Story and Theo Renatus belongs to c'est moi
Art and Brock Tanuki belong to  rockytheprocy
Muscle Growth YCH Winner:  skarlath
Weight Gain YCH Winner:  tylerfurlong

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Brock’s parties were the stuff of legend to the less reputable members of the magical community. The tanuki was celebrating his victory the only way he knew how; with absolutely reckless abandon and no sense of decorum. Booze literally flooded the streets of Nara Dreamland and the music could be heard in the town over. Local officials were going to have to come up with exceedingly creative excuses as to why a theme park abandoned for ten years was suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree. The price to get into the magical frat party of the century was exorbitant, but the food was everywhere, and Brock’s guests couldn’t seem to stop eating… of course, no matter how much they ate, they felt downright svelte compared to the guest of “honor,” the Demon Prince of Eteria.

Skarlath was in something of a food coma; after Brock had plumped up the demonic wolf enough to thoroughly embarrass Theo, he just kept feeding the Prince. As a result, Skarlath was now grounded by his oceanic belly, his arms and legs too heavy and bloated for him to move. The food kept coming, but not from Brock- at least, not directly. The Demon Prince was the main attraction of the party, but it felt like a sideshow. Brock was manning a booth loaded with all the foods he knew Skarlath couldn’t resist, just to the side of the roped off area where the Demon Prince was situated. Skarlath had been told it was a VIP section, but it felt increasingly like a pig pen. Guests paid for the privilege of feeding the Prince, and although the food was just as delicious as Brock promised, Skarlath was starting to come out of his reverie; and he wasn’t happy.

“Tanuki!” He bellowed over the music, his yellow eyes flashing.

“Yeah? What’s up, your rotundness?” Brock sauntered over, leaning against the wolf’s doughy belly.

Skarlath huffed, “Change me back! I won’t suffer this indignity any longer.”

“What? Oh, come on,” Brock scoffed, “look at you, you’re the life of the party!”

“You’re making money off me like I was a bearded lady!”

“Oh, that? Your obesity- I mean, your highness, I was gonna split the profits with you right down the middle, sixty-forty.”

“No! You don’t con a Demon Prince, Tanuki! You’ll get yours for this disrespect!” Skarlath thumped his tail against the ground, and the nearly spherical demon disappeared in a blast of red smoke.

“Ah, party-pooper,” Brock grumbled, and blew a raspberry at the spot Skarlath previously occupied before turning to his guests. “Hey! Keep partying, nothing to see here! And make sure to fill up, I got more burgers comin’!” Everyone soon returned to the party, but Brock was suddenly feeling concerned; he thought he had Skar wrapped around his finger. With the Demon Prince gone, he needed someone else to put Theo in his place, once and for all. He went down his guest list written out on a bar napkin, scanning the dancing, gorging, boozing crowd to find someone perfect. Brock’s eyes flashed brighter as he spotted someone perfect; a white tiger who looked like he was practically gift-wrapped for the tanuki.

“Heeeeeey, if it isn’t Akari Jaganashi- got rid of the ol’ ball-and-chain, eh?” Brock elbowed a tall, imposing figure. Akari was vaguely reminiscent of Theo; striped cat, broad shoulders, but where Theo was an aristocrat who reveled in his status that he had largely made up himself, the Prince-Consort of the Silver Kingdom took his title with a grain of salt. He wore jeans and a simple shirt, and the shirt was open to reveal a thick middle that Brock knew he could grow.

Akari chuckled good-naturedly, “Hey, come on, Yami and the kids are great.”

“Yeah? So why’re you in an alternate timeline?” Brock smirked and held up his hands as Akari’s smile began to slip, “I’m just kidding, big guy- but, hey, I was hoping you could help me out with something…”

“Yeah? What’s that?” Akari crossed his arms. It was just smart to be wary of tanukis.

“Well, see, my guest of honor left in a huff- you saw him, right? Demon Prince, big guy?”

“Yeah…? What do you want me to do about it?” Akari asked.

Brock tried reaching for the tiger’s shoulder, but as the tanuki was dwarfed by the Prince, he had to settle for patting him on the back, “Well, you look like someone who likes a good meal… noticed you can’t keep your hands off my, uh, horde-vers.”

“You can summon up good food, I’ll give you that,” Akari conceded.

“So… Prince Fatty was supposed to eat all this food, right? And people’d pay to feed him, y’know, it’s a game, a, uh, party activity.”

“And you want me to take his place,” Akari grinned. “Sorry, Brock, don’t think I can do it- Yami might be a little upset if I can’t fit through the door.”

“Oh come on, she’ll love it! Something to, uh, hold on to when you get all romantical, right? Padding, if you get more rough… and, hey, you’re a family man, right? Your kids’ll love their dad being all soft.” Brock elbowed Akari again, “C’mon, you’re a white tiger, right? You can work it off…”

Akari nodded with a chuckle, “Alright, tanuki. Set me up.”

