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Twitter Winner - February 2022
🕑 Added 2022-03-24 16:59:36 +0000 UTCTAGS: Growth/Accidental Growth, Growth Rain, Hyper/Hyper Growth
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She didn’t know why the neighboring dukes thought that she needed to be kicked out and “removed as a threat”, but after living for as long as she had, Rubaline had come to the conclusion that most human rulers were just a few screws short of a full complement, for lack of a nicer way to put it. Really, they should be thankful that she was around to keep the harvests going the way that they were; what was she supposed to do, let the peasants starve to death on account of a blight when she could fix it about as easily as she could go up a flight of stairs?
Maybe that was the problem. Maybe they didn’t appreciate a ten foot tall dragon witch with the power to alter reality on such a fundamental level running around without being in their employ; and, being unable to come to a decision on who got to control her, figured that the best option was to just take her out. If no one person could have her, then no one would, nevermind how that would just be a net negative overall. To say that Rubaline herself found the whole thing to be borderline childish would be an understatement, but unfortunately for the dragoness and everyone else who depended on her, it was a childish tantrum that she had to deal with, because those armies weren’t going to fix themselves.
Four individual forces, all gunning for her and her mountain lair, all of them under the employ of someone different, all of them with orders to invade the small slice of paradise that Rubaline had created for herself and drag the “blasted witch” out, by force if necessary. She’d caught wind of how much money was being offered to the one soldier who managed to get her head, not to mention the prestige that would be showered upon the lord who took down the “evil sorceress” living in the mountains in the south. Honestly, it was all a bother and a half, and Rubaline would’ve preferred if she didn’t have to spend a whole day coming up with a countermeasure, but sadly, beggars couldn’t be choosers in that regard.
She’d made her choice long ago when she decided to declare her independence from the duke she was nominally attached to. At the time, it felt like a good idea: the man was a tyrant who refused to help his subjects, and she had more than enough power and popular support to decide she didn’t want to remain underneath his authority anymore; back then, it had been easy to just say that she wasn’t going to pay a tithe anymore, effectively run off with several villages, then declare that they were under her protection. Daring the duke to come and take them back only resulted in the man losing gradual support as a result of his unsuccessful war of attrition, the unfortunate reality of it being that Rubaline was more than capable of grinding down whatever forces were thrown at her before they even got remotely close. Eventually, the man was deposed and replaced with a cousin who was somewhat more competent and vastly more reasonable, who merely requested that the dragoness allow the villages under her control to decide whether or not they wished to return to the duchy, and guaranteed that none would be forced if they wished for otherwise.
None went back.
It was a moment of pride for Rubaline, but that was then, and this was now. That man was long gone, having been replaced by some distant relation who was about as idiotic and tyrannical as the one who started the whole mess to begin with, and after the neighboring duchies slowly reacted by putting tinpot dictators at the helm as well, it was only a matter of time before something stupid happened. And, when the dragon witch received word from the king that he wasn’t going to waste time resolving “internal disputes” when there was a war on, she knew that something stupid was, indeed, happening.
Sighing to herself, the dragoness looked through her catalogue, hoping to find something she could use that wouldn’t be too harmful for the soldiers sent to take her in. With a few unfortunate exceptions, none of those young men were to blame for what they were going to do; it wasn’t as if they had a choice in the matter whenever their local lord decided to call up the levies. What were they going to do, say no? Tell the big scary bastard in full plate armour with a sword they actually knew how to use that they weren’t going to take anyone off to be in the army? No, there were very few people in the encroaching masses of soldiers that Rubaline could actually blame for being there, and that meant she needed to be smart about how she disabled them as a fighting force.
She couldn’t outright kill them, that wouldn’t sit well with her. Similarly, she couldn’t exactly go for the leadership, not without leaving her villages unprotected and ripe for the plucking; while the excursions were supposedly there to remove her from power and hopefully get rid of her for good, the dragoness knew better than to assume the soldiery wouldn’t be spurred into some good pillaging for having done such a fantastic job at securing more territory for their lord. The last thing she wanted was for those under her protection to suffer as a consequence of her actions, which meant that the only way to get rid of the threat was to stop it from ever getting to her in the first place… and for that, Rubaline had something perfect.
