Enthralled - Tumblr Posts

From DreadZone to Dread Drone

The inspiration for this story came from a piece of artwork I stumbled across on Furaffinity.net. Ratchet and Clank happens to be a favorite game series of mine for its great characters and awesome weapon choices to balance the serious with the zany humor that makes it such a lovable classic. The particular focus of this piece lies with Ratchet from the game Ratchet and Clank: Deadlocked, just after Ratchet defeated Ace Hardlight in the arena. Now his captor is trying to convince him to join DreadZone as a top exterminator to get lots of money for the both of them. Those of you who know Ratchet, know what his response would have been. That’s where this story breaks from the video game. I hope you all enjoy. :D

Inspiration Picture: 

https://www.furaffinity.net/view/24311628/

Author’s Note: Regrettably, all the extra effects I placed in the original document can’t carry over into tumblr posts. If you want to see the PDF version with all the text effects, such as changig font size, etc. for a better experience, you can find it here: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/24484279/

Ratchet glared defiantly up into the shark alien’s face as Gleeman Vox panted to catch his breath. For the last several months, the Lombax had been battered; beaten; shocked; stunned; shot at; sniped; attacked by zombie robots; nearly eviscerated by a homicidal alien bug; bored practically to death by a nuclear robot with image issues and only half a brain; and bombarded by a walking, talking arsenal with a thick accent; along with too many other death traps to name. And that was before he had to face off against that disgrace of a hero, Ace Hardlight. All with the barrel of a gun stuck to his head, or to be more precise, the trigger of a bomb that was currently strapped around his neck. He waved his hand in front of his nose to disperse the disgusting smell that was Gleeman Vox’s breath, before responding.

“No deal, Vox,” he said calmly.

“What did you say?” Vox rose to his full height, and furrowed his brows together in an angry scowl. His chin barely stuck out from the rest of his rubbery muscled neck, and his angular cheek bones and protruding brow cast a menacing shadow over his eyes. His flashy red business suit coat with orange accents strained against his broad, muscular chest. The flash of a gold collar shone underneath, revealing the expensive undershirt. Ratchet wouldn’t have been surprised if that really was actual gold lining.

“I’m not your puppet, Vox,” Ratchet said defiantly as he pointed a made a swatting motion with his hand, as if to smack the idea across the room. “You actually think I’d kill other heroes to get rich? You’re not just corrupt. You’re stupid.”

“Why you little–!” Vox made a series of choking sounds as he struggled between the warring desires to strangle the Lombax or to keep him alive. Finally, he regained his composure. “You just signed your own death warrant,” he threatened.

“So, we’re done, then,” Ratchet said as he continued to glare at the shark-morph. When he was certain he’d made the proper statement, he turned towards the guard bots that had escorted him so forcefully into Vox’s office. They refused to move aside.

“Oh, we’re far from done, Ratchet,” Vox purred. “The old show’s over, but we’re just getting started.”

“I said I’m not helping you, Vox. How many times do I have to repeat myself before you get that through your thick skull?”

Vox just sneered as he pushed a button on his remote. Suddenly, Ratchet’s helmet re-engaged, locking itself in place on his head with a heavy click.

“Hey! What the–?” Ratchet swore as he tried to disengage the mechanism, only to find that his release button wasn’t functioning.

Vox pushed another button, and Ratchet heard the comms system cut off in his helmet. “Restrain him,” Vox ordered.

Before Ratchet could make a move, he felt the mechanical hands Clench onto his shoulders, followed by extreme pressure that forced him to kneel as the robots held his arms behind him with his back arched. His armor took the brunt of the force, but that didn’t mean it could keep him from feeling pain. A little more pressure, and he knew his shoulders would be out of their sockets in no time.

Vox pushed another button, and suddenly Ratchet’s HUD began pulsing alongside his chest piece. The Lombax groaned as a sudden wave of pleasure washed over his body.

“You see, Ratchet, my boy, I’m not really as dumb as I look.” The shark approached, and circled the suited figure. “My people have been around a very, very long time.” He chuckled maliciously. “Some of us turned pirate, some marauders, some crime bosses. The thing about us Chondrichthians[1], though, we’re very good at getting what we want. Sure, a lot of my cousins from Galea are a bit more straightforward. They smash, then take what they want. Me? I’m not like that. I take the smarter approach.

“Wh-what is this?” Ratchet growled. The speakers in his helmet sparked to life as static played in short, dramatic bursts, whirring from ear to ear.

“You’re the smart one, Lombax. Figure it out,” Vox taunted as he circled the back of Ratchet’s suit. “Ease up a little, boys, but not too much. Remember, we don’t want to hurt the merchandise.”

“Screw you, Vox!” Ratchet spat through his speech processor. Though, admittedly, he couldn’t help but allow himself a mental sigh of relief. He could take torture. That didn’t mean he liked it.

“Ah, yes. Now there’s that fighting spirit DreadZone fans have come to love so much. Such a ruthless edge. The way you dispatch your enemies is absolutely inspired, Ratchet. Your fans love it. And I’d be a fool not to admit it impressed me, too. If there’s one thing our people respect, it’s strength and ruthlessness. You have both in spades. Why a few more feet in height, a couple hundred pounds of muscle, and you could fit right in.” He leaned in to whisper at the side of the helmet. “I’ve seen how you react, Ratchet. You were born for this life. You loved taking down those enemies. Admit it.”

