The citizens of Motostoke felt it before they saw it. The tremors. A rhythmic shifting of the Earth, one that rattled everything, and that every man, woman, child, and Pokemon on the premises could feel. Shopkeepers exited their ever-present posts at the counters of their stores, and even the resident Nurse Joy found herself needing to step out and aim her gaze westward. And what she – and everybody else – saw was nothing short of blood-chilling.
Skirting the horizon, on the very edge of their field of vision, mountainous white swirls were poking up from the cloud-break. And at their bases… leafy green.
It was near-impossibly to believe had they not been witnesses to it themselves. Before them, many hundreds of miles into the distance, a Pokemon was approaching. But not the holy visage of Arceus to smite the world once for all, or the titanic form of Regigigas, said to have pulled the continents together.
This was nothing more than a simple, everyday, average Roserade. Average in addition to being, quite literally, several miles tall, that is.
“Rrrrrrrrrrrrr…” The creature’s purr betrayed its lackadaisical attitude toward the situation, a perspective not shared by those within its path… nor those who were in her wake. Already, thousands of individuals had been displaced and even crushed, obliterated into paste as she utterly and completely sanitized all signs of life on the ground upon which she walked with her own stubby paws, their leafy sinews bound together into primitive forms of feet. The bouquets affixed to her upper limbs provided a salve; her natural aromatics at times blanketed the areas she visited in sleeping dust, lulling her soon-to-be victims from a frightened frenzy to a drowsy stupor, only to be pounded completely and utterly into indifferent sludge as the meteoric footsteps of the monstrous masqueraded maiden continued onward.
A pinkish, magenta hue that emanated from the titanic mon’s body was another indication of what exactly they were looking at: this glaring wild rosebush wasn’t merely big… it was Dynamaxed. But wherever it had absorbed this max energy from, it had to have been the purest, most distilled vein in the entire Galar Region. Something it reminded the citizens of every time it took another step forward. And step forward it did… one only needed to glance to see that the line of destruction, carnage, and devastation in the wake of this Roserade was purely linear, and it was making its way for Motostoke.
The Roserade herself could not have been more excited. Pokemon are understood to be rather self-aware, and while generally not at quite the level of intelligence as humans, the more humanoid among them tend to be smarter than most other Pocket Monsters that populate this world. But as Roserade pranced across the Wild Area, one could not help but notice the glee with which she did it. Each step, it seems, was aimed in such a way to maximize carnage and destruction. The smallest settlements, grayish brown specks amidst dusty tan and lush green, each of them were ground into thin sheens that prickled the landscape. Between each titanic crush,immense-seeming intervals of silence and whooshing of air always followed. That such a colossal Pokemon could exist… her movements were as slow-seeming as a mountain. They truly needed to be seen to be believed.
Despite the molasses-like appearance of the Pokemon’s gait, the tremors were only increasing in power, now full-fledged quakes. Motostoke was only moments away from being overtaken. Buildings were shaking; even the Pokemon Center – now overrun from refugees beseeching its staff, attempting to understand some semblance of whatever was going on – threatened to collapse under its own foundations, as each step dislodged more and more material upon which the facility was constructed. A shadow fell on the town, and in a moment, the chaos and loudness and despair of the citizenry all came to a stop. Interspersed by the steps, the thousands and thousands of people all slowly, fearfully mimed one another as they turned their heads, utter terror tugging at their hearts at what they would soon see.
The stadium’s lights were flickering. The thousands and thousands of crazed fans, cheering on the Gym Challenge battle going on, had yet to quite fully grasp the true dread of the situation they were in, right up until even then the arena was drenched in a torrid umber. They only had barely enough time to glance up, finally at once distracted from the match, to watch as a beautifully and vibrantly green stubby foot rammed directly into the stadium, perfectly in the center, jutting out just a bit and causing the stands themselves to collapse inward, sweeping the gelatinous masses of people deep into the ensuing maelstrom. The foot and leg seemed to rise and thicken endlessly into the sky, finally reaching an apex of her rather girthy thighs. Roserade was a Pokemon well-known for its feminine beauty and pleasing appearance, but this one in particular – aside from its joy at its literal size – could rest easy knowing that its proportions were such that any female human trainer would kill for them.
The foot rotated on its axis, sliding the dirt and stone that it stood upon and grinding it up into fine silt, as the titanic, appropriately thick leg to which it belonged repositioned itself. The opposite foot oriented in kind, until the whole of Motostoke now stood with a mountainous arch directly over the city, with a smiling, giggling Pokemon staring with glee akin to an evil god down at the waves and waves of panicked people trying in vain to find egress.
Wasting no more time, a very curious Roserade decided to find out precisely what it felt like to have the entirety of a city’s inhabitants at her disposal. And so, she collapsed. Her legs bent and relaxed, allowing the proportionately-short Pokemon to descend. Her leaf-like cloak did little to hide from view of the entire Southern Galar region her falling derriere that split subtly as it traveled up her posterior, though for as shameless as she had been with the prior wanton and intentional destruction, it wasn’t likely to imagine that the Pokemon would’ve had any particular concerns about modesty.
