of the hour.”
Ears perked to attention, Candice nodded in the affirmative and promptly made herself scarce.
“Hum?” Head cocked, Anita blinked curiously at the blur at periphery of her vision. A fresh phone, SIM card and contacts already preloaded, wobbled before her. “Tch. She already knows what I want before I even ask for it.” Shaking her head, Anita let her chin come to rest atop her interlocked fingers. In silence she seethed.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
“Mister Hoffer. Please, show yourself in.”
A brusque bear, clad in clothes that stretched the definition of business casual, sauntered into Anita's office. Flopping down into the chair before her desk, swishing side to side as he fiddled with the arms, Hoffer's eyes noticeably failed to make contact with hers. “What can I do you for, boss?”
“It's about your performance, Hofferman.” Her lips subtly scrunched at the sight of him shamelessly ogling her breasts.
“Well that's a heck of a way to break the ice!” the bear laughed. “So. I take it all that jockeying for a promotion has paid off, huh? Sure, Sales Lead is nice and all, but CFO has a certain ring to it you know?”
Anita's eye twitched as the seams of her designer jacket pulled apart thread by thread. “Your position is in... flux. I will confess that much,” the dragoness cooly replied. Shoulders bunching together, she forced down a subtle swallow while her undershirt untucked itself from her waist.
“I knew it!” Hoffer cackled. Leaning back into his chair, its wheels squeaking every time he so much as shifted in place, the bear unknowingly dug his grave deeper with every additional utterance. Leaning forward, his furred arms planted upon her desk, Hoffer took to thrumming his fingers as he spoke directly into her chest. “Now in terms of a raise I was thinking something along the lines of oh say...”
BADUMP
“Haven't you already skimmed enough?” Anita inwardly snarled to herself as her breasts heaved forward in a flood of flesh. That surge of anger and adrenaline sent her billowing up and out as her blouse blew apart in an explosion of cotton and polyester. Her buttons ricocheted around her office with explosive force while her bra, stretched beyond the point of no return, peeled apart in layers. Through it all the dragoness outwardly maintained a passive and stony demeanor even as her enormous ass pancaked her ornate office chair into splinters. The muffled shouts and screams wafting out from beneath her bosom were an afterthought at best.
Ridges formed along Anita's brow as she subtly brought more and more of her weight to bear upon Hoffer's flailing body.
“Mmph!” Head buried into her desk, the wood crunching beneath the bear's aching jaw, Hoffer gasped for breath as Anita's supple flesh molded around him. He tried to lift his head to no avail. His arms, splayed out spread eagle, refused to budge. Stripped of any and all light, and air, his thieving form could do little more than wiggle helplessly beneath Anita's heft as hundreds upon thousands of pounds of boobage bore down upon his back and squeezed the very air out of his lungs.
CRRRK
Whether it was his body, or her desk, crunching beneath Anita was irrelevant. “Candice?” boomed the dragoness.
Arms held out to her sides, Candice grunted as waddled in while hoisting up a freshly steamed and ironed wardrobe many times her own size. Wincing, she lifted her arms up as far as she was able lest it drag against the floor. “Yes, Miss Anita?”
“Would you be so kind as to see Mister Hoffer out?” Sliding a hand beneath her behemoth breasts, Anita plucked free the battered and beleaguered bear. Fingers pinched around his waist she roughly shook his limp and groaning form. “His employment has been terminated effective immediately.”
Eyes flaring to life, Candice hungrily licked her plump lips at the sight. “With pleasure, boss!”
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
THOOOOM
Street lights flickered and crackled.
THOOOOOOOOOOOM
Car alarms wailed as the countless vehicles parked along a nondescript side street rattled in place.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
A broad and scaly foot, spanning the whole of a city block, descended. Row houses, still in the process of being gentrified and remodeled, were all but atomized. Attics were compacted into cellars in the span of a second. Grinding her heel for good measure, Anita wordlessly grunted as she looked back over her shoulder.