“Of course I did,” Ratchet grunted as he squirmed uncomfortably in the robots’ grip. “I wasn’t about to let them kill any more heroes.” Even as he said it, still shots of his battles in the arena and against the enforcers flashed across his HUD, almost faster than his eye could track. It wasn’t enough to obscure his vision, but it was a bit of a distraction. His heartrate began to pick up, and his muscles tensed as the rush of adrenaline surged through his system, alongside the endorphins.

“Ah, yes. The old altruistic hero excuse. You know, Ace was the same way when he first came to my office. So certain of himself, so assertive in the righteousness of his cause. You wana know my secret, Lombax?” Vox asked as he drew back from the suit. “You wanna know how I managed to turn the legendary Ace Hardlight into a coldblooded killer?”

Ratchet grunted angrily as the squirming intensified.

“Something the matter, boy?” Vox sneered.

“What … did you do to me?” Ratchet panted as the blood surged through his head. Or was that just the speakers? He couldn’t tell the difference anymore. All he knew was the flush he could feel rising in his cheeks, and a second stirring down below that had grown extremely uncomfortable.

“What did I do to you? Nothing, really. I’ve just made you famous is all. I’ve seen the security feeds, you know. I know you always wanted to be a combatant. What were your words again? Ah yes, ‘… the fame, the money, the babes.’ That ring a bell?”

Fame, money, babes.

Want it..

Fame, money, babes.

Need it.

Fame, money, babes.

Obey.

FAME, MONEY, BABES.

Listen to Vox.

It repeated over and over at various speeds and frequencies, overlaying the static as magazine covers with his face on them, rivers of bolts, and various attractive females joined with the combat. But … was it really a recording, or was he just remembering? He shook his head. It didn’t matter right now. He had to focus on Vox. Better to make him prattle on, listen to what he had to say. Yeah, just … just listen. He might let something slip.

“Y-yeah, but … but that doesn’t mean I … not like this!” Ratchet insisted. “Come on, Ratchet. What’s the matter with you? You’re usually sharper than this,” he thought to himself, even as the light continued to flash, and the core unit on his suit pulsed in time. “Definitely sharper in the battlefield,” he thought bitterly. “If I just had my weapons….” Another bout of pleasure shot through him as he thought of his battle wrench, pounding those enemies, showing them what it meant to mess with him. Stupid rookies. Another image of an attractive alien woman with a perfect hourglass figure and beautiful lips strobed across his visor. “Then again, they’re not the only things I’d like to pound.” He gasped as the pleasure shot through his body again, harder and faster than before. He shook his head to clear it once more. That … that wasn’t him. He didn’t really think that way … did he? He growled internally. Why was the combat suit so tight? His tail was begging for release, and the soreness was killing his rear.

“This coming from the Lombax who chastised his robot buddy for cramping his style in the victory lap.” Gleeman clicked another button on the remote, and the feed for Ratchet’s discussion with Clank after taking out his first exterminator played on Ratchet’s HUD, as well as a holo screen.

“Clank, did you see me out there against that Shellshock guy? Yeah! I was all *DOOMSH. Doo. Too Too. Hiya! Who! Hwah! Oohoom!”

Clank let out a synthetic sigh. “You worry me, Ratchet.”

The victory dance cut off, and Ratchet still looked excited as he spoke to his friend, albeit in a more controlled tone. “Come on, Clank. Can’t I just enjoy the moment?”

The feed cut off, but the parting question echoed in Ratchet’s ears with the swirling in his head. He began to roll it somewhat dizzily as he struggled to focus on his captor.

Just enjoy the moment?

Don’t think.

“But that’s not … not ….” The spinning grew faster. He was having trouble piecing the thought together. “Not … everything?”

Just enjoy the moment?

Listen to Vox.

“Of course that’s everything, my boy. That last fight with Ace must’ve knocked a screw loose. Maybe you should just … relax a little bit.”

Just enjoy the moment?

Obey.

All the tension flooded out of Ratchet in an instant. His tongue lolled in his mouth as he looked with heavy lids through his HUD to the grinning Chondrichthian. A pleasurable tingling buzz filled his body as he gazed ahead, and let the room spin. He didn’t really care about the pictures anymore. He just … couldn’t bring himself to care. But … wasn’t there something … important? But … if it was important, he’d remember it, right? Besides, if it was that important, he’d have alarms going on in his head. Yeah. He should just relax.

…

Enjoy the moment.

…

Yeahhhh….

“Admit it, Ratchet. You were made for DreadZone, and DreadZone was made for you. You want it. You want to be the king of the arena, the head honcho, the main contender. And, if you just take your time to think about it a little bit, to just relax and listen, I’m sure you’ll reach the same conclusion. You don’t care who you fight. You just fight. You fight for me. You fight for the thrill. You fight, because you love to show off your strength, your agility, your power. All for the fans. All for me. Because that one fragment, that one moment, that time when you’re in the spotlight, when you’re being admired, when you are being praised, adored, worshiped. You enjoy it. You want it. You crave it.”

