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Data Transfer (Commission for Renaspikes/Strowh)
🕑 Added 2020-10-07 14:43:10 +0000 UTCEver since the “protein” shake, things had never been the same. Spikes was always going to grow up into a big, buff, hunky Rena, but that extra boost he was given had completely ruined any chance of that transformation remaining within the realm of the reasonable, especially after Tim lost control of the Digivice and it somehow ended up within Spikes’ grasp. It was anyone’s guess just where the Renamon was going to take himself, but considering he was already too big to fit onto a couch without breaking it (something they both knew from personal experience), it wasn’t too much of a stretch to assume he’d become too large for regular housing.
Indeed, Spikes wasted absolutely no time in making it known that he wanted to start growing at a faster rate than he ever had before, and the first thing he did towards that end was modifying the parameters so that his compressor field itself was warped. Being a creature of pure data made it easy for him to fiddle with the variables in a way that “true” organics could only ever dream of, especially since he had direct access to the device built specifically for that purpose. While at first he insisted that he was only going to make the download rate slightly higher, it didn’t take long before multipliers were involved; the compression was designed to keep him at one tenth of his full size, but there was nothing stopping him from adding a zero to the end of that… and then working through recursion in order to “fix” it by increasing his visible proportions so that they would, indeed, be a tenth of his supposed compressed volume; the house didn’t last a lot of time after he realized he could abuse mathematics that hard.
At least Spikes had the decency to give the both of them some time before finally going off the deep end by stacking exponentials of ten, even if he strained the idea of “fitting” into their house to its very limit before finally making it utterly meaningless. It used to be that a good day was one where they only had to go through the process of hearing his body creak and expand a few inches once; this number was slowly amended to make way for the increasing necessity of “adjustments” to fit with his exponentially increasing growth rate, until the groaning of his bulking body became something they just learned to deal with every living second of their lives. It was still slow enough, for a certain definition of the word, that they could envision him lasting for a couple of weeks before having to find new housing accommodations; besides, Spikes had taken to being outdoors a lot more often than he used to, partly because of the issue with space, mostly thanks to him developing a growing love for showing himself off. And how couldn’t he, given what he looked like?
Even before kickstarting his immense ascension to unbelievable scales, the Renamon’s body was one that lesser mortals would kill for, and thanks to their inherent nature, was about as natural as one could ever hope for. No need for chemicals or ridiculous interventions, just the adjustment of variables and time spent to download the amount of data required to turn him into a miniaturized colossus. Tim still remembered when the two of them were the same height; the day that the lynx could stand on the tip of their toes and still barely reach Spikes’ pecs was the same day that they lost control over the situation, being far too enamored with their roommate’s continuous growth to even so much as have the capacity for wanting to stop it. All it took was the Renamon taking a step closer to them in order to block the sun with their body and all the fight left the cat’s body, leaving him little more than putty in Spikes’ hands, something Spikes himself wasn’t afraid to exploit for all it was worth.
Hence, the protein shake. Under normal circumstances, Tim would never go so far as to do something that depraved, which coming from them was one hell of an indictment; considering the things he had done to Spikes himself, the feline refusing to do anything at all on the grounds that it would be “too much” would’ve been a warning and a half for anyone who paid the slightest amount of attention. But Tim was too far gone by that point, too lost in the adoration of every rock-hard muscle and skin-tightening vein, too much in love with every oversized inch of their lover; Spikes could’ve asked them to bring them the moon and the cat would’ve found some way to do it. By comparison, producing an extra-large protein shake with “organically-sourced protein” didn’t seem like that much of a demand, even when one considered the effects that it could have.
The Renamon was all-too aware of what he was going to do to himself, having been on the receiving end of those kinds of “drinks” in the past. For whatever reason, his body reacted quite poorly when it was forced to deal with his partner’s spunk, and by “poorly” one should read “explosively”; it wouldn’t be the first time the two had to readjust his body via his Digivice after a bed or three were broken, or when a wall was torn down thanks to an unforeseen growth spurt, so the idea of him consuming an entire shake made entirely out of that substance had always been a lingering thought at the back of their minds. Tim insisted such a thing was madness; whatever happened to Spikes’ body would no doubt be so massive in scale that returning him to normal wouldn’t even be possible, not to mention the damage done to their house, their neighbours’ houses, and the entire neighborhood to go with it. The Rena, his own mind awash with the constant flood of endorphins that came from having a body like his, could not care less; he demanded the shake be made, for he wanted to experience perfection incarnate.
