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Prompt of the Week - Week 22
🕑 Added 2020-11-22 13:41:42 +0000 UTCTAGS: Macro, Hyper, Multi, Transformation/TF, Growth, Macro Growth, Mega Macro, Cosmic Macro
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The Eternal Throne was, as usual, replete with potential suitors who believed themselves capable of satisfying the undying, eternal hunger of their Great Lord Bahamut, Father of Dragons, Progenitor of Drakes, Grand Creator of Wyrms, along with a million different titles that all effectively boiled down to reminding everyone of just how goshdarned amazing he was. Inscribed upon his seat in fiery sigils of living language, capable of melting one’s brain if one looked upon them without the adequate protection, it wasn’t uncommon for most of any given day’s visitors to have to be hauled off to the storage warehouse-cum-medical ward, where they would be given a choice to either attempt the pilgrimage to the Throne again or give up the foolish endeavour and leave. Surprisingly, most of them chose to go all the way back to the base of the mountain upon which Bahamut made their home, spending years upon years climbing up the countless miles of cliffs and jagged rock formations. There were entire communities of draconids created along the way, those who had either given up completely while on the journey or had simply decided they needed a break; villages, towns, entire cities carved into the mountain, where a large chunk of all dragonkind resided. The mountain itself defied physics and logic, being at once fully visible to the naked eye in its entirety, yet so utterly colossal that it pierced through the atmosphere and reached far into the depths of space, and at the top, there lay Lord Bahamut.
It was no surprise then that so many were attracted to that place, with only a minority managing not to express any interest in the godlike entity residing at the very top. A geological formation like that one was packed with opportunities, ranging from the mundane to the fantastical; entire mining operations were set up over the years to extract the countless tons of crystals and gems that formed a large chunk of its interior, the result of Bahamut’s sheer presence solidifying into objects of great power. These then formed the backbone of much of the mountain’s economy, with such artifacts being highly sought after for their magical power and ability to influence spatial dimensions. It was unknown where the base of the mountain truly was, or even if it had one, or if indeed it was a mountain at all; Bahamut’s influence was such that attempting to describe his Eternal Throne was a futile endeavour, and one bound to end in utter failure. It was best to simply accept it as a thing that existed and move right along, joining the trillions of souls that made the pilgrimage from their homelands to the summit, hoping to one day fulfill the great number of prophecies that involved chosen ones and sexual apotheosis.
For Lord Bahamut was not any kind of dragon, nor any kind of god or deity, but one intimately linked to the very concept of fertility, sexual prowess and breeding power, one who wielded such incomprehensibly vast quantities of might that to merely gaze upon his form was enough to drive lesser mortals mad; even dragons and their cousin-species, magical in nature as they were, had difficulty truly comprehending the sheer size of that deific beast, with many succumbing to the energies emanating from him and falling into an endless cycle of self-abasement and masturbatory insanity. For Bahamut, this was just how things were meant to be, as he was at the very apex of the draconic hierarchy, and his body showed it: if not his immense musculature, making it clear that he could crush the mightiest of mountains, his own included, into dust with a single clenching of a fist, then the colossal, titanic, behemothian package that he carried between his legs; all of dragonkind could easily fit into a single one of his four orbs and still have room for another two or so copies of the total mass, and to think that any one individual could ever hope to tame that body-length mast that he called a cock was utterly ridiculous. The rivers of cum that perennially oozed from his tip were enough to create multiple running waterfalls splashing off the sides of his Throne, and the heartbeat magnified by the quad-orbs made shockwaves course through the planet-sized palatial residence he called his abode. To look upon Bahamut was to surrender, for there was no other choice, no other possible course of actions; it was not only the truth, but it simply was truth, a universal constant that none were powerful enough to disobey.
And Bahamut was frankly tired of it.
Despite his imposing presence and ability to destroy minds by sheer force of will, the Father and Progenitor was, quite honestly, tired of the endless cavalcade of individuals hoping to get a piece of him only to inevitably end up falling by the wayside or being overwhelmed when finally getting to the front of the queue. It made for some rather uninteresting work days, especially when he still had to busy himself with so much paperwork that it could probably bury him underneath all of it; being the ruler of all draconids everywhere and everywhen was hard work, and those tiny ones by his toes weren’t really making it any easier… and not necessarily for the reasons one might expect. In reality, Bahamut did not wish to find a suitor; this much was simply the result of his presence warping history itself to the degree that prophecies spontaneously popped up from nowhere and added themselves to the annals, resulting in countless civilizations suddenly turning their attention to him. This was entirely accidental, and in fact unwanted, but there was little he could do, as “turning down” his power level just wasn’t possible. Truth be told, Bahamut was quite happy with his current arrangement, even if he dreaded the mere thought that someone, some day, might find out the true nature of it.
