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This story was previously posted in a thread called "for sacul." It was sort of a first attempt at a fantasy FMG story and I wasn't entirely happy with it, largely because I wrote the original in about four hours while doped up on NyQuil and, towards the end, my energy just ran out. I removed that thread after reviewing it and deciding it desperately needed revision. Much of this story is identical to the previous story, but the growth sequence and the fight with the dragon have been considerably expanded. It's still not perfect, but I think it reads quite a bit better now…
Once again, DMG (Dark Magician Girl) is owned by sacul. The idea for this story was inspired by his drawing. If you like it, give him the credit. If you hate it, of course, all blame belongs to me.
*****from sacul:
thanks guys for all the comments. at first i wasn't comfortble with the hulkyness since all the previous pics i've seen on the forum are a great deal smaller, but i noticed that there are a decent amount who enjoys my works(sob). oh and for fun, i came up with some statistics for my super DMG, and also to fill out her character (not that she needs any)
Height: 7.5ft
Weight:1259lbs
Calves: 113 in
Thighs: 168 in
Waist: 26 in
Chest: 707 in
Shoulder width: 14.7ft
Arms: 246 in
Forearms: 135 inone more thing, you guys have my permission to do stories of how did she get this big in the first place and you guys can also debate on how she got this way as well, i would really like to hear about it.
Now i am the master…
*****Robyn and Vae in “Tale of the Wicked Wyrm”
by: stmercy2020
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 171 Second Street, Suite 300, San Francisco, California, 94105, USA.Robyn and Vae stopped just north of the tiny village of Steersdale. It was a quiet village, and the two plucky heroes were looking forward to settling into the Inn at Crossways and drinking a pint of their favorite brew. Robyn, in particular, was anxious to return to the Inn wherein she had grown up- if you could call her mousy four feet and eleven inches growing up, that is- because her favorite minstrel was in town and had promised her a veritable epic regaling her adventures with her aristocratic companion.
The two of them had been traveling together for close to ten years, now, since Robyn was a wet-behind-the-ears sorceror’s apprentice and Vae was the exotic, powerful, swashbuckling elf, already nearly a legend, who came swooping down from his home on the Aerie to drive off the Goblin Hordes of Vestygia. That hadn’t gone as well as he had hoped, she recalled- the goblins had been waiting for him and had trapped him with a well-thrown weighted net. It was the winged elf’s fortune that Robyn had been out in the grove gathering mistletoe for her master, Martyn the Magnyficent, and had witnessed the entire event from her hiding place under a particularly uncomfortable holly bush. She sneaked into the goblin camp late that night- it had taken her positively hours to get free of those damned prickly leaves- and found the white-haired champion’s armor and sword. Hefting the weighty equipment, Robyn dragged it behind the huge communal tent that the goblins used to tie up their prisoner as they debated how best to serve him- boiled, grilled, or raw!
Robyn was horrified, and used her tiny, sharp knife to cut a small hole in the back of the tent through which she slipped inside and up to the captive hero. Quickly undoing the ropes about his ankles, Robyn grabbed him and dragged him back through the back of the tent, but not before the general alarm was sounded and the goblins started to close in with murder in their beady eyes and carnage on their tiny minds. Robyn slipped Vae her knife and began casting the only spell that she knew at the time- a cantrip called Brilliant Aura- while Vae struggled with the bindings on his wrists and grabbed up his sword. The flash of light was bright enough, fortunately, to blind the goblins. Unfortunately, it also dazzled Vae, his elven vision not accustomed to such harsh assaults, and the two of them were forced to retreat all the way back to town to rouse the militia.
Martyn was furious with poor Robyn for having dropped the mistletoe during her rescue of the spirited swordsman, and dismissed her on the spot, leaving her with nothing but the mystic staff she’d inherited from her mother, her vials of magical unguents and pouches of numinous reagents, her tiny silver knife, a book of half-learned spells and the clothes on her back. Crestfallen, Robyn had bowed her pretty blonde head and wept. The noble knight, witnessing the distress that he’d inadvertently caused, hired her to be his companion and advisor in all things mystical on the spot.
Since that time, they’d traveled across the countryside, sometimes wealthy, more often poor, seeking adventure and fame until they were the preeminent heroes in the domain. Robyn became more proficient with her magic through diligent study, mastering the arts of fire, wind, water, and ice, delving deeply into regions of magic that had lain dormant for many hundreds of thousands of years. She learned ways to knit flesh and regrow lost limbs, ways to mystically guide and deflect the blows of her friends and foes, and how to call upon the raw, primal force known only as the Wyld. Vae, in the meantime, grew into an evermore talented swordsman, his ability to deftly disarm and nimbly deflect his opponents, be they weak goblins or fantastic ogres, swiftly became the stuff of campfire tales. He discovered the enchanted humming sword- he steadfastly refused to use it except in the most dire of circumstances because it couldn’t carry a tune or remember the words- and the Mithrilimantite Shield of Courage, rumored to be invincible to any mortal weapon.