The dragoness rarely got to employ weather magic, on account of how dreadfully unpredictable it was, but whenever she had a reason to do it, she jumped at the opportunity. It was fun, in that sort of way that made her giggle like an idiot even when she knew she shouldn’t be having nearly as much fun as she was; plus, barring freak accidents, it was one of the few types of offensive magic best suited for non-lethal attacks… so long as people didn’t think to charge into a tornado or a thunderstorm with an army at their back. Seeing as the wet season was coming around, however, this was the best opening Rubaline was ever going to get to use her patented and seldom-utilised monsoon spell: one simple application of the incantation, and everything in the marked area would be affected by rains so terrible and persistent that even getting a handful of people in an adventuring party through would become a near-impossible task, let alone a whole army!
Surely, she thought to herself as she prepared the spell, if the entire valley she governed was to be made inaccessible through powerful rains, then the encroaching armies would think twice before carrying on their advance. At least, Rubaline presumed they would, if they knew the first thing about logistics and long-term siege warfare; the last thing anyone wanted (or the last thing they should want) was a long, protracted fight where they’d have to bleed for every inch of terrain, and for that, the dragoness was uniquely suited. All she needed was to get a map, draw some arcane circles on it, prepare the spell, and then place a few drops of the correct potion in the whole thing to get the rains going.
This… was where things became a bit complicated, seeing as the one potion she had that would work was… somewhat beyond the best-by date. She tried her best to keep her stock updated, but without much in the way of military incursions, and with the rains having been decent the past few years, the one concoction capable of summoning a monsoon had been sitting on its shelf for long enough that it had likely begun to go stale. Unfortunately for Rubaline, the ingredients required to make it weren’t available that time of the year, so it was either risk it, or have to start over with a whole new incantation, and frankly, she’d already spent half an afternoon and wasn’t about to let all that effort go to waste.
With care, the dragon witch let out a single drop of the thick blue potion onto very specific spots on the map, ley line convergences where the sigils had been drawn, both on the surface of the parchment and on the ground itself; she kept multiple wards up at all times, precisely for cases like these, and as her mind expanded to touch upon them, Rubaline could confirm that they were, at the very least, still active. Probably frazzled, most likely ready to fade the moment their job was done and force her to put up new ones, but still functional, and that’s what mattered.
It was only after the drops began to glow a very unexpected green that Rubaline thought that maybe “functional” wasn’t what she was looking for. In that moment, the many, many possibilities for how the whole thing could backfire suddenly coursed through her mind, and in the few seconds she had to appreciate the sheer depth of her idiocy… nothing happened. The green glow was still there, at least for a moment or two before falling back to the regular blue, the lines drawn on the map eventually connected and the whole thing started glowing; a short burst of energy confirmed that the incantation had gone off, and when the map was then returned to normal, Rubaline had nothing left to do but stand there and stare at it, wondering what had just happened.
It was entirely possible that something out of the ordinary had taken place and she wouldn’t find out until the rains started; she couldn’t know what component of the spell would be affected by an expired potion, but with nothing happening during the incantation proper, it left her wondering just what was going to take place. The one thing she knew for certain was that there was going to be some sort of backfiring or wild magic event, because that potion was not meant to be glowing green; unfortunately, the spell was cast and she couldn’t just take that back, so with a long sigh, Rubaline readjusted her bracelet, summoned a corridor leading to the outside, and did her best not to overthink things before she opened the door.
As expected, she saw the sprawling valley down below at the base of the mountains, just as peaceful and serene as always. As expected, she could see far enough away to get a good eyeful of the four different armies approaching her lands from the distance, four armies that had, apparently, split into three groups, with two of the major forces joining together to assault the main entrypoint in the north of the valley. As not expected, Rubaline also took note of a preponderance of thick, laden clouds blanketing most of the sky around her.
The dragoness was reasonably convinced she had ordered the spell to target the outside of the runic wards; she’d triple-checked the markings on the map as well, and was well aware that she’d never do something as silly as confuse “inside” with “outside” in an incantation as basic as the one she had intoned moments prior. On the other hand, she used an expired potion that clearly did something to the whole thing, and as she heard the first bouts of thunder thrum through the air, electricity making her hair stand on end, all Rubaline could do was groan, slap her forehead, and immediately curse her luck.
