JD tried to keep his damage to a minimum; he did. It was hard, of course, because of the nature of who he was; a super-soldier. And as an experimental project designed to be a proverbial wrecking ball to the enemy, he learned long ago that destruction was going to be a fundamental tenet in his life. House demolition is a military tactic that has been used in many conflicts for a variety of purposes. It has been employed as a scorched earth tactic to deprive the advancing enemy of food and shelter or wreck the enemy's economy and infrastructure.
A distinction needs to be made between the destruction of houses as an incidental effect of military necessity, the wanton destruction of homes during an army advance, and the deliberate targeting of places during a military occupation. Unfortunately, the house JD was carefully navigating through was not a military target but his place of residence for the foreseeable future. Despite all his efforts, nothing stopped the fact that he was 15 feet tall and weighed enough to shake the Earth with each footfall. He grimaced, whimpered, and keened as he squeezed his utterly monstrous hips through the relatively narrow hallway of the creaking, groaning house that was his new home. His enormous rear end whacked against the crumbling wooden walls while his huge thighs tore through the plaster with every single step he took.
Crumbs and clumps of dusty, broken drywall began to pile up behind the experimental project of a pony, filling in the hoof-shaped craters that he crunched into the brittle oak floorboards with every stomp. However, before his monstrous belly could come along and smother picture frames and paintings, JD, because he, really, REALLY was trying to keep his damage to a minimum, scooped them up off from the walls into his arms. The small tables that hosted a slew of decorations could not be saved, but everyone's favorite exterminator, Agent 86, was too happy to help her friend. Vases, lamps, clay pots, and those stupid wooden ships in bottles found themselves in 86's hands before JD could pulverize the furniture it was resting on. Unfortunately for Vergel, the agent had the memory and attention of a dried trout, so before she could figure out a safe place to put these items of sentimental value, she would forget what she was doing with them in the first place and assume its garbage. Into the trash, it goes!
Finally coming to the end of the hallway, JD's plus-size thighs smashed and blasted their way through the empty doorframe leading into the kitchen. Now, despite him being able to eat and digest all known substances in the universe, the stallion managed a coo of delight through his embarrassed self-put-downs as he smelled food that was intended to be edible. In contrast to real food, wood and glass and iron taste like wood and glass and iron. They're not BAD flavors, per se, but, at least in his experience, food that's supposed to be eaten is the best. A revolutionary concept, I know. However, a soft frown came across his chubby face as he jiggled his plump, colossal sp[here that was his stomach, sending dusty bits of broken debris flying off of his plushy fur. "Uhm...I then thought that you were helping me find my room, sixy…"
'Sixy' turned around and addressed her compatriot with a smile too genuine to have any intelligence behind it. "What are you talking about, silly? This IS your room!" She eagerly cantered her way towards the refrigerator of the room and helped herself to her host's foodstuffs, in full view of JD, making the poor thing go starry-eyed and slack-jawed. "I mean...back at the research place, you always spent all your time eating. So I thought of the kitchen, right?" 86, proud of her logic, tossed a can of whipped cream towards the white blob of a stallion while she held one of her own above her maw, sending a thick stream of condensed, fluffy butterfat on her tongue before it was inevitably swallowed. JD, in contrast, instinctively shot a hand out into the air to catch the canister, letting the accumulated paintings and picture gently slope down his stomach to the floor so that he could shovel the entire cylinder into his mouth. In a second, the metal and vanilla-sweetened colloid had become a slurry as the pony made short work of the 'sustenance' before it was damned to join his ever-hungry black hole of a belly.
"Makes sense." JD nodded with a smile, easily persuaded against having an actual room in favor of quicker access to food that wouldn't earn him weird looks from society at large when he ate. Remembering about the family pictures and other wall ornaments he had saved from destruction, he picked them up off the floor (through great effort and further careful maneuvering) before setting them on the kitchen table. "So, where will you sleep?" He sat colossal ass down with as small as he could manage thud that reverberated across the entire house, settling himself at the head of the table at the far end of the room, where he estimated the least amount of collateral destruction would occur. Ironically, the ditzy terminator that he was talking to was less restrained with whetting her appetite than he was. It was only until the grey-colored, blond-haired pony had finished chugging a whole gallon of milk before casually throwing it over her shoulder that she responded to her friend's question.
