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Underneath the stage was the only place someone could find peace within the Pizzaplex. The rest was a hive of busybodies, each staff and concertgoer stamping to wherever they needed to be. Several feet beneath the floor kept the murmur of the crowd at bay, though up on stage it was like a constant roar. Standing, waiting for the band to ascend the elevator were over a thousand adoring fans. They had already packed the auditorium floor, each person psyched to the max for what was coming. For many it was their first, but for a non-insignificant few it was at least their dozenth.

For Freddy Fazbear and his band, they were intimately familiar with just how dedicated some of their fans were. What prices some of them paid to get VIP passes and the many times they did that proved just how obsessed they could be. The bandmates learned how to deal with it. They had a security force they could rely on and screenings that kept the really crazy ones away. Most of them were flattered a little, but they were mostly perturbed by the lengths people would go through to meet their heroes.

Not Roxanne (or Roxy, as just about everyone called her). She bathed in not just the sheer number of people who worshiped her, but in the rabidness with which they did it. She wanted a legion of insane fans, each loyal to her and her image. The kind of people who pasted her face all over their bedrooms, who paid to meet her and have her autograph, who could not live a day without admiring her beauty and the sound of her music. Those were the kind of fans Roxy fed her ego with. Those were the ones she wanted to attract.

And of course she did. She deserved it; she was beautiful. In a band of four animals, she was the shining star. Her keytar was the perfect addition and her harmonies unmatched. The blood red outfit she had on and her unrepentantly punk hairstyle was like a beacon, requiring none of the spotlights to draw every eye in that audience. She was so talented. She was the best. She was everyone's favorite. Anyone who disagreed didn't matter. They were just haters.

She was always first on the elevator platform, before the others. Looking up the three-story shaft that led into the stage she could see the Pizzaplex ceiling. The support braces that arced through it looked so far away, like they could be in the sky. The stage lights just out of view acted as the moon, dimly illuminating the concert floor and pouring a ghostly light into the platform shaft. The crowd buzzed nearby, rumbling the floor above Roxy like a stampede. It was an intoxicating sensation, just standing there and feeling the building vibrate around her. It would swell into thunder and then the climax of her arrival on stage. They would scream, Roxy would play, and she would be worshiped.

Her keytar was already slung from her shoulder. Her hair was on point, that single swoop of neon green standing out amidst a blaze of soft gray. A fortnight had been spent applying and correcting her makeup, mostly the black dashes that swooped beneath her eyes. That red and black latex suit clung to her chest and hips tightly, leaving bare her athletic yet nubile midsection. The beam of stage light that slanted into the platform shaft glowed just brightly enough to make her amber irises glimmer. She felt as motivated and as confident as she had the night of her first performance. I deserve to be up there on that stage, she reminded herself, redundant as it was. I'm the best.

"Alright, guys. Places, places," hollered a voice from behind Roxy. It was the stage manager. They wore a headset and carried a clipboard. "On in five minutes, five minutes. Look alive." They saw Roxy standing on the platform already and spared her their calls to get ready. She wouldn't have listened anyway. Her punctuality was expected by this point, though they knew it was not out of dedication to the band or even the performance. Roxy went up on that stage and played for herself and her fans. Everyone knew that.

The clock winded down and the stage manager made the call for two minutes. Her bandmates, Freddy, Chica, and Monty, gathered their instruments and joined her on the platform. She heard a deep voice rumble behind her. "Excuse me. Mind if I scoot in front of you?"

She looked and saw Freddy wearing a gormless smile, trying not to offend her.. He was the star of the show, or at least the face of it. When the platform elevated to the stage, he was supposed to be up front and center, the first performer everyone saw. Roxy was relegated to the wing, off to the side. In her not-so-humble opinion, Freddy's spot should've been hers.

"Go ahead," she said flatly, stepping aside for him.

"Thanks." He shuffled ahead of her, careful not to bump her with his microphone stand.

"One minute!" hollered the stage manager.

The signal coincided with the stage lights dimming, and the crowd started to cheer. "Here we go," muttered Monty.

Yeah, she thought. Here we go.

The introductory music kicked off, and the platform started to lift. The hole in the stage above was filled by a vaporous fog. It blotted the ceiling out and casted a thin shadow over the rising band members. They tightened the clutch on their instruments, listening to the crescendoing cheer of the crowd. If there was a plus to not being in front of the group for Roxy it was that they wouldn't all see how hard her tail was wagging.

