Secret Formula

Kanna was a well behaved girl, generally speaking. She wasn’t nearly as ladylike as she was supposed to be. She wasn’t particularly polite, and in spite of being fairly intelligent wasn’t very well-spoken. She didn’t bother with etiquette, she was extremely impulsive, and she certainly didn’t dress like a lady. But there were certain rules that Kenwood expected her to follow and, for the most part, she followed them. Though, to be fair, they tended to not be too hard to follow. For instance, she wasn’t allowed to use her weapons in the house, but why would she want to throw grenades inside her house? That would be stupid, she’d just end up blowing it up! And, as stated, though it might not seem to be the case at first, Kanna wasn’t stupid.

Though she was a bit impulsive. A lot impulsive. She was also very, very curious. So when Kenwood told her that this specific door in the basement was never to be opened, well, she obeyed him for most of her life so far, but it was inevitable that she’d eventually get curious and eventually that curiosity would override her common sense. Common sense told her that all of Kenwood’s rules were perfectly reasonable and usually things she’d do anyway, and therefore common sense said that whatever was behind that door was dangerous.

But curiosity demanded that she know exactly what dangerous thing was behind that door. And impulse meant that the instant she reached that breaking point she had already gone through the door before having the chance to consider formulating second thoughts.

“Like, hello?” There was no response. The room was completely pitch black, so that wasn’t really super surprising. Odds were there wasn’t anyone in it period. Kanna felt around on the wall, and sure enough she quickly found a light switch. Flipping it turned on a series of sunlamps. Big sunlamps. And a lot of them. The room was huge, whatever it was. Kanna took a few more steps into the room, before pausing, and then turning around to close the door behind her. “Like, I totes don’t wanna get caught in here,” she justified to herself. “Kenwood would, like, freak out, fer sure.”

Though, really, now that she was here, she wasn’t entirely sure why it was off limits. There wasn’t anything particularly dangerous about it. In fact, the sunlamps felt really nice, almost indistinguishable from the real thing. Her leaves and copious cleavage felt nice and warm and just a little bit tingly. The air was hot and moist and tropical, just the way she liked it. The atmosphere was kind of like a greenhouse, only instead of the room being made of glass to let the sun in there were instead the massive sunlamps. Kanna’s suspicions were backed up by the contents of the room. Row after row after row of big planters filled with really nice looking soil on the ground, and a similarly vast network of pipes and sprinklers on the ceiling in the spaces left by the sunlamps. The sheer volume of pipes and dirt really drove home how huge this room was. Big enough to fit the entire rest of the mansion in it several times over (at least in terms of the raw area – it obviously wasn’t tall enough to fit an entire three storey house in it.)

All of this raised an obvious question. “Like, why does Kenwood have a secret plant room thingie in the basement?” And, on those same lines, why wasn’t Kanna allowed in? Again, most of Kenwood’s rules were entirely reasonable and usually for her own good. But if anything this seemed like the ideal space for Kanna to spend most of her time in. She was, after all, a plant, in spite of not necessarily looking like one at first glance. She was shaped like a humanoid – though, granted, a particularly large humanoid. Tall and thick, with soft, feminine curves and big tits. And obviously most plants couldn’t walk or talk or think, and she could do all three. Honestly even she wasn’t entirely sure how that worked, exactly, biologically speaking. And it would be difficult to figure out without having a specimen to dissect – which, for obvious fucking reasons, wasn’t on the table.

The point was that Kanna’s hair was leaves, her tail was a vine, her tits and arms and torso were all part of her stem, her ass and legs were her roots, even her head (which, she was told, kind of looked like a terracotta pot) was made of wood. So a massive conservatory like this was the perfect environment for her to spend time in. There was dirt for her to eat, and fairly good dirt, too, by the look and smell of it. There was easy access to water, twenty-four-seven sunlight, the temperature and humidity were perfect. So why wasn’t she allowed in here?

