A Slight Miscalculation..

A Rude Awakening

It was a cold, dreary night. Frost was layering the homes of the tiny town that rested on a near by mountain side. The waterfalls and tiny streams that surrounded it were nearly frozen solid. Oliver whines to himself, curling into his fuzzy body for any hope of warmth. But none seems to come. The brown haired satyr lazily begins to feel around for his blanket, but as he does so, he feels something sharp jab into his hand.

Blue eyes, hazy with sleep, slowly begin to open as the satyr lets out a low yawn. His tail flicks back and forth, catching on the end of his end table, before eventually, he pushes himself off of his bed. Sitting up now, the fuzzy satyr blindly begins to reach for his glasses on his stomach, grasping the thin frames and putting them on his nose.

At last, he focuses on the world around him. And oliver almost wished he didn't. Something was terribly wrong. Not only had he grown to be 6 feet tall..he must have had a slight miscalculation. Why? Well, judging by what appears to be his home scattered all around him in mere pieces..He might have taken just too much.

"O--oh~ Shit!" Oliver mewls, quickly kicking his goat like hooves infront of himself, hands reaching backwards to catch his massive frame. His breath quickens. This wasn't right. Not at all. He was supposed to stop at 6 foot. Not 60! And by the looks of it, it wasn't ending. The creaking of the homes next to him strain against his large weight as the satyr quickly gets himself up to his hooves.

It was only about 4 in the morning, and any sane person would be asleep at this rotten time. Oliver was the only wake soul it seems. His body casts an enormous shadow over the small town, as it slowly begins to get smaller and smaller with every moment he wastes.

"Fuck, Oli, Think..Think! What do I do?" The man sighs out, looking down at himself and at his now, destroyed home. Careful fingers attempt to dig through the remains of it, but it's useless. Everything is broken. Glass. Ingredients. His Cabinets. Everything. It was pointless to even look. The satyr lets out a panicked bleat as another growth spurt hits him, his spine making ear ringing cracks through the echoing night sky, as his hands fly up to attempt to save his glasses on his nose. His clothing by now has completely ripped itself off of him, leaving him completely nude and partially exposed. Oliver thanks the gods that he was born a satyr, naturally covered by his own fur for the most part.

He looks around the city, which grows ever smaller by the second, his hooves dig into the earth, causing low cracks to be heard around the city. One by one, the residents of the small place begin to light their candles, clearly wanting to investigate.

"Shit!" Oliver whimpers, looking around as he goes to tug at his swirling goatee. His hands move to rest on the local bar, trying to steady himself as another growth spurt overcomes him. His legs shake, forcing him to stand upright now. By this time, he easily stands over 100 feet tall, dwarfing every member of his humanoid city. And by the looks of it, he's too tall to even hear their panicked exclamations.

Oli looks down, wide blue eyes transfixed on the townsfolk who look so tiny at this point. "H-hi~" is all he is able to peep out. "Sorry. I..~ uh..I didn't mean this. IT was a big mistake uhm, I just~ I gotta get to a cauldron to.."

The satyr's speech is cut off by a sudden pang of pain in his stomach. The satyr lets out a low gasp, hands reaching to his gut as he gently hugs himself. A whine can be heard by all who are woken, as the satyr moves to take a gentle step backwards, destroying the cobblestone streets in a split second.

Finally, a low grumble can be heard. The reason for such pain. Hunger. Oliver huffs, rolling his eyes. Typical. That's what he gets for skipping out on dinner last night. The blue eyed man looks around, trying to see if he could spot a bakery near by. Perhaps they would let him in on some grub if he asked politely. His large ears pick up on the small squeaks of the frightened townsfolk, but honestly, if the man was being true to himself? He really only cared about one thing, and it was getting rid of this annoying, jabbing pain.

With careful steps, the nude satyr gently makes his way over to the near by bakery as nicely as he can. Nimble fingers carefully adjust his glasses on his nose, allowing him to just barely read the miniscule sign on the door. "Closed."

"Closed?!" Oli whines, biting his lower lip as he looks around for a second option. But with such a small town, there wasn't really one to offer. He reaches down, clutching his growling stomach as another wave of growth hits him. With every passing moment, the hunger gets worse and worse.

"Fuck~" The satyr mumbles to himself, looking down and seeing just how much carnage he was making with his large hooves, leaving huge indents in the world around him. His eyes finally catch the form of a guard, who seems to try to be communicating with the satyr.

"What?" Oliver asks. "I ---I cant hear you, I uh~ hang on!"

Reaching down, the satyr ever so carefully plucks up the guard by the back of his shirt. The angry orc again says something, but even with such large ears, the satyr can't make it out. But, honestly, he doesnt need to.

As soon as he got the orc close, his mouth began to water. Drool pooled at his lips, as a hungry tongue swept over his large fangs.. Oli began to think. He was starving. His stomach was eating itself away every second that passed. But certainly he couldnt be thinking about this, now could he? Eating someone? That was against the law!

Oli continues to have his internal fight with himself, tongue flicking over his lips for a moment as he watches the angry guard continue to spew nonsense at himself. Finally, the satyr gives into his instincts.

*One wont hurt me..* The satyr thinks, closing his eyes as he slowly begins to part his lips. He pulls the man gently closer, before gently taking his finger and pressing him to his tongue. A low groan of happiness drowns out of him, eyes rolling back into his skull as he falters, leaning against the small bakery to hold himself steady. THe man tasted divine. Sweet. Savory. Wonderful. Oli's tail flicked happily, his mouth slowly closing as he tilted his head upwards towards the sky.

*I can't believe I'm doing this.* The satyr thinks again to himself, feeling the very feeble attempts at saving his life that the orc is displaying. "*He tastes so..good..~*

He tastes the orc, rolling him in his tongue, pressing him to the roof of his mouth. A warmth pillows in his groin as his hand travels down between his fluffy legs, finding his large arousal. A simply curl of the tongue, and a tiny gulp, and the orc is sent to his doom. Oliver lets out a moan, hand happily stroking his enormous manhood. His eyes, hazy with desire, scan the horizon of the city. One wasn't enough. He needed more.

"mmf~, comere.." Oliver mumbles, reaching over easily with nimble fingers, capturing yet another mortal soul. He happily dangles this one over his drooling maw, sharp teeth glimmering in the nearly rising sun. He slups his next victim up quickly, tossing her in his jaws playfully before jerking his head backwards and swallowing her. No chance of survival. He satyr leans against the bakery, feeling the tiny establishment creak and croak under his weight. Not that he cared anyway. His hooves stretched out in the city, pressing against the tiny homes as he continues to grow inch by inch. By now, he could feel the ever so tiny struggles in his gut, and he knew his desire would never be satisfied.

Not, until at least everything here, was his..