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Why did Pheagle keep doing this to himself? You’d think, after years upon years of his highly unstable DNA causing so much property damage, ruining so many outfits, and triggering so many awkward situations, that the man would eventually stop tempting fate. But Pheagle didn’t become a wide receiver for the Philadelphia Eagles through nepotism, bribery, or even dumb luck. No, he earned that position through his hard work and determination, for Pheagle was a daring and persistent man. If he wanted something, he was going to try everything and anything in his frequently fluctuating power to get it, even if it would go against every standard of logic and caution. Which was why, even after trying one of their discounted products resulted in him bulging and bursting into a hulking Holstein, and wrecked his deck chair in the process, Pheagle was right back in palm of his favorite ice cream franchise, ‘Super Swell Sweeties.’ In fact, not only was he back to try more of their stock, but he had gone the extra mile to visit one of their brand-new parlors that had recently opened in town, so that he could have a taste of their very best, from the very heart of their business. Curiously, when he had entered, Pheagle appeared to be the only person present, or at least the only customer, as the parlor was almost completely empty, save for a brightly-smiling clerk working the register. Strange, but Pheagle just assumed it was because this was a new building that had yet to get press, especially since Super Swell was a relatively obscure confectionary company. So, he made no comment on it, and returned the polite greeting the cashier had given him, before glancing up at the menu’s options. Their selection was relatively limited, probably because of the building’s age and size, leaving Pheagle with only four options to choose from, displayed in four large posters behind the counter. From the furthest right, there was ‘Braviberry,’ an almost nightmarish-looking homage to the Star-Spangled Banner, using all sorts of vibrant blue and red berries, sauces, and colored, frozen cream. The flavor looked so aggressively American. Even the name above the artwork was being squeezed in the clutch of a thick, meaty, avian talon, its claws pressing into the letters. Very tempting, but not today. Next to that was ‘Lycanrocky Road,’ a far icier-looking treat with dark, verdant chocolate sauce oozing out from the topmost layer of pale white frosting, as if it was a proud, towering mountaintop caught in the perfect glow of the bright, full moon. Thoughts of growing and bursting out of his outfit into a hulking werewolf to howl at that metaphorical moon briefly flashed in Pheagle’s head, but he decided against it…begrudgingly. On the far left, to Pheagle’s pleasant surprise, was ‘Chocowlate Marshmoolow,’ the very culprit of his deck chair’s murder. Here, in cone form, it looked almost more appealing than it did to him in cup form, with a sizable mound of chocolate flavoring, coated in a thick layer of even more chocolate sauce, all topped off with numerous, plush marshmallows, per the namesake. Pheagle smirked at the sight, as despite the little hiccup its discounted incarnation had caused him, he still considered it his favorite, and part of him was thoroughly tempted to try it again, even if it would result in the exact same bloating and mutating of flesh from homo-sapien to…whatever the evolutionary name for cows was. But no, not today. Today, Pheagle was in the mood for some mint. And to his luck, right between the Chocowlate Marshmoolow and Lycanrocky Road, the parlor sported a mint flavor: ‘Mint Miltank Chip,’ a relatively similar-looking item to Chocowlate, just with a dazzling garnish of vibrant pink sauce, with a similar mixing of pink mint flavor, and even tiny little horns made from sculpted white chocolate. Perfection. Pheagle politely purchased the ice cream with little further thought, patiently waiting until the cone was complete, and sat himself down at one of the barstools at the counter to enjoy it. Curiously, once their job was done, the employee stepped away to head into a locked staff room, and Pheagle could almost swear that their footsteps sounded off, as if their shoes were more fleshy than solid, but he thought nothing of it, and just decided to start enjoying his purchase. And it was good, very good, in fact. Part of the reason he enjoyed Super