Must enjoy the moment.

Don’t question.

“Yes….” Ratchet hissed. Then his eyes widened. “I-I mean n–yes.” His heartrate picked up again after he heard the sudden crack. His voice. Why had it dropped there? And more importantly, why couldn’t he object? Why did he … want to … object? Did he? Well, he had to say something. He cleared his throat. “Wh-why can’t I–?”

“That’s it, Ratchet,” Vox praised. “Just keep on listening, like a good boy. Stay, and listen. Don’t move. Don’t think. Just listen.”

Ratchet felt his muscles locking in place as another thrill of pleasure flooded his system. Vox approached, and patted the Lombax on his helmet.

“Who do you obey?” Vox asked playfully.

“Gleeman Vox.” It was out of his mouth before he could even try to stop it.

“Who owns you?”

Another burst of static. Another surge of arousal. “G-g-Gleeeeeeeman …”

Vox could practically hear Ratchet’s teeth grinding as his conscious wrestled to overcome the urge to answer. “Yes?” Vox nudged.

Now Ratchet was making the choking sounds as he tried to stave off the word. Unfortunately, that was not to be. “VOX!” he finally yelled at the top of his lungs. The color on his helmet’s HUD and the suit’s core unit switched to a flashing red, and Vox’s grin widened even further as the Lombax let loose with a primal bellow of frustration.

“Oh, good boy,” Vox praised. “So nice of you to recognize it.”

Heavy breathing was all the response Vox got.

“Who cares about friends, right? All you need is your team of exterminators and the thrill of the fight.”

“N-nnnnggghhh….”

“You can’t say no to me, you know, stupid Lombax. You might as well make this easier on you by saying yes. Isn’t that right, Ace?”

The doors slid open as Ace Hardlight lumbered through the door with heavy feet. His eyes were glazed over as he stared into his rapidly pulsing visor. “Exterminator Hardlight reporting for duty, Sir,” he droned as he dropped to his knees, and stared up at Vox. Vox ran his cybernetic three-digit hand through Ace’s hair, before connecting one of its tips to the exterminator’s receiver. The effects were nigh-instantaneous as Ace slumped forward, and began to mumble to himself. Ratchet could just catch the barest hints of what was said.

“… Obey. … Must fight … Glory hog … serve DreadZone. … Protect DreadZone … Yes, Master Vox….”

“Ace was one of our first successful candidates for a real personality alteration. We tried fixing things up directly at the brain, but more often than not, that led to exploding heads. So, we tried a few … alternate methods. I meant what I said, Ratchet. I didn’t make him do anything. He accepted this all on his own.” He shrugged. “Of course, giving him the right body, that was a bit of a challenge. He fought well, but he needed to fit the part. Kids are so enamored with the idea of a big, muscular hero to look up to. And a strong, virile male almost always draws in the ladies. So, naturally, we had to give Ace the body to match.” He walked over to Ace’s back, and pulled back the suit near his jaw to expose the thicker, rougher skin. A tinge of green showed itself beneath significantly thicker hair. “It took some doing, a little genetic splicing, but Hardlight didn’t mind. He was all for it, weren’t you, Ace?”

“Yes, Master Vox,” Ace droned.

“Why, he even signed the paperwork of his own volition. We used Blargian Snagglebeast for the base. I believe you’re familiar with the species. As you can see, the Blargian DNA does the body good.” He chuckled wickedly. “Of course, it did leave a few … side effects. A skin condition, a predatory desire to kill, the drive to be the alpha, the need to show off and be fawned over by the fairer sex. It made his hair grow out a little funny, but that was workable. Added to the roguish charm for the ladies. We managed to build his IQ back up a bit, but it took us time to get him back to proper functionality. And, of course, you can see the more protrusive canines. Personally, I think he looks better that way, but maybe that’s just the predator in me.”

“H-how?” Ratchet managed to rasp.

“How is he alive? Well, obviously, the snagglebeast DNA. Makes him tough to kill. Oh, sure, you knocked him out right enough, but beasts like him are built to survive. You will be, too, soon enough. My program already has you in the red. A little longer, and you won’t even want to think about the past, about anything, but serving me and fighting to keep DreadZone alive and well.”

Ratchet’s eyes widened behind his helmet. “No–THINKING. But … but I – MUST OBEY. Get out of my head!” his mind shrieked at the invasive thoughts.

“C-clank,” Ratchet groaned as he felt a sharp prick in his armpit, followed by the familiar cool sensation of nanites at work. The same procedure was repeated in his other armpit, and near his crotch. His heat rate quickened, and his breathing became labored.

“Of course, since then, I’ve learned how to refine the process. I’ve even gotten a few … added benefits put in. You should be feeling some of the base effects soon enough. As for this Clank, well, you must be mistaken. There is no Clank.” Vox laughed as he watched the Lombax tremble in his place. The armor creaked as the flashing light continued its work. “You must be thinking of your mission engineer, ya stupid lug. His name’s Crankshaft. He’s a ruthless tactician, and one hell of a battle droid. You two hit it off right from the get-go.”