Their roles had become somewhat blurred over the years, as well. Vae, though charming and charismatic, a natural leader, was a terrible negotiator. Robyn, quiet and studious, was also the more level headed of the powerful pair, and generally handled all discussions concerning remunerations and recompense for their daring deeds. And while it was true that people generally saw Vae as the primary hero, it was as often as not the case that Robyn had rescue the brash elf from one sticky situation after another. This was not to imply that benefits didn’t accrue in both directions- Vae’s suspicion of the supernatural had more than once prevented an ill-advised experiment from getting out of hand, and he was a sensitive and, above all, funny man in private. It had taken several years, in part because Robyn considered herself to be fairly plain, but she and Vae eventually became lovers and exchanged rings in a touching ceremony presided over by a thick, tiny man known only as Dwarfpriest.
Hand-in-hand, they strolled down the dusty streets to the Inn. Unusually for the normally bustling village, no one came forward to hawk lucky charms culled from unlucky rabbits, smelly salves guaranteed to remove warts and the flesh beneath them, or armor, slightly used and recovered mostly intact. The streets were, in a word, desolate.
“Um, Vae,” Robyn said carefully, “something bodes.”
“Nonsense, Robyn!” cried the irrepressible elf, “It is doubtless too early and too chill for the peasantry to be about this day!”
“It’s noon and midsummer, Vae,” Robyn said drily.
“Oh,” he said, deflating, “good point.”
The Inn at Crossways had stood in the same place for nearly a thousand years, being passed from innkeeper to son for longer than there had been a village at Steersdale. Over the centuries, it had been burned, had walls destroyed by rampaging treants, had the roof blown off in a freak hurricane, and had all the alcohol turned into blueberry hardsauce in the middle of the Midwinter Solstice Festivals (don’t ask). After each disaster, the innkeeper, whichever iteration he was, crawled from beneath the rubble, dusted off his tanned leather breeches, and set about rebuilding the place. It was, in a way, even more immortal than the elves.
Or at least, that was what Robyn had thought until this day. Reaching the saloon-styled oaken doors, Robyn realized that there wasn’t a single customer inside. In fact, the only person inside was the Innkeeper himself, and he was busily packing as much as he could carry into a large duffel.
“Ho there, Wendyll,” Robyn greeted the man. He jumped a full foot in the air, turning white as a ghost (and Robyn had seen several, so she knew what they looked like) before realizing who addressed him.
“Ho, Robyn. Ho, Vae.” His voice was older than his fifty-odd years, cracked with fear. “You’ve come at an inauspicious time.”
“What troubles you, peaceful Innkeeper?” Vae asked at once.
“’Tis the dragon!” Wendyll cried. “The dragon of legend has arisen and demanded tribute! Martyn the Magnyficent tried to turn it aside and became henceforth Martyn the Mastycated! The dragon even took Lyran the Lyricist! All the people of Steersdale have fled into the hills!”
Tiring of his innumerable exclamation points, Robyn held up her hand. “Where is this dragon, Wendyll?”
“It is to the South, in the Bludfynger Hills,”
“We are honorbound, Robyn! We should go and dispatch this demonic despot!”
“It’s a dragon, Vae. It’s a giant lizard that breathes fire and uses magic.”
“So?”
“I think we should charge double for dragons.”
“Oh. Yes, quite right. What say you, Wendyll? Double our standard fee and we will set forth to defeat the wicked wyrm…”
Robyn rolled her eyes. “Lizard.”
“…Lizard,” Vae finished.
“Anything,” Wendyll promised without a second thought, “if you can rout the rapacious reptile, the keys to the village and our entire treasury will be yours for the asking! There’s only one problem…”
Vae cocked and eyebrow inquisitively.
“…The dragon has made off with the village’s treasury.”
Robyn closed her eyes and held up a hand. “Whatever,” she said tiredly.
The brave wanderers took their leave of Wendyll and set out upon the trail leading down into the broken reaches of the Bludfynger Hills. The hills were named after the towering eight-foot ruby-quartz pillars that dotted the landscape. It was well known that these towers often had unpredictable consequences on magicks cast nearby, sometimes muting them completely, sometimes amplifying them to staggering proportions, occasionally altering them unrecognizably from the caster’s original intention. Robyn was not overly worried, though- she had learned enough of magic in her tenure as her world’s sorceress supreme to have contemplated a number of ways to work around their entropic effects.
