Commission for  amyotrophophile

This was so much fun to do, it's an odd angle but it shares so many of my preferences that it was really damn enjoyable. It's also a continuation from one of my earlier stories, so you might want to read that first. You can find it HERE

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Those left behind

Those left behind

Vic sighed as he inspected another piece of rubble. It was odd-looking, concrete merged with steel, the two fused together through immense force. It was even odder when one realised that this was caused not by nature, but by a thing. A dragon.

Xavir hadn’t left much behind. Broken walls, broken bodies, broken minds - the vengeful being had taken what he wanted and left behind husks, drained of life and strength. Reinstating the prison was out of the question - it had been built to contain one prisoner, and now that prisoner was gone. What would be the point in building it once more? Instead the wreckage was being salvaged, stripped of anything useful, and then carted away. The officers had drafted in some extra muscle to help with clearing the mess, which was why many of the people nearby were heavyset and muscular. Hell, Vic himself was well-built for an American badger, his body shimmering with sweat from the effort of moving rocks all day. At 6’3 and 260lb of solid muscle, he was big even for a species that erred on the large side. That being said he had no desire to stick around and let the past overwhelm him- he’d seen the draining of his colleagues with his own eyes, watched the life siphoned out of their bodies and the remains dumped like trash, watched friends and allies smeared into the floor as Xavir took their life and used it to step over them. He shuddered at the memory.

A flash of lightning illuminated his surroundings for a second, light filtering through the destroyed walls, and suddenly Vic caught sight of someone. A blue dragon, dressed in a long trench coat, searching through the rubble.

“Hey!” He called out, watching the figure stop and turn. “You can’t be here, this is a restricted area!” As he approached the dragon he noticed something odd - no cameras, in fact no belongings at all. He had nothing but the clothes on his back.

“Afternoon. My name is Calban, and I was hoping you could help me. I heard what happened, how Xavir broke out and killed everyone, but I wish to know a little more. Details, if you will.”

Vic thought about drawing his gun to scare him away, but something was telling him not to. He didn’t know what it was, but there was something about Calban that made him seem...different. He wasn’t a tourist, that was for sure, and he sounded genuine, so Vic decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Fine, but this is off the record. What do you want to know?” He said, putting his hand in his pocket, relaxing a little. Calban noticed the change in stance and walked over, his coat swishing over the rubble. Another flash of lightning lit up the room, followed by a roll of thunder that practically shook the room, making his approach seem far more ominous than it should have been.

“Everything. Every horrid detail, every painful memory. And i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. I know it’s hard.” Calban put his hand around Vic’s shoulders, and for some reason that simple gesture was enough to bring a flood of emotion to the surface. Fear, terror, guilt - all of it came rushing upwards, and it was all Vic could do not to cry right there. Still, he wasn’t alive now because he fell apart when things got hard, and with a shaking breath he stood tall, thick muscles trembling in the cold air but holding him firm. Calban sported a pretty athletic build, but next to the badger he looked practically skinny. Black and white fur was pushed outwards at alarming angles, slabs of strength caressing his body and emphasising the sheer bulkiness of his frame. Calban couldn’t even reach his arm all the way around those broad shoulders, his hand stopping somewhere in the middle of Vic’s neck as they walked.

“We’d all been warned about Xavir, we all knew what he could do. What he had done.” Vic sighed again as he relived the memory once more, his whole body heaving up and down. “When you arrive they give you a briefing on his history, and it’s...it’s something, let me tell you. I have no idea how he was even captured in the first place, once he gets going he sounds unstoppable.”

“He is.” Calban said simply, causing Vic to look at him in confusion. “Xavir is nothing short of a god on this world, and locking him up was only ever going to lead to this. None of it is your fault, it is just how things are meant to be.”

“Well when he escaped his cell, it was...it was terrifying. The thought that with a touch he could leave you a corpse, it does things to you. It did things to all of us. The few of us that survived intact…” Vic couldn’t finish the sentence. He had met them, once outgoing and adventurous individuals, now reduced to but a fraction of their former selves. They still had their bodies and their muscles, but trauma had dug claws into their minds, hooked its way into their thoughts. Now the thought of a fight had them trembling in fear, the sheer terror at the thought of their entire lives being snatched in seconds, all at the whim of a being who would very much enjoy their suffering.

