#writemaxxing

[nepmaxxing]

Mimbles: The Movie: The Musical: The Game: The Movie

A cutesy cartoon goes off the rails.

~1500 words

contains corruption, transformation, muscle growth, a little breast expansion, and a lesson at the end

Long ago, in a faraway land, the was a tiny little village. That village was filled with tiny little animals who called themselves Mimbles. Mimbles came in all shapes and colors, but they loved each other all the same. Every day of their lives was filled with joy, laughter, and peace. But on the outskirts of Mimble Village, Richter Hare was walking off his own grievances. Earlier that day he had made another attempt to win the affection of Sally Mander, the cutest Mimble in the whole world. But not only had she harshly rejected him, she turned it into a lesson about respecting other's boundaries. Richter didn't care about any of that. When were the others going to start respecting him?

His wandering had taken him to the very edge of the village. Beyond lay the Wastes. The only things that lived out there were Grems. Unlike the Mimbles, Grems had no love in their hearts. The absence of love left a painful absence that Grems desperately tried to fill with other fleeting pleasures. There were Gold Grabbers, Gruel Guzzlers, Gilded Gossipers, and a whole toy store's worth of other alliterative antagonists. Every Mimble knew never to set foot in the Wastes, that it was a dangerous and cruel place, but Richter couldn't imagine anything worse than the village. One little peek wouldn't hurt, right?

With deep breaths and slow steps, Richter walked until he couldn't see the village anymore. He should have been worried, but being alone for once brought its own comfort. But a voice inside his head told him he wasn't as alone as he thought. "Richter," it said. "What are you doing all the way out here?"

"Running away, I guess," Richter thought. "But who are you? And where are you?"

The voice laughed. "I'm everywhere. Everywhere except your village." Richter was worried now, but the voice was loud enough to drown out any thoughts he wanted to form. "I am Reality, and you're here because you've had an important realization. The other Mimbles, they don't care about you. You're a nuisance to them. A reject. I bet they're all glad you're gone. But I care, and I want to help you."

Reality's hold over Richter's mind was almost absolute. Every word became an unquestionable truth. The other Mimbles didn't care. Richter was an outcast. They wanted nothing to do with him. Yet, some part of Richter still protested. "I don't want your help. I only wanted some time to myself. I'll go back and talk things out, and try to make things right."

"Oh, but I insist," crooned Reality, as it clamped down fully on Richter. Dark energy filled the hare and overtook his weak heart within moments. Richter fell to the ground and writhed as his body began to morph. He doubled in height, and his light gray fur darkened to a deep indigo. His stubbly blob figure with no apparent sexual dimorphism filled out into a broad-shouldered adonis. Muscles became defined, then exaggerated, then bulging beyond reason. His voice deepened with every grunt and moan as waves of pain and pleasure shot through his body.

When Richter returned to his feet, he felt powerful. He felt like nothing the other Mimbles said mattered anymore. He was above them now. He felt…evil? Yeah. He was Evil now, and it felt good. Nobody would ever tell him no again.

-

The Mimbles all locked their doors and closed their curtains as Richter passed by. Not that he wanted anything to do with them. Not yet, at least. He already knew who he wanted to see first. Bee Trisha was the closest friend he had. The two of them had spent months tending to a flowerbed in her backyard, and that's exactly where he found her. Trisha nearly dropped her watering can when she caught sight of the hulked out hare. "Oh Richter, what's happened to you?"

Her voice was as sweet as ever. Trisha had always been good to Richter. She was about to be even better. Richter focused and projected a message into Trisha's head. You belong to me now. Don't fight it. Just give in. And she did. Trisha clutched her head and doubled over as her body went through its own transformation. Dark magic widened her hips and ballooned her abdomen. Four arms flexed newfound musculature. Neck fuzz grew into a magnificent collar above two obscene mammaries.

The new Trisha woke up and felt nothing but revulsion for the cutesy world around her. She looked down at her flowers. How much time had she wasted on this worthless garden? Too much, that was certain. She brought a clawed foot up, then brought it down hard on her posies. It was liberating. She crushed the daisies, the lilies, the orchids. Every dead plant was a broken shackle to her. She hated her daily routine. She hated all the menial chores and endless busywork. And most of all, she hated the Mimbles.

Richter though, she loved Richter even before he changed. In fact, she loved him even more now. Trisha met Richter's glowing white eyes and loved him in a way Mimbles couldn't. She wanted to be close to him. To touch him. She slowly sauntered over to the hare, hips wiggling with every step, and threw an arm around his neck. "You've grown into quite the hunk," she cooed, "so big and strong."