Hoffer's illicit investments lay in ruins. Very profitable ones, at that. Irksome as it was, what with having the bastard of a bear stealing from her, at least he had the mind to take out very generous insurance policies on his ill-gained properties.
Twiddling her toes, Anita flashed a toothy grin as she struggled to peer past her chest. While his money, her money, wasn't as liquid as she would like it to be... she intended to recoup her losses by any means necessary.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMTitle: Cast of the Die
For: Red
“Another premade map? Really, Reep?” Peach fuzzed tail flitting behind him, Ray planted his hands upon the earth beside him and coyly arched his brows.
“I'm simply being...” Horned head tossing side to side, Radda swirled a hand about his wrist as he reached for an excuse. “Pragmatic! I mean, why go out of my way to painstakingly hand craft a town for my campaign when I can just, you know, borrow one?” Blue fuzzed hands held out before him the massive Mareep weakly gestured at the gray blot before his hooves.
Ray quietly curled his lips into a knowing grin.
“Fiiiine.” With a snoot, Radda shamefully acquiesced. “I'm lazy. What about it?”
“Nothing, nothing!” cooed the colossal kitty. Leaning forward, Ray papped a pink padded fingertip against the spire of a tiny and toy-sized skyscraper. Back and forth the curious feline rocked the not so super sized structure upon its base. “Just like seeing you squirm is all.”
“Rascal.” Dropping to a kneel, the sheep oopsed when waves of upturned earth emanated out from him following his rapid descent. He whistled through his teeth at the sight of the suburban sprawl that surrounded the ready-made metropolis being reduced to rubble.
“Should we wait for Red before we start setting up?” Ray asked as he purroudly plunked down his colorful assortment of dice before him. “He seemed pretty interested in spectating.”
The mite sized locals down below howled in terror as stray boulders, colorful and twenty-sided in shape, swallowed up the very skyline and bulldozed through entire city blocks with ease.
“Nah,” Radda insisted. “What's there to show? We're just slapping down miniatures. He lives close by, right?”
TATOOOOM
“Reep! Ray!” squeaked an incomprehensible existence. Arms waving wildly over his head, a certain tiny tanuki bravely wandered out into the streets while countless others fled for cover. “This isn't what I had in mind! I want to watch your DnD games not be a part of them!” Hands cupped around his snout, Red shouted himself hoarse while he begged and pleaded for the owner of the sky-spanning sheep snoot to pay him mind.
BADOOM
Yelping, Red violently tumbled backwards when a mega-sized miniature was slammed down before him with deafening force. Clouds of concrete and steel billowed out from beneath the plastic, and not at all convincing, likeness of a particular fluffy Fighter as it pancaked a conference center beneath it into rumble.
“Ack!” The tiny tanuki, scrambling to his feet, brushed away the pebbles and mortar that had come to cake his clothes as he was forced to recognize his breath was better spent elsewhere. Panting, Red fled as fast as his little legs would carry him as entire city blocks just up and vanished beneath figurines.
“That's it?” Ray quizzically asked as he dismissively gestured at the uninspiring amount of plastic in play.
Snoot turned up, Radda crossed his arms defensively about his chest. “Every player's piece has been accounted for. What more do you want from me?”
“No taverns? No inns? No castles? No... nothing?”
“It's called the theater of the mind,” sassed the sheep. “Besides. We have a perfectly good tavern riiiight...” Tapping at his chin, Radda's face lit up at the sight of a still standing conference center. “Here!”
The nonplussed feline curled his lips into an unmistakable kitty grin. Padded finger papped atop a die, he flicked it forward. Its angular form bounced wildly between streets, effortlessly gashing and cleaving through a veritable sea of asphalt and concrete, before rolling to a halt just before the offered 'tavern.'
“Ray.”
Tail flicking knowingly behind him, Ray allowed the back of his fingers to brush against the boulder. “You were saying?” he teased.