Not that he wasn’t already such a thing; the effects of the growth on him hadn’t just left him a towering pillar of beef, adorned with what had to be the biggest package he’d ever seen, but had gone ahead and shuffled his brain around so much that he barely even recognized himself. Not that this was a bad thing; he much enjoyed his new sense of confidence, being far more confident and willing to show off his power and abilities than his old, puny self had ever been. He remembered he would once shy away from people trying to complement his body, much less trying to get a handful of it themselves, but the very thought of that felt downright unnatural now that he sported a physique that few could ever hope to approach, let alone match; even with other hypers running around, very few, if any, had the ability to sculpt their body as perfectly as he had his, giving him a distinct advantage when it came to flaunting his stuff. He often had to be reminded that some things were still out of bounds even for him, hence why the only piece of clothing he ever wore were a pair of boxer briefs with a secondary compressor field installed; without them, he’d be leaving a trail of destruction where he went, with his nuts being heavy enough to not only sink into whatever surface they lay on, but full to the point where they’d drag whatever was in front of them along with each of the Rena’s steps. This didn’t go unnoticed by Spikes himself, who preferred not to have to deal with that kind of discomfort whenever he wanted to move from point A to point B, even if he was more than happy to let go of his restrictions when he was at home; after all, why limit himself when his cock, while completely flaccid, was still as long as his torso and hard enough that he could give it a great big hug and stuff his face into his tip?
All of this and more used to be a pipe dream for him, but was now his baseline reality, and all thanks to that lynx messing around with his Digivice’s electronics and software. While initially it had been done to give him improved stamina for when they adjourned to their bedrooms, it was quickly readjusted to fit far lewder goals; the Rena was already big enough to pick Tim up with two fingers by the time he drank the special protein shake, so anything else was little more than a stepping stone to what he very much assumed was the logical conclusion for his ascension. It was a term he took to using whenever no one was around, but had become more comfortable with employing around the lynx, mostly because it was entirely appropriate for what was going on with him: siphoning data from his home reality, the Renamon was quickly becoming something akin to a minor god, packing so much power and energy into his body that anyone attempting to fight him for his position would be rapidly reminded of just where they stood in the chain, a thought that warmed Spikes so much that he should really be concerned about it.
Instead, he chose to further indulge this line of thinking; not only that, but bring it to where it should logically go, and lead with the assumption that, if he could become a minor deity like that, then surely he could just keep going and turn that “minor” upside down. There was nothing stopping him from just making the data transfer keep going forever, or at least until his homeworld ran out of juice to give him; the end result was as obvious as his lust for growth, hence why he chose to go with abusing multipliers and exponentials rather than simply upping the rate of expansion and waiting for it to catch up with his dream size goals.
The lynx was technically no longer needed, but they had been the ones to start the whole thing… plus, Spikes had the biggest soft spot for that furball, if not outright love to some degree, so the idea of not bringing them along was simply inconceivable. He thus made sure to keep the lynx held tightly against his body somewhere where they wouldn’t be hurt by the inevitable debris, before making the first “zero adjustment”. By setting his visible size to one hundredth of his real one, then readjusting it so it fit with the previous one-to-ten ratio, their housing issues became a thing of the past by virtue of there simply not being a house anymore. The splinters flew off in every direction, ending up so far away from where the walls once stood that some folks had to actively dodge bits of plaster and wood falling at near-terminal velocities… before stopping in their tracks once they saw just what, or in this case who, had caused such a thing to happen.
Spikes quite enjoyed this new freedom, brought on by the liberation that only outgrowing his home could provide. It had never been a dream of his, not until he began bulking out, but now that he saw how good it felt, he was almost disappointed he hadn’t spent several years waiting for it to happen; surely, it would’ve made the experience even more delicious than it already was. He got to appreciate his new perspective for a while before doing anything else, and found that, from where he stood (or sat, to be more precise), earthly concerns seemed… inconsequential. Everyone around him was so tiny that he couldn’t even fathom why anyone would bother doing anything but worship his own body, to the point where the Rena felt genuinely insulted that people weren’t dropping everything and anything they were doing just to make sure he was receiving the adulation he rightfully deserved. Such thoughts were transitory, though; it would be unbefitting of a gracious god such as himself to be irritated at such petty concerns, especially when the little ones around him had been given so little time to get used to his presence.