Ratchet fought this new information as hard as he could. He remembered Clank. He was a funny little bot. They’d been through so much together. Bouncy red antenna, cute little green transmitters on the sides of his head, and the ability to morph into all sorts of assisting gear, including glide and hover modes. There was no way he was going to let that little bot get lost in whatever nefarious chemical Vox was using to drug him. Well, at least he … thought it was a drug. “Thinking. Ha! Good one, Ratchet.” The thought caught him off guard. “Excuse me, I’m a Lombax. I invent machines all the time. It’s in my f***ing blood,” he thought back, only for a throbbing ache to stab at his skull. He groaned in pain as he felt the helmet’s metal starting to press against the sides of his head. But that was impossible. Did Vox do something to the suit and its parameters?

The image of the little bot in question popped up on his visor suddenly, breaking off any train of thought he might have started. “Clank!” he shouted. “Buddy, can you hear me?” A similar display had sprouted next to Vox as he watched the Lombax’s desperation with sadistic glee.

The bot was messing with a holo display in its hand. It didn’t seem to hear Ratchet, but then it turned to face the camera. Another burst of static caused Ratchet’s vision to blur as the room spun momentarily. Despite this, he struggled to maintain his focus on the screen. He watched as the image of Clank began to change. His eyes faded from green to a blazing scarlet as his green communication nodes retracted into his head. The sound of shifting servos and cranking machinery echoed as the tiny robot’s body began to expand, first bursting outwards around the central chest piece, then the right arm, then the left as his fingers and hands grew to ten times their original size. His legs and feet shot upwards and outwards respectively, followed by expanding as heavy metal plating slotted into place with bolts at the joints to allow freedom of movement and a proper march. The clatter of a shutter sounded as thick metal armor plating flushed out in layer after layer to complete the sentry unit’s massive feet.

“No, no, no!” Ratchet screamed internally. He recognized that build. He’d seen it so many times before, back when he fought Chairman Drek. The memory of blown robot parts and showering bolts sent yet another thrill of pleasure racing through him, causing him to sway as his armor creaked. Those bolts … so shiny … like his … HUD.

…

No! Can’t get distracted. He had to focus on Clank, try to help him somehow. Since he couldn’t object verbally, he did the next best thing, try to reach his little buddy. “Clank!” He panted as the shoulder pieces pressed against his back, and the lower portions of the armor strained against his waist and legs.

“It took some searching, after we pulled him out of that scrap heap from that robot factory on Quartu, but we managed to reactivate his battle parameters. Chairman Drek didn’t know what he was throwing away, when he disposed of this little guy.” Vox sneered as the swelling robot’s tiny round head began to bow outwards. Soon the mouth became distorted, then squared out into an intimidating rectangular shape as his eyes merged together to a digital display with a single glowing red optic unit, a low-hanging metallic “brow,” and a jutting metal fin on top. As a final part of his changes, his upper body expanded to the point where he stood at an intimidating eight feet tall and four feet wide. Reinforced joints bulged with extra armor plating as his servos clinked and whirred. Holsters clanked out, revealing various weapons his body had been equipped with, including combusters, a shock cannon, blasters, and other materials. “The bot’s the perfect infiltration unit. And that titan mod you installed in him? One of a kind. He must’ve nagged you for months, before you finally agreed to it. Who knew a warbot that efficient would have image issues, eh, big guy?” Vox looked back at the screen as a camera hovered in front of his face. “Crankshaft, this is Vox. Do me a favor, and state your primary objective.”

The warbot stood rigidly as a deep, intent voice replied, “Exterminate DreadZone contestants.”

Vox chuckled. “Good warbot.”

Ratchet let out a painful grunt as he felt a building pressure in his pectorals. He panted heavily through his helmet’s filters as he slammed his hands palm-down onto the floor. Another surge of arousal ran through him, and the suit got tighter as images of over-muscled troops and aliens flickered, superimposed behind the image of the warbot. “C-clank,” Ratchet cracked as his throat tightened. He clenched his teeth, and the suit pressed in further against his shoulders and torso. A vibration started running over his pecs, and he tensed as another rush of pleasure assaulted him. “B-big?” he asked dazedly as he recalled the final portion of Vox’s question.

“That’s right, ya big lug. I said big. You’re gonna be huge! The biggest attraction DreadZone’s ever known. So big, whole galaxies will fall on their knees to worship the mighty titan of the arena, the grim giant, the brilliant brute, Ratchet the Ruinator!”

A chorus of cheering fans suddenly played over Ratchet’s speakers, whistling, hollering. It took the Lombax completely off guard. His muscles tensed, and he heard the metal of his armor creaking as his biceps and triceps were squeezed like sausages. Wait … that wasn’t right … was it? Maybe … maybe the suit wasn’t shrinking. Maybe … was he getting bigger?

The moment he thought the word, a dull roar echoed in his head as his vision clouded over. Everything blacked out for what felt like just a few seconds. When he came to, he was disgusted to find himself scratching his crotch, heedless of the sneering Vox. He hastily pulled his hand away, and wiped the smile off his face, relaxing the muscles he felt pulling at his cheek bones. He was intensely grateful Vox couldn’t see him under the helmet right now.

