The Meekel shall inherit the earth.



War was coming.
They all knew it, and none of them had the power to stop it. They had all seen the flying citadel coming for days, and the army equipping itself for battle. Arms were being distributed amongst the militia of Meridell. From swords to spears, suddenly everyone was armed to the teeth, and ready to protect their land under the tyrannical ruling of King Skarl. Today he was making an announcement, hauling his pudgy ill kept self off his throne of gold for the first time in weeks.

“My fellow neopians, today is a grave day indeed. The evil forces of Darigan are on the war march, and aim to take away what is ours. As we all know, they are an un-prosperous and sickly people, and invade other nations to feed their armies. They know no mercy, no justice, only fear. So I implore you all! Take up arms against Darigan! Stop the threat once and for all!”

The crowds were won over by the choice words of the fat king, and many joined the regular army that day. Meekle was one of them, convinced that serving his time in the royal army was not only a good way to make some money, but it beat farming by a long shot. Heck, maybe he’d even have a better shot with the ladies as a lad in uniform. Curias in place, sword on his belt, and buckler in hand, he marched out of his 2 hour basic training program with pride. Sure they had basically only taught him how to dawn his armor and use a sword, but he was assured that the pithy army of Darigan did not use weapons, and an un-armed foe was no match to even the most incompetent fool with modern Meridellian weaponry.

The invasion came that day, shortly after lunch. Warriors from both sides clashed together in large hoards, causing numerous casualties on both sides within a matter of moments. Meekle was stationed with a small detachment of swordsman, and charged off to battle just like everyone else. Within about 5 minutes, their small formation was charged, overrun, and nearly obliterated. Meekle didn’t have a chance, he didn’t even have the time to remove his sword from its scabbard. He was knocked unconscious, and carried off to the Darigan dungeons. Waking up in chains, he was at first surprised. They had stripped him of his armor, weapons, and all but the most basic of clothing. Confused, cold, and a little hungry, Meekle crawled into a corner, and curled up in fear. The fierce monsters that were his guards leered in at him, exchanging words between themselves. Meekle tried to ignore what they were saying, but it was hard not to listen in.

“We had a good haul today. This one combined with the other dozen will feed the troops nicely for a while.”

Meekle was shocked. They actually intended to not only keep him here in chains, but eventually serve him as dinner! Panic set it within instants, and he lunged towards the bars. The guards could see the animal like fury in his eyes, as he thrashed around trying to remove himself from his bonds. Such actions were useless of course, and the guards merely reached in with huge paws, and smacked him back to the far wall.

“Foolish young one, your fate is already set. Nothing you can do will let you escape. But, your remaining days can be free of pain if you just sit down, shut up, and eat your food.”

The food mentioned was piled in what appeared to be a trough for feeding swine. There was a hose of some sort attached to the side, and it appeared to be keeping the trough full at all times. Inside was a soupy like mixture of common grains and waste meats. It was inexpensive to produce, and did wonders to keep one full. By the constant supply of food present, Meekle determined that not only were they going to eat him, but fatten him up before hand. After all, what good is the nights roast if it wasn’t plump and juicy before you cooked it? Sighing, his appetite ruined for the time being, he curled up back in the corner to sulk, and hopefully sleep. The guards were of course unhappy, as they wanted their food now, not later. Eventually they left, to go see how the other prisoners we’re doing. Meekle opened his eyes, and saw a heavy set Lupe being led by at spear point. He seemed almost calm, as the torment finally coming to an end was a boon on his spirit. Heavy underside wobbling with each slow step, the Lupe was taken out of the dungeon, never to be seen again. The Darigan army ate well that night.

***


A figure walked steadily by, kept hidden in the shadows of his own cloak. He was one of the many magic users stationed in the citadel, used to rain fire down on targets below. Today this particular sorcerer had an idea, and wanted to earn brownie points by presenting it to Lord Darigan himself. He found the Lord sitting on his throne, staring into space. His solidarity disturbed, the disheveled emperor looked up at the violator, and grimaced.

“What do you want with me.”
“My lord, I come to you with an idea that will bring us much power.”
“What use have we of more power? We are winning the war as we speak. The forces of Meridell have fallen, all that is left is the people. The Orb has already been taken back.”