Maybe the answer lay deeper in the room. While she’d pondered, she’d also been making her way to the back of the room. There were shelves and shelves and shelves filled with all kinds of things needed for gardening. Various tools – trowels and hoes and hand rakes and pruning shears and such – along with bags of potting soil and of fertilizer. It made sense that Kenwood would have all of this on hand. Again; Kanna was a plant, and Kenwood raised her from infancy. So of course he’d have all kinds of things for taking care of a plant stashed away somewhere. And that went double for fertilizer. Kanna was, after all, quite a big girl in certain specific ways. Maybe, then, this was some kind of nursery? But then that made its raw size even more inexplicable. There was waaaaay more space than was needed for one little Kanna. And it still didn’t give so much as a hint as to why it was off limits.

What might be a more solid lead was the big machine directly in the back of the room, wedged in between the shelving units. The main part of it was a big metal cylinder with piping that came out of the top and tied into the aforementioned sprinkler system. There was also a slightly smaller metal vat attached to the machine proper with a flexible plastic tube. So probably the vat contained some sort of additive that the machine would then dilute with water that it then sent into the sprinkler system. That, she realized, was probably why she wasn’t allowed in this room. In that vat was probably a plant nutrient formula designed to be diluted in a lot of water and spread out over this entire massive indoor garden. It didn’t even have a lid on it. That kind of super concentrated fertilizer was dangerous. Too much fertilizer could fuck up microorganisms living in soil, or cause plants to grow too big for their root systems to properly support, or just outright be poisonous.

Idly, Kanna leaned over the vat and took a look at the liquid. It was very full, almost to the point of overflowing – Kenwood had made a lot of whatever it was. It was a deep green, thick and viscous, which Kanna confirmed by dipping her finger into it. It coated her white glove and stuck to it in a thin layer. Not quite thick enough for her to pick up a big ol’ glob of the stuff, but still plenty thick. Kind of like a gluey milkshake. It smelled weird, but not unpleasant. Sort of floral and slightly sweet, kind of like watermelon. And beyond that something about the smell sent sparks down the spine that Kanna didn’t technically speaking have, along with the rest of her, making the warm, tingly sensation from the sunlamps feel like nothing.

Idly, Kanna wondered what it tasted like. So she slipped her finger into her mouth and licked the green residue off. It tasted much stronger than it smelled, which made sense if it was what she thought it was. Sweet and floral and rich and almost creamy. Very, very nice. It’s no wonder that she wasn’t allowed in here, because she could see herself getting addicted to this flavour. She resolved to leave for now and pretend she’d never done this, lest she do something she regretted. So she turned to leave the room, swallowing the small amount of the stuff she’d put in her mouth.

The orgasm came immediately, with enough force to knock Kanna off her feet. She had not, until this moment, realized she was capable of orgasm. She was a plant, sexual reproduction for her was extremely different from an animal and so sexual pleasure wasn’t really a thing she should be feeling. She didn’t even have any sex bits the way animals had sex bits, no pussy or cock or anything, just the small cluster of flowers on her head. But she’d watched hundreds of hours of purely scientific literature out of purely scientific curiosity to know what an orgasm looked like, and to have a good guess as to what it felt like, and this was definitely an orgasm. Orgasms, she corrected herself, a series of mounting climaxes that felt better and better with every passing jolt. Her body convulsed and writhed of its own volition, every inch feeling hot and tight and oh so very good.

She wasn’t entirely sure how long it lasted, but her climax eventually ended. “Wow. Like... wow. That was- Like, that was something.” She didn’t entirely know what that something was, but it definitely was something. The logical part of her, the part that had made the decision to leave before things got out of hand, that part of her wanted to stick to the plan and get out of there before she ended up consuming the entire damn vat and got in trouble – or worse, ended up hurting herself. The rest of Kanna had already started getting up and turning around to get more of that good shit in her. The only reason she didn’t immediately start chugging was because she found herself overballancing and falling back over, this time onto her big fat plant ass. That was obviously not normal – she had a tail, her balance was impeccable. Maybe she was just a little wobbly from the orgasm still? But even beyond that, something felt off.

Slowly, Kanna looked down at herself.

And her jaw fucking dropped.