“Getting hard to think, Lombax? You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself.” Vox chuckled wickedly as he pulled up a holographic display from his cybernetic hand. “Heart rate is increasing, dopamine levels are heightened, testosterone is flooding through you, and the injections are working right on schedule. At this rate, we should be about ready to activate your suit’s secondary features in the next few minutes.”

“V-vox,” Ratchet growled slowly, threateningly. He shuddered at the deeper tone that echoed inside his helmet. Was that really his voice?

“Calm down, hotshot. You’ve still got your little team. I didn’t do a thing to hurt your friends, despite what you may think to the contrary,” Vox said as he rolled his eyes. “See for yourself.” He flicked his hand outwards, and a holo-screen emerged showing the bulky warbot that certainly wasn’t Clank, and … was that…?

“A-Al? But … but they said your body was damaged beyond repair!”

Al circled around in his chair to reveal that a portion of the right side of his head had been replaced by pulsing red machinery. A mechanical eye glowed the same color as binary and other information scrolled along it. He thrust his right arm forward, revealing powerful cybernetic circuitry at the top of its class, including blade attachments, a powerful laser, and connection ports for hacking and mechanical interaction. The metal joints and skeletal frame had been surrounded by a shiny metal shell that had been carved to simulate the appearance of muscle. The barest hints of wiring could be seen at the joints in the wrist, fingers, and elbow. The sleeve of his lab coat had been torn off to make room for the additional mass at the connecting socket. “Master Vox was kind enough to give me a new one.”

“M-Master?” Ratchet balked. “Is this maniac threatening to blow you up now, if you don’t call him that, too? Where’s Clank?”

“Master Vox would never do such a thing to me. I’m a valued employee,” Al scoffed as he bore his neck to reveal that he had indeed been made collarless. “And you know that’s only Crankshaft’s codename, Ratchet. I don’t know how many times we’ve been over this now,” Al said as he rolled his good eye.

“Ratchet, are you certain that you are all right?”

The voice was still menacingly deep, but the choice of words, the difference in inflection, they were dead ringers. But … how was that possible? Did Vox make a replica, like Doctor Nefarious had? Maybe … maybe he had. “How do I know you’re really Clank, and not some bum replica like Clunk?” His head spun after he finished the question, and his nose wrinkled as he picked up the musky scent of his body armor. It had been some time since he’d been able to bathe properly, after all.

“Ratchet, this is no joking matter,” Clank, now Crankshaft countered in the same serious tone he’d always used when Ratchet had gotten out of line or lost sight of the objective, like smashing Doctor Nefarious’ biobliterator to bits. That had been fun. He liked smashing things. So easy, so simple. Cracking that bucket of bolts’ helmet to make him malfunction every time he got worked up had been an accident, but he loved the results. When the chips were down, he and his trusty power wrench always came through in the end. That’s why Vox had contacted him. He saw potential, potential that had been unlocking for quite some time. A loud crack sounded as ratchet felt the edges of his jaw rubbing against his helmet. He flinched at the pain when a rapid-fire series of images showing all manner of buxom females fawning over him flashed over his visor one after the other.

A dim smile pulled at his lips as he recalled the moments associated with those pictures. Saving two galaxies, defeating planet destroyers, neutralizing an intergalactic threat in the form of the protopet, plowing through the gladiator challenges. All these things and more had led to many a night of lovely female companionship for him and for Crankshaft-errrr … Clank. Yeah … Clank. He watched as his body gradually shifted in the images. First he was a little taller, then a little wider. He watched them stroking his ears, his shoulders, his swelling pecs. Mmm, Yeah. All that fighting did the body good. He felt his feet cramming against the boots of his armor, and let out another grunt of pain. Soon enough, the Ratchet in the pictures was holding two women between thick, burly arms. He was taller than Captain Quark, with a body that put Ace Hardlight to shame. He could almost remember those delicate fingers brushing over his fur, and a pleasurable tingling ran over his skin at the thought.

“Feeling a little snug in that armor, big boy?” Vox chuckled as he rubbed his hands together.

“Bigger … better … stronger. Big for Master Vox. Will be big for Master Vox.” Ace panted contentedly as he stared blankly ahead on his knees, the pulsing of his visor drawing him in.

Ratchet groaned as a tsunami of pleasure struck him all at once. His whole body tingled as circulation began to slow, and the sensation of cold began to stretch inwards from his outer extremities. His armor creaked in protest, groaning and popping occasionally as the light continued to pulse.

“Engage phase two,” Vox said calmly. A single chirp sounded in Ratchet’s ears from the armor’s machinery, and the pressure was suddenly gone. Blood surged through his limbs, causing the Lombax to feel every quiver, every pinprick, every curve as his muscles twitched back to life.

“My … body,” Ratchet moaned. He panted heavily as the flashing lights and static continued to pulse through his brain.

“Bigger and bigger,” Vox’s voice whispered across his coms. “And the bigger you become, the more obedient you are. The more obedient, the bigger you get. Such a big, strong, powerful gladiator.

