Past a certain point up in the mountains it felt like life simply ceased to exist. Sure, there was rock and snow in sharp abundance, but those two elements alone did not create a sense that any man or mon that dared travel up there would last long, if at all. Hisui's mountains were feared for many reasons, chief of which was their ferocious tendencies to spiral up past the tree line, ensuring little reward for the average adventurer, and of course an incredible amount of risk.

Which in turn made it all the stranger that a rather well-worn temple laid on the mountain's summit, rusted doors forever locked in an open position to welcome the few that could ever dream of coming towards the mountain's peak. Nobody knew when the temple had been constructed, nor what lay within it- all who managed to find the damn place came back with the same harrowing tale, one of futile struggle against an unknown force.

The Temple Spirit, as she was to be known, was thought to be completely unstoppable. Many had tried and failed to get past her, to outsmart her, to simply avoid her- all their efforts proved useless in the face of her seeming omnipresence. Full teams of men and mon alike had traveled up the cliff face in order to stop her; their numbers mattered not, as the spirit would bewitch them, splitting them up with her cruel illusions and picking them off one by one. By then it was a process of elimination, a game the ghost won every time.

Zoroark was pleased to display her strength in all its intensity. After all, how couldn't she? She despised the humans: whether they were alone or in packs, all she saw were cruel bastards that would happily overtake any land they saw fit to claim. What was worse was how she saw Pokemon work alongside them, unflinchingly domesticated and ready to work under whatever orders they were given. Could they not see that they were ripe for betrayal? Zoroark had fallen into that same trap many moons ago; seeing more prey be brought to the slaughter was the sole way the many encounters hurt her.

Tonight would be no different, she supposed. Looking up at the brewing darkened clouds, the rail-thin fox prepared her vision. Someone was coming up the mountain, she could tell by the stench of civilization that wafted up towards her. She wouldn't be able to see the poor sap until they were right up in her face, but that was fine. What mattered currently was making sure this intruder wouldn't be able to see her until it was far too late. From there, the last thing they'd see would be the pale translucent frame of the kitsune, juxtaposed with her violently fuchsia hair and glowing yellow eyes.

After that, of course, the world would be still again.

Zoroark hastened her movements, climbing atop the temple's roof. Normally a vantage point like this would be risky, but the dead of the snowy night already concealed her more than enough from watchful eyes. Crouching down, the kitsune took a quick analysis of the paths leading up to the summit. It was a long shot, but there was always a chance that the intruder would do something to give their location away...

Her intuition was easily rewarded. Even through the snow she could see the torch being carried up the mountain, its weak flame refusing to budge against the harsh conditions. The light it gave off did little to illuminate its wielder, but a silhouette was a silhouette; Zoroark could tell the humanoid shape plodding through the sleet came alone. A grin appeared on the fox's muzzle; the only lone travelers to come up here were always easy pickings.

Now the shape was growing closer, its form rapidly increasing in detail as Zoroark focused her eyes. Long pointed ears, sharp spikes protruding from the shape's chest and hands... The kitsune's grin faltered some as she realized the lone wanderer was, in fact, not a human but a pokemon, one that could only be a Lucario. The decision they were making to come here was already foolish, but a fighting-type versus a ghost-type... did this mon have some sort of death wish?

The spirit brushed off the thought. No matter what, if this jackal wanted to play games then she'd play them all the same. Judging by the well-worn satchel that hung tightly around their chest, that Lucario came from the civilization below, most likely holding on to the same intentions that the humans did...