He pointed to one side, where the orb rested silently on a pedestal. It had only been there for a few hours, and seemed to be just a stone at the moment.

“Yes my lord, but I have a plan to keep the orb safer than it already is. I have been experimenting with new magic’s and chemicals, and have devised a way to make our soldiers many times more powerful than they already are.”
“Go on.”
“It involves several potentially dangerous procedures, so I wanted to obtain your permission first. As well as security in the required ingredients and time.”
“Well, if your plan works, I shall be pleased. Go ahead and perform your experiments. Report to me when you are successful, and not before.”
“Yes my lord.”


With that, the cloaked sorcerer left as silently as he came in, leaving Lord Darigan to his thoughts.

***


Meekle was being a pain. In a full day, he hadn’t touched a bit of his food. He just remained in the corner, trying to sleep off the reality of his situation. His stomach was rumbling, but he did his best to ignore it. Perhaps if he did not eat, they would not consume him? It was a stupid thought, but one that kept him sane for the time being. The guards of course did not like this course of action one bit. They spent most of the morning jeering the other inmates, telling them lies of how eating would make their time easier, and if they were lucky they would be let go. Truth is there was a bit of a relaxant in the food, making you happier and calmer the fatter you became. Meekle of course did not know this, but the guards were getting suspicious.

“Why won’t the little one eat?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we have to encourage him.”


They took turns poking their spears though the railing, jabbing Meekle in his delicate behind. They could see that he was actually getting thinner from not eating, and were worried that they’d loose this one all together. They began speaking to him directly, repeating their speech of comfort and potential release if only he’d eat up properly.

“You’ll be so much warmer…”
“Everyone likes to hug a fatty…”
“Just think how popular you’ll be when you get out of here…”
“Being fat isn’t so bad, look at us!”
“We’re fat balls! And we love it!”


They realized after a while that this wasn’t working. Meekle snuck a peek over his shoulder, and saw that the two mutant guards were indeed pudgy. Their ill fitting armor exposing rounded flesh here and there. But like all the Darigans, they appeared to be in ill health. Finally the guards could take no more, and they opened the cell door. Meekle shut his eyes tight, thinking this was finally the end. Instead he was rudely picked up off the floor, and brought to the feeding trough. They moved the hose over to one side, and crammed his mouth over the metal pipe. Struggling in the larger guards grip, he had no choice but to swallow as his mouth filled up. Every swallow filled his hungry stomach up, but he fought every one. Soon he was nicely full, but the guards weren’t letting him up. His stomach stretched out painfully, becoming round and bloated in front of him. When he started to groan and cry, they pulled him off, and let him slump back into his corner. The chemicals within the food calmed him down almost right away, and he went to sleep. Fixing the trough back into place, the two guards walked away quietly, satisfied with their work.

The night passed, and Meekles body worked hard to process the large volume of food that had been forced into it. Slowly but surely, the liquid food was converted into energy, which was then converted into fat. The guards checked up on him a few times, noting that his belly looked softer, licking their chops as they passed. They smiled to each other, and decided to force feed this prisoner often until he was the plumpest meal they’d ever dined on.

There were several loud noises outside, which awoke Meekle early the next morning. Getting up off the floor to attempt finding out where the noises came from, he looked down to notice his new mass. Surprised and alarmed, he rubbed at it with a paw. A good 10 pounds must have been added to his lanky frame from all that food. He found the weight not altogether displeasing, but distressing instead. He knew that every pound he gained was a pound closer to being dinner. He devised a plan rapidly, the noises forgotten for the time being. If he played along with the guards wishes, he could make an act out of eating, pretending to eat more than he really was. Then at least he’d not grow as fast as he did last night, and hopefully live longer. No sooner than he had made up his mind, than he heard the heavy footfalls of the portly guards. As they waddled into sight, they caught a glimpse of Meekle apparently being a good little prisoner, and supping steadily at the supply of food. Believing that their force feeding had paid off, they went to torment other prisoners. Meekle ate his fill for the time being, and spat out the rest. His thoughts went back to the loud noises he’d heard earlier. As there were no windows in the dark dungeon, he knew the only way to find out was to ask somebody.

“Umm… guard?”
“What do you want runt?”