“I’m sorry, I understand it’s a difficult subject.”

“No, it’s… yes, it is.” Vic took a deep breath before continuing. “After he’d gone we picked up our losses. The ones that could stand did so. The ones that couldn’t…” Vic didn’t have the strength to continue. He’d seen the sheer, brutal helplessness, of once muscular furs reduced to paper and sticks, unable even to raise their arms. They had enough strength to breathe, but that was about it. The hospital reports were all the same - chronic atrophy, as though none of them had moved an inch their entire lives, every non-essential muscle in their body just gone. They were practically paraplegic, and certainly it would be years before they even had the strength to sit up. How do you build muscle when you couldn’t even lift your head, let alone a weight? It was a problem that the doctors were still trying to figure out, even as more drained guards were wheeled in.

“Where are the ones left behind?” Vic didn’t notice the way Calban’s eyes lit up for a second, the way his body shifted subtly to bring more of his arm around the guard’s neck. “You don’t need to hide anything from me, you know. There’s no reason to.”

Something in Vic’s head was telling him otherwise, a faint shred of suspicion. A little voice yelling in the corner of his mind, getting quieter with every breath. After a few seconds the inhibition was gone, and Vic shivered at the sudden cold sensation pulsing through his body.
“No, I guess not. This way.” Vic didn’t know why he trusted someone he had only just met, but the thought that Calban was tricking him was beyond his comprehension. He simply didn’t feel suspicious, and that was all there was to it.

The more they walked, the more that cold chill penetrated Vic’s body, icy tendrils running up and down his spine and sending frigid fingers into his brain. It was both deeply uncomfortable and yet strangely relaxing at the same time, the feeling you get when drifting off to sleep against your will, only he was wide awake. He put it down to the lack of heating.

“So Vic, how long have you worked here for?”

“Oh, I don’t know. A long time.” Memories flickered through Vic’s head, of years of training, double shifts, nights out. A life lived, laid out in neuroelectrical writing.

“How long exactly?”

“Oh, well...uh…” Vic racked his brains for a number, but nothing was coming to mind. Calban grinned, curling his arm a little further around Vic’s neck, his hand caressing the flesh with tender gentleness. “I...uh…”

“You don’t know? Well that’s a little disappointing. I believe it’s about 7 years, give or take.”

Something just told Vic that the dragon was correct, some gut instinct. “That’s… how do you know that?”

“Oh, lucky guess. I must say it’s a little disappointing you can’t remember yourself. I do hope you remember where we’re going.”

“Of course I do. We’re...uh….” Worry wormed its way into Vic’s heart as he found his memory failing. Why was he here? What did he agree to? The thoughts were like bubbles, flimsy constructs that popped out of existence whenever he tried to access them.”

“Dear me. Come now, I believe it’s this way.” Calban lead them down another corridor into a large room. Lying down on multiple beds were guards, or rather what was left of them. They were skinny to the most extreme degree, bones jutting from their skin like the keys of a piano, sharp and vivid. What was most noticeable was the lack of colour, the faint groaning emanating through the room. The sounds of creatures so utterly drained of life and strength that they could do nothing but suffer the torturous strain of their own existence, toiling to lift their own microscopic bodyweight with every breath.

“Magnificent.” Calban breathed, going over to one of them. He ran his hands along the skeletal creature, feeling skin like paper, bones like rotten twigs, ready to snap at the faintest movement. There was a grotesque beauty to it, life caught on the precipice of death. To kill would be crass, to leave strength behind wasteful, but this, this was utter perfection. Like balancing a coin on the edge of a piece of paper, each creature poised on the precipice of life. And this was no fluke: as Calban looked around he realised that every guard was like this, perfectly balanced.