...Though now that the intruder was approaching the temple, Zoroark started to reconsider. No, 'tightly hung' didn't quite cut it- the bag's braces looked to be two sizes too small for the rather heavyset canine, looking as if they'd bust open if the Lucario flexed in the wrong way. Really, the entirety of the jackal seemed to fit too much dog in too small a space- his being was positively caked in flab, tree trunk thighs wobbling about while a gut the size of a basketball flopped over atop them. The layers of fat continued upwards, his thick, doughy arms absentmindedly colliding with his developing moobs as he trundled on, colliding with his love handles, colliding with just about every bit of flesh the decidedly obese steel-type possessed. A jolly fat face sat atop these features; the hound's double-chin now proudly displayed for the fox to see. But for all the 'strengths' he possessed, they still failed to compare to the mon's hindquarters, which stuck out so prominently that not even the dull light could illustrate them all at once. Lucario had asscheeks that outsized a Miltank's rear, massive sagging hips that gave his appearance a distinctive pear shape. It was no surprise why the canine wore a satchel and little else; he would have torn a pair of regular pants apart from the obscene girth of his lower half alone.

If she wasn't so concerned about hiding herself, Zoroark would have burst out laughing. Did this mon have any idea where they were? Who were they about to face? This doughball didn't just seem to be a pushover, but as more of a living scratching post for her to sink her claws into and tear apart. Nevertheless, the canine was still approaching the temple, daring to force his way inside to seek Arceus-knows-what. Chuckling to herself, Zoroark's ghostly tendrils started to flare. In seconds she had disappeared from view, seemingly fading from existence as pure illusions cloaked her form.

*His time with those filthy manbeasts have reduced him to a mere layabout,* thought Zoroark. *He must be delusional if he thinks he can enter my temple and live. Might as well give him one last chance to turn around...*

Lucario stopped as he neared the foot of the temple, inspecting the structure with the fading light of his torch. The villagers were right, he could very much feel the sensation that something was watching him, whether it be from within the temple's confines or perhaps from further beyond. If their warnings held true, then he had a feeling he wouldn't make it into the building without some kind of altercation springing from nowhere.

Speak of the devil, something *was* coming from nowhere. White fog was beginning to build all around the jackal, coming out in thick plumes to his front and his sides. The clouds had perfectly enveloped him before long, obscuring even his weak torchlight with all the grace that only rolling clouds could provide.

"Speak, spirit." commanded Lucario in an unusually gruff voice for someone of his stature. "I have promised to rid this temple of the darkness inhabiting it, and you will not stand in my way."

The fog quavered, as if the mists themselves were having a chuckle.

"Don't make me laugh, mutt." rang out a shrill voice from within the clouds. "You really think you can fight a being of pure malice? Push forward and I'll shred you like every last one of those who came before you.

"So be it," said Lucario, raising his free paw. "Your reign will end as swiftly as the coursing wind."

The chuckling returned in full force, its creator now allowing it to be audible.

"How *adorable*," chirped the clouds. "In all my time spent battling I've never met someone as foolhardy as you... or as obese."

Lucario smirked; the lively ones never failed to comment about his girth. He'd feel insulted if it didn't mean they were acting exactly as planned. Ignoring the unknown force's comments, the jackal concentrated and sent out a minuscule aura pulse, invisible to the naked eye. With this ability he'd be able to see through the fog, gaining a clear (if only slight) look at what lay behind it all. At least, that was the intention; even at only a second's glance the steel-type could tell the pulse's findings were turning up blank. Furrowing his brow, Lucario muscles grew stiff. It'd take a lot of bluffing to keep the spirit distracted at this rate.

"Save your words for another time, phantom. I've heard as many jests as you've had challengers."

That alone upgraded the force's laughter to a full-on holler. A lesser mon might've felt embarrassed to be circled by such seemingly omnipresent mockery; the canine simply stood stone-faced in the middle of it.

"I'm sure you have, you bloated bastard!" cried Zoroark. "Let's end this now; I'll make sure that such fatty flesh is properly prepared after it's slashed off your bones!"