Well, at least when the armies showed up they’d be bogged down in rain anyway, though this was going to need so much cleanup afterwards that the dragon witch almost felt like letting her enemies take the whole place so they’d have to deal with it. Momentary grumpiness, but still, she was entitled to feel like shit once in a while; mostly, it was just her looking back and realising that it was entirely her fault that this was happening, and she couldn’t really pin it on anyone or anything else: nothing had forced her to use a weather spell, she just really wanted to, enough to do something as stupid as resort to utilising inadequate spell components.
Oh well, better than nothing she guessed. Closing the door behind her, the dragoness went through her mental catalogue, hoping to remember how exactly to dispel something like what she was seeing after it had already started going. It was one thing to get rid of a bout of bad weather before it had the chance to fully form, but she had summoned monsoon rains via magical means, and that gave her… about five minutes or so, before shit hit the fan and she was forced to deal with the consequences. Were it a case of a regular weather spell, then countering it would be child’s play; unfortunately, one of its components went haywire, and the dragon witch had absolutely no clue which it was. The clouds themselves looked normal, and apart from a slightly higher-than-average amount of ozone scent in the air, she couldn’t sense anything out of the ordinary… which could only mean the rain itself was going to end up anomalous.
To call this annoying would be something akin to calling water wet, an apt comparison all things considered. With the rain being the component affected, there was literally no telling what random magical effect it was going to be afflicted by, nor what it would do to whoever got caught in it; and with the amount of rain Rubaline had summoned, no one was going to be spared. It was literally the worst possible case scenario, and now she was powerless to fix it unless she somehow finagled up the correct counterspell within the short amount of time she had before the first droplets began falling.
Short, and shortening, as she was soon to find out, because she didn’t have five minutes. Thunder boomed around her again, lightning crackled through the sky, and already her scales were feeling the first drops of rain falling from above. A short series of breathless “No!”s were the one thing out of the dragoness’ mouth before she suddenly felt surprisingly warm all over, having a second or two to notice something definitely wasn’t right about that before the rain’s effects on people became apparent.
Rubaline’s choice in fashion tended to be very loose, in the sense that it was hard to keep clothes for someone as large and curvaceous as herself that didn’t cost an arm and a leg. Thus, most of her attire had to be woven to give her as much room as possible, barring the handful of more formal pieces she had. Seeing as this was a casual day, she’d taken to wearing a baggy shirt, which, somehow, wasn’t baggy anymore.
In fact, it was quite tight on her chest, which wasn’t supposed to be the case as far as Rubaline was concerned. The reason for it was obvious, but she still insisted on not looking downwards to confirm it; doing so would mean she’d have to confront the reality that she definitely screwed up that spell bad enough to overtune its fertility component, and doing that meant welcoming a great deal more lust and depravity into her life than she was supposed to. Plus, the rain wasn’t just going to affect her, and the thought that her little ones were going to suffer because of her actions was… difficult for her to process.
On the other hand, just as the heat began welling up inside her and the arousal truly struck, she had to start wondering whether or not “suffer” was the right word to use there; it could be that those in the valley below were more than happy to receive her blessings, even if the dragoness herself didn’t see them as such. It could be that they’d ask for more, nevermind how dangerous this would be with that sort of uncontrolled, wild magic. But as her own bust began to fill and grow, and the rest of her thickened up to compensate, Rubaline really had to stop and consider whether or not she had the wrong thing at all.
Perhaps it was her libido. It was most definitely the spell screwing with it, but it was hard to tell whether it ended and her natural state of horniness began; it was difficult, at times, living alone with none of her kind to share a warm bed with, and while she occasionally had an opportunity or two to alleviate this, it wasn’t a luxury she could afford all that often. Given the sort of body she had, and what kind of pleasures she could provide to those willing to take them, this often led to situations where she, perhaps, did things she really shouldn’t… hence her body being the way that it was.
Not always so bountiful, but not working off a flat base either, lending to some truly obscene excesses whenever she got going. And right there, in the rain, looking up at a storm of her own creation and wondering just how far it would go, Rubaline was stuck trying to decide whether she wanted to turn back or just take her top off and let the rain fall on her freely. Either option sounded pretty decent at that point, which was slightly concerning given that the latter shouldn’t even have registered as an option to begin with.