Their heads floated over the stage floor. The crowd saw the silhouettes in the fog and at once they all screamed. In the very moment before the platform reached the stage, Roxy leapt from it and ran to her position on the wing. It was a dangerous stunt she pulled every show, but if she wasn't going to be up front like Freddy she would at least be the first to spring into action. She came dashing out of the fog, out on stage left, keytar locked in her paws. Her feet stamped when she came to a stop, her full height on full display near the edge of the stage. There in front of her, bouncing like mad behind the barricades, were hundreds of adoring fans all screaming their heads off.

It was like a shot of adrenaline to the heart, an all-body throb of euphoria that made her furs stand on end. She darted her eyes across the front row, among the most dedicated and beloved. Hands were reached out for her. Mouths were agape, shredding their voices with high pitched wailing. They wore masks of her face, T-shirts with her likeness, green dye in their hair, and face paint that resembled her own. These were the people she played for. These were the people who loved her. These were the people she deserved.

Roxy choked the neck of her guitar and struck a chord on her keytar, the opening note of the opening song. Her bandmates joined in. Freddy bellowed into the mike, Chica shredded her guitar, and Monty plucked his bass. It was a perfect polyphony of sound, loud and upbeat. The crowd bobbed their heads and sang along. Every band member ensured their merriment went uninterrupted by playing the song as perfectly as they could, never hitting a sour note or missing a cue.

Roxy, ever the showboat, went above and beyond that. Her fingers were a blur on the ivories, smashing each key so that the song was overloaded with her sound. She bowed her head, letting the frizzled locks of her hair spill in front of her. Her eyes were closed and her head bobbed. The focus was not so much on what she was playing but on how the crowd was reacting to it. Beyond the mighty thrum of the speakers that wreathed the stage she could hear them still shrieking. With each trill of the keys they would scream louder and say her name. She was in ecstasy.

The song ended, and Roxy put a stop to her histrionics. She looked up and saw her fans bouncing where they stood. They screamed like it had been the grand finale of an encore, and it was only the first song. Her performance hadn't just wowed her fans, but those who didn't consider her their favorite. All eyes were on her and they weren't leaving any time soon. A toothy smile split her face. She was panting and her heart was racing in her chest. Going against the rules, she threw a paw in the air and waved. The crowd got a kick out of that. "Fuck yeah," she huffed to herself.

Freddy had to wait for them to calm down before he could greet the crowd. When he asked how they were tonight their response wasn't as wild as when Roxy waved at them. They knew who the real star of the show was. Roxy could feel their energy swelling inside her. She couldn't stop smiling. She felt like a million bucks. Maybe things were getting too excited. The outfit was starting to feel tight, for some reason, especially around the chest. She tried to subtly adjust her top. Just relax. Wait until Freddy's spiel is over and play the next song. She played it off by readjusting the keytar strap on her shoulder, only to realize that it too felt small. In fact, when she held the instrument by the neck it seemed noticeably thinner, like her paw was too big for it. Maybe I'm imagining things. Just chill.

Freddy's introduction came to an end when he announced the next song they would be playing. He double checked that his bandmates were ready, but paused when he looked at Roxy. She caught him staring. "What?" she demanded.

He jumped a little and shook his head. "Nothing. Let's go."

In the brief lull before the cue for the next song Roxy pulled at the bottom of her uniform. It too was starting to feel tight on her glutes. No time to dwell on it, however, as Freddy delivered the cue and started the next song. Quickly forgetting her discomfort, Roxy played her part as spectacularly as the last. She went back into that trance, feeding off the flood of adoration that came with every key and chord. It didn't occur to her that the keys were getting smaller, that her grip was ready to crush the neck of her keytar, or that her outfit was sinking into her fur. As always, there was nothing but the roar of her fans and the sound of her music.

That wasn't the case for everyone else.

Monty, at the back of the stage, noticed it first. Then it was Chica, who messed up a note because of what she saw. Freddy shot her a look and saw the shocked expression she wore. He turned his head towards Roxy, and it was his turn to see what she had become. Roxy, already a statuesque she-wolf who displayed remarkable athleticism, was growing in size. The top of her head far outreached that of her bandmates, even the Wadlowian Monty. There was also the array of sinewy muscles that had sprouted across her limbs and trunk. From remarkably athletic she had turned into a small bodybuilder. Most outlandish of it all was the swell of her breasts. They were squished underneath her top, though more and more of them spilled over the top and out the bottom.

