Chapter 3: Rising Action
The silence in the doorway was absolute, thick as the plaster dust swirling in the eerie firelight. Reid’s jaw hung slack. Morgan’s hand, instinctively reaching for his sidearm, froze mid-motion. Garcia’s glasses slid completely off her nose, dangling from their chain. Their minds, trained for the bizarre, short-circuited at the impossibility before them: Hotch, colossal and straining against the ceiling on hands and knees, his immense form barely contained by tattered rags; Brittany, towering almost to his height, similarly clad in shreds, radiating raw power; and the palpable, electric current of raw desire arcing between them, frozen mid-reach.
Hotch didn’t turn. His gaze, dark and molten, remained locked on Brittany. The intrusion registered only as a flicker of annoyance in the primal storm raging behind his eyes. The ceiling pressed down, an intolerable weight. His body screamed for release, for space, for her. Control was a threadbare rag tearing apart.
Brittany’s focus was equally singular. The sight of Hotch, reduced yet radiating terrifying dominance, the feel of his massive hand brushing her hip moments before, had ignited something deep and irrevocable. The team’s arrival was a distant murmur beneath the roaring in her blood, the exhilarating pressure building within her own expanding form. She met Hotch’s gaze, seeing the same urgent, unspoken need reflected there. Everything else was static.
A deep, resonant crack echoed, louder than before. Not plaster this time. A ceiling joist directly above Hotch’s bowed head groaned under intolerable strain. Dust rained down in thick sheets.
"Holy sh— MOVE!" Morgan bellowed, snapping into action. He lunged forward, not towards the titanic figures, but towards Reid and Garcia, yanking them back just as the ceiling directly above Hotch’s position buckled violently.
With a sound like snapping bones, the plaster and lath gave way. Hotch roared, a sound of pure, animalistic liberation mixed with agony, as he surged upwards through the collapsing ceiling. Wood splintered, debris cascaded, and the immense bulk of the SSA punched through into the darkness of the floor above. His massive shoulders, back, and then his entire upper torso disappeared through the jagged hole, leaving only his lower half – powerful haunches still clad in ruined trousers, immense legs braced wide – visible from the parlor below. The house shuddered.
Simultaneously, Brittany gasped. The pressure within her core ignited like a supernova. She doubled over, clutching her stomach, a cry ripped from her throat – half pain, half ecstatic release. Her frame visibly swelled, muscles surging beneath sweat-slicked skin. The parlor floorboards beneath her bare feet groaned, then shrieked in protest. With a splintering crash, her right foot punched through the polished wood, sending shards flying. Her left leg followed suit, plunging through the floor up to her knee. She was anchored, trapped in the very fabric of the house, yet still growing outward. The walls of the parlor strained against her burgeoning hips and shoulders. Wallpaper tore. Framed pictures of nonsense landscapes shattered on the buckling walls. The floating table spun wildly, clattering against her shin.
The team scrambled back towards the relative safety of the entrance hall, pressing themselves flat against the shuddering wall. Debris rained around them.
"He's through the damn ceiling!" Morgan shouted, shielding Garcia with his body as a chunk of ornate molding crashed nearby.
Reid, eyes wide with horrified fascination, craned his neck. "Structural integrity is failing exponentially! The cookie-induced growth appears to be accelerating! But the mass gain... it defies conservation laws unless..."
"Oh, sparkly physics later, Boy Wonder!" Garcia shrieked, ducking as a teacup sailed past her head. "They're gonna bring the whole crazy house down!"
Above, through the jagged hole, came sounds that froze the blood: heavy, rhythmic thuds shaking the entire structure, followed by a low, guttural growl that vibrated the floorboards. Below, Brittany cried out again, a sound that morphed from pain into something deeper, more resonant. She wrenched her legs free of the shattered floor with a colossal heave, sending more wood fragments flying. She was pushing the very limits of the room, her head brushing the damaged ceiling, her powerful shoulders threatening to burst through the buckling walls. Her eyes, wide and wild, fixed upwards, towards the hole where Hotch had vanished.