Running for his life, his ears tucking close to his skull as skyscrapers and stadiums alike found themselves flattened, Red yelped when he dared look over his shoulder. A literal wave of debris, swelling higher and higher as cars and street signs and store fronts were swept up into, hurtled towards him. “Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! Rayyyyyyyyyyyy!”
An exasperated bleat tumbled forth from the Mareep's snoot. His eyes swiveled tiredly towards the crumbling buildings, collapsing one after another like dominos, that fell in the wake of the cast of the die. A faint, barely perceivable speck, that barely outpaced the destruction caught his eye. Jaw hanging slack... he recognized that crimson clad mite. Bahh. He had already started setting up and he couldn't be bothered to find a new map on such short notice.
“Fine, Ray,” Radda huffed. “I'll set down more miniatures. Just lemme figure out where to put them...”Title: Colossal Construction
For: Krig
“Easy now...” Krig repeated to himself as he vaulted over the scaffolding that lined the construction site.
THOOOM
The Feraligatr's massive footfalls, measured and careful as they were, still severely tested the as yet unfinished structure's integrity. Though its walls wobbled and wavered it remained standing.
“Phew!” Heaving a sigh of relief, his effortless exhale howling across the surrounding city blocks like a gale, Krig laughed nervously as he watched street signs and traffic lights nearly rip themselves out of their moorings at his unconscious actions. A-a-anyway!
Dropping down to a crouch, his spiny tail curling around his ankles, the vertically gifted Pokemon stroked at his scaly chin in thoughtful contemplation. Raised walls, comprised of concrete and steel, encircled him. It didn't look it yet but one day, hopefully soon, this site would play host to the city's premier concert venue! Given his prodigious, well, size this feat of engineering had proven more taxing than expected. Yet he welcomed the challenge all the same! “Let's see...”
Swiveling about side to side on the balls of his feet Krig hummed to himself while his heels brushed against rows of bleachers caked in dust and concrete. They crumpled and collapsed in on themselves at the faintest application of force. Eh. The Water-Type shrugged at the barely perceptible scritches and scratches. They were just stand-ins anyway.
“Here, here, annnnd here is where we'll put General Admission...” Krig happily mused as he booped at and traced a clawed fingertip into the bedrock. One by one he cordoned the ruined remains of the bleachers into sharp and angular trapezoids. Each shape, each section, was slated to become the seating for this up and coming concert venue!
Head cocked to the side, the Feraligatr hrrmed. “Didn't leave much space for the aisles did I...” Brushing the side of his hand against the scars in the earth, caking and compacting rubble into them with molten force, Krig slowly allocated in ample space for future concert-goers to slide into and out of their seats.
Speaking from experience, unintentional at that, the Feraligatr recognized just how critical it was that people were allowed easy venues of entry and exit. Shameful as it was to admit he had attended, and accidentally flattened, more arenas than he would have liked. Guh not to mention this wasn't even his first go at 'testing' something like this.
Tail whapping gently against the top of his feet the Feraligatr cracked a toothy smile nonetheless. This time... this time he would get it right. The thought of building a concert hall, an arena, a stadium, an anything was simply too good an opportunity to pass up! Especially one that he could personally guarantee was him-proof.
“The VIP section will go there...” Krig hummed aloud as he tapped out prospective seats just before the raised semi-circle of concrete that served as the stage. The rafters, the catwalks, the supports... everything looked to be in place!
Squinting, Krig looked over the steel supports once more. Mmph. Those few right there... they were probably, hopefully, maybe structurally sound? His toothy smile faltered at the bowed imprints, molded to the faintest creases and contours of his fingertips, that pocked the beams embedded into the earth. Sighing, the Feraligatr wobbled back and forth on the balls of his reptilian feet. It wasn't that bad, that obvious, right? ...Right?
...Oh who was he kidding. He knew better than anyone that no corner could afford to be cut! Pinching the suspect supports between his blue scaled fingers Krig ripped them out of the bedrock with a mere flick of his wrist. Rolling them about in his palm, the most minute creases in the Feraligatr's palm casually crunching and compacting the metal even further, Krig rose to his feet and carefully deposited them just outside the curved walls that wrapped around him.