Unbeknownst to the kitsune, the bastard in question had already thrown the first move. Now sending out multiple pulses of pure energy, Lucario had a near-perfect scan of the area in front of him. The psychic echolocation had worked wonders, letting the pokemon know that a massive dead zone of aura energy lay beneath the clouds; that could only mean one thing to the jackal, that a ghost-type was his harasser. Luckily, with each pulse sent out that dead area was changing, warping smaller and smaller until the space was all but sectioned off. It was now as if there was merely a draped sheet separating the two opponents psychically, and only one of them was even aware of it. The plan was all but carried out at this point, now there was only one thing left for him to do:

"Fine, spirit, tear me limb from limb if you must, but allow me one attempt at a strike first." spoke Lucario.

The winds scoffed back at him. "Oh, this will be a joy to watch. Let us hope your heart doesn't give out from the overexertion."

With that, the dead zone that Lucario sensed began to move, drifting in and out of the fog not to conceal itself, but to simply get a better view of the show it was about to watch. Not five seconds had elapsed when Lucario felt the psychic knot directly behind himself, no doubt prepared to strike as soon as he missed. With luck that wouldn't happen; the canine stood his ground, snow quaking underneath his footpaws as he readied a move that had been passed down through his family lineage...

*Lucario used Extremespeed!*

Now it was the jackal's turn to show off. For a second it looked like his entire bulk flickered in the cold, his body tensing up and releasing energy in a way that defied all physical laws. In an instant his body was moving, not forwards as someone might predict, but backwards at an incredible rate. Lucario stuck his posterior out as he painlessly flew through the air, aiming himself like a cannonball at a target that had stopped moving at the worst time.

*WHACK!*

Zoroark had no idea how it'd happened. One second she was in the perfect vantage point to take down the mutt, and the next she had crumpled to the ground, her lower half crushed by dozens of pounds of fat jackal ass. The ghostly shriek she let out wasn't nearly enough to convey the overflowing surprise she felt; the noise, along with the moans of pain after it, were simply primal reactions and nothing more. Lucario smirked once again as the rolling smoke vanished into the night air; their maker, one Hisuian Zoroark, evidentially couldn't handle a sudden shock to the system like that.

"GET OFF OF ME, MUTT!" screamed Zoroark, her voice growing tense as she struggled, going up nearly an entire octave as she realized mid-sentence that her arms were also trapped under the all-consuming ass that lay atop her.

"Not a chance, spirit," replied Lucario, shifting his weight in order to spin around and face the fox. "I've won our little fight, and now I'm going to properly end it."

"Then do your worst!" called out the kitsune. "You can't take the life of what's already dead! No man can kill me, and no tomb can banish me!"

"I don't need to kill you; I just need to immobilize you. And that's what I plan on doing..."

Lucario gave Zoroark no warning as he began to inhale, his chest pushing out as his lungs swelled with air. His satchel, already over-stressed, simply broke apart onto the ground as his fabulous moobs temporarily outgrew it.

"What the-" feigned the fox, confusion now blanketed across her face. "What do you mean immobilize- MMPH!"

Lucario quickly bent over, squishing his stomach against Zoroark as he brought his muzzle up against hers. Their lips locked as if they were always meant to be paired, an impromptu kiss that the kitsune desperately tried to break, failing to stop until-

**PWOOMPH**

The jackal exhaled fiercely, forcing liters of air directly down the fox's throat. Zoroark could feel the rush of gas down into her, filling her belly with fresh oxygen. Little by little her stomach began to inflate, growing and stretching even underneath Lucario's considerable bulk. The new sensation left the ghost stunned, leaving Lucario just enough time to inhale using his nose instead, preparing another huff of air in an instant. Once again this load of gas found its way into the fox, forcing her to swallow gulp after gulp of breath until she felt alarmingly full. Lucario must have noticed this; he shifted his body once more, moving his limbs to cover the ghosts' one, and raising his stomach and chest upwards. Where he rose, Zoroark rose, too; her belly was bloating out as if the fox was casually glutting herself on a large meal, greedily flowing upwards to soak up the free space it was given.