"I dunno. Maybe I could sleep with you out here, too! You're like a giant, wobbly waterbed~" The mare stated matter of factly, much to the rapidly reddening cheeks of the stallion who absentmindedly munched on a bit of plaster that had collected on his uniform. Meanwhile, Vergel's fridge continued to undergo assault as his 'guest' made liberal pillaging of the saying 'what's mine is yours,' helping herself to a plate of leftover hotdogs from the human's ill-fated venture into the beautiful world of barbecue. "Oh, I could sleep in that bedroom I saw. Huh, though it's probably the human's...maybe I'll bunk with him!"
"I-I don't th-think Mr. Vader would like that, Six..." JD offered tentatively, having been in earshot when he made almost made the mistake of the dreaded muffin stash touching. It wasn't the BEST first impression. "Hey, speaking of the human, where is he, anyway? He can't still be outside with Spitfire, right?"
"Vergel, for the love of Celestia, please."
"No, thank you, I'm fine."
"You are a GROWN. MAN."
"Yes, and, as an adult, I am deciding to stay out here."
"You have to face this eventually, you know."
"That," The exasperated and tired human pointed a finger into the air as if he was an old-timey scientist, "is an opinion you are having." Vergel and Spitfire were still out on the front lawn, not for lack of trying on the latter's part, with the former preferring not to deal with the rapidly escalating situation that was sure to be happening in his home. It is not a very realistic solution to his problems, but he has failed to come up with anything better in his stress-riddled mind. "Now, while you settle into my former house, I am going to pick a direction and start walking to anywhere that is not here. I hope that you have a good time with your associates while I -"
"- will eat you. Vergel, I will fucking EAT you if you don't get in your damn house." Spitfire narrowed her eyes and spat out her words with venom, tired of dealing with his host. Vergel, for his part, managed to go into a full five seconds of silence from Spitfire's threat until he opened his mouth to start rambling again. However, before any words could come out of it, the medium-sized pony of the three giants he was accommodating grabbed him by the shoulder to hoist him up to eye level. "And no, Vergel, to your comment that ponies don't eat humans, and no to your follow-up that those rumors are just rumors. I don't make a habit out of it, for a lot of reasons, but all you need to know is, and note how I'm looking you straight in the eye here, that I have eaten humans in the past, can fit four of you in my stomach, and am fed up with your behavior right now. So get your ass in your house and bond with your new roommates, or I will digest you."
"...ok." If Spitfire weren't focusing all of her attention on the human dangling in the air in front of her, she wouldn't have heard Vergel very quietly muttering those two syllables, pale in the face and limbs slack in the wind. "...I need to be set down first." The ponies' commanding officer in his home blinked and regained some self-control of her emotions, sheepishly setting the man down onto the lawn. True to his word, he slowly began trotting inside to his home with Spitfire, now almost as shamefaced as JD, following behind.
"My porch," Vergel said as he observed what remained of his patio. "My hall," He said as he hopped up from the debris and entered his house proper, walking down the plaster-filled corridor. He did not comment on the sight of JD eating one of the chairs of his dining table, who went wide-eyed with his mouth primed to consume the cushion as he spied the human finally enter the kitchen. The human also had nothing to say to 86 feasting shamelessly on the unholy abominations that could euphemistically be called food (he will never try to grill again). Spitfire, for her part, was equally stone-lipped, apparently feeling very guilty about resorting to such threats to get her host to deal with reality.
"Hi!" 86 cheered as she chewed on a steak charred blacker than the night sky. "So, here's the news while you were gone. JD lives in the kitchen, I'm sleeping with you, and you need to get to the grocery store because, seriously, you're running low on food."
Vergel processed this information.