If Vic was disturbed at the sight of Calban’s reverence, he didn’t show it. He meekly stood there, wondering what his new friend was doing, but not caring enough to stop him. His mind simply accepted it as normal, told him to carry on, don’t bother questioning.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? Do you have any idea of how hard it is to do this, to balance a life so perfectly? To take everything, and reduce a creature to its purest form, to strip away the strength and the life, and leave nothing but the soul in its fragile shell? I have long practised this art, but I shall never even come close to this perfection. It’s quite humbling really.”

For the brief moment that Calban had broken contact Vic had been gathering his senses a little, a question forming in his mind. “Wh-why do you...why do you know...Xavir?” It was strangely difficult to form the question, and the blue dragon grinned in response and walked over, placing a hand on his shoulder. Instantly that cold sensation returned, as though his veins were filled with liquid nitrogen, and any thoughts vanished from his head like ice under hot water. It was like there was a plughole in his head, and everything was being sucked down it, lost forever.

“I belong to a cult, one that has worshipped him for a long time. He is the guardian of the scales, the pure one, and we emulate his divine magics in the hope of maintaining the balance.” Calban smiled gently, shifting around so he could place his whole arm onto Vic’s furry shoulders. “But enough about me, I have my own questions. Chief of which, how do you know about Xavir?”

Vic knew the answer, he just felt that he knew. But every time he tried to grab hold of the reason it slipped through his mental fingers, and his answer came out as meaningless stutters. He’d never met Xavir in his life, how could he know anything? “I...uh…”

“Allow me to explain where we are. This is where they took Xavir’s glorious creations, the beings lucky enough to receive his divine touch. Gaze upon his children in wonder.”

Funny, Vic thought, they don’t look very lucky. I wonder what happened to them, they look in rough shape. He wondered what he was even doing here, before he noticed Calban and realised he must have been shown the way. Well, it wasn’t like he knew the layout of this place after all, and this kind dragon had been showing him the way. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

Calban flicked through the memories in his head. Darkness, so much fear and terror, like mould on the otherwise clear images. He cleaned up what he could salvage, rifled through his new thoughts with a contented hum, huffing at the sensation of his IQ climbing. He’d never gotten used to it, the way the world seemed to warp whilst staying the same as his perception of it changed, as he suddenly knew where he was and what the walls were made of and the ratio of molecules in the air around him. But it wasn’t enough - he was a perfectionist, and he could hardly leave Vic like this when he had so much more to give. The mind was fading, but the body, those thick, juicy muscles… Calban licked his lips surreptitiously.

“Come Vic, we should depart. Follow me.” His voice held the command of 7 years of authority now, firm and confident, and Vic could do nothing but listen and obey. Together they walked further into the decimated prison, jumping over piles of rubble and masonry until they were truly alone, nothing but the faint patter of rain as the soundtrack to their tableau. Deeper still they walked, Calban enjoying the relative silence this far in, content to simply keep walking and pulling more of Vic’s mind out, slurping the last vestiges of his intelligence like the last dregs of juice from a carton, squeezing out every last memory, every last point of IQ. He was careful to leave the important functions intact - he didn’t want the badger to forget how to breathe, for example - but anything useful he kept for himself, his burgeoning intelligence only making him hungrier for more.

“I..uh..” Something sparked in Vic’s mind for a second as the pair stopped, but only a second - Calban caressed his face with a hand, and with the gesture he wiped away the last of Vic’s mind like steam on a window.

“Now, you agreed to help me didn’t you? Mhmm. So what shall we get you to do…” Calban hummed gently as he thought, while Vic stood with a docile look on his face waiting for the dragon to decide. “Why don’t we start by getting rid of your clothes? They’re only going to get in the way after all.”

Vic saw no reason not to believe his new master, and so he proceeded to tear his guard uniform off, stopping only at his pants on Calban’s suggestion. The dragon looked Vic up and down, taking in every inch and nuance of his body, the thick muscles and noticeable scars that came with toil and experience, years of it. It also allowed Calban to truly appreciate just how big Vic was - the badger was enormous, his arms easily the size of Calban’s torso, his body packed with solid steel and power. It was like some great engine, standing to attention and thrumming with contained force, blood instead of oil.

“You have an impressive body Vic.” Calban noted gently, smiling at the badger’s embarrassed grin.

“Well, I try to keep in shape -”

“How do you feel about a few poses? Just a few, for me?”