WHAM
“Oy. Fellas?”
A multitude of specks, clad in reflective vests and hard-hats, turned their gaze towards the snaggle toothed gator towering over them.
“Couple of supports failed inspection,” rumbled the prodigious Pokemon. He stifled a knowing growl, and blush, at the knowledge he was the reason WHY said supports failed. “Lob a couple more my way, will you? I'll have them in place in no time. Afterwards we'll put the dome through its paces.”
His fellow engineers nodded along wordlessly as they sprinted into action. Off in the distance the shrill siren call of a vehicle motion alarm carried across the worksite. Hrmph. Honestly, it would be faster if he just went and grabbed them himself but... then again the less time he spent with the materials the better. Since when was reinforced steel so damn fragile?
Resting his arms on the side of the structure Krig impatiently thrummed his fingers while he waited for the semis to mosey into view. Every tap, every slap, of his digits registered on the Richter scale. Blinking listlessly the Feraligatr was reduced to making grabby hands by the time the requested payload rolled into reach.
“Carefully... carefully...” Reaching over the scaffold lined walls, his palm held out before him as flat as he could manage, Krig brushed a handful of beams off the bed of the provided truck. So far so good. Dropping to a kneel, mindful to maintain his balance, the Ferligatr brought his rear to rest atop his broad heels. The beams wobbled and raucously clanked against one another within his grasp. Nerves tensed, the wumbo Water-Type delicately pinched the molded steel between his fingers and slotted them into the exposed cavities in the bedrock one by one.
To Krig's emphatic delight not a blemish, or finger print burned in by friction, was to be found upon them. “Phew!” Forcing himself back up to a stand the Ferligatr waved down the crew milling about the site. “That's a wrap, boys!” he smirked. “Let's slap on that dome and run it by the big boss, yeah?”
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
THOOOOOOM
Sitting down cross-legged within the venue Krig breathed in deeply of the crisp quarry air. Arms planted beside him, palms bearing down heavily upon the earth, the Feraligatr stifled a hacking cough. Bleh.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Squinting, the mega massive Pokemon turned his gaze skywards. A bubble of glass, pristine and bereft of so much as a smudge, lay atop the venue. He could already imagine leaning over it, his toothy face peering through the dome, and cheering on whoever was headlining that day.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
TUNK TUNK TUNK
A green scaled finger, rivaling Krig's in size and stretch, tapped against the glass from the outside.
“Boss!”
“Krig,” rumbled Terry. The dragon's visage swallowed the sky above and cast the Feraligatr, and the interior of the venue, in shadow. “You're not about to squander this second chance are you?”
“Course not!” Rubbing at the back of his neck, a nervous smile creased the gator's cheeks. “Last time was an accident, honest! Okay maybe not an accident but I should have known better than to, aheh, stress test it myself.”
THUMP THUMP
Climbing atop the concert venue, Terry brought the brunt of his weight to bear upon the dome. The city's, how to say, loomier demographics had proven time and again that they had a difficult time respectfully looking at the marvelous feats of engineering that surrounded them with just their eyes.
From beneath Terry's smudged toes, and heels, the dome's structural integrity began to show signs of strain. Faint cracks splintered out along the glass from where the pressure proved most potent.
“S-see? It'll hold!” Krig laughed. “Last time was a fluke! What with, w-well, me AND Anita putting the structure through its paces. At.. the... umm... same time.” The Feraligatr wilted beneath the dragon's glare. “I-it holds up fine under the strain of a single person just fine though! The engineering was sound it was just, you know, user error on my part.”
CRKKK
Hairline fractures within the glass exploded into fissures as wary pops and cracks echoed throughout the empty venue. Wide eyed, Krig and Terry both watched worriedly as, for an instant, the glass molded around the dragon's soles and digits.
