Pro-pain In the Ass

Pro-Pain in the Ass

The bushes rustled as a pair of indistinguishable blue jeans, worn thin by their owner, heavily trodded past them. Shrub to shrub, tree to tree, hardly anywhere was safe. Overhead, mean purple streaks tore the normally peaceful sky, an assault of pitch-purple clouds puffing up soon after. The sun had been all but completely blotted out from the mysterious aerial flood of cumulus. Of course, day suddenly plunging into the nighttime darkness wasn't something that ordinarily happened. Not until very recently, anyway. Every so often, an otherworldly event would sweep past society's denizens, bringing forth yet another terror wave. Each a little bit worse than the last.

This new way of life would come to be known as "The Storm".

With each storm came an nigh-indescribable process, what had before only before been seen in shoddy B-movies. The ground rumbled, graves shook. Hands began popping out of the soil. All over the place, half-rotted subhumans rose up. Anywhere one would expect a high concentration of death were immediate zones of danger: cemeteries, remote forests, hospitals, the dumpster behind your creepy neighbor's house, all of them rattled with supernatural activity.

There was no peace for the undead. In turn, there was no peace for the still-breathing. Each "husk" (as was the commonplace name for them) came in different shapes and sizes. Some small, some tall, some bearing some pretty large-- explosives to tear down walls. They all had one thing in common: they wanted flesh, and they wanted it now.

Penny enters stage left. She wasn't typically the type to up and run, but the situation called for her to book it as far as possible. A town full of vulturous zombies was not where most people would want to be. And for good reason: she was fairly high in calories. The husks had already learned that the larger someone was, the more ideal of a target they were. Largely unable to sprint? More meat for them to consume? One would have to be more braindead than a zombie not to work that logic out. Penny was no exception to this rule, sporting her fair share of bulk around the waist and hips. Indeed, there was a very thin coating of pudge to be found among her body. Underneath that, however, laid an abundance of strength. A tomboy through and through, she was easily able to bench more than most men her size. Her unassuming physique gave the horde quite a surprise, when she was unexpectedly able to plow through a few of their units on the woman's way out of town.

Nobody's able to run forever, especially not after grabbing a large hammer as a means of defense. The satisfyingly heavy sledge was composed of solid titanium. Quads of glowing, electric-blue LEDs streaking down the handle gave it a by-design futuristic appearance, as if the obnoxious rocket engine at one end of the head didn't convey it well enough. Nonetheless, it was a deadly weapon capable of leveling anything that stood in it's way. Problem was, Penny had to actually carry the thing during her sprint. As a result, the evasiveness many would have when pumped full of adrenaline slowly conked out of the exasperated woman's body. Her heels clapped against the crumbled-up soil as she slowed to a halt, bending over to catch her breath afterward.

"Phewww..." A lofty exhale escaped her.

"Those undead twits are gonna get what's coming to em...", swearing upon her heart that the oncoming wave would be a cakewalk to conquer.

After only a mere minute, she had been caught up with. She hopped out of the sights of a quickly-approaching fireball, which produced a purple shoe-sized explosion upon landing on a nearby tree. The seemingly impervious black oak bark had become singed from the attack, and Penny's awareness was heightened sharply. She raised her hammer up in a steady position, prepared to clobber any mind-munchers into the next millennium. The first creep came into swinging range, and would've been quick to regret doing so if it had a mind of it's own. The hammer tore through it's off-blue flesh instantaneously, reducing the "victim" to not much more than a pile of dust. Another husk tried it's luck, only to receive the same fate.

Swing.

Poof.

Swing.

Poof.

Swing.

Poof.

One by one, each shambling corpse fell. Rather, it was carried off by the wind to their final resting place. The severe consequences of zombie flesh particles landing in nearby rivers would be a bridge for Penny to cross when she got to it. For now, she was more focused on just surviving to see tomorrow.

And what a task that was. Each husk approached with more purpose than the last. At least... as much purpose as a braindead walker could have. While it never took more than a simple bash of the hammer to blow them to smithereens, the latest zombie never went down as easily as the first few. They seemed to be growing increasingly durable as time went on. Following that realization, it didn't take a genius to then notice that the hardiness of individual mooks was boosted by a set amount every few minutes. If these already-nonsensical beings had a set amount of damage they could take before being destroyed, it was clear that this variable was being jacked up by an unknown force. Nonetheless, this began to pose the same issue Penny ran into with her previous sprinting- this was not sustainable in the slightest.

