Here it is, folks, the bonus picture for helping Renard and me get past that $1000 goal: Conner and Ren are back to their normal sizes (and maybe even larger), and we've included cameos for our second- and third-place overall donors! It's been a fun ride, but another Growth Drive is just around the corner. Take a look at my latest journal if you're curious!

Art and ConnerCoon by Yours Truly
Story and Renard provided by  Renard_DeFleureax
Finn belongs to :icoinWinterWight:
Tyler belongs to  TylerFurlong

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“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to ‘Bigger is Better’!” Renard announced in a booming voice, smiling wide for the audience. The lolf took to the stage surprisingly well; then again, he was probably just happy to be able to show off some muscle once more. It had been an arduous climb back to the over-sized body he had grown to love, but after some heavy leaning on Theo, the hybrid was once again a towering mountain of rock hard muscle, and he had been showing off ever since. His nice three-piece suit, already struggling to stay buttoned around his mammoth pecs, had lost its sleeves to his massive arms, oversized-biceps rolling against his shoulders and mashing against his torso as he gestured out to the crowd, lumbering on tree-trunk thick thighs bulging and flexing with each step.

Renard lost his balance and stumbled, however, as a large, soft grey mass bounced against him. Conner grinned at his co-host, patting his tank of a belly. “The competition’s really heating up tonight! We asked, you voted, and now our competitors, Finn and Tyler, are facing off in a Battle Royale!” The raccoon had lost almost all of the muscle he had gained under Theo’s patronage during his stint on the show, but he seemed much more comfortable in his current form; an absolute globe of adipose, with a giant belly, cheeks like water balloons, and a collection of multiple chins documenting his growth like tree rings. He waddled up to his co-host’s side, chunky thunder thighs rolling off one another and his suit groaning, ready to burst apart as his blubber poked out between every strained button.

On either side of a brightly lit ring surrounded by a cheering audience, the show’s two new competitors were brandishing their pugil sticks. Finnigan, a dashing white lion in red, brandished his weapon with a flourish, as he hoped to rely on his skills in fencing to win the day. He had grown considerably, and it was still early in the competition; his arms, shoulders, and chest had ballooned with muscle, his legs thickened, but his middle was rather broad. His red leotard was rung taut not only by rolling shoulders, but a persistent muscle gut that not only refused to melt away, but seemed keen on growing, as well.

“We’ll see how well you fare against a master swordsman, fat cat.” Finn taunted, pointing his weapon to his opponent.

“I’d be a lot more scared if we were using, y’know, actual swords, Fluffy!” Finn’s rival called back. Tyler had a slow start to the competition, but in sheer poundage, he was quickly catching up with the lion. The striped yellow cat was carrying a prodigious belly, a cauldron-sized mass of lard that bounced and jiggled with each step, and seemed hell bent on stretching out his leotard to its limits. Still, he moved rather spryly, and almost seemed more agile than his bulkier opponent. The fight could go either way.

“Before we get to the fight, we have a word from our still-out-of-commission Cheshires,” Renard gave Conner a knowing smirk as he produced a note. “Dear Mr. De Fleureaux, I have been performing calisthenics long enough to finally regain the ability to bend my arms. I do hope the extra mass on your arms and lovely chest will show you there are no hard feelings, and both I and Mr. C wish you both the best of luck hosting our little enterprise. We both sincerely hope that Mr. Furlong and Mr. Lamberts prosper under your tutelage. We thank you for taking care of our dear show on such short notice, and we can’t wait to see just how far you can take your two contestants. I’ll be watching, with increasing interest. I remain your servant, Theo.” Renard chuckled. “Well, I figure we should send something to him, what do you think, Conner?”

The raccoon smirked back. “Maybe a protein shake or twelve? Speaking of Cheshires, Zataan sent me a note, too. Last I saw him, his belly was twice as big as mine!” Conner hefted up his gut and let it drop, the great, shifting mass making a sound akin to a timpani drum as it sloshed back into place before he produced a note. “Dear Conner, apparently cardio’s good for something after all, because I’ve lost enough weight to finally move my fingers again. Thanks again for taking on the show, and I hope that the year’s supply of chocolate I’ve set up for you has been put to good use. Best wishes to you and Renny, hope you have to roll the contestants out by the end- apparently that’s good exercise. Yours, Zataan.”

“Oh, well we definitely need to send him a ‘Get Better’ cake or twelve.” Renard quipped.

Conner chuckled. “Well, that’s what happens on this show folks; apparently, even the hosts get in the fun.” He smacked his gut, making it wobble. “We’re proof enough.”

Renard grinned and flexed his arm, his bicep swelling and peaking as it jostled his clenched fist and shoulder. “That’s right! But enough banter about us and our feline friends, it’s time to see who’s closer to going home only huge, and who’s going to grow gigantic.”

“Remember the rules, guys- no kicking, no biting, and whoever wins best two out of three rounds will double their weight; loser will gain based on our voting audience. So, shake hands, and then go for a knockout!” Conner said.

“Don’t fret, Tubby,” Finnigan grinned, tapping his pugil stick against Tyler’s. “When I put you flat on your behind, I’ll buy you a dozen donuts to make up for it.”

Tyler smirked. “Watch it, Erol Flynn, your head’s gonna be a real easy target if it gets much bigger.”

Conner grinned and shook his head, jowls wobbling. “As you can see folks, our contestants are chomping at the bits. We’ve got a quick word from our sponsors, and then we’ll be back with-”

Renard leaned into the shot, rolling his mountainous shoulders and clapping Conner on his wide, flabby back. “-Bigger is Better!”