A few minutes ago Vic would have told him to piss off, but now the idea bubbled delightfully in his head, and he saw no reason not to indulge it. Besides, the dragon seemed impressed with him, and he had to admit he was inclined towards the scaled end of the spectrum, dragons especially. Why shouldn’t he pose for his new friend?

He began slow, a couple of shy flexes, and upon seeing the gentle encouragement of the blue dragon he got more into it, squeezing that thick body into poses that made muscle groups jut from his frame, veins forcing their way to the surface in beastly displays of strength.

Calban chuckled to himself. He’d been expecting a little bit of resistance, the last of Vic’s stolen willpower, but it seemed as though he’d overestimated the guard. It was so easy to make him do whatever Calban wanted, no matter what that entailed. He smiled - now that the hard part was over, he could get to the fun part, the bit he’d been looking forward to ever since he set eyes upon that hulking body.

“Mmm, you’re very impressive, you know that?” Vic blushed as Calban walked over, placing his arm around the shoulder once again, Vic shivering at the chilling sensation coursing through him once more. “Come, let us walk.”

As the pair walked further into the prison, the dynamic between them was different, changing all the while. Yes Calban was clearly in control, but Vic’s sheer size made him the protective one, the guard of the two. However the more they walked, the more it became apparent that this dynamic was not going to last. Vic was slowly shrinking, his body shrivelling ever so slowly, as if he were a balloon that was being deflated. Those thick, solid muscles melted away, the flesh softening as the fibres trembled and disappeared, slowly but surely. To Vic it felt horrible, a sickening wave of fatigue that gripped his limbs with tired fingers, his breath coming in pants as though he’d just run a marathon.

Calban meanwhile was struggling to hold in his euphoria. It was hard not to give in to the wonderful sensation and just rip the strength from Vic’s body. After all there was so much of it, a massive store of warm power just waiting to be drawn out, an experience of pure bliss just waiting to happen. But he refrained, just as any member of the Cult of the Pure One would do. To drain was an art, a balancing act of immensely difficult proportions, and in order to get it right Calban would have to go slowly. Not that he minded though, for the trickle of power was still eliciting wonderful crackles of energy up and down his body, his flesh firming out as that strength curled through his cells and hypertrophied them.

“Vic, you would do anything for me wouldn’t you? Well I have a small favour to ask, just a little one. Would you mind carrying me for a small while, just through this area? I would be most grateful.”

Vic really didn’t want to carry Calban. His body was already unusually tired, and what was more the cold was achingly strong now, his teeth practically chattering from it. Still, his mind was so conditioned that despite the protests of his body he saw no reason not to help his beloved master, for without him he would be lost. So he sucked in a breath, tensed his core and picked up Calban. The dragon shuffled around until he was riding piggyback, his legs and arms draped around the massive badger’s torso, and away they went.

Every step was torture for Vic. His whole body ached from the cold, anaerobic stress making his muscles burn as he struggled to find the energy to move. It felt more concentrated now, as though his strength was pouring out of him with every breath, his body weakening over and over again. Every breath was a battle, every step was a war, and still he marched on. He had promised to give the dragon everything, and so he carried on, even when he was screwing up his face in fatigue, even when his limbs trembled with weakness that sprung from the disappearance of muscles that had always supported them before.

Calban felt ever millimetre of change. The transfer was more or less linear, so for every inch lost he gained the exact same amount, his body slowly swelling second by second. However, for the large part he didn’t notice the way his body was filling out with stolen strength, for he was too focused on the feeling of Vic weakening underneath him. Every touch melted away more strength, each point of contact slowly increased as Vic shrunk underneath him, his arms and legs slowly beginning to move towards each other, where once they had been forced apart by Vic’s chunky torso. Calban felt each tiny experience, he savoured it like one savours wine, rolling it around a bit and taking his time. A little drain from the left leg, feeling Vic lurch to the appropriate side in response, a little from the arm, watch how his upper body sagged to one side. Vic picked out muscles like sweets from a stall, taking what he wanted and observing the results with keen interest, playing the piano of Vic’s body and removing the keys one by one.