CRSHHHHHHHHHHH
The dome depressed imperceptibly until it didn't. All at once it exploded into a rain of shards as Terry, acking and flailing, crashed down through the dome.
Swatting away the clouds of debris, Krig grimaced at the sight of Terry reclining back into what had been the now ruined stage and rafters. “T-third time's the charm? Right, boss?”Title: Song of Storms
For: Nimono
KRAKAKOOOM
Groans, nearly perfectly synchronized, wafted up from just outside the studio apartment's front door. Rain, furious and flinging sideways, pelted against its windows an instant later.
“We were doing really well right until the part where we weren't,” Nimono hehed as he tried to slide a hand into his sopping wet pocket. The cream colored Miyoa, a fennec like fluff adorned with striking blue stripes, struggled to peel the black denim off his thigh enough to allow him access to his keys. “I mean, hey, we almost beat the storm!”
“Almost doesn't cut it.” Slouched forward, with his guitar clung close to his chest, Nimono's pink and purple furred counterpart shivered beneath the watery onslaught. “A-a-anytime now!” Rakagerl shouted through his chattering teeth.
CLICK
Caught between the door frame, Nimono and Rakagerl both desperately squeezed themselves through before flopping to the floor face first. Legs kicking and flailing behind them they slammed the front door shut and sighed into the hardwood floor.
“If I had bothered to watch the weather I would have canceled band practice...” the pink Miyoa mumbled as he forced himself to his feet and wrung out his shirt. His ears drooped at the shrill wail of Macro March sirens whirring to life outside.
“Don't be like that, Raka!” Nimono teased as he slung an arm around his band mate's shoulder. “C'mon some practice will do us good! Should warm us right up.”
Raka's ears drooped at the good natured pokes that repeatedly prodded and papped at his chest. “I'm inclined to think a change of clothes is what would do the trick but, eh, we'll agree to disagree.” He couldn't help but smirk as Nimono all but shoved him forward into his cramped living room in response.
“Want to lead us off?” Nimono beamed as he fished out his ocarina. Lips clasped against the polished ceramic the Miyoa thrummed his padded fingertips against the holes carved into its surface as he alternated between notes high and low.
Lips pulled flat, Raka unpacked his guitar. Its pack, soaked through and through, gave him cause for hesitation. Whistling through his teeth he tossed his head back in relief to see his instrument was untouched.
“See!” Twirling about in place, Nimono fweeted a note of celebration at his concerned companion. “We're fiiiine.”
Raka grumbled all the same and opted not to press his luck. Drying his hands on Nimono's living room furniture the Miyoa reluctantly went to retrieve his guitar.
PLING
Breathing easy, Raka strummed his fingers along the pristine and bone dry strings tuned to perfection. A woody and sonorous melody proceeded to carry through the compact living room, the claustrophobic kitchen, and even the winding hallways. “Oh! Uh... you sure your neighbors won't mind?”
Nimono shrugged. “They've been complaining less and less as we've gotten better! That and since we stopped using the amp.”
“Psh.”
“Enough about them though!” Nimono declared as he sidled up alongside his lead. “Count us down, Raka!”
“A one, a two, a-”
THROOOOOOM
As the steel strings nicked against Raka's fingertips the pair of Miyoa yelped as the floor buckled beneath them. Visibly swelling in height, their shoulders bunching together as their fennec ears flattened against the ceiling, they regarded each other with wide eyed shock. Nervously shifting in place their shoes, still sopping, squeaked all the louder as the planks of knotted wood beneath them frayed and bowed.
“Uhhh.” Looking over themselves in unison, Nimono and Raka both warily regarded each other as the Macro March sirens blasted on repeat just outside.
Blinking, the cream furred Miyoa cupped his ocarina to his maw once more and puffed. Save pieces of stray plaster crumbling down upon their heads nothing happened.
Raka returned the gesture and strummed at his guitar once more.
BWOOOMP
Bent over, their backs pressing against the light fixtures embedded into the ceiling, the swollen and gigantified Miyoa hummed as they mulled their options.