Her breasts were, as she’d stated before, easily the size of her head. Or at least they were supposed to be. Ample cleavage and big, soft, round spheres that strained against her watermelon patterned top and the pink and white laces that she insisted on wearing because it was cute. Now, though? Now there was a veritable fucking wall of green flesh, enough to practically block Kanna’s view of the rest of her body. They had to have doubled in size, maybe even more. The laces dug deeply into her boobs in a way they normally didn’t, green flesh oozing into every available space like soft, squishy, unbaked bread dough that had been left to proof maybe a bit too long. Her top creaked and groaned as it struggled to contain her overripe melons, and their sheer magnitude was enough to have forced the frankly already overtaxed zipper of her latex flightsuit all the way down to her crotch.

Idly, Kanna hefted her newly gigantic tits from below. Relishing the weight, the way her hands sank into them as much as they lifted them. And oh man were they sensitive. It wasn’t quite the instant orgasm that eating the fertilizer had led to, but man did just touching her boobs feel good, even through a layer of latex and another layer of fabric. It sent those same electric sparks through her body and made her feel that same intense tingling.

Kanna moved on reflex, barely making any conscious input. She removed one of her hands from underneath her boob – reluctantly, but somehow she got the impression that her instincts knew what they were doing. Slowly, sloooooowly, it made its way south, tracing the contour of her abdomen (or at least as much of the contour of her abdomen as wasn’t covered by titflesh), past her navel and down to the crotch of her flightsuit.

Kanna, as had been thoroughly stated, was a plant, and as such did not have the expected plumbing. Or, again, wasn’t supposed to. But she pressed and rubbed against the tight latex and could feel the distinct and unmistakable shape of a feminine slit. And oh maaaaan did touching it feel goooood, which helped to wash away any potential ambiguity. This wasn’t just a weird line on the flightsuit, this was a cunt, leaky and hungry and oh so needy. Kanna let reflex continue to hold the steering wheel, and reflex said push even more firmly against the flightsuit and maybe especially focus on this big ol’ nub at the tooooooooop~

Kanna’s second orgasm was just as intense as the first, maybe even moreso. The big difference was that this time she knew what to look for, what parts to pay attention to in spite of the spikes of pleasure. It helped that she still had one of her hands on a boob, even as the other focused on teasing her clit and milking more and more pleasure out of her. Because it meant that this time she could feel her boobs begin to grow again.

They lurched bigger in surges that came in time with the ebb and flow of her climax. Her flightsuit struggled to contain them, pulling more and more open without actually unleashing them fully because it was so tight. Her top strained even more, making audible protests and sliding its way down to reveal more and more green flesh. And her laces just outright didn’t stand a chance. There was a series of snaps as they completely and utterly failed to hold back the advance of her cleavage. There was a series of loud ripping noises as holes formed in her top and big puffy green nipples finally made their way over the neckline. Those also didn’t really used to be there, but once again Kanna wasn’t gonna complain. After all, they made a good outlet for the heat and pressure, thin arcs of white fluid erupting forth – and she was pretty sure that was just the beginning.

And this was only one fingertip’s worth of fertilizer. Imagine what that whole vat could do.

For once, Kanna’s common sense and impulses were on the same page. “Like, there’s totes no way I’m hiding this from Kenwood,” she justified to herself. “Might as well go all in.”
Arrival

Interdimensional travel was never a particularly pleasant experience. Or, at least, it wasn’t for him specifically. Pain and injury and usually a lot of blood, maybe some physical trauma depending on where exactly he ended up. This particular instance, thankfully, he’d at least had a soft landing, sort of. Ending up in a dumpster wasn’t exactly pleasant, but in the past he’d had much worse. Still, considering the open wounds, it was probably not a good idea to spend too much time lying in actual literal trash. It smelled awful – he had encountered plenty of more objectively unpleasant odours, but there was something about food waste that always managed to get to him.