That was easily fixed.
The increase in size also played into his growth rate, given that it was conditional and based on however large he happened to be at any one given time; this meant that while the initial burst had destroyed his former house and made him large enough to occupy most of the property, the time it took for Spikes to get used to his new viewpoint allowed his body to start invading their neighbors’ lawns; not that the Rena particularly cared, given that the world was now his by right, but it was a useful means of gauging how fast he was growing nonetheless. With the lynx kept safe and firmly glued to him somewhere inside of his neck fluff, it was time for his attention to turn outward, towards the world that he would soon be presiding over. Already he could see a few people walking towards him, some even leaving their cars in the middle of the road just to approach the mountain of Rena beef, as if wondering if it was, indeed, real; a minority was possessed of enough courage to go so far as to touch him, a gesture that he replied to by granting a few, mercifully soft headpats to whoever got close enough, taking care not to smush anyone with a careless misapplication of his power.
But this wasn’t enough; not nearly enough. He was bigger than his house and had already established himself as being there to stay, but he could still see buildings off in the distance that were taller than he was, and what sort of god was outmatched by mere architecture? He scoffed at this notion, grabbing the Digivice… only to then realize he had made a mistake as massive as he was going to be. The tiny controller had remained the same size as it always was, meaning his colossal fingers were now unable to hold onto it without either flattening it into an electronic pancake or just turning it to dust outright; even if he somehow succeeded in grabbing the miniature object, how was he supposed to use it when even the tips of his claws were larger than the monitor?
Thankfully for him, the lynx was there to make sure their partner’s ascension kept going without any hitch in either of their plans; if Spikes couldn’t do it, then it fell to their consort, who deliberately chose not to grow themselves out purely so they could appreciate what it felt like to be the tiny, insignificant speck for once. All in all, it was pretty good, though they were certain they’d grow tired of it once the size difference became so much that they’d have to measure the degrees of separation with several zeroes as well. For the time being, however, the next stage in the Rena’s transformation was upon them, and to that end, there was nothing more appropriate than just abusing the compressed and uncompressed sizes again, stacking another exponential onto the previous one.
The resulting explosion of mass was so grand that it effectively removed their neighborhood from the face of the map, a cloud of debris and dust being kicked up once every house was reduced to little more than pieces of rubble underneath the Rena’s feet. It was quite fortunate that most of everyone was off working somewhere else that day, otherwise they might’ve had to wonder about how many casualties there had been; not that Spikes wouldn’t be able to fix that (or at least thought he was capable of such), but it’d be such a bother that he preferred it not be a thing in the first place. Still, he looked good at those sizes, so much so that the first thing he did was flex. Not to anyone in particular, just so he himself could admire as his skin rippled and his veins bulged out, the soft layer of fur on him not nearly enough to hide the mass of muscles-stacked-upon-muscles that he had just gained. There were still a few buildings in the distance that were as tall or just slightly taller than him, but they were no longer bigger; the Rena’s shoulders were about as far apart from one another as his head was from his feet, making for a massive, hulking frame that shone brightly underneath the sun.
He attempted a step, only to crack the ground and sink into it, a water main bursting between two toes and spraying his leg with cold water. He barely felt it, even when he retracted his foot and brought a few tons of asphalt and concrete up with it, showering the ground underneath him… right before he tried to step towards the city again and ended up repeating the feat. Spikes sighed, for once feeling ever-so-slightly annoyed at himself; if this was how things were going to be, then he was going to have to invest in some way he could fly or float, because having to heave his legs from the ground every time he wanted to move did not sound like a fun time. It still wasn’t enough to deter supplicants from trying to get his attention, a large crowd gathering around him comprised mostly of people who happened to be close by; their voices could barely be heard, and yet the Rena knew exactly what they wanted, though whether that was some sort of divine sixth-sense or just basic understanding how libidos worked he didn’t really know for sure. Whatever the case, he was more than happy to stand still for the time being, giving his worshippers full access to whatever part of his body they could scale; not much, but certainly enough to drive a few lesser ones to near-madness from exposure to such wanton perfection.