Above, the rhythmic thudding intensified, accompanied now by the tortured groan of overstressed floor joists. Then, a section of the shattered ceiling directly above Brittany collapsed completely. Hotch filled the gap. He was braced in the ruined opening of the floor above, looking down. His face, impossibly larger still, was etched with strain and a feral intensity. His chest and arms, bare and massively defined, glistened with sweat and dust. His gaze locked onto Brittany’s upturned face, burning with a need that obliterated everything else – the crumbling house, the terrified team, the impossible reality. A low, possessive rumble emanated from his chest, shaking loose more plaster.
Brittany answered with a sound that was half-purr, half-roar. Power thrummed through her, intoxicating and demanding. She saw the raw hunger in his eyes, the sheer dominance radiating from his position above her. It mirrored the power surging within her own transformed body. The fear was gone, consumed by a tidal wave of primal recognition. She needed. He needed. The house, reality itself, be damned.
With a grunt of effort that vibrated the wreckage, she planted her huge hands on the fractured floorboards near her feet. Muscles bunched and surged across her back and shoulders, a breathtaking landscape of unleashed strength. She lowered her head, presenting the powerful, exposed curve of her back and the swell of her hips, clad now only in the strained remnants of underwear. The posture was an invitation, a demand, radiating a potent mixture of submission and challenge.
Above, Hotch’s response was instantaneous. Another growl, deeper, hungrier. He shifted his immense weight. With a splintering crash, more of the upper floor gave way around him as he began to lower himself downwards, his massive hands finding purchase on the ragged edges of the hole. His focus was absolute, predatory, locked onto Brittany’s offered form. The distance between them closed, thick with dust and ozone and the overwhelming scent of sweat and raw desire.
"Under her! NOW!" Morgan roared, recognizing the trajectory. The collapsing structure offered only one precarious shelter. He grabbed Reid and Garcia, shoving them forward towards the relative lee created by Brittany’s immense torso as she braced herself on hands and knees. They scrambled beneath the arch formed by her body and the buckling wall, pressing themselves flat against the shuddering floorboards just as Hotch descended fully into the ruined parlor space.
He landed with a ground-shaking thud beside Brittany, his transformed height still forcing him to hunch severely in the confined space. His eyes, dark and burning, swept over her presented form. The sheer scale of them both in the devastated room was staggering. He dwarfed her slightly, a mountain of primal masculinity poised above her powerful readiness.
A massive hand, trembling with barely leashed restraint, reached out. Not gently. Possessively. It closed over the curve of her hip, the sheer size of his palm engulfing her side. The touch sent a visible tremor through Brittany’s frame, a low moan escaping her lips. Hotch leaned forward, his other hand bracing against the wall beside her head, its plaster cracking under the pressure.
Reid, pressed against the floor beneath Brittany’s flank, could see the impossible musculature of her lower back flexing mere inches above him. Morgan, shielding Garcia near Brittany’s thigh, stared up at the raw power of Hotch’s arm suspended above them, veins like cables beneath taut skin. Garcia, face pale but eyes wide, whispered, "Oh. Oh wow. That’s… operational."
Above them, oblivious to or utterly unconcerned by the audience beneath her swelling torso, Brittany shifted her hips back slightly, pressing against Hotch’s massive hand. The invitation was unmistakable. Hotch rumbled, a sound felt more than heard. His hand tightened. He guided himself roughly into position.
Then, with a powerful surge of his immense hips, Hotch sheathed himself fully inside her. Brittany cried out, a sound ripped from deep within her core – shock, overwhelming sensation, profound completion. Hotch groaned, a guttural expulsion of breath that shook the walls. He withdrew slightly, then drove forward again with devastating force, the impact echoing through the ruined parlor, shaking the team beneath them.
They moved. Slowly at first, testing the impossible fit, the overwhelming sensations amplified by their colossal size and the raw power coursing through them. Each powerful thrust from Hotch sent vibrations through Brittany’s frame, felt acutely by the team sheltered beneath. Dust rained down continuously. The house groaned like a living thing in agony.
As the rhythm established – deep, deliberate, powerful strokes – the growth resumed. It was visible now, a palpable expansion radiating outwards from their joined cores. Brittany’s back muscles thickened further beneath Reid’s gaze, her hips widening imperceptibly against the floor where Morgan and Garcia pressed. Above them, Hotch’s shoulders strained against the buckling walls, his arms thickening, his chest expanding with each ragged breath he took, each powerful drive forward.