"Hey, Spitfire. Is that offer still open?"
Choice 1: The house fixes itself. Because of magic?
Choice 2: Spitfire passive-aggressively gets Vergel to bond with the three of them.
Choice 3: The offer is indeed still open!
A distinction needs to be made between the destruction of houses as an incidental effect of military necessity, the wanton destruction of homes during an army advance, and the deliberate targeting of places during a military occupation. Unfortunately, the house JD was carefully navigating through was not a military target but his place of residence for the foreseeable future. Despite all his efforts, nothing stopped the fact that he was 15 feet tall and weighed enough to shake the Earth with each footfall. He grimaced, whimpered, and keened as he squeezed his utterly monstrous hips through the relatively narrow hallway of the creaking, groaning house that was his new home. His enormous rear end whacked against the crumbling wooden walls while his huge thighs tore through the plaster with every single step he took.
Crumbs and clumps of dusty, broken drywall began to pile up behind the experimental project of a pony, filling in the hoof-shaped craters that he crunched into the brittle oak floorboards with every stomp. However, before his monstrous belly could come along and smother picture frames and paintings, JD, because he, really, REALLY was trying to keep his damage to a minimum, scooped them up off from the walls into his arms. The small tables that hosted a slew of decorations could not be saved, but everyone's favorite exterminator, Agent 86, was too happy to help her friend. Vases, lamps, clay pots, and those stupid wooden ships in bottles found themselves in 86's hands before JD could pulverize the furniture it was resting on. Unfortunately for Vergel, the agent had the memory and attention of a dried trout, so before she could figure out a safe place to put these items of sentimental value, she would forget what she was doing with them in the first place and assume its garbage. Into the trash, it goes!
Finally coming to the end of the hallway, JD's plus-size thighs smashed and blasted their way through the empty doorframe leading into the kitchen. Now, despite him being able to eat and digest all known substances in the universe, the stallion managed a coo of delight through his embarrassed self-put-downs as he smelled food that was intended to be edible. In contrast to real food, wood and glass and iron taste like wood and glass and iron. They're not BAD flavors, per se, but, at least in his experience, food that's supposed to be eaten is the best. A revolutionary concept, I know. However, a soft frown came across his chubby face as he jiggled his plump, colossal sp[here that was his stomach, sending dusty bits of broken debris flying off of his plushy fur. "Uhm...I then thought that you were helping me find my room, sixy…"
'Sixy' turned around and addressed her compatriot with a smile too genuine to have any intelligence behind it. "What are you talking about, silly? This IS your room!" She eagerly cantered her way towards the refrigerator of the room and helped herself to her host's foodstuffs, in full view of JD, making the poor thing go starry-eyed and slack-jawed. "I mean...back at the research place, you always spent all your time eating. So I thought of the kitchen, right?" 86, proud of her logic, tossed a can of whipped cream towards the white blob of a stallion while she held one of her own above her maw, sending a thick stream of condensed, fluffy butterfat on her tongue before it was inevitably swallowed. JD, in contrast, instinctively shot a hand out into the air to catch the canister, letting the accumulated paintings and picture gently slope down his stomach to the floor so that he could shovel the entire cylinder into his mouth. In a second, the metal and vanilla-sweetened colloid had become a slurry as the pony made short work of the 'sustenance' before it was damned to join his ever-hungry black hole of a belly.
"Makes sense." JD nodded with a smile, easily persuaded against having an actual room in favor of quicker access to food that wouldn't earn him weird looks from society at large when he ate. Remembering about the family pictures and other wall ornaments he had saved from destruction, he picked them up off the floor (through great effort and further careful maneuvering) before setting them on the kitchen table. "So, where will you sleep?" He sat colossal ass down with as small as he could manage thud that reverberated across the entire house, settling himself at the head of the table at the far end of the room, where he estimated the least amount of collateral destruction would occur. Ironically, the ditzy terminator that he was talking to was less restrained with whetting her appetite than he was. It was only until the grey-colored, blond-haired pony had finished chugging a whole gallon of milk before casually throwing it over her shoulder that she responded to her friend's question.