Sadly, things weren’t meant to stay that way for too long; such an increase in size meant his passive growth was increased by a similar factor as well, straining the fabric of reality by way of the connection to his home dimension being flooded with such a colossal amount of data that everyone on both sides began to felt it. It was merely mild discomfort at first, the hair on the back of one’s neck or the fur on one’s body standing on end, as if electricity had suddenly permeated every inch of space in the air. Like an incoming storm, everyone knew something terrible was headed their way… but how wrong they were. It would be magnificent, sublime, the affirmation of true power. As far as Spikes himself cared, what he had in store for everyone was nothing short of absolute, true glory, a god granting to his followers the privilege of gazing upon his form. So what if he had to destabilize existence itself just to become that large? Sacrifices had to be made in order for progress to happen, and if that meant draining everything and everyone of their energy before he put them back in, then that’s just something that had to happen!
Still, moving around was something he quite enjoyed doing, so the Rena politely asked Tim to please make it so that his body wouldn’t be punching holes into the ground by virtue of trying to take a single step. It took a bit for the lynx, lust-addled as they were, to even begin to understand what was being asked of them, taking far longer to accomplish the task than would be normal even after the message got through. This was exactly the kind of reaction Spikes expected of people, the complete inability to think when exposed to the sight of his bulbous frame shimmering underneath the light of the sun. Once he’d grown big enough to blot it out he’d need to find something else to help accentuate those curves of his, but those were concerns for later; now he had to feel himself becoming even larger, and show others what they were missing.
Some complicated fiddling with density later and Tim informed their titanic lover that he was good to go; Spikes resolved to reward this with a smooch to the forehead, which unfortunately left the feline so utterly drenched that they practically became stuck to the neckfluff they were riding on. Not that they complained about it, but it still made for a rather awkward realization that the two of them would never be able to exchange an intimate moment like they used to ever again; the price of progress, really. At least what Spikes got out of it was more than enough to make up for the lack of a warm, purring kitten throwing their arms around him, because now he could present himself to the city and demand they do with him as they might. He had no doubt that the general response from just about everyone would be complete and total adoration; even those too simple or close-minded to consider surrendering themselves to him would be taken in by the crowd as they tried to fight against it. At that point, attempting to deny his divinity would be akin to swimming against a current: possible, but ultimately fruitless.
He had to be extremely careful not to knock down many of the buildings in his way, even going so far as to tiptoe around a few properties just so the trail of destruction he was leaving behind him wouldn’t become even more pronounced. It wasn’t even his bulk doing most of the damage, but the package he bore between his colossal legs; not only did the Rena have to constantly push his cock away from his face, lest it bump against it and very nearly drown Tim in precum alone, but the size of those nuts he was carrying around were somewhere along the line of the utterly ridiculous. They swung dangerously close to the ground, stuffed and stretched, their forms squishing against the insides of his thighs and making any kind of walking be a lot harder than it should be; the noise as well, highly indicative of the kind of insane productivity that was going on inside of them, was enough to make even Spikes start to blush! It wasn’t in any way surprising that he was leaking as hard as he was; hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if most of the growth he was experiencing down there came mostly from his inability to properly vent everything he was making, if that was even possible.
Regardless, the city was right next to him and it only took about five minutes of very careful treading for him to stand next to the outlying set of apartment blocks and offices. The roads were packed with cars, halted by virtue of their drivers being desperate to get out, a few to run away, most to sprint as close to the Rena as possible. Most everyone he saw and that saw him had the same reaction: drop anything they were doing and try to climb onto his body. Spikes would’ve preferred if an impromptu procession formed, trailing behind him and inviting more and more supplicants to join, but he guessed that, absent any kind of grandiose display like that, then having the entire population of the metropolitan area try to find a place aboard his form was a good runner-up. Besides, it was all a meaningless endeavour; the second any of them got close enough to make any sort of progress, he’d already have grown so much that the climbers might as well be on the ground. Not that this stopped any of them; if anything, it only seemed to egg them on further!