“...You sure you don't want to cancel band practice?” Raka asked as he dropped to a kneel. His many tails, flicking nervously behind him, sent a cofee table and stray chairs crashing into the walls.
Nimono rolled his eyes nonchalantly. “Eh. No use in pretending I'll ever get my security deposit back.”
“Sooooooo...” Eyes pressing at the sides of their sockets Raka scrunched his lips. “What now?”
Knees knocking against Raka's own, Nimono hummed. The room filling pair found themselves strapped for space and at an impasse. “I know this isn't quite how we envisioned it happening but... want to blow the roof off of this place?”
Raka couldn't help but snort as Nimono took to fweeting once more. Much to his constrenation, Raka's tails betrayed him and took to wig wagging happily behind him. “From the top. A one, a two, a one two three and-”
BADOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Thunder and footfalls filled the air as Raka and Nimono both burst out of the apartment with their backs to one another. With every string, every pling, the duo surged upwards and out as they serenaded the storm itself while furniture and insulation crashed down around them.
“So...” Raka hummed as he stomped down a street. With every note played his shoes spread further across the asphalt until they spilled onto the sidewalks themselves. “I know we were always worried about people wanting to see us play but...”
“They don't really have a choice now do they?” Nimono teased. “Hopefully they like what they hear!”Title: Error Overflow
For: Alkali
Eyes clenched shut, practically crusted over with sleep, Saffron grumbled to himself as rain steadily pitter pattered against his home. Shivering in place he reflexively cocooned himself within his comforter as a brisk and frigid draft wafted in from the fraying seals of his windows.
“Macro March please...” the Eevee moaned to himself. All he wanted was warmth or, at the very least, temperatures above freezing. All he wanted was clear skies. All he wanted was to be able to wander outside his house and home without fear. Shoulders bunched together, Saffron reluctantly reached out to fish his cracked and outdated Rotom phone off of his night stand. Bags progressively accumulated under his amber eyes while he flipped through the photos that clogged his Media gallery.
Pictures of Macro Marches past haunted him in procession. A ruined car, his first and very last, sat before him. Its bowed out roof, its popped out windshield, flattened tires, and undercarriage scraping against the asphalt... oh how he missed it. “Memories, memories,” he forlornly thought to himself. He missed the days of not having to rely on his own two legs to shuttle him around.
He had outgrown it, mid-transit of course, because why wouldn't he? He had been drench, soaked to the bone, by a ferocious Macro March storm and he was looking forward to nothing more than slinking home to unwind after a grueling shift at the Poke Mart. Saffron still shuddered at the panic that swept over him when his feet spilled over the accelerator and the brake. Swerving back and forth, his bloated fingers caught in the gaps of the steering wheel, the Eevee desperately tried to maintain control of his car as claustrophobia overtook him.
The bite of his seat belt strangling his chest. The pinch of the plastic against his ballooning bubble butt. His knees knocking against and crunching through the dashboard. Not to mention the shudders, the sparks, the awful creaks and wails that assaulted his ears as his vehicle's undercarriage scraped against the road while his head bumped against and forcibly reshaped the roof.
The Eevee swiped right through the remainder of his Macro March mishaps. Next up was a... sundered classroom. Oh Arceus above.
Saffron's lips wavered, and his ears tucked in close to his skull, at the sight of ceiling panels popped out of place. How could he forget the cracked tiles, rent apart desks, and the chalkboard smashed to smithereens for good measure? Guhhhhhh and he had been so careful that day too! He had been watching the weather like a Braviary even! Moseying into class he had been pelted by all of a handful of sprinkles. Surely that wasn't enough to incur Macro Marth's wrath?
Suffice it to say though... upon squeezing his way into the classroom, and seating himself at a triple-wide desk custom built for him, he felt that familiar pangs of growth. He tried to ignore it at first. Button nose glued to his desk as he committed himself wholly and utterly to his exam. Saffron would show his work.