Ratchet’s brows twitched as the words seeped into his head without his consent. “S-stop it,” he slurred. He looked down in horror as he finally got to see his arms properly. The armor’s rigid metal had shifted to some form of mesh that clung to his muscles, accenting every dip and bend. He gasped, seeing how they had swollen up to at least ten times their original size. Another loud crunch, and he felt his jaw pushing forward. Two somethings brushed against his upper lip. “My teef,” he stumbled over the now much larger canines. “My mouf!”

“You’ll get used to it, big boy, don’t worry. Besides, with the money we’ll make together, it won’t matter what your face looks like. Everyone’s going to love you.”

Ratchet growled, and was shocked just how feral he sounded as his upper torso expanded with a loud crunch, heralding the sudden and painful growth of his bones to support the rapidly swelling musculature. “No!” he snarled. He tried to move, but the material on his suit suddenly constricted over his joints, locking him in place. Despite his struggles, the mesh wouldn’t give an inch, save for the growth in his muscles as the room began to shrink.

“Say it with me now, Ratchet. Big–ger.”

Ace’s body spasmed as he panted in ecstasy. He quickly responded, “Bigger,” in a vapid tone, then chuckled.

Ratchet closed his eyes, tried to look away, but the ghostly images followed him, racing through his head over and over. People growing, people changing, bigger bodies, bigger armor, bigger plating, bigger muscles, “Bigger….” Wait, did he just say that out–? He gasped as another surge of pleasure struck, overwhelming his senses. He felt a building pressure in his crotch as the hot sensation in his cheeks flowed down, and his body began to tremble as his chest heaved. Everything was tinged with red as the lights pulsed in time to his rapidly beating heart.

“That’s right, Ratchet. Big lugs like you listen. The bigger you get, the easier it is to just stop questioning what I have to say.” Vox approached, and stroked over Ratchet’s pectorals. “Hmm. Growing in nicely, aren’t they? So big.”

Ratchet gasped, both from the pleasure and in disgust at Vox’s contact. The Chondrichthian grinned up at him.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Vox laughed as he stared into Ratchet’s pulsing visor. “You were mine the moment that suit became operational.” He snapped his robotic fingers, and the bomb collar disengaged, clattering uselessly to the ground. “You never thought it was strange, how naturally the arena came to you, how exciting the combat was, how exhilarating to wipe the floor with your opponents before you slaughter them? You were so focused on your combat, you didn’t even notice the messages we had pulsing through your ears 24/7, the nocturnal injections to prepare your body for its change. And with every assault, your confidence swelled bigger and bigger, didn’t it? If it weren’t for some … interference, we could’ve bagged you ages ago.”

Ratchet grunted as he struggled to move, struggled to think. The room swam around him as the whirring in his brain escalated to a climax.

“A curious thing, hypnosis, isn’t it? You just have to find that one chink in the armor, the thing that makes something abominable pleasurable, and then twist it, so you don’t even know the difference anymore. Then you just need a trigger, the one word that makes everything screech to a halt for the one who’s keyed it for a little programming. Why else do you think I had those twits in the announcer’s box use the word so many times?” Vox chuckled. “You’re so big now, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

Vox snapped his fingers, and suddenly Ratchet found he could move. Nearly everything had been consumed by the red, except for Vox. He felt the rage, the anger, the hatred boiling. This scumbag needed to pay. He lunged forward, tried to punch the shark in the face. He saw the fist going, felt his muscles ripple, felt the familiar roaring in his ears. It would connect. It would hurt. It would feel so good.

…

But why hadn’t he felt anything by now?

Vox stepped aside, perfectly composed, not a hair out of place. The fist hung there, as though it had been frozen in place. “Care to try again, big boy?”

Ratchet roared as he raced forward, intent to slam the shark into a fish cake as he raised his massive arms, and locked his hands together to smash. He leapt into the air. Then a sudden sense of giddiness flooded through him. The room spun. He heard the crash of double impact, felt his knees and fists make contact. He smirked. He had to have gotten him. Vox had to be dead. He looked through his tunnel vision to see the cracks stretching from where he’d slammed the floor. Then he noticed the expensive leather shoes and gold stripes on the shiny red suit pants.

“No,” he gasped hoarsely.

“Why, Ratchet, swearing your loyalty to me already? Good boy.” Vox sneered as he stared into Ratchet’s HUD, and Ratchet stared back, stupefied. “Like I said, Ratchet, you can’t hurt me. I’ll tell you what you can do, though, big boy. You can obey me. In fact, you love to obey me. Isn’t that right?” Vox seized hold of the chin on Ratchet’s helmet, and stroked it gently. “Ya big lug.”

Ratchet tensed his muscles, struggled to move, to strike, to do anything that might manage to hurt Vox. Nothing responded. He wanted to get angry. He wanted to howl, to swipe, to smash, do something. Even a few choice swears would’ve been fine. Instead, he felt … nothing. The anger was gone. The rage had disappeared. He was just … docile.

…

Relaxed.

…

So … calm….