Reid, overwhelmed by the visceral display inches above him and the impossible mechanics unfolding, found himself whispering observations, almost reverent. "Fascinating... the dermal elasticity... the vascular expansion compensating..." His gaze traced the powerful lines of Brittany’s flank. "The structural beauty..."
Morgan, jaw clenched, watched the sheer, terrifying power in Hotch’s movements above them, the controlled ferocity. A grudging, primal respect flickered in his eyes beneath the shock. "Damn, Hotch," he muttered, almost to himself.
Garcia, pressed close to Brittany’s powerful thigh, stared up at the shifting muscles with wide-eyed awe. "You are magnificent, goddess," she breathed, the words escaping before she could stop them.
Above them, lost in the storm of sensation and growth, Hotch and Brittany paid no mind. Their world had narrowed to the connection, the pressure, the relentless drive. Hotch’s thrusts grew deeper, more urgent, each one punctuated by the splintering crack of wood and the tortured groan of the Wonderland house yielding around them. Brittany met him push for powerful push, her own moans rising in pitch and intensity, a counterpoint to his guttural growls. The air crackled, thick with ozone, dust, sweat, the scent of their joining, and the deafening sound of their bodies moving and the collapsing world. The team beneath them could only cling to the trembling floor, witnesses to an act of primal creation and destruction unfolding on a scale that defied reality.
The team beneath Brittany could only cling to the trembling floor, witnesses to an act of primal creation and destruction unfolding on a scale that defied reality. Dust choked the air, thick with the smell of shattered wood, ozone, sweat, and something deeper, muskier – the scent of their colossal teammates lost in each other. Each powerful thrust from Hotch above sent shockwaves through Brittany’s massive frame, vibrating the very boards beneath Morgan, Reid, and Garcia, pressing them flat.
Reid lay plastered near the powerful curve of Brittany’s lower back, his analytical brain short-circuiting. He stared, transfixed, at the intricate play of muscle and tendon beneath sweat-slicked skin inches above him, shifting and tensing with every movement she made. "The kinetic energy transfer… the sheer dermal resilience…" he whispered, voice thick with awe and something else, his hand trembling near his own belt buckle, drawn almost magnetically towards the immense power radiating down on him.
Morgan, shoved protectively against the swell of Brittany’s thigh, gritted his teeth against the vibrations. He watched Hotch’s colossal forearm brace against the buckling wall above, veins like thick ropes straining beneath skin stretched over impossible muscle. "Fuckin' hell, Hotch," Morgan breathed, his usual bravado replaced by stunned reverence. The raw, unleashed strength displayed above him, the rhythmic, earth-shattering power, ignited a heat in his own gut that was impossible to ignore. His hand moved with a will of its own.
Garcia, nestled near Morgan but staring up at the shifting landscape of Brittany’s thigh and flank, let out a shaky sigh. "Sweet baby cheeses on a cracker," she murmured, her eyes wide, pupils dilated. "You’re… incredible, Brit." The sheer scale, the impossible beauty of the powerful form sheltering them, the overwhelming presence, washed over her. She felt small, insignificant, yet intensely connected to the immense energy above. Her fingers slid beneath the waistband of her own pants, a gasp escaping her lips as she touched herself, mesmerized.
Above them, the rhythm intensified. Hotch drove into Brittany with deeper, more insistent strokes, each impact accompanied by the splintering crack of wood and the tortured groan of the house. Brittany arched her back, pressing up into him, a guttural moan tearing from her throat that resonated through the structure and vibrated through the team huddled beneath her torso. Her fingers clawed at the shattered floorboards, tearing deep grooves. She was pushing back against him with equal force, meeting his power with her own surging strength, the friction igniting sparks in the dusty air.
They grew. Visibly. Relentlessly. Brittany’s hips widened further, pressing Morgan and Garcia closer together against the trembling wall, the heat radiating from her skin intensifying. Her back muscles thickened above Reid, the landscape of power expanding, blotting out more of the fractured ceiling above them. Hotch, braced above, felt the walls press tighter against his broadening shoulders; new tears appeared in the tattered remnants clinging to his immense thighs as his muscles swelled. A low, continuous growl rumbled from deep within his chest, a sound of possession and overwhelming need.