Roxy was blind to it all. Her music continued unmolested, not even by the size of her fingers. She stayed hunched in that musical meditation, tapping away at the keys like she would any other night. Her bandmates, however perturbed, continued playing, albeit with a pronounced trepidation that hindered their performance dearly.

The song came to an end, and Roxy stood upright, beaming brightly. When she realized something was wrong her smile vanished.. The crowd of fans she expected praise from was shocked into silence. There wasn't an ocean of giddy wails but jaws hung in shock. At first she was indignant, cocking an eyebrow at them. The fuck are they looking a-

It hit her when she looked down and was greeted by the great swell of her breasts. Stabbing into the overworked fabric of her top was a length of cleavage double what it had been before the song started. It made her jump. "What the fuck?" she said loudly enough for the people in the front row to hear. She bent forward slightly to see how ripped she had become. The stage beneath her was farther away. Looking at her bandmates she saw how small they looked now, like they had regressed in age.

The concert hall was dead quiet. It was Freddy who broke it by speaking into the mic, a nervous smile on his face. Ever the professional, he had to play it off to keep the crowd calm. "Well! I hope you all like Roxy's new look! Isn't she gorgeous?"

The crowd agreed. The roar of approval she had expected to come after the previous song finally came. Over a thousand fists pumped into the air. It caught Roxy off guard. Is this what they want? Muscles? Going along with the act, she lifted her arm and flexed her bicep. It blew up to the size of a small boulder. It was hard like one too, woven through by a wormy vein from elbow to shoulder. The reaction was appropriate, loud and fervent.

At once Roxy felt her body changing. A great stretching sensation beset her limbs and torso. Her outfit started to tear more, leaving it on its last few threads. Her arms became howitzers and her thighs turned into barrels. Her bosom was something colossal. All her top covered was the middle portion of her black-colored areolas. The seat of her bottom was chewed on by her buttocks, now a pair of dimpled meat slabs capable of bending steel. Her bandmates cowered at the sight of her, each one of them backing away slowly, ready to make a run for it.

Her fans weren't so intimidated. There was a chant from every single voice attending. Their fists pumped with each syllable. "RO-XY! RO-XY! RO-XY! RO-XY!" It brought on another burst of growth. Bigger muscles, bigger breasts, smaller stage, smaller audience. The keytar hung just below her chest, now too small to operate. But that didn't mean she couldn't still perform.

Roxy calmly removed the keytar from around her neck and put it down. She began a strut towards Freddy, a smirk on her face. "Step aside."

When a 12 foot, hulking she-wolf tells you to move, you better fucking do it. "R-right." Freddy skedaddled out of the way, microphone stand clutched in his paws for defense.

Roxy didn't mind him. She hardly knew he existed once she was up front on stage, the central act, what everyone had come to see. Nobody else gave him any mind either. They were too busy ogling the strapping goddess that stood before them, her blessed physique for their consumption. There was a great surge into the barricades, barely held back by security.

Time to get this crowd going. She turned and looked at Freddy. "Play the next song," she said, then looked back towards the crowd without checking to see if he would obey. She knew he would.

Freddy struck the cue for the next song. Chica and Monty got ready while trying their best to ignore their friend's transformation into an Olympian. The song started, although it was missing one of its central pieces. It didn't make too much of a difference thanks to Roxy's thoroughly distracting presence on stage. The intro dropped into the hook. Roxy timed it with a double-flex of her arms. Pow! Pow! Two rock-hard spheres of muscle swelled at the flanks of her head, veins throbbing to the surface, sinews grinding audibly. Another surge of screams and whistles, and Roxy resumed growing. Her bandmates could hear it now, the whrrrrrr of her body rapidly swelling across every facet. The outfit stretched to her shape, seemingly ready to explode at any moment and yet maintaining its grip on her assets dutifully.