Climbing out of the dumpster proved problematic. It was difficult to get any kind of stable purchase on the ground beneath him because it wasn’t ground beneath him, it was big black plastic bags filled with soft squishy and possibly rotting stuff. It would be difficult to get out of at the best of times. And, well, obviously this wasn’t exactly the best of times. Still, he couldn’t exactly stay here. He was technically immortal, but that didn’t mean that wallowing in actual literal trash was healthy. Besides, there was a very good chance someone might try and use the dumpster and he really didn’t want to be inside it when that happened. For a variety of reasons – he did not relish the idea of someone dumping more bags of trash on top of him, or of a dump truck coming by to empty the dumpster while he was still inside it. And he especially didn’t want someone to notice him in his current state.

Typically, whenever he was freshly arrived in a new reality, his mind reverted to fight or flight mode. Suspicious of everyone, bordering on healthy paranoia. Not without good reason, mind, but the problem was those situations where paranoia wasn’t warranted and he ended up hurting someone who was just trying to help him out of blind panic. Not the best first impression. The best course of action, in his experience, was to crawl somewhere no one was likely to look and slowly recover.

So, of course, right about at the time he slid his way out of the garbage, there was a piercing scream and the sound of something being dropped to the ground. “Oh my god, are you okay?!” He wasn’t exactly a stranger to people asking that particular question. But that didn’t exactly make it any less fucking useless of a question. No, of course he wasn’t okay, look at him. Of course, he didn’t say that, not necessarily because it would be rude (it would be rude), but more because he wasn’t entirely sure that his vocal chords were even functional right now.

“H-here, let me help you up,” the woman said. He couldn’t properly make out what she looked like – his vision was blurry and vague, probably due to the aforementioned injuries. That, at least, would hopefully fix itself in short order, but in the meantime all he could make out was a vague shape. It was definitely a woman, going by the voice. That or a very young boy, which was also a possibility. Honestly, he didn’t really care either way. Ideally he’d not be interacting with whoever this was too much.

“‘m fine,” he muttered. Oh, his vocal chords were functional right now. That was good, at least.

“You’re very clearly not fine!” The person retorted. She (or he – or they, he wasn’t the type to judge) was slowly coming into focus but not quite enough for him to make out details.

“Tina, why the fuck are you screaming, I- Jesus Christ that’s a dead body.”

“‘m fine,” he repeated, just a bit more insistently than before. Though not much – he was capable of speech, but only barely. The most he was capable of was a slightly emphatic grunt.”

“Jesus Christ that’s not a dead body?!”

“Help me get him into one of the rooms and then I’ll go call an ambulance or something.”

“And drag him through the kitchen? In that state? Dan would fucking kill us!”

“Well, I’m not leaving him out here in the actual literal garbage!”

The two women bickered for a bit while he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, using the dumpster to prop himself up. His vision had unblurred enough that he could adequately make out his two would-be rescuers. Both women, he’d been right about that at least. The one who’d found him in the first place was a chihuahua, dressed up in a waitress uniform that gave off extremely strong 1950s American Diner vibes. She was also extremely tiny – barely over four feet tall, if that much. The other was some sort of frog, likely a tropical species given the loud colour scheme – pink and orange and black splotches on top of purple. In contrast with the uniformed canine, she was dressed boyishly in jeans and a graphic tee with what looked like a band logo of some sort on it. She was taller than the chihuahua, but still very petite in comparison to him. Both girls were small and slightly built – their feminine voices and the subtle curves of their body and the fact that the dog was wearing a skirt were the only real indicators (and even then, who fucking knew for sure? He’d known dudes who wore skirts before and he himself was known to occasionally sport decidedly non-masculine curvature.)

“Look,” the frog said. “I get where you’re coming from, but that’s a lot of blood and we’d hafta drag him through the kitchen. That ain’t sanitary. Besides,” she continued with a frown as she glanced sideways at him. “I’m gettin’ bad vibes from him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, don’t tell me you can’t feel it. This guy ain’t just your ordinary barely alive body in a back alley. And even if he is, you gotta ask yourself how the fuck he got here in the first place.”

“Are you saying you couldn’t take him?”

“Well, no, but-”

“I’m not leaving him out here, Frankie.”

