The fish had always been small. It darted through the water of the murky tank with a speed that barely caught anyone's attention. But that morning, something changed. Something different slid into its bones, a crack in its nature. It felt its body bend, stretch, its scales scraping painfully against the sides of the tank. It broke through the glass, water splashing across the dirty floor.
It wasn't small anymore. The creature's tiny body grew, squirming with unnatural force. Its fins split into rough, clawed limbs, and its gaping mouth twisted, becoming jagged, sharp. The fish had changed. The creature rose from the puddle, its bloated mass dragging itself onto the dry ground, where it gave a sharp hiss.
"I am Kong."
The words rang in its mind. Kong. It felt powerful, like it had always been waiting for this moment, as if it were always meant to be more than a thing that swam in circles. It lumbered across the room, knocking over chairs with claws that had once been fins, its movements grotesque, heavy.
Kong didn't know why it wanted to walk outside, but it did. It crawled out the door, and the world seemed to stop around it. Cars screeched to a halt as people screamed, panicked. Kong felt their terror, relished it, as it lumbered toward them, destroying anything that stood in its way. It ripped through the city, clawing and biting. People fell apart beneath it like wet paper, their blood staining the cracked streets.
It wasn't just about the killing. It was about the ruling. With every life snuffed out, Kong felt stronger, felt its sense of dominance spread like a disease. The world bent before it, an entire city filled with screams and chaos.
At some point, the survivors stopped screaming. They knelt. They knew. Kong was king. The mass of flesh now sat on the throne of destruction, while the remaining humans fell at its feet. They didn't fight back. They crawled, too terrified to move. There was no escape. Kong had won.
Inside the apartment where it had first grown, a lone figure—one of the few left—watched from the window. His legs trembled, sweat pouring down his face as he clutched a shotgun. It wouldn't stop Kong. Nothing would. But it was all he had. The twisted creature could see him, standing in that glass box, desperate and small.
It was so simple.
Kong's claws scraped against the ground as it approached the building, its bloodshot eyes fixed on the last person who dared to resist. It crushed the door with a swift strike.
"Did you think you could hide?"
The man didn't say anything. He just fired, the shotgun's kick sending him back against the wall, but the blast didn't matter. Kong was too big. The monster was everywhere now. It grinned, the sharp teeth in its mouth reflecting the dim light.
"You are beneath me."
With one powerful swipe, Kong tore the man in half. His body twitched before the life left it. The blood pooled, dark and thick on the floor. Kong stood over it for a moment, eyes cold.
"I am Kong."
But then it paused, hearing something in the distance. Something deeper. Another voice, calling from far below the earth's surface. A whisper so faint, so soft that Kong couldn't understand it.
It bent its head toward the sound. The voice called again. And Kong, the king, was left wondering who could possibly be giving orders now.