She should have wanted to turn around and not thought twice about exposing herself further to her own anomalous rain, but she didn’t; in fact, the tighter her top became, and the more her tits spilled out from the sides towards her arms, the more Rubaline wanted to stay there and just let the rain do what it may. When she felt her pants tighten, the waistband digging into an ever-wider set of hips, however, her ability to resist was compromised to the point where it might as well not even be there at all. Really, she was just one second away from ripping her clothes off and letting her whole body be exposed to the magical monsoon, and the only reason she wasn’t doing so were the last remnants of her sanity still trying to hold on for dear life amidst the flood of endorphins making her think a whole lot of unsavoury things.
Maybe, she was left thinking, she should just give up. Surely the encroaching armies would see the monsoon pouring down on the valley, take a closer look at what it was doing to its inhabitants, then either turn around, thus solving the problem, or join in on the fun, thus also solving the problem. Maybe there were a couple more possibilities there, but in the state she was in, Rubaline could only really see those two, and that being the case, she wasn’t sure where the problem was. Indeed, she was more than convinced she should throw herself harder into it all, which was made surprisingly easier when her top began to rip on account of her tits growing too big for it.
It happened quickly enough that, despite the dragoness technically being able to respond to it, she, in practice, had no chance in all the hells to even so much as twitch one of her fingers in the general direction of her home, not when each droplet falling on her naked bust made it swell up half an inch, not when she could feel her thighs filling out, her hips widening into a more motherly shape, her whole body slowly creeping upwards as it was made to stretch out to accommodate all the extra dragoness it had to carry. All she could do at that point was close her eyes and raise her head to the heavens, opening her mouth to try and catch as much of the rain as possible.
It was starting to pour properly by then, making it a less than safe prospect for Rubaline to actually drink any of it. Those sorts of spells were designed to have the rain affect things by falling on them, not in them; contact alone was enough to warrant far more than enough, and more often than not any pooled water needed to be magically cleaned away unless it was diluted into existing streams. For Rubaline to invite it into her body, to outright guzzle it down given how much of it was falling from the sky, was a recipe for disaster, and her biology definitely agreed.
It only took a few moments before she felt the ground beneath her on more than just two contact points, and fewer moments still for two to become four to become six. Rubaline didn’t much want to think about how exactly her tits and ass were rubbing against the stone beneath her feet, but all she knew was that there was more of her, and that meant more rain falling on her body, meaning an even greater growth spurt developing the longer she allowed herself to remain outdoors. It wasn’t even subtle anymore: the more she was there, the bigger she became, and more dragoness meant a larger canvas for her magic to work on.
If the first minute or so was the preparation, setting the stage for her emergence, then the moment she ripped through her top and pants was the same one where it all tipped over and there was no more hope for the dragon witch to come back to sanity. She wasn’t even thinking of her little ones anymore; the dragoness was sure that, somewhere down below, a great many people had already been enjoying themselves, right in front of the other half of the population who had successfully locked themselves indoors before the growth rain consumed everyone else. She was sure that there was plenty of debauchery going on already, and on some level, was genuinely worried that not enough people were getting in on it… and, on the other side, slightly jealous that she wasn’t joining in.
Rubaline was already far bigger than most people by default, enough that whenever she had to step down into the valley, getting into any building that wasn’t also a large meeting place ranged from merely difficult to downright impossible. She saw the looks she got, she saw how much the people there actively lusted after her whenever they thought she wasn’t looking, and to a certain extent, she didn’t really mind. In fact, she outright encouraged her little ones to be as open about it as possible, if only because she enjoyed the attention almost as much as she enjoyed the thought of one day finally meeting someone who she could take back home long-term.
Unfortunately, this did leave her in a position where shouldn’t really do much with her size and… well, girth. Not a lot of people around that could handle a dragoness to begin with, let alone one that could put most pure males to shame while outsizing most of the ones on the other side of the spectrum; nothing but herself, and the occasional mate who flew in from over the border in search of the renowned dragon witch for one reason or another and always ended up rocking the bedsprings until they were broken in two. So now, with the rain, it was all made even worse.
Well, in the sense that if she couldn’t find a mate down there before, she certainly wasn’t going to find one now, not after her tits ballooned outwards hard enough that, even after smushing against the ground, the top of their curvature was still encroaching upon eye level. Or her ass as well, with so much more fat to it that a significant portion had apparently flown down to her legs in order to make her lower body remain somewhat self-consistent: it wasn’t just a pair of enormous cheeks, plenty of thighflesh and softness to go around, enough that someone could sink a hand into it and have it vanish all the way up to the wrist, if not even more… at least, for the time being.