True to form, the pert, fat butt slammed into the city square. Everybody present at Ground Zero in the throes of their escape attempt was completely obliterated beneath millions of tons of pure muscle and blubbery fat, all as the Pokemon exhaled in exaltation.
“Rrrrrrrrrr...” she moaned, a hoarse laugh following simply because she was too distracted by the immense pleasure. Bodies of people and the stray Pokemon alike popped beneath her, to say nothing of the collapsing infrastructure, roads that shattered like stained glass, streetlights that crumpled and snapped like toothpicks, refineries and steam power plants that utterly collapsed into less than dust.
The Budew Drop Inn, ironically, felt no less of the Roserade’s enthusiastic fury; as soon as the Pokemon’s leftmost cheek impacted the roof of the hotel residence, the floor collapsed in on itself, unable to even settle before the second-highest floor met the same fate, all the way down as the staff and guests alike found themselves tumbling, crushed amidst rubble and the impacting skin that suffocated any still miraculously alive after the hellish fate befell them and the building at large.
BOOOOOOOOM!!!
A tsunami of displaced mud and shifting rock had been thrown up around the outskirts of the impact site, sweeping away all those who were not directly affected by the blast. Roserade hooked her bouquet-like arms around her legs and propped herself up as she looked to the side, watching in an enraptured trance as some of the micro-sized gnats that populated the less crowded areas on the city outskirts were still moving and shaking, in the opposite direction of the Pokemon, preferably. It amused her, though not so much that she didn’t feel inclined to shift along the ground in their direction.
And shift she did. The Roserade’s behind, anchored by her stalks of hands, began to sliiiiiiide along the ground, creating a grinding sound as it smoothly flattened everything in its path. Those who had just barely managed to claw themselves out of the rubble and pull themselves up onto the remaining wreckage of the township looked up, and collapsed to their knees as a wall of light, bouncy green had completely and utterly overtaken the blue sky, as Roserade’s ass drove over them. They were caught between her endlessly soft, leafy, sinewy skin, still supplanted by the precious fat reserves that could be found on her thick hips and thighs. As she dragged her ass along the ground, those who tried to tug for any handhold they could manage were carelessly wiped against the ground and her rearmost skin, speckling the Pokemon’s behind with the tiniest stripes’ worth of bloodstains, nigh-imperceptible in full view, and only able to be observed if one were brave or foolish enough to take a closer examination of the Pokemon’s backside.
That was her slide to the left, and it went so far through and past the city limits that it was indeed pulling and dragging up the Roserade’s kindred trees as she had shifted into the Wild Area. Admiring the pure brown streak she had made, watered with the red of clay bricks and blood, the Roserade decided to slide once again, this time to the right.
Just as the survivors thought they were safe, seeing the massive figure scoot-scoot-scooting her way out of their direction, they were gifted with the most unforgettable sight of their lives, if only because it was their last. Out in the distance, her size so great that the atmosphere between her and them gave her a blue shine amidst her hues of lime green and magenta, the Roserade was sidling back. The Earth mumbled and shook, and collapsed structures were bulldozed out of the way as the Roserade bit her lip in pleasure, still high from the feeling of utterly everything beneath her being completely powerless to resist. Over, and over, and over again, she continued to wipe her behind across the land that once composed the mighty city of Motostoke, a place home to so many titans of industry and cherished memories of family, friends, and loved ones.
Roserade finished her touching up of the place. Alighting to her feet once again brought along the customary thump, thump footsteps of her previous arrival, the only difference now being that there was no one left to hear it.
She turned around, gazing down at her handiwork. There, carved into a section of the Earth that aforetime would have taken up ample space on a map of the region, was her mark. The delineation between the natural progression and intersection of nature and human design vs. what Roserade had done to this land, the result of thousands of years worth of history wiped away, was clear and absolute. Her first, initial landing zone was the most recognizable: in the center of where the city used to stand, two globular craters were practically kissing one another, the slightest spritzes of her pollinated nectar dripping and creating tiny little lakes as they flowed down the sides of the divot and collected into the mushy, soft, silty smooth soil at their centers. But around these craters, an arc had been drawn. On both ends, almost like a wiggly, wobbly rainbow, her artistic masterpiece had been indelibly and inextricably carved into the very crust of the planet. From the arcs, bursts of hot steam and water, superheated from the magma of the world’s mantle, threatened to erupt. No matter what was to become of this sector of the Galar Region in the future, Roserade’s actions would never be forgotten, even if the scores and scores of people who perished beneath her backside might.
Of course, none of this was on Roserade’s mind. Pokemon that she was, she already had her sights set on the next closest city that she could play with: Stow-On-Side.
And so, she took off, her steps fading from what would soon become a ghost of a town, overrun by vines and plants and shrubbery, fed by the nutritious remains of the tiniest droplets of blood incorporated into the soil, and assisted by the raining sediment that was still descending from the lower undersides of the Pokemon’s moon-like buttcheeks.