POP
The sandal straps coiled around Saffon's fat toes clung painfully tight to his digits, to the point of strangling their circulation, before they explosively snapped apart. Thrumming his toes in relief, their plump forms cracking the tiles beneath them with ease, the Eevee nervously tried to laugh it off as more than a few stray glances were cast his way.
RRRRIP
Legs tucked close together, and tail wrapped around his waist, Saffron desperately tried to focus his attention elsewhere. No question, however seemingly effortless, would escape a double or triple check! Or... at least that's what he told himself while his jeans pulled apart at the seams. Rips, snaps, and tears loudly emanated out from the Eevee even as he furiously denied what was happening.
CRNNNCH
His ample ass, spilling out over his seat, crashed down to the floor with a thunderous thoom as ceiling panels popped out of place and the light fixtures hanging overhead buzzed and faltered. By then his classmates had already started to flee against his pleading protests. “No no no! Please don't make them reschedule this! It'll wear off soon, I promise!” Head hung low, Saffron could do little more than pout as his thickening and fluffy thighs bowled apart and violently rent the desks beside him and his lengthening legs, and feet, pressed against the far wall.
...He still woke up in a cold sweat now and then just thinking about that day and what followed. Forced to crawl his way out of the building, covered in little more than scraps of cloth, with his tail tucked between his legs for the sake of maintaining some sense of decency. Sighing, Saffron chucked his Rotom phone onto the floor and pulled his comforter over his head before he could doom scroll through even worse memories.
“This year will be different though...” rang a familiar voice in the Eevee's head.
Saffron peeked his head out, chin resting upon a pillow, and harrumphed. “Will it really?” he griped to no one in particular as yet another Macro March storm, comparatively tame, thundered overhead. Dragging an arm out from beneath his bed sheets the Eevee grunted when he flopped it down before him. A band, comprised of plastics equal parts white, blue, and red wrapped around his wrist.
A Dynamax Band it was called. Brows furrowed, Saffron tapped through its many readouts in annoyance. An aspiring and brilliant Dewott, at the forefront of his field when it came to research, had approached the wayward Eevee with an offer. The specifics eluded Saffron but, for whatever reason, the Dewott scholar seemed to think that the principles behind Dynamaxing and Macro Marching were similar. Thus he had sought out the Eevee upon hearing how every year, without fail, Macro March had made it a habit to strike him down and force him to inch out and up ever further with every passing year.
“Think of it as a field test! Just conduct yourself how you normally would!” the Dewott had assured him upon the conclusion of their meet and greet.
Blowing a raspberry, Saffron grudgingly acknowledged that maybe the Dewott was on to something. Ever since slapping on the band his size became... manageable. With a tap here, a boop there, the Dynamax Band's energies went to work and converted his additional mass into raw energy to be stored and filed away. He had been able to live a normal life ever since.
Yet... the Eevee's attention turned to the rain slicked windows. He absolutely dreaded the thought of testing his luck and throwing away his chance at normalcy. He could walk through buildings as opposed to crawl through them! He could saunter down city streets without worrying about his thunder thighs scraping away awnings and window ledges! For Mew's sake he could drive again if he really wanted to!
Yet... he couldn't go on living his life like this either. Becoming a hermit, a complete shut-in, for months at a time. Saffron bit down on his lip as he nuzzled the side of his head into his pillow. There was Macro March, Ascendant April, and Massive May! The alliterations, and threats to his stature, went on and on!
Cheeks puffed out, Saffron reluctantly swung his legs over the side of his bed. “Well. This'll either work or it won't,” he mused aloud. Nostrils flared, he papped his heel against the rumpled pile of clothes gathering alongside his bed. One by one he dragged cleanish articles towards him and lazily dressed himself.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Clad in an over sized hoodie and gym shorts, Saffron tiptoed out beyond the sheltered confines of his front porch. His ears nervously twitched every time a single drop of rain plopped down upon him. “Not a word. Not even so much as a syllable,” the Eevee thought to himself. He would not, could not, tempt fate.
