Conservation of Mass

So this was your life now, huh? A big, fat Pikachu, beached in your own bedroom.

The transformation hadn’t gone exactly to plan, that much was true. When the effects had first started—the elongating ears, the increasingly rosy-red cheeks, the first nub of a pointed zigzag tail—you were elated. Your dreams of leaving your awful human life behind and becoming something other were finally coming true, all thanks to some fella named Bill.

And then the shrinking started.

You were pretty average height and build for a human being, and now all of that biomass was being squashed into a body barely more than a foot tall. Your waistline ballooned outwards as the transformation progressed, growing an inch in diameter for each one lost in height.

It was too late to stop. The process was irreversible, because of course it was. You were barely half-turned before your shrinking little pika-paws couldn’t drag your bloated, sagging gut more than a few steps before exhaustion started to set in.

So you just sat there, stuck facing your bedroom mirror as the transformation marched relentlessly onward. Even your long ears lost their slenderness, becoming thick and heavy, though managing to maintain their perkiness regardless. Those reddened cheeks became stretched, circles becoming ovals as fat fleshed out your facial features.

Already your little paws couldn’t reach most of your belly. Your arms ended up resting on a shelf of your own blubber, which itself rested on your thighs, which were steadily swallowing all but the very ends of your footpaws.

And still you kept shrinking, and your stomach kept growing. At this point your skin had been entirely covered in yellow fur, but it was hard to tell if you were still shrinking.

After a while you concluded that your transformation into a pika-blob had finally ended. Your wishes had been granted, but like in so much related media, the small print had came back to bite.

Even as you sat there, stuck staring at the reflection of your overabundant flab, you pondered: You’d always wanted to be a Pokémon. Why? To escape humanity. To leave behind the societal requirements of getting an education, working a job and raising a family for fifty years only to retire with a pitiful pension and no energy left to enjoy your remaining years.

That wasn’t the life you wanted; it was barely a life at all. Why choose that in a world where an alternative existed an internet search away?

So yeah, this may have not gone exactly to plan. You may have looked like a Pikachu that had eaten a Snorlax—but you were still a Pikachu, and for that you were anything but upset!

Now… what time was your family arriving home again? You were getting kinda hungry…