The frog, apparently named Frankie, pinched her brow in frustration. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to move a person who’s this badly injured, Tina.”

“I’m not leaving him out here in the garbage.”

“Jesus fuckin’- fine, fine, compromise. We’ve got a vacant room or two, we can dump him in there. But we’re absolutely telling the boss lady about this, okay?”

“I figured we’d be doing that anyway?”

“What I mean is that we’re not calling an ambulance until we figure out what this guy’s deal is.”

“Frankie-”

“What if he’s dangerous.” The canine, apparently named Tina, glared at her frog compatriot. “If he is, we can handle him waaaaay better than a hospital.”

“Okay. Fine. You’ve got a point. But I don’t like it.”

“You don’t hafta like it, babe. Come on, let’s get this guy inside.” Frankie’s demeanour softened ever so slightly as both women turned their attentions back to the man who really probably should have been dead.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, swatting away Tina’s attempt to help him up.

“That don’t look fine to me, dude,” Frankie said. Tina reached down and grabbed him again, this time actually managing to grab his arm. He, of course, struggled in an attempt to break free of her grip. That shouldn’t really have been too difficult for him to do – even in his current state, he was still very strong, while Tina was decidedly a scrawny little waif of a thing. It should have been no problem to break free.

Which is why it was so odd when he found he couldn’t. Tina’s grip was like iron – he could barely struggle at all, much less break free. She effortlessly lifted him up onto her back – the only real difficulty came from the sheer size difference. “Oof. A little help, here?”

“You can’t handle him?”

“He’s like six feet tall I’m not big enough to get him off the ground.”

“Six three, to be specific.”

“Frankie please help me carry him.”

“Are you kidding? This is a new shirt, do you have any idea how much it’d suck to have to clean off bloodstains from it?”

“Oh my god.”

“Look, you’re the one who is super deadset on getting this guy inside. Just loosen your compression spells a bit, it’s fine.”

“I’m wearing my uniform!”

“Do you seriously not have a perfect fit enchantment on your uniform?”

“I’m still not used to needing compression spells, okay?”

“I can walk,” he interrupted, pulling himself away from Tina and standing up.

“You sure don’t look like you can walk, dude.”

“It’s fine,” He said one more time before stumbling and almost falling on his face – he only didn’t because Tina caught him.

“Okay, fine, I’ll loosen my compression spells a bit. But I’m absolutely telling Miss Dreamer that you’re being a butt about this.”

“I am one hundred percent cool with being a butt about this, babe.”

“Ugh,” Tina grunted sullenly. “Just to warn you in advance, I’m still not too good with fine control over this kinda thing yet.” She snapped her fingers – the resultant noise was unnaturally sharp and echoed more than snapping your fingers typically ought to, even in a dingy back alley like this.

He had already been fairly sure that something was up, given the way they talked and especially with how confident Frankie had been in her ability to deal with him should things turn to violence. He’d assumed the restaurant (inn? They’d mentioned there being spare rooms, that meant inn in his books) was actually some sort of mafia front.

And, well, what happened next didn’t really change that assumption, though it did make it clear that if they were mafia they were decidedly not your average mafia. The first thing he noticed was the smell. Acrid and smokey and sulphurous, piercing through the smell of the garbage that still clung to his body. And something else, a familiar scent that he couldn’t quite put his finger on at the moment. “Mnf, you’re absolutely paying to replace my uniform, by the way.”

“Oh what come on how is this my fault.”

Tina didn’t respond, merely growling, a low, rumbling noise that underscored the creaking and grinding of shifting bones and the rubbery stretching noises of flesh coming into being. “Gnnnn I wish there were a way to do this that didn’t feel so goooood~”

Tina lurched larger in uneven, arrhythmic spurts of size. Not just taller, but also wider. Thicker. He could feel muscle that hadn’t been there before on her back, and she quickly became tall enough that he couldn’t reach the floor with his feet. Her clothing obviously didn’t stand a chance – it was designed for someone very small and short, and Tina very suddenly was extremely neither. “Mnrf.”

