THE HAIR WILL KEEP HER DISTANCE AND STARE DISDAINFULLY WHILE HOLDING A TRIDENT, I PROMISE.
> You wait patiently, husktop balanced on your ripped knees (can knees be ripped? The answer is apparently yes) as the cavalry approaches.
> When she finally arrives, you slowly lift a hand and wave it gently, mindful of the ripple of awful motion it sends. Dear god, you are horrifying. Thereās a line, and you crossed it without ever meaning to.
> Opening your mouth, youāre about to consider belting out your usual response before pondering the capacity your lungs might have now. You settle for what counts as a whisper for you: normal speaking volume.
I did too good and tried too hard and itās bulgebitingly awful.
> No crying no crying no cryingā¦.whoops, too late. The Font flows freely.
> Oh dear, oh no. The poor thing. It may be his own fault for messing with the pseudophysics of the dreambubbles, but nobody can actually want to or enjoy being an obscenely oversized jumble of muscles. You forgo chastising him in favour of wrapping him in a warm hug and soothingly rubbing his rippling back. Or at least, you would soothingly rub his rippling back, were you actually able to reach it. He's too big to wrap your arms all the way around.
Sh, No+ne O+f That. We're Go+ing To+ Get This All So+rted In No+ Time, There Is No+ Need To+ Be Upset.
> You let go of him and step back to get a better look at the situation. Hm. There has to be some way to get him back to normal. Nothing is really permanent here and muscles like that can't be permanent anyway.
Can Yo+u Try Co+ncentrating O+n Ho+w Yo+u Were Immediately Befo+re Buffing Up?