"I dunno. Maybe I could sleep with you out here, too! You're like a giant, wobbly waterbed~" The mare stated matter of factly, much to the rapidly reddening cheeks of the stallion who absentmindedly munched on a bit of plaster that had collected on his uniform. Meanwhile, Vergel's fridge continued to undergo assault as his 'guest' made liberal pillaging of the saying 'what's mine is yours,' helping herself to a plate of leftover hotdogs from the human's ill-fated venture into the beautiful world of barbecue. "Oh, I could sleep in that bedroom I saw. Huh, though it's probably the human's...maybe I'll bunk with him!"
"I-I don't th-think Mr. Vader would like that, Six..." JD offered tentatively, having been in earshot when he made almost made the mistake of the dreaded muffin stash touching. It wasn't the BEST first impression. "Hey, speaking of the human, where is he, anyway? He can't still be outside with Spitfire, right?"
"Vergel, for the love of Celestia, please."
"No, thank you, I'm fine."
"You are a GROWN. MAN."
"Yes, and, as an adult, I am deciding to stay out here."
"You have to face this eventually, you know."
"That," The exasperated and tired human pointed a finger into the air as if he was an old-timey scientist, "is an opinion you are having." Vergel and Spitfire were still out on the front lawn, not for lack of trying on the latter's part, with the former preferring not to deal with the rapidly escalating situation that was sure to be happening in his home. It is not a very realistic solution to his problems, but he has failed to come up with anything better in his stress-riddled mind. "Now, while you settle into my former house, I am going to pick a direction and start walking to anywhere that is not here. I hope that you have a good time with your associates while I -"
"- will eat you. Vergel, I will fucking EAT you if you don't get in your damn house." Spitfire narrowed her eyes and spat out her words with venom, tired of dealing with his host. Vergel, for his part, managed to go into a full five seconds of silence from Spitfire's threat until he opened his mouth to start rambling again. However, before any words could come out of it, the medium-sized pony of the three giants he was accommodating grabbed him by the shoulder to hoist him up to eye level. "And no, Vergel, to your comment that ponies don't eat humans, and no to your follow-up that those rumors are just rumors. I don't make a habit out of it, for a lot of reasons, but all you need to know is, and note how I'm looking you straight in the eye here, that I have eaten humans in the past, can fit four of you in my stomach, and am fed up with your behavior right now. So get your ass in your house and bond with your new roommates, or I will digest you."
"...ok." If Spitfire weren't focusing all of her attention on the human dangling in the air in front of her, she wouldn't have heard Vergel very quietly muttering those two syllables, pale in the face and limbs slack in the wind. "...I need to be set down first." The ponies' commanding officer in his home blinked and regained some self-control of her emotions, sheepishly setting the man down onto the lawn. True to his word, he slowly began trotting inside to his home with Spitfire, now almost as shamefaced as JD, following behind.
"My porch," Vergel said as he observed what remained of his patio. "My hall," He said as he hopped up from the debris and entered his house proper, walking down the plaster-filled corridor. He did not comment on the sight of JD eating one of the chairs of his dining table, who went wide-eyed with his mouth primed to consume the cushion as he spied the human finally enter the kitchen. The human also had nothing to say to 86 feasting shamelessly on the unholy abominations that could euphemistically be called food (he will never try to grill again). Spitfire, for her part, was equally stone-lipped, apparently feeling very guilty about resorting to such threats to get her host to deal with reality.
"Hi!" 86 cheered as she chewed on a steak charred blacker than the night sky. "So, here's the news while you were gone. JD lives in the kitchen, I'm sleeping with you, and you need to get to the grocery store because, seriously, you're running low on food."
Vergel processed this information.
"Hey, Spitfire. Is that offer still open?"
Choice 1: The house fixes itself. Because of magic?
Choice 2: Spitfire passive-aggressively gets Vergel to bond with the three of them.
Choice 3: The offer is indeed still open!
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April 19
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