“Yanno, you didn’t hafta turn off your concealment spells as well.”

“I told you I don’t have much fine control of this yet!” Tina also, he noticed, wasn’t really a chihuahua anymore. Some sort of hound, by the looks of things. More specifically some sort of hellhound, evidenced by the way her fur smouldered and flickered like flames and also the fact that she had three heads?

More pointedly, she also had an enormous fucking penis, quite possibly bigger than he was. “Come on, put that thing away. And you really don’t need to be ten feet tall.”

“You can still carry him! That’s still on the table!”

“That was never on the table,” Frankie said. “Fine, I’ll give you a hand.” With a snap of her finger, the dick was gone, replaced by smooth, featureless fur, and Tina also shrank down a few feet, leaving her only eight feet tall or so instead of the apparent ten that she had been. And he got the impression that even that wasn’t nearly full-size, and that this wasn’t new growth so much as something already there being brought out into the open.

“Sorry about this,” the apparent cerberus said apologetically. “I’m Tina, by the way. Tina Leeds.”

“Does he really need to know our names?”

“Frankie we’ve called each other by name plenty he probably already knows them.”

“Ugh, fine, but I still don’t trust him. Frankie Denton, I guess,” she said with a shrug.

He grumbled a bit to himself as he pondered developments. On the one hand, he was still very much in the grips of near-death paranoia. That hadn’t changed. If anything, it had intensified. Tina was very clearly extremely more dangerous than she let on, and the implication seemed to be that Frankie was moreso. And, more pointedly, neither was at the top of the food chain.

But, well, on the other hand, were he not in the grips of near-death paranoia, he’d probably have enjoyed getting to ride Tina’s back as she grew more than was really proper. And they seemed nice, even though Frankie was a bit wary. Certainly the nicest anyone had been to him in a while. There was a very good chance that, for once, the place he’d landed wasn’t hostile.

And, well, that was a chance he was eager to take. “Just call me Siege,” he said tersely.

“It’s nice to meet you, Siege. Though, uh, I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances.”

“C’mon, let’s get him inside before someone comes along and asks questions we don’t wanna answer.”

“Don’t worry,” Tina said, her voice about as reassuring as it could be. “The Hole in the Wall’s probably the safest place in the entire world.”

Siege hoped that they were right about that.
Push the Button

Vinyl Scratch hadn’t expected anything particularly positive to come of being roped into “helping” clean Octavia’s room. Ostensibly it was “a part of being a good housemate” or something like that. Just like it had been that time Octavia had made her steam clean every piece of carpeting in their modest cottage because she’d gotten plastered the night before and left a trail of vomit all the way from the foyer to her bedroom. Or that time she’d had to thoroughly scrub every single toilet in the house (there were three) by hand because she had insisted on eating copious amounts of dubious gas station sushi on the way home from a concert – the resultant food poisoning was the stuff of legend.

The point, to get very far away from that particular subject, was that Octavia only made Vinyl do chores when Vinyl did something to piss her off. Vinyl wasn’t entirely sure exactly what had earned her housemate’s wrath this time around. But she was fully willing to admit that whatever it was, it was absolutely her fault with one hundred percent certainty. As much as Vinyl kept insistently doing dumb shit, she was at least willing to admit that the shit she did was dumb and she typically deserved whatever punishments Octavia meted out. It was entirely possible that she’d gotten blackout drunk and done something to earn this then forgotten.

The worst part was how nice Octavia typically was about it. She didn’t get mad, she got polite. Smiled sweetly while she calmly dictated exactly what Vinyl would absolutely be doing as though it was an option. And if Vinyl even thought of objecting she got even nicer about it. Really, in the end it was easier to just do the thing that Octavia wanted her to do, lest she have to deal with polite reminders that she should really be doing that thing delivered with a smile at reasonable intervals. It was terrifying and she hated dealing with it.