Vic was struggling to hold up the dragon now, and each step was laboured. The two were roughly the same size at this point, but as the transfer continued Vic was slowly surpassed. What was a roughly even piggyback became an exercise in futility as Calban’s arms draped further around the shoulders, as his knees met around Vic’s abdomen. He was like a massive coat, slowly encircling the guard until he was covering him, still draining, growing heavier and heavier.

“Come on Vic, a few more steps. You’re almost there.” Vic tried, he tried with all his might. He squeezed what little muscle he had left, taking step after shaking step. With each one the weight on his back grew heavier, the strength in his legs and arms faded, until it felt like he was drowning under Calban’s weight, the dragon like warm rock engulfing his body. “Come on Vic, just a little longer.” A few more steps, each one smaller than the last, Vic trembling like a leaf in the wind as he tried to force his smaller body a tiny bit further. But finally he hit the wall, and after trying for a few seconds he simply collapsed under the weight, falling to the floor painfully.

“Ughhh…..I’m.. I’m sorry, I - ”

“Shhhh, it’s alright Vic. You did a splendid job.” Calban stood up and gave the aching badger a hand up, pulling him to his feet. “You’re so strong, my goodness! Pose for me again, why don’t you?”

This time the show was wholly unimpressive. There wasn’t much of Vic left to flex - gone were the muscles, the heavyset frame, and instead he looked like he’d just come out of high school. Skinny arms, a body that, whilst still muscular to an extent, was far more lean than before. He couldn’t be described as chunky anymore, far from it - he was at least 150lb lighter, almost 2 feet shorter, many many times weaker. All the years of training, the decades of sweat and blood, all of it was gone.

But it wasn’t wasted, as Calban was proving. The blue dragon had inherited Vic’s beefy stature, and was happily flexing his new muscles. It was an enjoyable sensation, feeling his body pulled in new directions, thick slabs of beef lowering his flexibility in exchange for just so much strength. Oh he felt so alive, so powerful, the strength of another coursing through him like a river of energy, a thunderbolt of ecstatic power.

“I want to see those biiiiig muscles in action.” Calban said, licking his lips as he looked at what was left of Vic’s body. “How about a few press ups, just to see what you’ve got?”

Vic didn’t even question anymore, he simply got down into the correct position. He groaned as Calban once again laid across him, his body immensely heavy and yet somehow relaxing. He was already struggling to even hold the weight up, for the dragon was dense with muscle and weighed far more than before.

Slowly, painfully, Vic did the first press up. It felt awful, cold and loose, not a single muscle responding to the exercise. He just felt tired, so very, impossibly exhausted, but he couldn’t give up. His master was depending on him, and he didn’t want to disappoint. So with a pained roar and a mighty heave, he hauled himself down and up, his whole body shaking with exhaustion.

“ONE!” Try as he might he couldn’t manage a second. It felt like moving the world, his body utterly devoid of the strength required to lift the massive weight on his back. For a few seconds he held his arms locked, trembling as he tried with all of his strength to lower himself again, to manage one more. But the longer he tried, the weaker he felt. His arms were like twigs, threatening to snap under the pressure, his chest completely flat and devoid of any definition, his whole body pitifully thin. Even locked his arms were wobbling, barely able to hold together as the bones bent from the pressure. Just as he was about to fail completely a tree trunk of an arm slammed into the floor, and a massive hand held him up by the chest. Calban seemed unfazed by the one-handed position as he effortlessly lifted Vic up, the poor badger panting incessantly as his body burned from the effort.

“Oh Vic, you’ve done so well. Let me take over from here, it’s alright. You can rest now.” Calban shifted the badger onto his back, draping him across the wide expanse of muscle there, and then settled into a press up position. Compared to Vic’s slow, trembling attempt, Calban’s form was faultless. Every movement was smooth and powerful, not a tremble of weakness in sight as he gently raised and lowered, raised and lowered. Resting on his back, Vic felt the movements of the muscles beneath him, how they writhed and pulsed with power, veins like snakes pulsing across the surface. It was akin to lying on top of some sort of massive machine - powerful, unstoppable, perfect. Every motion calculated, every repetition as effortless as the last. Even as he lay there his strength was still sapped out, the body underneath widening, stolen stamina used to fuel every single movement. Calban didn’t even tire, he just moved his body up and down, as easy and natural as breathing. Despite his increased weight moving it felt easy, thanks to an excess of stamina to go with the lashings of beef spread across his frame.