Roxy did not stick to that one pose. She was completely novice to the realm of bodybuilding, but figured that it couldn't be that hard. With a body like hers, any pose she took would've done the job. She flexed her arms down and jutted her shoulders. She pivoted on her heels and shot one arm out diagonally. Her back went to the crowd, showing off the many rows of steely muscle that built her upper back and slimmed into her waist. She timed another pump of her biceps with a devastating crunch of her glutes and a sweep of her tail. More poses followed, each one coming naturally and without flaw. Boom! Bang! Pow! Hmph!

The crowd ate it up. They'd forgotten about the music, about the band, about the Fazbear franchise. If she hadn't been the favorite of anyone in that crowd, she was now. Freddy and the others were but an afterthought, small and insignificant in the literal sense. They certainly felt that way watching Roxy continue to grow. They continued playing only because it had been drilled into them from so many rehearsals. Chica stopped out of fear and earned a fierce look from Roxy, now three stories tall.

"Don't you dare stop playing," she said in a low grumble. It was a low grumble to her, at least. Everyone else heard it as an eardrum-thumping quake of the atmosphere. Chica obeyed and resumed where she had left off. Roxy turned her attention to the crowd and continued posing, growing, and smiling. Yes. Incredible. I'm incredible. I'm the best. I deserve this.

Deserving of it or not, she was becoming too much for the stage. As the top of her head went above the spotlights the stage was beginning to creak and moan beneath her. There wasn't any room for her to pose anymore. Her feet were bigger than the platform she had ridden. Her arms were like support columns. Breasts like hot air balloons hung over the crowd, ready to pull her over on top of them. Yet her admirers displayed no fear. They continued cheering and chanting. She couldn't pose anymore, but her titanic stature was more than enough to please them on its own. Just looking down and seeing a thousand faces ecstatic with glee was enough to keep her growing.

Jerking her out of the moment was a hard knock on the top of her head. DONG! She ducked suddenly and looked up, paws covering her head. Immediately above her was the Pizzaplex ceiling, its steel crossbeams looking like they were just inches away. That was the last straw for her bandmates who promptly gave up on the song and vacated the stage. Some folk evacuated, but a great many remained, the loyal of the loyal. Roxy stood with her head hunched forward, forced to steepen her crouch as the growth continued. She felt the cold, metal ceiling on her head again, then her shoulders. Her colossal arms spread across it like Atlas holding the sky. It stretched and screeched against her growing height and yet there was still a huge contingent of her fans who stayed, unbothered by the security trying to rush them out.

Even as she was forced into an increasingly uncomfortable position, Roxy could appreciate the unwavering love. They were given a smile from directly above now that her upper back was against the ceiling. Those huge breasts were suspended almost directly downward, the greatest source of their worship alongside her heroic muscles. All of it was still growing. The weight was too much for the stage and at last it collapsed beneath her.

WHOOOOOOOOOM!

An explosion of sound ripped through the entire Pizzaplex as Roxy's feet plummeted to the basement floor. She was up to her knees in the stage and yet she still had to keep her head hunched below the ceiling. What it couldn't help was the breadth of her shoulders, now beyond the full length of the stage. Even for the most diehard fans it was enough. The last of them ran for the exit along with the rest of security, leaving Roxy alone in the concert hall and putting a temporary pause to her growth.

But Roxy was not disappointed. Another smirk snuck across her face. Well, now that everyone's gone, I can do this. Roxy bent her knees and looked up at the ceiling. She balled one paw into a fist, cocked it, and punched it straight through the iron umbrella above. Outside the Pizzaplex the concertgoers saw her arm explode through the roof, bringing with it a shower of sparks and warped steel. Some people screamed, but not out of terror. They were elated to see their Queen free herself of the stage. Roxy did so by grabbing the rim of the hole she created and peeling it wider. A long, ear-wretching screech of metal echoed through the parking lot as the roof was opened like the lid of a sardine can. When it was wide enough Roxy peeked her head out.

Before her was the same ocean of fans that had screamed her name on the concert floor, spread out as they were across the parking lot. Their cheers came back, left open to the environment, but just as dedicated. Roxy smiled at them. "Hey! You guys like that?" A roar of approval, and her growth resumed. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Her shoulders reached the roof which she tore open effortlessly. Out came her bosom, then her absolutely shredded midriff. Just because she was having so much fun, she shot one last flex of her bicep for the crowd. Pow!

Screams of delight all around, fuel for the titaness, ego larger than herself. She was the centerpiece now and forever would be. After all, she deserved it.

THE END