A Quick Bout

(CW: Fantasy/cartoonish violence)

Commission for Spritesorcerer

(Disclaimer: Any acts of transformation, expansion, or mental altercation have been consented to by the owners of the characters affected. Any acts depicted are meant as explorations of the fetishistic psyche, hold artistic merit, and are compliant with the TOS of Patreon).

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Ben’s truck sized fist bulleted past Selph’s head. It deflated on impact and the stretched-out limb recoiled, snapping back into position and reinflating to its original size. He launched another attack without delay, both arms pumped up to the shoulders, he leapt forward with the intent to pound his opponent into the ground with his hands clasped. A human balloon’s exaggerated version of a sledgehammer attack.

It connected with Selph’s head and knocked him to the floor, and he pretended to be winded. The fight was a farce, but the latex clad supervillain - his opponent, Biohazard Ben - seemed to be enjoying himself.

Selph was trapped under the stretch-metal gauntlets of his opponent’s giant fists. He made a show of pumping -himself- up. He hadn’t taken human form for years, so moulding his skin into rubber while resisting the urge to reshape into his ursine staple was a challenge. Seams raced across his joints, and textured fair skin morphed into a mimicry of rubber. His messy purple hair became an intricate tangle of latex, and his one-piece leotard fused with his body. With a dramatic show of strength, he pushed upwards and inflated his arms to copy his opponent’s technique blow for blow, and flexed his gorilla-like limbs.

“Copycat. I should have known,” Ben deflated his limbs and rested his hands on his hips. “I don’t have any magic for you to eat, swill around, and spit back at me. So you’re just going to copy me balloon style. Must admit, if I wasn’t so invested in winning right now, I’d be turned on. Any chance you can just turn into me? I’ve always wanted to make out with my own ego.”

Selph laughed. He considered Ben’s request for a moment. Transforming himself into a clone of his opponent and indulging in some psycho-sexual combat, that did sound like it would yield a good crop of emotional energy. But he decided against it, and adopted stance more suited to fighting an opponent of Ben’s size. “I have to commend you, Benjamin. You gathered quite the audience,” Selph referred to the crowd of male fighters that encircled the two active combatants.

Everyone present was dressed in stretchy, exotic gear. Some wore latex body suits with purple biohazard symbols, marking them as members of Benjamin Baird Baumann, aka Biohazard Ben’s henchmen. Others wore revealing mixtures of thigh highs, gloves and thongs. A few looked like they had just stepped out of a post-apocalyptic film, choosing to don tyres, rail spikes and chains. The gathering was more akin to a meeting of fetish enthusiasts at pride than a congregation of fighters.

“And where exactly did you find the time to recruit ‘so’ many willing participants for your impromptu battle of the blimps anyway?”

Ben laughed. He bounced on his heel and to Selph’s surprise, closed the gap between them instantly. “You should know how easy it is to find people willing to dress up in tight clothes, and blow up for a crowd, mister purple parade,” Ben went for a headbutt and made things too easy for Selph to counter.

Selph concentrated a spell on his tongue and pushed his lips against Ben. He kissed him, deeply and with explosive intent. The spell travelled over his tongue, and then hopped across to his opponent’s.

At least, that’s what should have happened.

Selph felt his spell backfire. It shot down his throat and into his stomach. His body didn’t know what to do. Blue light began to shine through his skin. His body expanded to freakishly overblown dimensions in seconds, his face rounding out as though he had gained several hundred pounds in a matter of seconds. Everyone in the vicinity cheered as the humanoid shape Selph had held on to for the fight disappeared, leaving a balloon with only the barest of human features intact.

“What did you do!?” Selph demanded.

Ben stuck out his tongue. A counter-spell, a powerful one, was tattooed there. Glowing bright green in defiance of Selph’s azure spellcraft. “I sold a little bit of my time to a rival of yours, and got this tattoo as payment. Worked a treat, didn’t it?”

Selph bit his lip. He was swimming with the volatile energies he intended to pump into Ben until he burst. His ability to absorb magic was backfiring on him. The spell was originally his, and it had been batted back to him, confusing his mystical body’s internal logic. It kept trying to process the spell, failing, reinforcing it, and repeating that sequence of events on an infinite loop. He could feel the bodies of the crowd pushing into his flanks, as he bulged into them, surpassing the size of a hot air balloon.

“You’re going to be caught in the blast,” Selph yelled, somewhat giddy and lightheaded from the chaotic spell malfunction in his head.

“Oh that’s the plan. Everyone here is a potential recruit, and I wanted to treat them to a firework display before I put them through their paces.”

Selph smiled. He had the potential to become sky-filling if he put his mind to it, nigh universal!

His aspirations of enormity didn’t hold up, not right now, and he closed his eyes. His puffy hands and feet sunk into their divots on his spherical form, and he quivered like the fragile balloon he now was. With a deafening blast, he blew apart into purple fog and blue fog. His spell unleashed, every man within a mile radius - the fighters and Ben included - blew up with equal intensity.

Some popped before they reached the size of a truck. Others managed to hold on to their integrity as they stretched to the size of a large weather balloon. Ben had instructed his men to note down who could become the biggest, and who made the most explosive debut. He watched them, outfits straining, faces a cavalcade of different emotion. He felt his own inflated body rumble, and chose to not fight the urge to pop as a thank you to Selph. The purple bastard was probably still watching through the fog anyway.

“Ah, sorry mister parade blimp, I’ll be sure to give you a ‘real’ fight next time.” Ben’s body squealed like a boiling kettle, hot purple gas whistling out of his ears and nostrils. He let the orgasmic feeling of self-detonation consume him entirely.

BOOM!