“I already have,” Brock murmured under his breath as he led Akari to the ring Skarlath used to occupy. The party-goers loved having another pig to stuff, and Akari was a far more sporting participant than Skarlath. The food, dusted with more than a little bit of Brock’s magic, was never quite enough for Akari. Thankfully, there were always more party-goers ready to stuff another slice of pie, a burger, or a whole pizza into his mouth.

Hours went by, and finally, the party was beginning to die down. As dawn poked through the holes in the walls of the dilapidated castle Brock called home, Akari was groaning as he held his belly; it had grown to the size of a small car, it seemed, and this wasn’t going to be something he could just walk off. The tiger Prince could already hear Yami’s lecture, but he had to admit, it had been fun.

After cradling his belly, Akari looked up lazily as Brock descended down the castle stairs. The tanuki could, on occasion, look intimidating, but never like this. Brock’s eyes glowed with fire, now, and he was dressed in a suit of metal armor that would shame a samurai.

Akari arched a quizzical brow, but shrugged it off. Who was he to judge how people dressed in their own home? “So, uh, thanks for the party, big guy, but I’m gonna head home… help me to my feet?” He patted his belly, “I’m carrying a little more than I’m used to… what’re you doing with that pizza?”

Brock made a grin that would put Theo to shame, rolling a large meat lover’s pizza up and wielding it like a club as he approached Akari. “Sorry, but… I’m at war.”
He straddled Akari’s belly, and shoved the pizza into the tiger’s mouth. “And you’ve just been recruited.”


- - - - -


Hampton Court had to be closed for the day; the official reason cited was “renovation,” because the staff had no way of communicating “the palace may need an exorcism.” Theodosius, the cheshire cat with enough titles for him to lose track of them, was inconsolable ever since his last duel with the tanuki was lost “by ten SODDING pounds!” His quarters in the palace looked like Versailles two days after the revolutionaries beheaded Marie Antoinette; furniture that had survived the London Fire of 1666 was now kindling to stoke the fires of Theo’s outrage. Smashed china, torn curtains with long claw marks in them, and ruined portraits of proud monarchs with their faces punched in surrounded the green, striped cat as he panted deeply, his fists clenching and unclenching, his eyes glowing red like burning coals, and his smile particularly manic.

“Well, then. Are we calmed down? Good, excellent,” he said to himself, and then snapped his fingers. The room immediately put itself back together, as if his rampage had never happened.

“I have one chance left, and neither that JUDAS of a Demon Prince or that vile, little thing, that rump-fed runyon, that carbuncle on the backside of the magical community, that mammering, rude-growing carrion, THAT QUALLING, OPEN-ARSED WORMS-MEAT, THAT-” Theo stopped himself, and took in an impossibly deep breath until he smiled serenely, his eyes flashing a light, sky blue. “I will not be beaten by a tanuki named Broxton Robert Goldstein, that much is certain. This is nothing less than a war.”

Theo’s tail was twitching madly as his outfit began changing; his frock coat and cravat were replaced by an officer’s formal jacket, navy blue with gold cords signifying his rank of Body Sculptor General, which he had just invented. “Mr. Goldstein won’t know what hit him- but first, I have another score to settle.” Theo snarled, and in an instant, he was in Eteria; Skarlath’s realm.

Theo weaved through the now-familiar walls of the Demon Prince’s red castle, and soon came to the throne room, where the cheshire immediately burst into laughter.

“Your highness!” he chortled, floating his way up the dias of Skarlath’s throne. “Don’t you look… prosperous.”

Skarlath scowled at Theo; the Demon Prince was wedged into his throne, the thick folds of his belly spilling over his lap and either side of the ornate porphyry chair. “Not a word, cheshire. Who said you were allowed here?”

“I do believe I did, your highness. What do you plan on doing about it?”

“I will banish you from my realm!” Skarlath snarled, and took a swing at Theo; his hand only caught air, as the cheshire disappeared and reappeared on his other side, pinching his cheek.

“Oh, aren’t you just precious? Tell me, your highness, is there a reason you haven’t shed off the pounds that creature so generously gave you?”

Skarlath huffed, “I can alter my form with a flick of my tail!”

“...but?” Theo’s smile widened.

“...I’m stuck and can’t move my tail.”

Theo patted the demonic wolf’s soft flank, “Of course you are. Well! How fortunate that I’m here to help you… for a modest fee, of course.”

“I don’t bargain with people that twist their way out of deals!” Skarlath folded his arms over his belly.

“Mm,” Theo stroked his white goatee, “very well, then, your highness. I suppose I’ll just leave you… I had more power to offer you, but I can see you’re -quite- sated. Shall I let your fellow Demon Princes know you’re, ah, indisposed?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Theo’s eyes flashed.

Skarlath eyes smouldered as he glared at Theo, “You’re not lying. Fine. What’s your ‘fee’?”

“Let me mold you again. I will give you all the power you can handle- and then some. Despite it being against my better artistic judgement, I’m afraid the tanuki is making me just a touch desperate.”

Skarlath smirked, “I told you not to deny me what I was owed.”

“Oh, yes, your highness,” Theo’s eyebrows arched in amusement, “you certainly showed me. Do we have a deal, then?” The cheshire held out his hand.