Spikes could see and feel every eye being laid on him, from the lowliest clerk to the highest oligarch, his body already having become enough of a giant piece of art to be haloed by the sun behind him, casting a long, wide shadow upon the city. Anyone who bothered to look up would see not sky, but several hundred feet of Rena-beef, standing proud and watching as the little ones around him scurried to try and comprehend what they were experiencing. Was it any wonder, then, that the streets were instantly blocked by masses of vehicles, all dead in the water as their owners or passengers rushed out, eager beyond their ability to describe it to find some place to worship their new god from close by? Tim started the whole thing and even they were already lost to the allure of their new supreme being; even if Spikes couldn’t quite tell what it was the lynx was doing (they were so tiny!), he could be certain they were having plenty of fun with the amount of fluids going down onto the titanic Renamon’s neck. He’d already given up trying to force his shaft away from him; not only was it starting to become painful, but the idea of not constantly pleasuring that thing started to sound tantamount to heresy even in his mind. After all, no one else in existence would ever be big enough to handle it properly, leaving him and him alone to pick up and carry the burden.
Sadly, this had the rather unfortunate side effect of causing a lot of flooding to fall upon just about everything and everywhere that happened to be in front of him; his stamina may have been increased to levels as absurd as his bulk, but so too did the amount of cum inside of him, therefore making it quite easy for him to release so much of it that gallons alone were no longer enough to quantify just how much he was pouring out. Olympic swimming pools, perhaps, were the only unit of measurement that could adequately describe the utter flood bursting out from his tip, and even then he’d have to resort to some rather inflated numbers just to make sense of it all. Every building he saw was coated in his thick seed, creamy white covering every surface he laid his eyes on, the streets serving as little more than canals for his ejaculate, with waves and currents forming as his juices tried to occupy as much room as they could. Down below, caught in the sudden storm of fluids, countless tiny ones struggled to keep themselves afloat, many failing and falling into the thickening mess, only to reemerge far past where they were meant to be. None would even so much as have a scratch on them; Spikes would see to that personally.
The goal of his coating the whole city was less to relieve some of the infernal pressure he was feeling inside of himself, and more an act of affirming his superiority. It wasn’t enough to be massive anymore, he had to show off, he had to tell the world that everything was his and his by right. Completely covering an entire metropolitan area and its associated suburbs with his spunk seemed like as good of an idea as anything else, especially when he was still growing fast enough that, by the time he was “done”, his body already massively outsized anything built by mortal hands. If he took a step forward, nothing would remain in his wake; if it wasn’t his legs and feet destroying everything, then his nuts would drag whatever was there down below them and flatten it completely. This didn’t mean he wasn’t still holding onto his cock, which by that point had grown longer than his torso and about half as wide (impressive, all things considered); his love for that part of him only grew as much as it itself did, and the Rena would soon find himself unable to even let go, much less consider the possibility of halting his ministrations.
All of this conspired to make him almost forget the whole point of his ascension, and Spikes found himself just about ready to fall backwards and quite possibly collapse the crust all the way to the mantle just so he could focus entirely on servicing his shaft the way it was supposed to be; it felt downright criminal to only give it two hands and not also a pair of legs, while his feet worked the balls, but that was just how things were meant to be. Sacrifices were supposed to be made for the sake of progress, and that was just going to have to be one of them. Besides, he had other things he could do to make up for it; the lynx was still there and the Digivice was, while not intact, still perfectly functional. All Spikes had to do was order the feline to perform another zero adjustment and he would be on the way to achieving the next form of his transformation into the new ruler of that reality.
True to their nature, Tim was completely gone. Their mind was still technically there, but it was mostly a caged slave to their body, ruled entirely by hormones and sexual desire, left to rot in some forgotten corner of their brain while their muscles instead took over. The Rena could just barely feel it, the shapeshifter having given themselves some extra size just so they could hump Spikes’ body and be felt; it was almost adorable, in that it was mostly just inconvenient. The giant colossus had need for the feline’s ability to input numbers onto an electronic device, and now what he had instead was a hyper-sexualized furball who could barely put two and two together. He ordered Tim to listen, to return to normal, but to no avail; the cat was just not going to come back to normal. Not ever again.