Richter would be at full mast and throbbing if not for the show's TV-Y rating. Trisha was hot now, of course, but it was the careless destruction that really got him going. He cupped her breast in his hand and gave it a playful jiggle. "You're quite the babe yourself. Now what do you say we tear this town to the ground?"

-

Richter carved a trail of destruction and corruption through the Mimble village. He wrecked Ally Phant's art gallery. He burned Jimbo Shrimp's rice kitchen. He even smashed the triple layer birthday cake May Fly had spent all night baking. And every Mimble whose day he ruined was remade into a beast of rage like himself. As the village went up in smoke, Richter approached the doorstep of the one Mimble he had yet to taint. Sally Mander. The girl responsible for all of this.

Sally's door fell with a single punch, and Richter let himself inside. The house was too small for him now. He had to bend over to fit under the low ceiling, which only served to exaggerate his domineering presence. "Hello Sally. I'm back."

Sally was cowering in the corner. "Richter, please stop! Come to your senses!"

Richter ignored her pleas and reached into her mind as he did everyone else's. Sally's body grew and changed, but something was different. Her scales stayed a bright green. Try as Richter might to remake her, Sally was still Sally. "What's wrong with you?" he asked, "Why aren't you my slave?"

Sally had to bend over as well now. Her face was mere inches from Richter's, with neither having the space to move away. "I'm not going to destroy the village. I want to as much as you do, but it's all we have."

For the first time since his rebirth, Richter stopped to think. Destruction was exhilarating, but what would he do after the village was gone? Richter recalled the Grems. They took whatever they wanted whenever they wanted it, and what came of it? They fought over every little thing. That kind of life sounded miserable. He didn't want that.

"Why don't you tell me what's wrong? I'll listen. I promise."

Richter took a deep breath. The indigo began to fade from his fur. "I thought the rest of you were out to get me. I wanted a way to get even. I didn't think it would go this far."

Sally sighed. "You're right. I should have been more considerate earlier. I was too harsh when I turned you down. I'm sorry."

Richter couldn't believe it. Sally just admitted she did something wrong! It felt genuine, too. She really did care about him.

"If there's anything I can do to make things right, tell me."

Richter's fur was back to its original color. The corruption had left him entirely. He sunk to his knees. "Please forgive me."

Sally smiled. "I do." In the cramped home, the two new friends embraced each other.

-

As the darkness within Richter faded, so too did his spell over the other Mimbles. Each felt untold guilt at how they had acted on that day, but everyone would forgive each other in time. On the ashes of the old village they built a bustling city. It was large enough to accommodate their new figures but no less cozy. They no longer feared the Grems, for their bodies and hearts were now strong enough to fight back. And every day of their lives was filled with joy, laughter, and peace.

[nepmaxxing]

Milkwalker

There is an image in his mind. It is the face of a child. The child is lost. It is in his mind, and on all of the cartons. He steps over the trees, his strides long and his pace slow. Slow and thorough. At all times his eyes scan the ground below him.

He is looking for the child. He has done this for as long as there have been lost children to find and cartons to drink milk out of. He passes fences. Buildings. He comes to an empty street. There are others looking for the child. They are roaming the town in groups, shouting its name.

A child is spotted. He cannot see his face. He moves closer. The child turns and spots him, and is terrified. It matters little. This child is not lost. Without a word, he continues his search. The child will be found. The child will be safe. He will make sure of it.

[nepmaxxing]

Morning Rays

Every morning, Dimetrosapians gathered en masse to warm themselves with the light of the morning sun. They laid prone, their back sails fully extended to absorb as much light as possible. To some communities it was a time of prayer. Others viewed it as a time to socialize. Yet others set the time aside for silent reflection and meditation.

The details differed, but the daily ritual was universal for the species. Even in times of war, no shot was fired until the sun had reached its apex in the sky. Though their society and technology had allowed them to surpass nature in almost every way, they remained beholden to the sun's energizing rays. Everything they build, everything they do, everything they think, came from the sun.

Yet there were aspects of this worship other species found inexplicable. Dimetrosapians traveling the stars would remain reverent of their home planet's light above all others. They would tell tales of mass revelations spurred during basking sessions. Sudden compulsions to make offerings, build temples, create art glorifying the burning orb in the sky.

But there was one phenomena that worried the rest of the galaxy more than any other. Dimetrosapians several generations removed from their home planet, who had never before conceived of worshipping the sun, would find themselves devout followers after only a single morning under its light. And other reptilian species? Barred from entering the star system, as they too would be changed after basking in its radiance.

Were you to prod a Dimetrosapian on any of this, they would tell you plainly: everything they thought, everything they believed, everything they were, came from the sun.