As they traveled further South, the air grew drier and hotter. The vegetation was sparse, and much of it was burned or charred to cinders. Finally, as nightfall approached in a wash of brilliant orange and yellow and red, the plucky pair arrived at the dragon’s lair- an enormous cave bordered by a row of the Bludfyngers sprouting up from the trail like the lower jaw of some obscenely large predator.
Suddenly, the wind grew to a howl and an immense shadow blotted out the setting sun. “FOOLISH MORTALS,” boomed a voice that sounded like movement of continents along the crust of the Earth, “WHY DO YOU DISTURB MY DEMENSES?”
“We come for Lyran the Lyricist and for the treasures of the Village of Steersdale,” Vae bellowed, his voice nearly lost in the gale-force wind the dragon’s wings were creating, “Surrender them and we’ll let you live!”
The legendary lizard gave a great guffaw before turning its terrible, menacing maw of the heroes and belching a burst of blistering, blazing flames at them. Vae raised his Mithrilimantite Shield of Courage, protecting himself from the blast, and Robyn desperately wove a shield of ice around herself.
Something was terribly wrong! The spell was warped, twisted by the many Bludfyngers around her. Instead of dispersing the fire, it drew the energy into her! Frantically, Robyn drew on the Wyld, praying that she could control the chaotic cacophonies or perilous power.
The dragon reached down and plucked the shield from Vae’s grasp with one colossal claw. “THE MITHRILIMANTITE SHIELD OF COURAGE? THIS WILL BE A FINE ADDITION TO MY COLLECTION!” it rumbled, then tossed the shield aside, out of Vae’s reach. Vae, knowing that his position was perilous, drew forth the humming sword, wincing as it immediately began droning dischordantly, and leapt to the attack.
Meanwhile, Robyn was having some rather new feelings all her own… The Wyld drew forth the heat and light from the fire and changed it, purifying it and returning it tenfold, a hundredfold, even more to Robyn in the form of raw, unbridled power! Her meek, unassuming form could no longer contain it! She hunched in a ball as she felt her body spasming, her chest and shoulders detonating in a mass of unreal, feminine muscle.
It is well known that silk, when layered correctly and wetted, can have greater tensile strength than steel. Sorcerors’ robes from time immemorial have made use of this little piece of arcane lore, being permanently enchanted to retain their durability under even the harshest conditions. The dragon’s fire had not even so much as singed the hem of Robyn’s flowing, voluminous robes. Now, however, Robyn felt her flesh beginning to press against the supple, smooth fabric. Her light blue calfskin gloves were the first things to go, stretching as far as the leather was capable, then rolling down to her hands as she clenched and unclenched her tiny fists in ecstasy, the stitching popping and tearing as it was forced to give way by her expanding forearms.
Where her robes had brushed the ground, now they barely went down as far as her calves, and her soft, leather hiking books were also beginning to show signs of tension. Actually, they were starting to become painful, Robyn realized. Her once petite feet were growing into prodigious paws, but her footwear was not expanding to keep pace. First the soles blew out to either side as her feet widened and thickened to carry her growing weight. Next, she heard the shrill whine of the steel buckles being twisted and torn as the leather straps they held were whipped apart with increasingly greater force. Looking down, Robyn could see thick veins, like the cables used to moor boats, forming on her hands and feet and running up under her robes.
Vae’s sword struck the dragon a ringing blow against the horny scales of its underbelly, but bounced off as ineffectually as a child’s toy. The dragon laughed and scooped Vae up, sword and all. Vae plunged the humming sword into the thin scales over the webbing between the dragon’s foreclaws. The dragon yelped, dropping Vae and jerking its claw back.
The dragon, sensing that something was happening with the sorceress, reared back and summoned a bolt of searing magical lightning from the overcast sky. The bolt struck her squarely in the back, pinning her to the ground. Vae, noting the dragon’s distraction, dove for his shield and recovered it with one deft grab, then turned and rolled back to face the vicious villain. Still on it’s hind legs, the dragon’s head would have been well beyond the reach of even the tallest swordsman. It was not, however, out of Vae’s reach as he unfurled his mighty wings and launched himself directly at the dragons yellow eye. The dragon whipped its neck around, catching Vae’s blade squarely on its beak-like nose.
Robyn growled greedily as her body lustfully lapped up the endless energies. Her body shot up through five feet, six feet. Robyn’s silk robes pressed tightly against the ropy veins and tendons of her neck, trying and failing to choke Robyn’s unbelievable muscular growth. Finally, stretched beyond endurance, the collar on her robes split and tore down her back, revealing traps and lats that, freed from their confinement, seemed to simply inflate until they were as wide as she was tall. With a negligent flick of her wrist, Robyn ripped the remains of her robe from her body, reveling in the freedom. Pectoral muscles expanded and deepened her chest, creating a cleavage that seemed almost to be a canyon running between huge mountains, the huge, meaty slabs easily supporting the weight of breasts that were each heavier than a grown man.