Because she still wasn’t moving. There was a whole lair behind her, one she could retreat to in order to escape the rain, one that the bracelet she was fidgeting with could turn into a near-infinite complex of tunnels and passages with the potential to hold back the waters for as long as necessary. But she didn’t use it, because doing so would deprive her of the sensations that came with having her whole body bathed in the magical rain, giving her more of herself with every second that passed.
It was a full-body, immersion bath, not unlike the few times she filled up a hot tub and just floated there for hours on end as she drifted in and out of sleep, only… better. There were no still waters there, no soothing calmness to surround and lull her to a state of half-consciousness, but a continuous downpour over her body, coating each inch of her form and running down, a thousand thousand hands caressing her form in sequence, never to stop, only ever growing in intensity. It was a thousand thousand hands rubbing her, only to leave their spot pudgier, fatter, rounder, heavier, ready for two more hands to take its position and restart the process anew. And it was a thousand thousand hands each flaring up her nerve endings until her whole brain was screaming at her to never move again, and just let herself stay where she was, growing, bloating, swelling, until all around her was… well, her.
There was a lot of space there, up in the mountains. A lot of empty room that her body could take up, especially at the rate that it was going; with the bracelet still on her wrist, it was even possible to open the door into her lair and allow its inner dimensions to take care of all the excess mass on her, but that was only a last resort as far as Rubaline was concerned; the valley itself was more than big enough to handle her, even if she would have to cover most of it before she even came close to feeling satisfied. If nothing else, at least it would get everyone else to buzz off and stop trying to conquer her lands; couldn’t really take anything if it was nothing but a giant dragoness sprawled in between a whole bunch of hills and mountains.
Of course, this would mean that most of the villages down below would have to be relocated (or reconstructed, as the case may be), but when she leaned forward and actually felt her tits pushing back as a result of how full they were getting, Rubaline couldn’t quite stop to think about the consequences of her actions anymore. It felt ridiculous to waste time with that when she could be keeping her mouth open instead, swallowing gallons upon gallons of water, only for it to seemingly vanish halfway down her throat and reappear somewhere else on her body. Be it on her bust or rump, be it on her belly or thighs, be it in the permanently-turgid cock and the beanbag-sized nuts underneath it, or just on her body in general: all of herself was being made bigger, and she couldn’t get enough of it.
The rain fell in earnest now, the magical monsoon having been properly kickstarted. There were no drops anymore, but thick sheets of the stuff, blanketing the ground and causing even the most desolate of patches of rock to sprout with new plantlife, the fertility component of the spell having gone completely haywire as a result of the expired potion. The effects it was having on the local ecology could not be understated, but Rubaline wasn’t thinking about how the vines were going to choke everything out or how the orchards down in the valley were about to fill the villages’ larders for years to come with only a single harvest.
No, she was thinking about how she couldn’t even feel the ground properly anymore, in between… everything. So used to having nothing but her two feet on there, to so suddenly have an entire blanket of her own form there to serve as some magnificently oversized bed of fat and pudge instead was… hard to parse. Her brain lacked the capacity to process what information it was receiving, leading to a mix between a complete blank and an overwhelming overload, trapping Rubaline in an odd limbo where she couldn’t quite tell what she was feeling at any given point. Only herself, and more of herself, as the rain kept coming down, leaving her increasingly immobile, increasingly unable to do anything for herself, and so absolutely, devastatingly enormous that she could hear the rock underneath her buckle and crumble already.
It was only meant to be an observation platform, nothing else. It was never meant to hold weights, much less one like she herself was at the time, only the regular her, the normal Rubaline, whenever she felt like taking a gander at the valley below. There, on her perch, she observed her lands, even if they were only hers by technicality; she never intended to rule over them, or tell the people within them what to do, merely allow them to live in peace and harmony under her benevolent oversight.
Now though? No such concerns. She wasn’t thinking about benevolence or harmonious anything, only how big she could get from all the rain, how massive she could become just by letting go and absorbing as much of it as she could. Even when the platform began to give way, all Rubaline could think about was how it came about as a result of her own weight, her own mass.
And how much more of it there was yet to come.