Secluded in his private chambers, given everything he could wish for and living the sort of life that even minor deities could only hope to one day be able to dream of, was Kelthax. Kelthax was his lover, and had been for goodness knows how many millenia, but above all things, he was his top; as much as the Great Lord of the Eternal Throne was known for being the single most virile thing in existence, the truth was, all he really wanted was for someone else to tell him to sit down like a good little boy and beg for their cock to be given to him, that they may finally get a good treat that they deserve. It wasn’t embarrassing so much as it ran completely counter to the idea that all of the cosmos had of him, and to think that one day the truth might come out was enough to set off so many panic buttons that Bahamut didn’t quite know how to handle it… because Kelthax wasn’t a drake, or a wyrm, or even a dragon. In fact, Kelthax wasn’t even a draconic being at all.
Kelthax was a kobold.
To think that out of all creatures in existence, it would be something as inconsequential and minute as a ‘bold that would be able to bring him to his knees, both literally and figuratively, was something that truly boggled the mind, and yet it was the absolute truth; Bahamut and Kelthax had been together for so long that the former couldn’t even remember a time in which the diminutive little thing wasn’t there for him in some capacity, be it in the more wholesome times or in more intimate, lewd matters. How exactly that came to be had since been lost to time, as their relationship stretched further than back the creation of the Eternal Throne, and only the Elder Gods themselves remembered when that was. The only thing both of them knew for certain was that they were happy together, and it was imperative that no one, ever, find out about the truth of the matter; in return, Kelthax would be able to live out his wildest fantasies when his lover was busy with their work, residing somewhere that defied the definition of the words “opulent” or “indulgent”, for they failed to capture how ridiculously overblown the experience was.
There was one small problem though: Kelthax himself. As much as him and Bahamut were happy together as a couple, and indeed shared many great memories of occasions where the ‘bold wasn’t just reducing the Great Dragon into a mewling, pathetic mess of whimpering, the fact of the matter was that Kelthax was still just a kobold, and as such, there was very little he could do in the way of actually… satisfying Bahamut in more physical ways. He more than made up for it with his mastery of his lover’s psyche, and indeed the two of them were more than content with proceeding with things as they were without rocking the boat too much, but every once in a while, the thought of maybe going a bit further would cross their minds. They had both trained themselves to ignore it; to turn the ‘bold into something that could physically fulfill all of Bahamut’s needs would inevitably lead to the creation of another deity, and everyone involved knew that doing such a thing was, at its very best, still folly. The other pantheons were already wary of the dragon’s existence as it was, they didn’t need a Lord of ‘Bolds to suddenly show up from nowhere. However, much like water eventually carves its way through the hardest of rock, so too did this idea inevitably pierce through the many defensive layers that Bahamut himself had erected around it; after all, when one lives for all of eternity, the probability of anything happening eventually reaches certainty, and so one day, the Lord of the Mountain decided he was going to do something… special. Something dangerous, yes, but special nonetheless, just for his lover: he would make Kelthax bigger.
In fact, he’d do it right that night, when the two of them were together and the kobold was busy giving him the sort of treatment that always ended up with their bedroom walls receiving a fresh coat of paint by the end. Kel absolutely adored to see how far he could edge Bahamut, and the two kept a record of how long it was before the dragon eventually blew his load, but for once, the Great Lord was ready to turn the tables on his partner; every time he felt it was appropriate, be it on a particularly good quip or whenever the ‘bold got physical, Bahamut would siphon some of the power kept inside of his many stored souls and transfer just the tiniest bit into his lover. It’d be immediately noticeable, and he doubted that he could keep it going for long with Kelthax saying something about it, but he still clung to the hope that maybe his life partner would pick up on what he was trying to do and just roll with the punches for as long as he possibly could.
As such, that night’s “session” began the way it always did: with Bahamut rolling onto his back and transporting the kobold to the very tip of his muzzle. The dimensional qualities of their bedroom had to be constantly adjusted just to allow Kelthax to even interact with their much larger lover, and the resulting distortions were so powerful that there was an entire department of employees whose sole purpose was to make sure they never spread to outside of the bedroom itself, lest they lead to the collapse of the very fabric of spacetime. When inside, however, everything was fair game, and thus it was common for the two lovers to end up thousands of miles apart yet somehow close enough to feel their touch upon one another; it was weird like that.