Skarlath growled, but took it. “Very well. Do what you will.”

Theo grinned, and with a snap of his fingers, the throne was gone, and Skarlath was brought staggering to his feet. With another swish of his tail, a bench press took its place.

“Now, if you would, your highness, lie down.”

Skarlath looked at the bench and arched his brow quizzically, “You’re not going to ‘mold’ me like you did last time?”

Theo clicked his tongue, “Now, now, good Prince, surely you wouldn’t want me to use a method that so obviously didn’t satisfy last time, would you?”

Faster than Skarlath could react, the Demon Prince was slammed down on to the bench press, the bar forced into his hand, and the metal began to groan under the weight plates Theo kept piling on. “How apropos our location is, your highness, because, well,” he chuckled to himself, and coaxed the Demon Prince into pushing the colossal weight into the air, “you’re about to go through a workout from Hell.”


- - - - -


The neutral void was practically shaking from the amount of hostility Theo and Brock were throwing each other as they entered. Theo, still in his military uniform, loomed over Brock with wide eyes that were alternating a dozen different colors, and a manic smile that seemed to have no end. Brock was staring daggers right back, carrying himself in his armor like he was at the head of an army.

“Mr. Goldstein.” Theo bowed his head.

Brock glowered at his last name, “Lord Douchebag.”

“Let us not stand on ceremony.” Theo snapped his fingers, and Skarlath, still grasping an impossibly heavy dumbbell in his hand, landed in the void with a heavy thud. The ether that made up their dueling space seemed to suffer under the Demon Prince’s colossal weight, and for a moment, he almost seemed to be sinking into it.

“You- you two-timing bastard!” Brock shouted.

“Excuse me, Mr. Goldstein, but didn’t YOU use him for two-timing first?” Theo reared on the tanuki, his eyes flashing red.

“It’s different this time!”

“Of course it is,” Theo smiled sweetly, but his voice was dripping with venom. “You’ll have to forgive the good Prince if he seems a touch dazed- he had quite the workout.”

The Demon Prince was officially over-sized. He carried a frankly obscene amount of muscle on his frame; his chest, nearly as big as Brock alone, bulged out considerably over the remains of his thick gut, those two meaty pecs heaving and pressing up against his chin, and very nearly swallowing it. He had no neck left to speak of, just a solid mountain range of muscle feeding into arms that were permanently propped up at angles, as Skarlath’s monster-truck tire triceps pushed down on a back wide enough to count as a geographical landmass, and biceps twice as large as the wolf’s head that seemed to tense and bulge bigger with every move. His legs, propping up his hulking upper body and a still sizeable gut made solid as stone, were thicker than the pillars of his castle.

“I do believe he has gained a full twelve hundred and ten pounds.” Theo announced.

“WHAT?” Brock threw down his sake bottle, and in a flash of smoke, Akari hit the ground with a considerable whump.

“WHO SAID YOU COULD STOP EATING?!” Brock roared, summoning a cheesecake and stuffing it into the tiger’s maw.

The Prince-Consort of the Silver Kingdom was almost unrecognizable as the stout warrior Brock had found at his party. His feet were sinking into the fat of his legs, splayed out wide to make room for a belly that served as its own mountain, giving the white tiger the appearance of a marshmallow. His stripes were warped and stretched as they traversed over love handles spilling over thighs, the fat folds of his back, and a posterior that took up more space than the tiger’s original size. Brock’s hands sank into the sheer lard of his belly as he shoved in more food.

“You’ve only put on twelve hundred! One more pound, and that ponce WINS. KEEP EATING!” Brock bellowed, squishing Akari’s pillowy cheeks that sagged down on to his multiple chins. His arms, swaddled in fat thicker than Theo’s waist, didn’t put up much protest.

“Ah, ah, ah! That’s cheating! You’re a cheater, Mr. Goldstein!” Theo’s eyes were changing colors, each eye a different shade as he summoned a megaphone and bellowed at the Demon Prince, “KEEP LIFTING, YOUR HIGHNESS! YOUR WORKOUT IS NOT DONE YET!”

“EAT MORE!”

“LIFT MORE!”


“CHEATER!”

“HUCKSTER!”

“PONCE!”

“GOLDSTEIN!”

“Stop USING my last name!” Brock snarled, shoving the rest of the cheesecake into Akari’s mouth with enough force to make the tiger gag.

“MAKE. ME.” Theo hissed, pushing the Demon Prince’s gargantuan arm up for one last curl, “Goldstein.”

With a bestial roar, Brock tackled the cheshire, pulling at his long white hair. Theo tore at Brock’s armor, and the two, rolling around on top of each other, finally slipped, falling deeper into the void.

Akari and Skarlath peered down- at least, as far down as their frames could allow.

“...Should we help them?” Akari finally asked.

“I can’t move my arms.” Skarlath grumbled, waving them in vain.

“Uh.” The tiger looked over his shoulder at the rest of himself, “I don’t think I can move anything.”

They both looked down again, and then back to each other; as massive as they both were, even shrugging was beyond them.

“So… how do we get out of here?”

ROUND WINNER: PERFECT TIE?!?