Which was how she ended up cleaning Octavia’s bedroom. Alone. It was, at least, thankfully not nearly as arduous a task as some of the ones she’d been made to do solo in the past. Hell, it was downright clean already, even disregarding Vinyl’s admittedly lax standards. But, well, on the other hand, Octavia’s standards were not lax, at times bordering on obsessive compulsive. So it was probably in Vinyl’s best interests to be thorough.

Which was miserable. Vinyl hated cleaning at the best of times. Cleaning things that were already clean was downright dystopian. It didn’t help that this was someone else’s space. She didn’t have any idea how Octavia organized her room or where she kept anything, and so Vinyl found herself having to thoroughly dig through the various drawers and closets and such. Which she didn’t really like doing. It made her feel like an intruder. To be fair, she was a bit of an intruder. But she couldn’t just shove things wherever, she had to be thorough. That was the whole point. Besides, Octavia had probably made sure there wasn’t anything too personal for Vinyl to accidentally stumble upon while cleaning or else she’d not have asked her to clean her bedroom in the first place. And so she dug, even if it made her feel like she was violating her friend’s privacy.

Of course, all of that went out of the window the instant she found something interesting. Vinyl was a creature of intense curiosity, after all. And so, even though it was probably significantly more of a violation of Octavia’s privacy than just trying to figure out where she kept her panties, she immediately grabbed the thing and started fiddling with it.

The thing in particular was a big, rectangular thing. Kind of like a remote control, made out of grey plastic with an antenna on one end and a big red button in the middle. A single red button, which just raised further questions. This was real life, not a cartoon. What the fuck kind of remote control in real life only had one button? Especially one that was as big and red as this one. What could you even meaningfully control with one button? Maybe some kind of secret compartment? That just served to make Vinyl more curious. What kind of secret compartment did Octavia have in her room, especially one that Vinyl didn’t know about? Of course she ended up pressing the button. If anyone expected anything else, they didn’t know her very well.

The remote let out a small beep, and the tiny orb on the tip of the antenna lit up red for as long as she had the button pressed.

And... that was it. Vinyl pressed the button again, to the same result. And then again, hoping that maybe if she kept pressing it something would happen. And again, and again and again, eventually devolving into just mashing the thing nonstop for a good minute or so. And nothing, absolutely nothing. Or at least nothing that Vinyl could notice. If she wasn’t so monofocused on her immediate surroundings she’d probably have figured out what, exactly, the button did much sooner. But, well, Vinyl was known for many things and paying close attention wasn’t one of them. And so as a result she completely failed to notice the goings on in nearby Ponyville town square until after they were mostly done with.

Which was a shame, because she would probably have very much enjoyed them.

Meanwhile, Octavia absolutely did notice them because they were happening to her.

The intent, such as it was, had been to give Vinyl something to distract her while she was alone for the day. Just a small chore that she’d probably blow out of proportion (as she was wont to do with chores – as much as that mare seemed to hate working, she also seemed to relish in making more work for herself than was strictly necessary.) Octavia didn’t particularly like resorting to underhanded manipulation like this, but it was typically better than leaving Vinyl to her own devices. A bored and unsupervised Vinyl Scratch was a dangerous Vinyl Scratch. You could lock her in an empty, featureless room for twenty minutes and she would find a way to set something important on fire.

And so, whenever Octavia had to do any kind of errand, she would dump some kind of pointless menial task on Vinyl in the hopes she would end up not getting around to breaking anything. She’d tried bringing Vinyl along, but the problem with that was that a lot of Octavia’s errands took a long time, and that meant a lot more opportunities for Vinyl to get bored. And, again, a bored Vinyl Scratch was a dangerous Vinyl Scratch. This way at least minimized the risk of something going wrong.

Minimized, but didn’t remove. In retrospect, having Vinyl clean her own room would probably have been a better idea. It would have removed that chance that she might stumble upon something very dangerous. Octavia had done her best to ensure that didn’t happen, but she evidently hadn’t been thorough enough. Or else Vinyl had been more thorough than she had expected. Or, fuck it, maybe she had subconsciously wanted this to happen? The exact reasons didn’t matter. It had happened. She was in the town square, making her way from one store to the next with a basket full of various groceries when suddenly - 

“Hic!”