One enemy turned to two, then four, eight, sixteen. And then, far too many. To make matters worse, a league of heavily-specialized husks paid their company in addition to the flock of generic fodder. Out of the entire gang of misfits, largely consisting of edgily-shaped brimstone creatures, the one that resembled of an overweight middle-aged working-class was the most menacing of all. Penny wasn't sure what it was, but something felt... off... about that cylinder he carried. He casually strolled forth, mouth hanging agape and plain red shirt swaying as he did so. Upon getting within a 10ft radius of Penny, he raised the canister above his head and lobbed it far forward, hurdling directly toward her! With a well-timed shot of the hammer and a resulting "KLAAANG" of the metallic container, she was able to deflect it back all the way into the same town she had run from. A "home run" of the worst kind.

Her hammer skidded on the barren forest ground before grinding to a stop. With a huff and a puff, she got ready to pick it back up, only to be struck with an ever-familiar fireball. Understandably, Penny quickly clasped the area of her face that had been hit. As she slowly released her hand, though, her lack of actual damage became apparent. Despite her fingers searching around for any burned areas, it seemed her skin retained all of its usual smoothness. No burn marks, no blisters, nothing.

Before she was able to raise the weapon again, one of the units rushed forward and headbutted Penny in the hip! She hunched over sideways, her defenses quickly crumpling like paper as a flash-mob zombies grabbed a hold of her. Squeezing any part they could, dozens of cold and dry hands manhandled her. Their stiff fingers lightly battering into the underside of her breasts, pushing them upward into her face. Still writhing about in retaliation, Penny attempted to free herself from the husk's grasp. More of them kept piling on, each burdening Penny further than the last one had. It was a comparable experience to being swarmed by a bunch of human-sized wasps, each out to do nothing more than screw you over.

However, the approach of one particular husk stood out from the rest. She, yes, "she", was a husk considerably slimmer and more seductive-looking than the rest- about as seductive as zombies could be. Clad in the same sort of body build and lame teal dress that a delusional 50-something cougar would wear to feel "sexy" again, the main feature of this "bombshell" was a piping hot head of flaming hair, along with knife-like shark teeth rimming her mouth. All the others cleared, the few remaining only doing so to keep Penny from squirming free.

As the elite strolled forth, a feeling of impending doom washed Penny's look into one less of desperation, and more... despair. No matter what way she tossed about, she was powerless against the opposing strength. Power in numbers was the name of the game. One certain hag-looking zombie folded Penny's legs upward before running a hyper-sharpened fingernail in a rectangular shape around the seat of Penny's jeans. Removing the cut-out section revealed a shiny pair of buttocks. If husks had the glands to drool, they would be. Just look at all that *meaty flesh*! Enough to keep any one of them satiated for weeks, but nowhere near the amount for food to go around. This was a problem that needed solving, but just *how* would they go about it?

Penny was greeted by another propane tank, eerily similar in color and brand to the carbon copy she had ricocheted a mile away. This was a newly-produced one, as evidenced by the lack of massive dent in the side. Nonetheless, it was a wonder how another one had been conjured up within such a short span of time. She didn't have much time to ponder the thought, feeling a cold, rock-solid object jam itself into places it surely wasn't supposed to be. Penny was slowly, but surely, righted upward. "Crrk, crrk" went the valve, coinciding with a sudden, severe aching from within. With the sting of propane gas flooding her insides, it was to be expected.

Within the next handful of minutes, Penny's fingers were curling up from anguish. Her teeth clenched, feeling the latest cramp wrack her insides about. The pressure slowly rising up from where it had entered Penny's body, to right below her chest. It was one thing to have a food baby, and another to have an air baby- especially when it looked like she was approaching full-term two times over.

She had almost gagged just looking at it, especially after seeing how grotesquely far it stretched out. Pulsating veins at the forefront of her growing midsection beat rapidly. Every half-second was interrupted with a thud of the heart, both circulation and mind were sent racing at the notion of being so swollen with *propane*, of all things. She could easily deduce it as being the easiest (and most deadly) substance to use. But what remained yet unanswered, was the purpose of letting loose such a torrent of propane into Penny's body.