This left Spikes with only one solution, one that even he didn’t quite like thanks to how dangerous it was. The Digivice was still there, and if need be, he could hotlink himself to it, allowing him to perform any kind of changes he needed on the fly and without the need for a third party. It was, in essence, the best possible option for anyone who wanted full control, but it did carry with it a non-zero chance of him losing that control right after trying to exercise it; after all, being made fully aware that he could control his growth, enough that he could will himself immeasurably larger just by wanting it, was sure to have a negative impact on his ability to retain his consciousness in any measurable, appreciable form… so why was he not doing that already?
Honestly, the more he thought about it the more Spikes began to wonder why he hadn’t taken the steps required to get that done in the first place; could’ve avoided the whole issue of needing to rely on Tim for his own growth spurts and just made himself as big as necessary whenever he wanted to. Perhaps it was that last part of him that refused to give in to its own divinity, that preached caution and safety rather than reckless abandon, the last chunk of his mortal mind that yet clung to a simpler, less exotic form of existence. The Renamon got rid of it the second he located where it was hiding, bringing it forth into the glorious light of his own being and letting it boil away, leaving nothing but the certainty in his own perfection and the insatiable desire to become more. And what was best, now that he had a direct connection to the device allowing the data transfer to take place, there was really nothing stopping him from just turning it up to eleven and breaking the “OFF” switch away.
So that’s exactly what he did.
Another zero adjustment went by and immediately things stopped making any sense. The city, which had once been the perfect landscape of white and musk, had vanished, replaced by the curvature of the planet. The sky darkened, the top of his head suddenly felt a lot colder, and nothing around him had any real definition anymore. He could sort of make out where the cities were, if he bothered to look down; seeing as his head was buried in his neckbulk, doing so would require such a complicated set of acrobatics that it would most likely end up in him tripping over and cracking the planet in half. Moving around wasn’t really possible either, given that not only was he so wide that air resistance hurt him, any kind of shift in his weight would upset the precarious balance that kept him from sinking several miles into the ground. Anyone on that side of the planet that bothered to look up, or even so much as glanced at the sky, would be blessed by the sight of so much Rena-hunk that they would most likely fall to their knees in supplication, wailing at the realization that they had just lost the last opportunity they had to reach their godlike hunk before he left them permanently… for that was what had to happen.
It took until the Earth started to feel cramped for Spikes to realize that a planet-bound existence just didn’t suit him in the slightest. Again, the Digivice was still there, thus nothing was stopping him from just continuing to run zero adjustments until the cows came home and the universe itself popped while trying to contain him; plus, at the size he was at, he was already gaining miles whenever he wasn’t looking, carving long trails onto the crust and threatening to throw the whole planet into disarray. It thus stood to reason that, if the globe was just too small for him, then he had to leave; and seeing as how all he had to do was hop and be in orbit, that’s exactly what he did.
It almost felt like there was no difference at all, the gravitational pull at those scales turning into something more of a background process than a constant fact of life. One moment he had his feet on the cracked ground, the next he was a permanent fixture in low orbit, as one was. He delighted in seeing his shape outlined against the surface in the form of his shadow, giving him a perfect view of just how unbelievably swollen his frame had become. Spikes could barely even move at all at that stage; his arms were so bulky that any attempt at moving them around resulted in them rubbing up against his equally-massive torso, leading to an incomprehensibly-powerful surge of sensations to fire up his spine and into his brain. This was not helped by how much of his field of view was filled by either his pectorals or his neck, with his head being sunken in a valley of titanic proportions. He had truly become perfect, or at least as perfect as he could’ve ever imagined himself being; the lynx seemed to think so too, as they’d finally let go of their own limitations and began to grow themselves out to meet their lover’s size. Not that they’d ever reach it, of course.
Spikes knew things were just getting started. He thought that being as big as the planet (or bigger now, given the rate of his growth and how quickly it was accelerating) would be enough, that it would satisfy his need for size. He thought that it would be… sufficient. But it wasn’t. Not only wasn’t it enough, but now that he had it he understood that it never would have been enough; perfection was not something one could attain, but rather a goal to be achieved and perpetually surpassed. A state that was transitory by nature, since when one becomes perfect, then clearly there’s still room for improvement. This made about as much sense to him as anything else that happened that day.
And the Digivice was still there, so...