Fwoomph.

Octavia was not a particularly large pony. She wasn’t small, either – she was, after all, an earth pony, and earth ponies tended to be tall and stocky. She was neither particularly tall or stocky. Her earth pony genetics had to fight against an artist’s lifestyle. It wasn’t that she didn’t do any kind of heavy lifting, it just wasn’t the same kind of heavy lifting that was typical of earth ponies, nor was it to the same degree. Her build was more typical of a unicorn, five foot even and lithe – scrawny, even. That quickly changed as, with no warning beyond an abrupt hiccup, everything about Octavia got bigger.

Growth wasn’t quite the right term, because that implied some sort of process. That wasn’t the case – the change was so rapid as to be effectively instantaneous. The abrupt shift of her centre of gravity as her height doubled resulted in her falling backwards onto her big soft ass that had been neither big nor soft seconds ago. Her boobs had, of course, also gotten bigger. From basically nothing to sizable DDs – in terms of the measurements, at least, and that was a rough estimate. Proportionally speaking they were probably bigger than her head had been moments ago, but her head had obviously gotten bigger since then. That was also the only fat on her body. Everything else was toned muscle, straining against clothing that had fit her just perfectly moments ago but now extremely did not.

“Wha-hic!” Octavia probably could have connected the dots right then and there, were she not interrupted by another growth spurt – though, again, that wasn’t quite the right word for it. This time was much more than the last, with her doubling in size from around ten to around twenty feet. Her boobs were bigger too, of course, this time probably actually around as big as her head was at this particular moment, with her ass comparable if not bigger. Her hips had also widened and her thighs thickened, leaving her clothing thoroughly destroyed. The total effect was that she was downright milfy. Though typically milfs weren’t buff. Her muscles had gone from toned to downright bulging, on par with someone like Applejack.

“Hic!”

Fwoomph.

Make that beyond Applejack. Hell, at this point she probably rivalled Big Mac himself. She also took up the majority of Ponyville’s town square, and could feel the other ponies squirming beneath her bulk. And all signs pointed to her getting bigger, so she had to act fast lest she hurt someone or damage more property than she already had. She pulled herself upright as quickly as her massive tits allowed – which was surprisingly quick considering their raw bulk, probably the result of her muscle. Continuing to move as fast as she could, she strode over all of Ponyville and made her way to the Everfree. About the closest thing to completely uninhabited space anywhere nearby, though unfortunately her rush resulted in a few buildings getting knocked over anyway. To say nothing of the stuff her ass had crushed when it grew. Thankfully, it seemed like her worries had been mostly unfounded – it had been a while since the last growth, so perhaps it had finished and she could actually focus on figuring out what had happened.

And then Vinyl started to mash the button.

Octavia wasn’t sure exactly how much bigger she ended up at the end of things. She didn’t exactly have access to a clock, so she couldn’t say how long the uninterrupted string of hiccups had gone on for. But it was long enough to be thoroughly unpleasant, and long enough that her hoofprint took up most of the Everfree. Everything else had, naturally, also gotten bigger, almost comically so. Muscles the size of mountains, boobs bigger than all of Manehattan, ass so fat that if she sat down she would make oceans.

She had to move extremely carefully. Honestly, any movement at all would probably cause countless millions of bits of damage, but the least she could do was try and minimize the chaos. She leaned down as best as she could without crushing Ponyville under titanic tits, scanning the minuscule landscape to try and locate the cottage she lived in with Vinyl. That in and of itself was an almost herculean task, considering how big she was. Eventually she found what she was pretty certain was the right cottage without causing too much more property damage, and lifted the roof off with no effort.

“Congratulations, Vinyl,” she said with a smile, her voice loud enough to be heard in Trottingham. “You get to head up the repair effort for all the damage my sudden change in size has caused.”

Vinyl stared up in silent awe, trying to take all of Octavia in and failing miserably. She was just too big for that to be feasible. Unfathomably massive.

“Oh,” she said eventually, mostly to herself – there was no fucking way Octavia could hear her. “So that’s what that does.”