Arm held out before him his eyes warily regarded the read out on his Dynamax Band. His current size remained steady and unflinching. At just shy of six feet his hoodie hung heavily from his shoulders while his shorts kept trying to slide down past his waist.
Lip quivering, Saffron clicked over to the next screen. Just... just how much size had been siphoned away and digitized? His heart sank when it took its sweet time tabulating.
BADOOP
Ears glued flat to his skull, the Eevee nodded nervously at the readout. A pixelated picture of his likeness, standing beside a skyscraper, rendered on screen. Same as the day the Dewott clasped it around his wrist.
KRAKOOM
With a yelp Saffron retreated back to his front porch as peals of thunder roared overhead. Clutching at his chest with his free hand, the frazzled fennec held the Dynamax Band up before him once more. Arm shaking, he couldn't help but recoil in fear when it had started to recalculate his stored size.
BADOOP
Saffron whined pitifully as he watched the readout update. His pixelated likeness remained static and unchanging on screen. Whereas the skyscraper, once his equal, saw its pixels buzzed away line by line until it only came up to his waist.
Yet... here he stood. Upon his front porch. Still in his baggy and poorly fitting clothes. Blinking incredulously, Saffron stepped out into the downpour once more.
BADOOP
The screen refreshed yet again. Now those marvels of engineering, whose peaks pierced the heavens themselves, only came up to his knees. Lips pursed, Saffron wordlessly nodded before retreating back into his home and gently closing the door behind him.
“IT WORKKKKS! IT WORKS IT WORKS IT WORKS!” the Eevee screamed as he stamped his feet. “I can't believe it actually works! I. Ah. Augh.” Hands clasped to his face Saffron tried, and failed, to hold back the flood of ugly tears. “I'm so happyyyy. I-I-I don't have to hide away from Macro March anymore! I can suffer through it like everyone else!”
Fanning at himself, the Eevee mumbled a mile a minute as years of bundled nerves and anxiety washed away. Self-actualization, and a life worth living, now in reach left Saffron floating on cloud nine. Wholly at ease with himself the Eevee's mind raced at the possibilities that now unfolded out before him.
BRZZT
Which... was exactly the state of mind required for any Eevee to initiate evolution into a self-assured Sylveon. The cream coloring that tinged the mane of fluff wrapped around Saffron's neck dripped down along his limbs and torso while the dark browns that pocked his hands and feet glowed and sparkled with the bubbly intensity and bite of pink lemonade.
BADOOPDOOPDOOPDOOPDOOP
While torrents of evolutionary energies worked their way through Saffron's body, changing him from the inside and out, the Dynamax Band struggled to contain it. Sparks and arcs of electricity leapt out from the glowing Sylveon's wrist, tinging his pink furred limbs a pronounced yellow, as its calculations overflowed. These evolutionary energies they were having a multiplicative, nay, exponential effect on what was already stored.
As Saffron wiped away the tears and gazed upon the Dynamax Band once more, surprised yet at peace with his newfound change in perspective and sense of self, the Sylveon's jaw hung slack as he watched the Dynamax Band error out.
One moment it showed his pixelated, albeit, garbled self standing beside a toe-sized skyscraper. The screen shifted wildly in place, rapidly reloading as its calculations changed by the second, to show him alongside the his hometown as a whole. Then the Kanto continent.
Laughing nervously, Saffron tapped warily at the Dynamax Band when his ballooning limbs started to rather snugly fill out his baggy clothes.
BADOOOOOOOOP
The readout shifted once more to show Saffron equivalent in size to planet itself.
BADOOPZZZZT
Scratch that. He now far exceeded it. The planet now but a pitiful pixel in size compared to him.
BRZZZZZZZZZZT
LEGENDARY OVERFLOW
Donning a subdued smile, Saffron sighed while his amber eyes took on an otherworldly glow and a familiar energy overwhelmed him as his Dynamax Band started to crack and crumble. “Me and my big mouth.”
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