One of the large guards shuffled over at a speed that betrayed his size, and bumped his hefty middle up against the bars. Meekle haphazardly fell back from the bars, landing on his rump.

“Umm… I heard loud noises outside. What were they?”
“Aww, is the baby scared?”


Meekle of course didn’t appreciate the torment and child-like insults, but he took them in stride. The guard had a bit of a chuckle at his expense, then went to explain the situation.

“Lord Darigan has used his all powerful might to level your pathetic Kingdom. You’re better off here!”
“no…”


The guard left him to ponder his fate. With the Kingdom presumably destroyed, he had nothing left to go back to. But still, he didn’t want to be eaten. He couldn’t think of anything to do really, and went to lie in the corner and feel sorry for himself.

***

The sorcerer was busy mixing stuff upstairs, working hard to please his lord and master. He was of course unaware of Darigans plans to lay waste to Meridel, watching contently as his giant system of pipes and hoses dripped countless liters of the miracle potion into vials. Of which he was happily stacking on one table, getting ready to present to his lord. There was enough ready to make half the Darigan army stronger, ensuring their domination of the world. A rumble shook the room suddenly, as Lord Darigan began to use the power of the orb to rain fire down below. Another one followed, and another after that. The shock waves caused the delicate glass beakers and pipes to shake and wobble, looking as if they were going to shatter at any given moment. Franticly running around to try and steady everything, he soon realized that the construction of the filter and processing assembly could have been made sturdier. One lead snapped, causing a section to plummet to the ground. The contents were of course as stereotypically volatile as one would expect, and promptly exploded on impact. Said explosion caused a chain reaction, the whole mess of pipes and glass spheres bursting one after another. The sorcerer was thrown back into a far wall, loosing himself to the blackness. The vials were tossed everywhere, smashing up against the walls and breaking to bits. Being that the citadel was not the most water-tight of structures in the world, the spilled liquid began raining through the floors, eventually finding its way into the lower sections. Namely the food supplies of the prisoners.

Meekle hadn’t heard the explosion upstairs, and was just about to resume eating about the time the purple liquid rained into his feeding station. Smaller quantities ended up with all the other prisoners, and would prove to cause the best meal of their lives. Meekle ate slowly, finding the taste different. He couldn’t really place a paw on it, but it made him want to eat more. And so he did. He barely realized what he was up to, but he was gorging himself to the point that he was fed to the night before. The guards had moved over to watch this, thinking maybe he had snapped and wanted to end it all. They didn’t really care, watching as he gorged past the point of pain, and actually threatened to burst his stomach.

Something must have snapped him out of it, because just before he ruptured himself, he stopped eating, and happily stared down at his huge girth. It all felt so wonderful, and he rapidly nodded off to sleep. The guards were surprised at the little sphere of a neopet, but were even more surprised at what they saw all around them. All the other prisoners were in similar states of roundness. Some were still trying to feed themselves, so bloated that they couldn’t reach the feeding spout anymore. As one the two guards looked at each other, and shrugged. They tromped upstairs for some R&R as it looked like there would be no force feedings tonight.

The collective swelling of all the prisoners disappeared in record time, and they all woke up as one to begin gorging again. All through the night they ate till immobility, only to sleep for an hour and start all over again. They were all becoming very fat, Meekle being the worst of the lot. By now they had all figured that it was easiest to just lay their heads near the feeding spout, so they wouldn’t have to reach around their growing masses. All of them were filling up their cells with their great girths, getting fatter by the moment it would seem. As they grew, they were able to eat more at once, thus growing bigger. The guards came back the next morning to check on the prisoners. Saying they were surprised would have been an understatement. All they could see in each cell was a massive blob of lard that was filling the entire space, and pressing against the bulk. If they didn’t know better, all the prisoners had escaped, and left a textured balloon in their wake.

“Wow, would you look at that!”
“Are we going to even be able to get them out of their cells? We didn’t count on a prisoner ever getting this huge.”