In... out... in... out... Lucario's movements had become rhythmic, taking in massive lungfuls of air and depositing them into his growing grey balloon. Zoroark had stopped moving, stuck in a trance as she felt the new sensation of effortless swelling that was currently flowing through her entirety. The jackal heard a subtle *pfft* as once more the two's bellies pressed together, Zoroark's stomach taking the initiative as it rounded past the size of a medicine ball. With only weight above it, her tummy began to move outwards as well as upwards, cushioning Lucario's sides as it spilled out onto the ground like a fuzzy airbag. Yet all the jackal fat in the world couldn't stop her rush towards the atmosphere; little by little Lucario could watch himself rise, the living life raft underneath him keen to unfurl.

His prey all but putty in his paws, the steel-type knew the only thing to do now was to turn up the pressure. With his next breath Lucario concentrated deep, searching within himself for a grasp onto his own life force, searching outwards to touch the aura of the frozen life around him. Soon a miniature aura sphere was collecting inside his throat, an energy well that was ready to fire at a moment's notice. He held his tongue instead; working the aura up into his mouth, Lucario let the world run still for a moment before he began to blow. Zoroark's eyes widened in a kind of dull euphoria as her muzzle was suddenly puffed full of air and energy alike; while the gas slid down into her gullet like clockwork, the collected aura had other plans.

Zoroark's limbs had begun rising, spilling out like silvery pool toys to follow her belly. To an onlooker, she was now clearly the fatter one of the two, her doughy arms and legs filling almost to a beat as they wobbled out of control. Her stomach refused to slouch despite the lack of aura infusion, quickly surpassing the size of a yoga ball and forcing Lucario off of her arms and legs. Despite the free movement she was still no longer mobile: bending her arms had become a difficulty, with her legs growing so stubby that they were more like hollow tubes than appendages.

Still those natural bellows pressed on, adding several more inches to her diameter with every kiss. Zoroark's ass and breasts were expanding outwards, their curves blending together as her back and chest tried to contain the massive amount of gas within. Her cheeks and neck remained permanently bloated, aura flooding her senses as it moved in. Even her claws perked up, joining in on the fun as they became useless balloons that were rapidly sinking into her limbs. The balloon kitsune was more of an air mattress at this point, blowing up as its pump soared on to deliver bigger and bigger gulps.

The minutes passed, and they were not kind to the fox. Gradually the grey ball Lucario was perched on swelled out to full capacity, hitting 8 feet of width and maybe even then some. Little divots in the curves indicated where Zoroark's paws had once been, digits wiggling uselessly in the open air. Beyond that, there was only furry flesh; the blimp was fully inflated, her hide creaking and groaning as she eventually refused to grow further. Satisfied, Lucario turned around and dropped down to the floor. He inspected his handiwork, walking around to where the Hisuian fox's muzzle had been just moments prior.

"That wasn't much of a fight," he mused, scratching his stomach. "For a being of pure malice, you inflated as easily as any other of the ones I fought."

"Wha--? Huh?" cried out Zoroark as her senses came barreling back to her. "What have... *hic* What's happening..."

"It's an old technique I learned from one of my previous masters," explained Lucario, "Drifblim-style works well, does it not?"

"No..." moaned Zoroark as she helplessly quivered in place, "I'll ruin you for this... they'll never find your *hic* body..."

"I'm sure they won't," mock-agreed Lucario. "Now, if you excuse me, I have some unfinished business to attend to."

Lucario grabbed his things and soldiered on past the aura orb that was Zoroark, waddling cleanly through the snow and up to the temple's doors. He disappeared without a second thought into the darkened halls, his torch relighted with a burst of aura flame. This did nothing but infuriate the kitsune, whose plans for the night had drastically failed. Now she was alone in the snowfall, getting lightly dusted with the precipitation like a giant powdered chocolate.

"That bastard... I'll cut his limbs off and feed them to him, I'll force him to eat snow until he's even bigger than me..." droned Zoroark, being of pure malice now reduced to simply a being of pure malcontent. "Ohhhhh, I'll at least get a belly rub out of him..."

And so the abominable airbed pouted on, wobbling and jiggling in the building snow.