Twenty press ups.

Thirty.

Fifty.

Eighty.

After a few minutes of this Calban finally let up, gently lowering Vic to the floor first. The badger stood after a few shaky attempts, and now the difference between them was obscene. Calban was even more muscular than Vic had been, his body a hulking mass of sheer power, rock solid and imposingly large. VIc on the other hand looked skinny to the point of illness, his limbs thin twigs and his whole body trembling with the effort of simply standing up. Seeing the massive form of Calban in front of him, flexing muscles that were literally larger than him, he found himself enamoured beyond belief.

“Sir, please, I want you to know that I love you. I want you to know that you gave me everything, taught me my purpose, and if there’s any way to pay you back I will give my life to do it.” Vic took a few staggered steps and collapsed against Calban’s thick chest, his arms raised, and after a few confused seconds the dragon realised he was being hugged. Vic’s straw-like arms didn’t even reach the sides of his torso, but it was a hug nonetheless. Funnily enough Calban found himself feeling just as compassionate back, an unusual sensation for him. He wasn’t typically the compassionate type, but the truth was he had so much to thank Vic for. The badger had given him everything - strength, size, years of life, health - the fact that he was here, 5 times his previous size and glowing with vitality, that was all thanks to Vic. He found himself hugging the badger back, completely surrounding him with steely flesh, a true embrace of epic proportions.

“You’ve already given me everything Vic, and I can’t thank you enough. But it would be rude of me to stop now. Allow me to finish, for it’s the least you deserve.” The hug tightened as Calban found the last scraps of strength and pulled them out. Vic gasped as he crossed the threshold from skinny to anorexic, and all the way through to atrophied beyond all hope. Every last scrap of strength was drawn out, every muscle wasted away as they were taken, and his loving look turned to one of pain as the weight of his own body began to take its toll. Calban held on for a while, longer than was necessary, making sure there was absolutely nothing left to take. When he finally released the badger you could hardly tell what species he was anymore - there was nothing but bones papered over with grey, fading fur, his eyes grey and unseeing. Bones cracked, skin creaked in the air, and were it not for the hand holding him up Vic would have collapsed on the spot. Calban set him down on a nearby trolley, looking down at him with eyes full of compassion for just a second before reprimanding himself. He was here on a mission, he couldn’t afford to feel compassion for the enemies of Xavir. The Pure One deserved his respect after all, and this wasn’t the way to get it. Still, although he had practised plenty of times he had never drained a badger before, plus now he had a very willing plaything to use as he saw fit. He must have drained the guard’s emotions as well as his intelligence, altered his natural feelings Perhaps tonight’s transgressions therefore could therefore be overlooked, he mused.

He turned to leave when he heard a voice behind him, like paper crumbling beneath the wind. “M-master, help me. Please.”

In response Calban turned around and laid on top of the skeletal remains of Vic, not hard enough to break bone but just enough to pin him. It took no strength whatsoever, like holding down tissue paper, but as a result Vic had no hope in hell of moving an inch.

“I’m coming back for you Vic, I’ll take care of you, I promise. But first I have important things to attend to.”

Vic couldn’t nod anymore due to the weight of his own head, but the strains of his neck tendons told Calban that he was trying to. “G-go. Anything you need, I’m here. I’ll give you anything, e-everything.”

Calban chuckled as he stood up, relieving the pressure on Vic’s pathetic body. Even without the muscular mass on top he struggled to breathe, the weight of his own ribs and skin too much for the tendons to handle on their own. As the dragon walked away, footsteps thumping down the corridor, he was focused on his mission once more. However he couldn’t resist leaving a parting comment to the body behind him, to the vessel in which he had left behind his weakness, to the previous store of his now rightfully claimed power.

“You already have Vic. You already have.”

With one last chuckle, Calban disappeared into the prison.