Quicker than a cat, the wyrm’s jaws clamped down on Vae’s shield, but it could no bite down through the bulwark’s mystical defense. In fury, the dragon shook its head, causing the leather straps holding the shield to Vae’s arm to snap and flinging Vae into the ground with bonecrushing force. Vae struggled desperately to get to his feet, but the fiery lizard was too swift. As fast as thought, the dragon brought it’s might claw down in a blow that, upon landing, would surely crush the life out of the weakly struggling elf, leaving nothing but a sticky paste.
Somehow, the blow never landed. Robyn dove over her lover’s prone form, flattening him back to the ground and absorbing the impact of the blow on her back. Shrugging off the crushing strike as a dog shakes off rain, Robyn picked up Vae’s carelessly discarded sword and turned to face the dragon.
“Well, wyrm, I think it’s time we finished this!” she growled, and hurdled herself at the dragon. The lizard swiped at her with its gigantic claw, but she batted it away with a casual flick of her hand, the impact creating a sonic event that could’ve been measured on the Richter scale if such had been invented. Robyn brought the humming sword around in a whistling blow that sheared a clean foot off the dragon’s outstretched claws.
Actually wounded for the first time in its long memory, the dragon plucked the Mithrilimantite Shield from its jaws and attempted to block Robyn’s prodigious powerful pummeling plunges. Robyn drew back the blade again and drove forward with all the strength of her hips, back, and shoulders. The dragon easily intercepted the blow with the impenetrable shield, the magic of the shield barely powerful enough to prevent the dragon from being bowled over completely. The sword, pushed with unstoppable force, collapsed upon itself and shattered, the magically hardened steel of its blade no match for the tremendous force of Robyn’s new muscles. Waves of magical force were released in a devastating cascade, energies sufficient to level mountains and lay waste to entire civilizations were discharged in an instant.
Once again, the wyld magic surged from Robyn, encapsulating the nearly infinite energies released by the annihilation of one of the realms greatest artifacts and channeling it into Robyn in the form of limitless power. Her body, huge before, grew to mythic proportions. Her large quadriceps, hamstrings, and glutes first hardened, then expanded, than hardened once again, forcing the veins to the surface as if they could tear through skin grown harder than stone yet still more supple than the softest suede leather. The thick muscles of Robyn’s abdomen tightened, giving her an almost comically narrow wasp-waist, but also grew more powerful the the strongest steel, more flexible than a braided whip. Her shoulders doubled in size and her biceps, filled with the power to crush diamonds to powder in an instant, swelled to ten times the girth of her waist.
Discarding the now useless sword, Robyn swung her mighty fist at the dragon’s whiplike snout. It drew back, easily dodging the blow, and attempted to intercept it again with the Mithrilimantite Shield held in its claw. The force of Robyn’s blow ripped a hole through the previously indestructible shell and shattered small bones in the dragon’s hand. With a roar, Robyn ripped the shield from the dragon’s grasp and, holding it in front of her with both hands, crushed it with casual ease, her shoulders flexing and absorbing the terrible strain as if she were folding paper.
Panicked, now, the dragon launched a flurry of quick slashes at the monstrous juggernaut facing him. Robyn stoically absorbed the blows, the vicious, crushing swipes no more than a child’s caresses to her unimaginably powerful form. Having spent itself attempting to wound the indestructible sorceress, the dragon next tried buffeting her with gale-force winds created by its monstrous, sail-like wings. Robyn simply turned her shoulder into it and advanced as if walking into a light breeze.
With a mighty leap, Robyn flung herself fifty feet through the onrushing wind and brought all of her terrible weight down on the lizard’s beak, smashing it into the ground. The dragon, uncomprehending, tried to lift its head once more to continue the fight, but Robyn struck it a ringing slap across the snout. “No more, dragon,” she boomed in her softest, gentlest voice. “Flee far from here and never return or I shall be quite cross with you.”
Understanding that this was its only chance for survival, the legendary lizard bobbed its neck and backed carefully away, finally turning and leaping awkwardly into the air. It flapped its titanic wings twice and disappeared into the sunset, never again to trouble the lands of Steersdale.
Looking down at her massive form, her devastated wardrobe, Robyn blushed crimson.
“Lover,” she whispered in her new, sultry voice, “there are gonna have to be some changes from now on…”
*****
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