“That’s right, Ratchet. Just stare into your HUD. Don’t think. Don’t fight. Just listen to my voice, kid. Listen, and obey. Got it, big guy?”

Ratchet could hardly focus. His chest heaved up and down in a steady rhythm. His shoulders slumped at his sides. His expanding trapezius muscles gave him less of a neck as they merged with his back and chest, making it all seem as though it were one solid muscle. One muscle … all muscle … big … muscle ….

…

Feel’s good.

…

“Big…gerrrrr….”

Why was the recording so slow?

…

Doesn’t matter. So much pleasure. Rebounding. Like getting shocked by a tesla claw, but good instead of pain.

Vox sneered. He knew he had him. “That’s it, boy. Just listen nice and close now. Listen, sleep, and obey. Just let go. Little Lombax is gone now. Big Ratchet is smashing into the arena.”

“Big … Ratchet….” The cheering crowd played over the speakers in the helmet again, calling his name. A smile pulled at his mouth as the memory of his victories returned. He flexed his muscles, bouncing his pecs, striking poses in time to the imaginary cheers as the images of the crowd appeared. The image would glitch occasionally, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. The glitches made him feel good. He scratched absently at his crotch, this time without shame as he reveled in his growing size. After all, Big Ratchet loved being big, and that included below. The ladies loved it, too.

“Big Ratchet listens to Vox.”

Ratchet’s head twitched as Vox spoke, and the glitch flashed over the screen, followed by the pleasure.

“Big Ratchet obeys Gleeman Vox.”

Again, Ratchet twitched, this time followed by a deep-throated rumble as the metallic plating on the suit rearranged itself to forge over a rock-hard six-pack. The pulsing of the lights in Ratchet’s HUD and chest piece had slowed significantly as Ratchet’s breathing became deep and steady.

“Big Ratchet must serve and obey Gleeman Vox always.”

“Must obey,” Ace droned.

“OBEY….” Came the deep, slow bassoon.

Vox grinned as the barest flicker of blue flashed across the HUD’s visor for a matter of nanoseconds, before switching back to the pulsing red. “Now you must listen to me, Ratchet. Listen very carefully. What I’m about to say is very important, understand? You have to listen to what I am about to say, and it will become the truth for you,” Vox said as he laid both hands on either side of Ratchet’s helmet and stared into the visor. Ratchet had to lean down now, to meet Vox’s gaze, despite already kneeling. He did so without question or complaint.

Crowds cheering. Cheering him on. Cheering to listen. Cheering to obey. Ratchet could hardly see anything. All was a sea of adrenaline, testosterone, and who knew what else. It was huge, all-consuming. Lost. For the briefest of moments, he saw a face, a slim girl with dark skin and feline features. She seemed familiar somehow. She was … trying to say something. He strained to hear, but the crowd was too loud. It overwhelmed her. Then she was gone, consumed by the storm. Was she ever even there in the first place? Suddenly the storm clears, just a tiny patch. He sees a familiar face. Sharp teeth flash, a slick voice echoing across the gap. The fans drive him on. Drive him to listen. He focuses on the voice, focuses on the eyes, the sharp suit. He must speak, must answer, must acknowledge. The fans demand it. “Must … listen…. Big Ratchet … listen. Big Ratchet … obey.”

The cheering intensified, washing over him. He grinned vapidly behind his visor. He could hear them calling. The louder they cheered, the bigger he felt.

“Big m̴̵̀u҉̡̕ş̀c̕҉̕͢͠l̸҉̨e̸͘ḩ̶͡e̵a̶͏̛ḑ̕̕͡ Ratchet! Big b̀͘͏̕҉r̵̶̸á͜w̶̸͠ǹ̨̕͢y̡͟ Ratchet! Big d̶̴̡̨u̷̢ḿ̵̶͞b̴̀́͞ Ratchet! Big s̴̨̢̡҉t̡͟͝u̴̢p̶͜͝͝í͏̧d́͡͏҉́ Ratchet, o̫̖̖̪̼̱̣͑̄͒̉͞ͅb̗̻͎͉̙̩̜͂̈̽̆͜ě̵̻ͧy̶̡̮̪̏s hooray! Big v̴̕͢͞͝i̷̷̕o̵̵͘͘͞ļ̶̧e͡ń̸͝҉̨t̡̡͢҉̵ Ratchet! You’re a m҉̢͜͡͠i҉n҉̨͘ḑ͡l̶̴̨e̷̕s̸͟͝҉s̶̕ ̷̛͟͠͏ m̴̛̀͟u̷͏̸͡s̴̶͜ć̵̡̛͟l̶̴̷̷͜ę̡̀́ b̷̶̡̡e͏̛à̕͝s̡͘͡͞t̸̷̡͝ hero!”

With each glitch, the euphoria jumped, and Ratchet chuckled dimwittedly to himself as he twitched his muscles, testing how they felt. With each miniature flex, another surge of pleasure followed, and his worries diminished as he stared ahead at the pulsing light.

Then Vox’s voice cut through. “This is the truth, big guy. I, Gleeman Vox, am your beloved master. Understand? You obey me without question, serve me without question, protect me, love me unconditionally. You’re my big star player, my Big Ratchet.”