Swell’s stuff was because they had such a rich, lovely flavor to their recipes, and the Mint Miltank Chip was possibly some of the best mint ice cream he had ever tasted in his life. It was creamy, sweet, and surprisingly, very filling. Gurrrrgle…. Crrrnn… Very, very, very filling. Suddenly, Pheagle had a brief pang of fear, one that he might end up overburdening himself with calories, a fear so bad that it felt like his clothes were getting a little snug on him. His socks in particular felt super uncomfortable, and his shoes felt almost like they were pinching him, but even as a dull pain slowly crept across the top of his skull, Pheagle paid it no mind. This ice cream was just too good, and he wanted to fully savor every, last, drop of- Pop! ….what was that noise? |
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RIIIP! RIIIIP! RR-R-RIIIIIIIP! The first sign that Pheagle may have made a little mistake was not the egregiously loud sound of ripping cloth, nor the concerning groans coming from the stool beneath his rump, but rather the realization that the cone was strangely getting smaller in his hand. Ice cream of course deformed over time, buuut cones…didn’t shrink. Among the many downsides of undergoing so many transformations throughout his life, one of the most detrimental was Pheagle’s desensitization to it. Pheagle had long since grown so accustomed to the bizarre sensations of his changes, that he rarely even noticed they were happening until they were far too underway to stop. Naturally, this would cause plenty of grievance to not only him, but quite a bit around him too, and most especially, his wardrobe. So it was hardly surprising that when his bones began to stretch, his skull starting to push outwards, when his flesh began to inflate, starting to split the seams of his sleeves and trousers as his hands fattened, and even when entirely new limbs formed and sprouted from his increasingly inhuman body, like the sphere-tipped tail that ‘Ripriprip-riiii-i-iiiip’ed and ‘Cra-a-a-a-aaack’ed out from his rump and trousers, that Pheagle barely even raised an eyebrow. Pop! Pop! Rip-riiip-ripripripriiiip! Pheagle’s green and white tracksuit was quickly coming undone before he could even process what was happening, as his form slowly began to swell and bloat like a water balloon being filled up, his gut starting to engorge even more drastically. Seam lines along both the jacket and trousers strained tight against his growing limbs, digging and squishing into his increasingly ample flesh, until dozens, nay hundreds, of breaches and holes ripped and split open, widening and merging together as the stitching ruptured and frayed apart, the football player’s bloating limbs spilling out, all while button after button after button popped and pinged off his jacket. Crrreee-e-e-e-eeeerrrrn As his sports jersey underneath began to tear open across a broadening chest, down below, Pheagle’s shoes and socks were now getting considerably overstuffed. They shrank vice-tight against his similarly bloating feet, and pinched so aggressively, that not even the material itself could withstand the damage. Yet, strangely, Pheagle’s toes didn’t hurt at all from the building pressure. The shoes shrank, pinched and strangled, yet even though the toes couldn’t move, they remained the exact, rounded shape they were mutating into, not feeling a single twinge of fabric deformity against them. In fact, actually, they didn’t feel…anything. It was like they didn’t just transform, but had solidified. Pheagle had changed into such a massive variety of species, that he acutely understood the differences between each kind of animalistic foot structure, and if his toes had gone from soft and fleshy to solid and unfeeling, that could mean he had sprouted- POP! POP! Crk-crk, RIIIIP! …Hooves. Pheagle glanced down at the sudden, loud popping of his footwear, and sure enough, bursting from the fronts of his shoes, and ripping his socks into threads, were the sharpened tips of cloven hooves, somewhat still articulated, but far from the dexterity of more predatory, carnivorous creatures. As Pheagle gazed down to stare at his ripping socks to figure out what species his body had decided to indulge in this time, his theories of it being that same Holstein Super Swell had turned him into before were scrambled, as he realized that a thin, yet plush coat of creamy pink fur was sprouting all across his skin, peeking out of the