While the guards pondered this problem, the prisoners were still trying to eat. The cell bars were creaking and bending in many cases, Meekle’s cell being one of them. The sheer amount of potion he had consumed was working to his favor it seemed, and was starting to take its effects. His body was using the huge layers of blubber to fuel a new sort of transformation. Muscle mass was growing on his formerly lanky body, as was new bone structure. Meekle was growing. While the guards watched a particularly hefty Shoyru’s belly burst through the door to its cell, Meekle found he was 4ft tall, and getting bigger. He smiled at this, and kept silent. Bigger and bigger he grew, getting stronger by the moment. Soon all his fat was gone, and he kept enlarging. The hunger had left too, and he was once more filling up the cell. This time however, he was 20ft tall, and forced to be all scrunched up. Admiring his newfound size and power, he drew back a leg, and kicked the bars right out of the stonework. The guards leapt back with surprise, thinking that another prisoner has burst their cell. When they peeked into Meekles cell, their heads were grabbed by a giant set of paws, and slammed together roughly. Knocked unconscious, Meekle turned and began to leave. He paused however, and turned back for a second. He took the two guards, and put them face first in the feeding tray. They began to eat in their sleep as Mekkle made a point to tear the bars off all the other cells.

By now the sounds of crashing and breaking stone had alerted folk one floor up, and a few guards came down the stone steps to investigate. They ran smack dab into a giant sized Meekle, who seemed not to pleased with still being confined. They were of course promptly slapped silly, and left where they fell. Meekle forced his way through the ceiling up to the next floor, growing to be 25ft tall finally. He tore apart everything he could find, feet and hands bashing through walls and windows. He eventually made his way to the middle of the citadel, and began to happily wreak havoc with the various devices that kept the structure aloft. The citadel paused and floundered in its flight, bits and pieces of it falling off the main structure, raining onto the hills below. Meekle suddenly found himself lurching to one side, as he caused fatal damage to the engine assembly. The mass of rock and formed stone fell from the sky, crashing into the mountains and tearing itself apart. Prisoner and soldier alike were flung this way and that, the fatter ones bouncing to a soft landing.

Meekle extracted himself from the rubble, thanking his enlarged body for its safe landing. Ahead of him was the ruined remains of the farms and buildings of Meridel. He was saddened to see this, but happy that the castle seemed intact. He had a few things to say to the king… Looking over a shoulder, he saw many prisoners newly mobilized from some growth heading for the hills, accompanied by two very fat guards.

Stomping heavily through the ruins, he passed by many the survivor of the destruction, and even a few soldiers that were running towards the remains of the citadel. They gave him a very wide berth, as they didn’t want to deal with the giant right now. Meekle strode right into the castle, pushed his way passed the guards, and found the fat slob of a king lazing on his throne in self pity.

“Its all gone! That damned Darigan stole it all way from us!”
“Sire… they stole it back remember..”
“Shut up! Nobody is supposed to know that…”


Meekle was mortified. He strode over, breaking the floor with his heavy steps. The king was surprised and very afraid to see him, his aid running for the nearest exit. Meekle picked the king up in one hand, and gave him a shake.

“They were stealing it BACK? You mean all this trouble was caused by you in the first place? You idiot! You boorish slob of an idiot!”

Meekle threw the king to the floor, barely noticing his squeak of surprise and pain. He made a b-line back to the citadel, looking amongst the ruins for the orb. He knew of a way to solve all the problems of both peoples, and hoped he could pull it off. Lord Darigan was nowhere in site, and it was probably better that way. He found the orb, and hefted the powerful item up over his head.

“Hear me people of Darigan and Meridel! Too long we have warred over this object, which has been the downfall of both our countries! It ends NOW.”

With that, he cast the orb down onto the stones, and watched with satisfaction as it split in twain. There was a blinding flash of light, and Meekle was thrown backwards. Massive torrents of energy cascaded over the valley and hillside, taking up everyone in its glow. When it lifted, things appeared different. The buildings were still broken, but the burnt trees and crops had been healed. The hurt Meridel forced were also healed, and were soon up and walking again. The forces of Darigan had the most notable change. Most of their mutations had left, leaving them healthy again, but still looking very much different. And in the middle of it all, was a giant sized Meekle, laying there happily asleep. Nobody ever found the body of lord Darigan, and the king of Meridel made a public apology later that day. He had also bathed for the first time in a year…

Meekle would later wake up to see what had happened, and go live on a large hunk of land as an honored soldier. But for now he was blissfully wrapped up in sleep, secure in the knowledge that he had done good.

Das end eh.