Things were going fine, and seemingly normally, when the kobold did something that always left Bahamut feeling like his cheeks were on fire, and which was best left undescribed for the sake of decency. The first growth spurt was pretty reasonable, in that it merely made the kobold be about the same size as a regular humanoid, if massively more hung, a small-scale replica of the draconic deity that they were on top of at the time; as Bahamut hoped, Kelthax said absolutely nothing, preferring instead to chuckle quietly to himself, shake his head, and lay it on thicker and harder with the sorts of words and expressions that only made the Lord of the Eternal Throne writhe and squirm even more. It was honestly impressive how easily his mind faltered when under assault by the ‘bold… almost as impressive as how large that ‘bold was getting, considering Bahamut himself wasn’t doing anything else to them.
Perhaps it had been a simple miscalculation, and more power seeped through than intended; if that was so, then it would stop soon, and simply leave Kelthax the size of a proper dragon, albeit with an immense pair of nuts and a cock big enough to bury him if at full mast… but it didn’t stop; if anything, it was only getting faster, with more and more mass depositing itself on the not-kobold’s body as time went on, none of it with Bahamut’s intent behind it. He wasn’t siphoning more power from anywhere, he wasn’t amplifying it with his own, and yet his partner was still getting bigger, so much so that he broke character and, with uncharacteristic trepidation in his voice, asked his mate if everything was fine; before the dragon god could say anything though, Kelthax underwent yet another growth burst, which not only left him at a size that could easily squish his original body underneath a single claw, but had also wrought enough changes upon his body to truly turn him into a draconic beast: wings sprouted from his back, his scales hardened, the tiny nubs on his head turned into full-fledged horns, and gouts of flame escaped from his mouth and nostrils whenever he wasn’t careful. He called out for Bahamut, demanding to know what was happening to him, only to receive a panicked, terrified expression in return; even though Kelthax wasn’t aware yet, his mate was starting to see something appear within him, a certain force that was unique to all creatures as divine as themselves, a signature that proved that its owner was, indeed, a god of their own right. Bahamut hadn’t created that; it had simply appeared from nowhere, coalescing amidst the immense power surge that was taking hold of the kobold’s body.
Kelthax begged for his partner to make it stop… once, after which he proceeded to hastily correct himself and demand that he be made larger, even when the still-bigger dragon told him that it would be madness to push their luck even more than they had already; but resistance, as usual, was futile, for all it really took were a few choice words from the kobold-turned-dragon god for Bahamut’s cheeks to light up again, and for the deity to almost immediately, and partly-subconsciously, open up the floodgates. Stored away inside of him was the collected power of countless generations’ worth of souls, the populace of billions of worlds across trillions of planes; he was, after all, the god of all dragons, and as such was owed his share of the proceeds before his subjects moved onto whatever their afterlife happened to be… and now, all of it belonged to Kelthax. It wasn’t even a choice to be made; his mate demanded he give it to them, so he did, no questions asked. Any problems they might run into, such as other gods demanding to know what in blazes he was thinking, was something they’d just have to worry about later.
The resulting power spike was so overwhelming that Bahamut himself nearly blanked out for a moment, and though he barely managed to hang onto his consciousness, he was still left blinded by the flash of light, unable to see what was going on; all he knew was that he stopped feeling Kelthax’s touch, his mind racing at the possibility that he might have just vaporized his beloved by exposing them to too much raw energy. He was ready to cry out for him, beg for the other gods to help him, when he saw it… or rather, him.
It was Kelthax, but not Kelthax, a ‘bold turned to something far greater and, on some level, incomprehensible. Looking deep within himself, Bahamut found a horrifying void where all of his soul power had once been; he still had his own, and in fact his body was exactly the same as it was given that he didn’t use his wealth of soulstuff, but those were… well, he didn’t even know how many of those things he had in him, and now they were all gone, vanished, disappeared, and with Kelthax there for him to see, it was clear where they had all gone.
To say that he was all-encompassing would be an understatement; off in the distance, Bahamut could hear the support teams shouting and struggling to maintain the dimensional distortions, what with the amount of room needed to contain the ascended ‘bold being so large that even the Father and Progenitor himself was having a hard time wrapping his head around it. In many ways, Kelthax had become a spitting image of himself, just with a different scale colour, a couple of extra pairs of arms for some reason… and much, much larger. So much larger, in fact, that Bahamut couldn’t see his head from where he stood, at the base of a set of quad-nuts so gigantic that each one could hold a million billion copies of himself and still have plenty of room to spare for all of creation twice over, each churning out enough cum from the twin cocks looming over him to quickly fill up the room to the point where the mountain upon which it sat was covered in spunk within ten seconds. Reality itself bent around that beast, and it was clear from the looks of it that Bahamut’s tenure as overlord of all dragons was well and truly over.
And then Kelthax spoke. A single word.
A command.
“More.”