spreading rips in his clothing in tiny tufts. No regular Holstein sported that kind of fur pattern, at least not naturally, and Pheagle was still staring down, his mouth slightly open in thought, before he realised that…something else was happening to his groin. His crotch was swelling. In fact, it was swelling quite a lot, and boy did it feel strange. Crrreak, creak, creak, crreeeak. Pheagle’s eyes darted down to the offending area in a slight panic, as the inflating globule in his pants pumped and throbbed, as it bloated and bloated, both his trousers and his underwear pinching tighter, and tighter, and tighter, until… R-RIR-RI-RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP! Until both loudly tore open, their seams and stitching bursting wide across the sudden sprouting of bulky, swollen…udders, as a familiar tail swished and smacked the flooring underneath him. Mint…Miltank…Chip. Ah. |
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BLUB-BLUB, BLURGLE-GRRRGLE- GUURRRRGLE Pheagle coughed and spluttered as the changes suddenly accelerated into far more excessive measures. His already sizable body quickly began to surge and swell larger, and larger, and larger, until he was spilling out across the room, and also spilling out of his clothes. Ri-i-i-iiirRRIIIIP, RIIIP, RIP-RIP-RIP His thighs quickly bulged and inflated in his already frayed trousers, tugging and yanking the strained threads until they were rapidly snapping across his welling flesh, as the elastic cuffs slid all the way up his shins. CRIIIP, R-R-RIIIIIIP! His jacket’s pale sleeves burst across his broadening biceps in a flurry of ripping fabric, as his increasingly meaty hands were soon consumed entirely by the pink fuzz, his fingers merging and solidifying into the same cloven mutations as his feet. RIIIIP, RIIIIIIP! His feet themselves were stretching to an even larger size, the hoof-like toes trying to wiggle and flex, as his shoes tore and peeled off their bottoms from the increasing masses inside them, his socks rupturing and tearing into strings and sinew across ankles and meaty soles. Gwoooooo RIIIII-IIII-I-IIIIIP Pop-pop! Pop! All while his puffy gut and newly formed udders continued to swell and inflate, making Pheagle fatter, and fatter, and fatter still, as his underwear ripped and wrenched itself apart across the bare flesh of his thrumming, pumping udders, the buttons of his jacket popping and snapping and pinging off his bulking chest, until about only one was left, and the shirt inside practically exploded into rags. CRROOOOAAAAK All of this rapidly increasing size wasn’t just for show however, as Pheagle, hapless to do anything but watch and fret, felt his body steadily growing heavier, and heavier, and heeeavier, as his expanding weight pressed down onto the world around him, evidenced by the loud, straining groan that erupted from the stool he sat upon, starting to make him fear for his balance. BANG Strength was filling his body to the brim, and Pheagle’s flustered flails to try and stabilize himself greatly showcased it, as his arm slammed into the ice cream machine with a loud ‘CLANG,’ hitting the metal with enough force to bend it into a nasty dent. BRACK-CRACK-CRACKLE Trying to set his hulking arms onto the counter instead, however, proved to be a worse decision, as he moved and applied a little too much force into the wood, loudly cracking and splintering it into chunks. Crreeeeaaa-CRUCK-CRUNCH-CH-CHUCK Similarly, Pheagle pressed his large cloven hooves into the floorboards quite hard to try and not lose his footing, and that only resulted in him snapping them clean into rubble and chunks wherever his feet were positioned. PING-PING….PANG Try as he might, Pheagle’s struggles to not embarrass himself only caused more hectic disarray, as his fattening thighs and legs squirmed and bashed into the stools sat at either side of him, knocking them off their neat positions, and sent them crashing onto the floor. Pheagle could only loudly groan, as he continued to make an increasingly Miltank-like fool of himself, until he just barely managed to hold still, as his size ballooned to nearly double his human height…and then well over double. All he could do now was hope that the owners of the parlor weren’t going to sue his ass to high heaven for the humiliating amount of property damage he was causing. Though, as Pheagle gasped and spluttered to try and save any kind of face, his eyes drifted to the floor, and he realized that the biggest tragedy of the entire circumstance had occurred right in front of him. For in the midst of the changes, his flailing to maintain balance, and the switch from a prehensile human grasp to the limited articulation of his hooved mockery of hands. Pheagle…had dropped his cone, and the ice cream had spilled and already begun to melt onto the floor just underneath him, before he could even reach the rich, minty core hidden inside the cone itself. This just wasn’t his day…. |