The team reacted to the expanding presence. Reid’s analytical murmur died, replaced by choked gasps as the sheer mass of Brittany’s lower back lowered fractionally, the heat and vibration becoming overwhelming. His fingers fumbled urgently at his zipper, finally freeing himself, his hand closing around his erection with a desperate groan, eyes fixed on the flexing muscles above. "So… much… power…" he rasped.
Morgan’s conflicted expression dissolved into raw desire. Seeing Hotch’s dominance made manifest, feeling the tremors of Brittany’s answering strength, shattered his resistance. He unzipped his own pants, his hand moving with rough urgency, his gaze locked on the straining tendons in Hotch’s suspended forearm. "Yeah, boss," he muttered, almost a prayer. "Show her. Show us all."
Garcia whimpered, arching her back slightly against the floor as her fingers worked frantically beneath her clothes. "Yes… goddess… bigger… please," she breathed, eyes rolling back slightly as she stared up at the expanse of sweat-sheened skin shifting above her. "You’re perfect… so huge, so strong…"
The parlor was collapsing around them in earnest now. Large chunks of the upper floor, destabilized by Hotch’s presence above, crashed down around the edges of the ruined room. The backward-ticking clock shattered, spraying gears. The floating table finally succumbed, clattering to the fragmented floor near Garcia’s feet. The green and purple flames in the fireplace roared higher, chaotically, as if feeding on the energy erupting in the room. The air crackled not just with ozone, but with a palpable static charge emanating from the joined titans.
Hotch’s thrusts became punishing, each one a seismic event that lifted Brittany slightly off her hands, forcing a cry from her lips that was pure, shattered ecstasy. The sound vibrated through the team beneath her, amplifying their own frantic movements. Reid shuddered, biting his lip. Morgan’s breath came in harsh pants. Garcia moaned openly, lost in worship.
Brittany reached back with one massive hand, fingers splayed, grasping desperately at Hotch’s immense hip, her nails digging into his skin. Her other hand braced harder, knuckles white against the splintered wood. She pushed back against him fiercely, meeting his power with a surge of her own expanding body, her moans rising into a sustained, powerful cry that shook loose more plaster from the ceiling remnants above Hotch. The pressure within them both, the relentless growth and the coiling pleasure, was reaching its shattering point.
The pressure within them both, the relentless growth and the coiling pleasure, was reaching its shattering point. Hotch’s final thrust wasn’t just deep; it felt tectonic, lifting Brittany’s entire massive frame off the splintering floorboards for a heart-stopping second. Her back arched into a powerful bow, pressing down onto Reid, who gasped, pinned momentarily beneath the shuddering heat and impossible power of her lower back muscles. A guttural roar tore from Hotch’s throat, raw and deafening, echoing through the collapsing structure like a challenge to gravity itself.
Simultaneously, Brittany’s cry ripped through the air – a sound of pure, shattering ecstasy mingled with the roar of tearing wood and grinding stone. Her fingers, huge and powerful, dug deep furrows into the ruined floor as her body convulsed around him, the intense clenching triggering his own explosive release deep inside her. The shared peak wasn’t just pleasure; it was a detonation of energy.
The growth, momentarily paused by the intensity of their joining, surged back with terrifying force, amplified tenfold by the climax. Brittney’s hips flared outwards like tectonic plates shifting, the powerful movement shoving Morgan and Garcia hard against the buckling wall. "Whoa! Easy, Brit!" Morgan managed, his voice rough with awe and the sheer physical pressure, one hand instinctively bracing Garcia, the other still moving frantically in his lap. Garcia just whimpered, her eyes wide saucers fixed on the incredible landscape of Brittany’s thigh expanding above her. "So... big... goddess..." she breathed, lost in worship.
Above them, Hotch threw his head back with another earth-shaking bellow. His spine cracked audibly, vertebrae realigning, forcing him even taller. His shoulders, impossibly broader, slammed into the remaining walls with brutal force. Plaster and lath exploded outwards like shrapnel. One colossal foot, clad only in tatters of leather, punched clean through the floor near Garcia’s legs with a splintering crash, showering her in wood fragments. "Hotch! Floor!" Reid yelled, flinching as debris rained down, his analytical gaze still locked on the flexing muscles above him even as he shuddered through his own release.
