Waistunband ----------- "You think *that's* a lot?" The fox-like creature says in a scoffing but playful tone, the smirk adding to the many other ones bobbing and swishing behind their back. Like a towering bundle of fluff, the at least two dozen tails writhe and wag, their broad maws displaying a variety of grins, smiles and tongues peeking forth. It's almost like they're turning to look at you, if they had eyes to do so, bracing as their owner leaned back into them, their expressions only getting giddier by the moment. Shirt pulled slightly up and thumbs locked into the waistband of their pants, they shake the long strands of hair from their eyes and peer right into yours. As they slowly and deliberately pull down, you feel like your stomach is sinking along with them, although you don't know why. An ominous feeling welling from deep within you, a shiver running up your spine, your senses abruptly set on flight. "Try to count *these* instead!" You stumble backwards for about one and a quarter steps, all the time it takes for them to reach the point of no escape. It's like an explosion of red and yellow racing in different directions. You feel your body flung high into the air, the ceiling all but disintegrating faster than you can hit it. A dizzying ascent of chaotic sensations that seem to stretch further than you really could have seen, the space around the blast zone bending and distorting at the impossibility being unleashed upon it. Blue skies, white clouds, gray mountains, blue oceans, green grass. Some of it intricately familiar, much of it distant places you'd never thought you'd see like this. And would never see again, swallowed instantly by tan fluff and maroon flesh. Their expansion accelerating to exceed that of your involuntary flight. The impact seems strangely distant. Like hitting the warm mass and starting to roll down its pulsing side was just a fading idea in the face of your thoughts stretching out across an expanse far beyond what even the strongest telescopes could have gleamed at. Monumental pillars of throbbing meat surging out from a seemingly infinitesimal point, mighty stars barely capable of lighting up a tiny edge of individual veins that engulfed entire superclusters whole. Immense knots idly contracting with such force that they tear at the fabric of space itself, pulling apart the wispy strands of the mere three dimensions struggling to hold them, the holes immediately patched up by another slew of countless members spilling forth like water from a firehose. Trying to even fathom just how many of them force themselves into your view in a single moment makes your consciousness crack at the seams. Luckily for you, it is all but overtaken by the cosmic crash of the bouquet of heaving monstrosities shattering the feeble barrier of your universe like popping a soap bubble with several octingentillion sledgehammers, making you unable to concentrate on your misplaced counting attempt. The glow of the surrounding universes seem so tiny compared to the vast, roiling orbs coming crashing down upon them. The fluffy sack filling ever further of the swelling, bulging nuts actively and perpetually bi- and trifurcating. Each of their rapid and only exponentially accelerating multiplications leaving the balls only bigger, fuller and churning ever louder than before. Their rumbling is like roars echoing across the greater cosmos, shockwaves rippling through the multiverse and blowing its intradimensional cords out of every conceivable alignment. Like an infinite avalanche of boundless boulders rolling across the planescape, each of the innumerable blips of extracosmic spheres meet with many more, far larger ones, leaving nothing but sparks in their relentless wake. The chaos only amplifies at this point. In less than a blink of your mind's eye, the entirety of what you can gleam of reality is abruptly obliterated, replaced and eclipsed by so many more shafts and orbs that any previous account thereof seems like it was in an entirely wrong system of numerics. The monsters of flesh rushing out, piercing through countless panexistential layers and greedily swallowing whatever shiny snack comes before their gaping tips. Omniversal megaclusters plummeting deep into their depths, timelines spiralling into their new forever and even deities finding themselves engulfed by the maw of only one of an infinitude of urapocalyptic behemoths. Collectively less than a single speck of light on the beyond-vast nutscape unfurling upon the all. The walls of surreality crumble, from their cracks spill forth only ever more of the unrelenting flood of fox bits. Impossible volumes of cocks sliding against and along each other, eclipsing their scales only ever over, sinking into the fluff of overbearing nuts roaring with such volume that the forces blast across every inch of the endless overmass. The wails and complaints of even the greatest gods all but lost beneath the slightest gurgles, both from within and without, their minuscule forms and feeble omnipotence incapable of mustering their presence being noticed against just a single, idle contraction, much less putting up a fight against the unngodly beasts that had overwhelmed their all but few moments now never passed. Their conscious, just like yours, lost in the stretching, swelling, surging of ever vaster, ever more, ever more numerous- "Lost count already?" Your gaze rises, with some slight support from an eagerly grinning tail tip under your chin. You feel like you'd been beat through a washing machine cycle, but slept the best sleep of your life through the whole of it. The two pictures from your drooping eyes fail to make a whole, requiring more than a few strong, concentrated squeezes of your lids to finally reach something recognizable. Although really, it's just the same view as before, their smirk not having wavered in the... well, probably about three or so seconds it's been since you'd last seen it. Wobbly and dizzy, you try to formulate a response in your head, opening your mouth and leaving it there as the throbbing and churning stirs through your thoughts, perturbing any string of at most two words that you can muster to lay out. "Ah well," they say with a shrug, the sinking feeling returning with a vengeance. Deeper, stronger and gripping you even tighter than before. "Might as well let 'em **all** out then!"