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Gwoooooo Gurrrrrgle Gwwwoooooo, woooo, woooouuurrrggllle! Pheagle felt it, he felt it cleanly, as his body continued to bloat, swell, and fatten, as he was growing more and more gigantic. RR-R-RIIIIP! RIIIP! RIP-RIP-RIP-RIP-PAP, POP, PAFF! His bubbling feet swelled and engorged themselves bigger, longer, and fatter, until his shoes snapped off feet entirely, his ruined socks ripping and ripping until they were threads, and he was utterly barefoot. CRRNNN-PAP! PAP! RIIII-I-IIIIIP, RIIIIIIIP! The elastic cuffs of his trousers strained and stretched, digging deeper, and deeper, and deeper into his squishy shins, until they loudly popped and snapped, releasing the pressure in a satisfying instant, before the rest of his trousers tore across his bulking legs, until they were reduced to dangling rags. RRRRR-RIIP! RIP! Similarly, his arms swelled and pumped, until every fragment of white sleeve against his body was either wrenched into stretched-thin strings, or snapped off entirely, stripping his jacket of sleeves as his widening torso amusingly forced his arm back into the rounded dent it smashed into the ice cream machine. RRRUCK! CRUNCH-CRA-A-A-ACK The floorboards were crunched and snapped apart even further, as the stool Pheagle was sitting on completely collapsed under his now immense weight, forcing his legs to splay out even further, carving trenches into the flooring as they moved. RR-BUMP-BLUG. BUMP-BLUG. GWOOOO-R-R-RIP, RIIIIP-RIII-I-I-IIIIP And his thick, Miltank gut bulged and swelled into about a third of his full mass, his throbbing udders wrenching his underwear into strings of spandex, his shirt bursting into a similar condition against his thickening chest, and the final button on his jacket straining tighter, and tighter, and tighter, uuuntil… Pop! It soon joined its fellows on the floor, as it burst off right in front of Pheagle’s face. With that, the monstrous, Miltank man was pretty much finished transforming, once a star player for the Philadelphia Eagles, now a hulking, pink-furred, herbivorous Pokémon, draped in the rags of his casual garb, and surrounded on all sides by the cluttered destruction of the parlor around him. Pheagle himself was quite flustered with how stupidly big he had gotten this time, but he simply just sighed as he logged in another day of sudden transformation. To be fair, he wasn’t exactly surprised, seeing as Super Swell Sweeties had transformed him in just about the same fashion before. Heck, exactly the same even, the only difference being the location and species. Fortunately, he liked Miltank quite a bit as a Pokémon, so he wasn’t terribly upset with what his body had settled upon this day. And even though it now lay on the floor, utterly ruined and wasted, the Mint ‘Miltank’ Chip ice cream was still pretty darn good for the brief amount of time Pheagle got to taste it. Perhaps that’d just teach him a lesson to be more careful when changing, though doing so was admittedly much easier said than done. But speaking of done, at least most of Pheagle’s latest changes were slowly to a halt now, his body still thrumming with freshly grown mass, and still swelling eeever so slightly. Probably best to try and head home and wait it out, after he could deal with the headache of the wrecked parlor at least. Hopefully the store owners would understand, but the employee at the counter was still nowhere to be seen. Maybe they were busy with something…or maybe they were indulging in the transformation-triggering Ice cream themselves, who could say for certain? All that Pheagle did know, for the current situation…was that he was now really keen to try the Braviberry cone, if it promised to result in the same bloating, swelling changes that the Mint Miltank Chip or Chocowlate Marshmoolow caused. Maybe next time…. |
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JazzaX |
caelanj13
MiltonHolmes