The entire house screamed. Structural beams groaned and snapped like dried twigs. The ceiling above Hotch, already shattered, collapsed completely this time. Sunlight, harsh and real, streamed down through the gaping hole, illuminating the swirling dust and the titanic forms within. Walls bulged outwards, brickwork crumbling. The fireplace imploded in a shower of green and purple embers. The floating table’s remnants were crushed under Brittany’s knee as she instinctively shifted, her own groans deepening into resonant growls that vibrated the very earth.
"Okay, new plan!" Morgan shouted over the cacophony, scrambling to pull Garcia closer as Brittany’s expanding thigh threatened to crush them against the disintegrating wall. "We gotta get out from under before they bring the whole zip code down!" He tried to move, but the space was vanishing, pinioned by Brittany’s surging hip and Hotch’s foot blocking the way back.
Reid, still pinned beneath Brittany’s lower back, craned his neck, staring upwards through the new hole in the roof. His voice held a strange mix of terror and awe. "The growth acceleration... post-climactic surge... it's exponential! Look!" He pointed a trembling finger upwards, past Hotch’s straining form. "The second floor... the roof beams..."
Hotch, panting, sweat pouring down his colossal chest and back, followed Reid’s gaze. Through the jagged hole where the parlor ceiling had been, he saw the mangled remnants of the second floor – Reid’s impossible library, Morgan’s creepy corridor – buckling violently. Above that, the pitched roof shingles were visibly straining, lifting. They weren't just breaking the first floor; they were about to burst completely through the entire structure. The primal fire in his eyes blazed hotter, mixed with a dawning realization of their sheer, unstoppable scale. Brittany, sensing his shift, tilted her head back, meeting his gaze. Her eyes mirrored his – fierce, liberated, consumed by the power coursing through them. A low, possessive rumble started deep in her chest, vibrating Reid beneath her.
"Morgan!" Reid gasped, trying to wriggle free as Brittany’s back muscles surged again, thickening visibly. "The foundation won't hold! We need..." His words were cut off as Hotch shifted his immense weight. With a groan of overstressed wood and snapping metal, the floor beneath his massive feet and knees gave way completely. He dropped several inches, his torso crashing down further through the mangled wreckage of the first floor, landing partially on the basement level, debris cascading down around him. Brittany, still connected, was wrenched downwards with him, her cry morphing into a sound of startled power.
The lurch sent Morgan, Garcia, and Reid tumbling violently beneath her. They rolled in a tangle of limbs and dust, finally coming to rest not under her torso, but pinned against the shuddering flank of one of her immense thighs, now partially sunk through the floor alongside Hotch. They were trapped in a crater of destruction, surrounded by the colossal limbs of their transformed leaders. Hotch’s head and shoulders now filled the gaping hole where the first floor had been, his gaze fixed on the buckling roof far above. Brittany’s upper body was angled awkwardly amidst the rubble, but her eyes were locked onto Hotch, raw need still blazing.
"They're... they're not stopping," Garcia whispered, her voice trembling, staring up at the sheer wall of Brittany’s thigh beside her, the skin hot and radiating power. "They're gonna..."
"Tear the whole damn world apart?" Morgan finished, his earlier awe tinged with real fear now as he watched Hotch plant one massive hand on the fractured ground beside the basement hole and push. Muscles the size of boulders surged beneath his skin. The ground trembled. Above, the roof timbers screamed in protest, bending further upwards. "Yeah. Looks like." He reached for his comm, static answering his hail. "Dead. Comms are fried. We're on our own down here." He looked at Reid, then Garcia. "Ideas? Besides praying?"
Reid pushed his glasses up, his mind racing despite the chaos. "The cookies... the trigger. Reverse engineering the chemical agent might be possible if we could access the source material... but the tray..." He gestured helplessly at the rubble where the floating table had been pulverized.
Hotch growled, low and resonant, drawing their attention. He shifted again, trying to find purchase in the basement debris. His movement caused Brittany to moan, a deep, visceral sound of strained pleasure and overwhelming growth. Her thigh pressed harder against the trapped agents. Hotch looked down, his gaze sweeping over them huddled against Brittany's immense leg, then locking onto Brittany’s face. A silent communication passed between the titans – primal understanding, mutual need, the intoxicating rush of their expanding power. His voice, when it came, was bedrock scraping against bedrock, filled with a terrifying certainty. "Hold on."