"What're these shitlicker's deal?" She slurred out in her mind, unsure (nor caring) if that phrase even made a coherent sentence or not. With her body slowly treading closer to the point of complete systematic failure, there were bigger issues to tackle than correct grammar. Upon taking in her surroundings, she was greeted to the sight of several zombies smacking their lips, drooling, preparing for a feast. A "big" one, just as big as Penny had become. After all, a larger woman meant a larger meal. One of the husks even had a dining bib with a dumb slogan on. "ZombWay, Eat Flesh!" read the yellow text on green background.

Another cramp delivered a huge slam to the area left of her navel. Her eyes slammed shut as she felt that particular area billow out far larger than it had any right to. At least, that's how it felt, even if it was only for a hot minute. The area of her insides preceding the blockage quickly deflated, lowering the level of concern to a mere "I could burst any moment now", down from "I should have burst several moments ago". More pressure swelling out her regulation-sized, basketball-esque stomach caused several more veins to become visible that she hadn't even been aware of, along with the already-existing ones to intensify further in vivid redness.

"Oh god... they've gone and blown me up. My insides feel so... tightly strung. Like a series of rubber bands, being stretched so far, ready to snap at any moment."

"I can barely see my own two feet. What sort of twisted things could I have done to deserve this treatment?"

"This hurts like a bitch, and I can't even do anything about it, but no way are they gonna get an ounce of fear out of me!"

These were among a few of the notions passing her by, with only a mere annoyed grumble of it actually coming out of her mouth.

Penny almost wanted to take her own hand, and gently rub the surface of her dome. But, like any sane woman, she would have cranked off the half-full tank of propane first. Thankfully, a spiked nail approached to do the job for her! Belonging none other than to the flame-lobbing zombie that had gotten Penny into this position at all. Needless to say, the two weren't on very good grounds. Then again, there was hardly much Penny could do to resist. The high-tech hammer had been displaced multiple yards away from her reach, standing was out of the question, and making even the slightest movement was practically signing up for a single-player game of Russian Roulette. A sharp, bladed claw clasped Penny's firm breast, before etching the surface of Penny's far-too-tight skin, sending shivers down her spine. She coldly scoffed, scatters of goosebumps released all over her body. Her irises twitched, not focusing on anything immediately in front of her.

Unless you were to count the continuous "hiss" of the canister, hardly any audible sounds had yet been emitted from within Penny. That was, until a very off-putting, gradual rip could be barely heard from the woman on it's receiving end. Unbeknownst to the victim, the lobber's scratching had been very deliberate. A single-inch slash, all in-line with one another. The outside Penny's belly effectively now had a large perforation line stretching diagonally, which her dangerously over-pressurized insides were more than happy to take advantage of. Was there noone around who could help her?!

No, there was not.

Her external walls gradually failed. One after the other, it was similar to tearing up a scrap sheet of paper. Red dashes soon appeared in the ever-so-convenient spots between where Penny had been inadvertently stabbed. All of the husks fled for their lives, knowing better than to get within blast radius.

Apart from one zombie, more foolhardy than all the others. He jogged in, and lept face-first into Penny's borderline disaster. His teeth sank right in.

Penny, however, blew out.

Along with the quickly lopped-off zombie head, a great pillar of hellfire shot upward from the centerpoint of Penny's body, torn apart from the force. The skin immediately surrounding it flapping upward in a harsh jetstream. In her last moments, she felt a sense of ironic satisfaction. She would sooner face the judgement of the afterlife before succumbing to cowardice. At least it was all over, now.

Her erupting volcano of an abdomen then turned the rest of her into a large donut-ring of ash, never to be seen again.

...

A large "YOU DIED! BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME." appeared, mocking whoever read it. Staring in disbelief, an old man shouted and cussed at the fancy schmancy vidyer-game device held in his hands, before slamming one fist into the table. There was NOTHING he could have done about that! The enemy spawn rates in this server were absolutely insane.

That was the last straw.

With only a couple of clicks of the mouse, a confirmation window appeared, stating: "Fortnite has now been uninstalled."