The Lombax breathed heavily. The words were so hard to understand with the cheering and the pleasure, but they slowly drifted through. He shuddered as he finally understood the command. Something didn’t sit right. His stomach tightened. He groaned as a pain began to spike in his head. It hurt to think, hurt to fight the pleasure. Why did he want to fight it? Why was it so wrong to just repeat … just listen … just … let … go….

He felt something shake his head. “Listen to me, Ratchet. Obey my order. Tell me. Who am I?”

Through the haze of the pulsing red light, he could barely make out the figure of the man who had started all this. The man who he was meant to obey. The man who had given him an order.

…

Big Ratchet must obey.

…

“Mmmmmmaasssterrrrr….” It grated out so slowly. It felt almost like pulling teeth. Ratchet shuddered as he said the word aloud.

“Again.”

“Master….” This one was slightly faster.

“Once more, with feeling.”

Ratchet shuddered. Great strangled sounds gurgled out from his speakers as all his muscles tensed, and the suit constricted. Suddenly, his head drooped forward. The tension left his body. A deep sigh carried into the room as the light on the suit and HUD stopped pulsing, burning a solid red. A single chime sounded, followed by the glowing red visor looking up to stare directly at Gleeman Vox. “Master Vox,” he droned. “Big Ratchet must listen to Master Vox. Big Ratchet must obey.”

Vox sneered as the red slowly faded to a gentle orange glow. “That’s right, big guy. You’re my head exterminator now. And once we’ve got you all trained up with Hardlight here, you’re gonna send our ratings through the roof!”

Big Ratchet grinned behind his helmet as he gazed out at the arena. The sound of his adoring fans roared through his ears from the stadiums as his combat bots, Merc and Green, hovered beside him. Towering at a full ten feet tall, Ratchet dwarfed the poor things. They barely came up to his knees, if that, so he took pity on them, and pulled them up to pose for the big screen. Gotta show he’s a team player. Boss said so, and Master Vox always knew best.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head as the bots’ heads pushed against his pecs, sending waves of pleasure through him, and causing a familiar swelling below. He couldn’t wait to work that pump up in the gym. Then he had the ladies after. He always liked the ladies. They made him feel good, Master’s rewards.

F̸̕͞l̵̛ȩ҉x̢͢͟͝.̶̷̨̛̕ ̵̛̀Ś̴h̡͘̕͘͢ó̧̡w͏̵̴͝ ̷̛́͝o̵̡͘f̨́́҉̨f̨̀̕͏.͡͏̶͡ ́͏̸̧̀O̵͏b̛̕͠e҉̀ỳ͢.̛̀͢

He hardly even noticed the glitch anymore, just a bug in his screen. Master Vox said not to worry about it, so he didn’t. Instead, Big Ratchet tossed the bots into the air, and instantly fell into his flex routine. He let loose a primal roar, and the cheering intensified.

“Well, Juanita, it seems Big Ratchet here has made a big splash in his premier season as DreadZone’s top exterminator.” The annoying green man made Ratchet feel angry for some reason, but he couldn’t recall why.

…

He’d think about it later. Besides, he had fans to show off to. Had to show off.

“Yes, indeed, Dallas. In a revolutionary breakthrough with reformative technology, Gleeman Vox has singlehandedly turned this former criminal into a true hero, not to mention a real hit with the ladies. I mean, just look at those muscles….”

“Um … Juanita? Juanita? … Guys, I think her processors just froze. Can … can we get maintenance in here, please?”

Ratchet chuckled. Even the robo chick fainted when she looked at him.

“Crankshaft, ya copy?” Ratchet growled as he tapped his comms piece on his helmet, subconsciously flexing his bicep as he did so.

“I hear you, Ratchet. Well done on today’s fight.”

“Got you to thank for the strategies,” he returned. “We make a pretty good team, pal.” Ratchet’s sharp ears could just pick up the sound of Clank’s servos twitching his mouth into a hint of a smile.

“That we do, Ratchet. It is time for you to report to Director Vox. I will begin broadcasting your pre-workout track, as per Director Vox’s instructions.

Ratchet shuddered in anticipation as the sounds began to filter through his HUD, and the lights began to pulse. “You’re the best, Crankshaft.” The communication cut off, and Ratchet turned, then strode out the arena to the waiting transport ship with Green and Merc floating on either side. “Boys,” he said in a dazed voice, “activate Bigger Protocol.”

The two combat bots’ displays flashed red for the briefest moment, before they zoomed up to massage his pecs and other parts of his body. As Big Ratchet dropped into his plush reinforced seat, the autopilot engaged, and he smiled as he let the pleasure take him away into that perfect empty space in his head that he and Ace loved so much.

“DreadZone Exterminator, please identify yourself,” the feminine voice of the navigation computer asked primly.

Ratchet leaned back and stretched his tree trunk legs, patting his heavy bulge, before responding as he always had, as he always would, as he always must. “I am Big Ratchet. I obey….”

[1] Since the game never specified a species for Gleeman Vox, I decided to base the name for his race on the scientific name for shark, chondrichthyes.