Mikey just found a one of a kind Burger Temple Totem. Despite its HEFTY resale value, Mikey, and his bros, may find themselves a bit HEFTIER just by being around its fattening aura...

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Another AMAZING screenshot edit by  oscarvanderhof featuring at least *TWO tubby turtles <3

Enjoy!

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He’d nailed it. Absolutely nailed it. The find of the century, nay… the MILLENIA! He was basically a terrapin Indiana Jones! At least, that’s how he would want the news article to say, or at least the scrolling news banner should say. It was the bare minimum that a reputable editor could do after all…

Mikey hopped up from the subway tracks, tucked his skateboard under one arm, and strolled into the lair, marveling at the object in his hands. Mikey was just getting back from an afternoon exploring down by the industrial wharves. He had gotten a tip from Casey that some sweet hidden areas down there that were perfect urban trick zones to practice on without a bunch of recent wannabe skater-boy posers that had been clogging up the skateparks as of late. While much of the industrial enclave was dominated by enormous warehouses, abandoned factories, storage docks, and waste receptacles, Casey had been onto something for once.

While spending a few hours navigating a series of toppled, rusted cargo containers, Mikey had lost his footing on his skate deck, thanks to the heavy ocean mist, and had slipped off his skate deck and tumbled over a railing, falling into a pile of cardboard boxes, old wooden crates, and palettes. Picking himself up from the splintered mess he saw a familiar label on a piece of broken wood: a silhouette of a burger in the center of a crown. The Burger Palace Logo, or at least, the old logo. Mikey had fond memories as a young turtle when Splinter was sick of cooking and making runs to the fast-food joint to grab them burgers and fries, likely just to shut him and his brothers up for a few minutes while he recovered from his rambunctious-son-induced migraines, but still, to this day it was one of Mikey’s favorites.

Mikey had dug around the pile for a while, finding some old school, though moldy, uniforms, some laminated menus, and even a color-faded cashier hat. While all of that was super cool, what he found next was even better. The piece de-resistance: a vintage, one-of-a-kind, Palace Burger Totem. It consisted of a small pedestal on top of which stood an ornate throne that housed a partially anthropomorphized burger with a large crown perched on top. All made of seemingly an ancient wood carving, and despite its worn appearance, seemingly weathered by the salty wharf air just like the pillars of the docks themselves, it still had such ornate details. The wrinkles in the lettuce, the large pair of jewels on the spokes of the crown that almost looked like eyes, and even the burger itself seemed plump and juicy, its meaty volume seemingly sagging over the arms of the throne itself. Such as an image of fast-food decadence. So cool.

Mikey didn’t even know such an item, such a merchandising treasure, existed. A relic of a bygone age, during the height of the fast-food allure: the pinnacle of the age of the cheap burger. Sure, Burger Palace was still around, but much like the rest of the corporate world, including the corporate food world, they had begun to take on a more trendy aesthetic, which was fine, their burgers were still tasty, but Mikey missed this era of fast food: the campiness of the commercials and restaurant spaces, the crazy mascots, all with no pretense of health or faking being part of a well-balance diet, just pure grease and cheese and the love of a good burger.

Of course, beyond his nostalgia, Mikey couldn’t help but think of the possible resale value for what he assumed was such a rare item that he immediately tucked the Palace Burger Totem under his hoodie and rushed home.

Now, back at the lair, Mikey grabbed a towel from the closet and hurried into his room where he cleared a haphazard pile of clothes and cookie wraps from his desk with a crude swipe of his arm to make room for his new treasure. He wiped the totem off, removing some residual moisture, dirty, and industrial grime to preserve what was left of its structural integrity then leaned back in his chair and marveled at his bounty.

“Raph is gonna be so jealous…” Mikey chuckled to himself as he spun around in his chair, not noticing that the pair of jewels in the totem’s crown had subtly begun to glow. A moment later, a rumble erupted from Mikey’s stomach; he must have worked up an appetite skating all afternoon…

“Snack time!” Mikey mused, hopping up and making his way to the kitchen as the totem began to glow brighter, pulsating in an eerie neon green, emitting waves of ethereal energy that emanated through the air at first aimlessly but soon seemed to curl and swirl with a direction in mind, a purpose, tailing after the orange-banded turtle.

As Mikey hummed to himself, the energy wafted delicately around his bobbing tail before it cascaded up and around his shell like a faint draft of air. Soon, the shimmering green aura swirled around the rest of Mikey’s form, settling around him like a blanket of thin fog before the green of the mist and Mikey’s skin began to meld and blend; energy disappearing into the turtle’s being.

A moment later, Mikey’s shoulders broadened slightly, as if a new layer of flesh had materialized beneath his skin. Then, his cheeks puffed out slightly, an imperceptible change at first but more of the faint green aura pulsed into him. Again, his cheeks puffed out slightly more, his shoulders thickened again, and his trim hips rounded ever so slightly out…

~~~~~

Donnie had been having a lovely, notably quiet afternoon to himself. Raph and Leo were out on patrol or something, Mikey was who knows where, and at the end of the day, Donnie didn’t care what his brothers were doing. He had time to himself and his work, and he was loving it.

Donnie sat perched on a stool staring through a microscope as he focused on fine-tuning a refurbished circuit board he planned on using in his ever-ongoing repairs to the Shellrazor, replacing some of the fried circuitry in the radio system after their last mission. Without his usual sibling distractions, he had gotten into a good flow state, bobbing his head to the pulsing EDM blasting in his headphones as his dexterous fingers danced across the intricate silicone surface, so much so that he didn’t notice the ethereal green aura pulsing through the walls, through the lab door entrance, and through the vents.

Donnie didn’t notice the otherworldly mist wafting towards him as if hunting him down. He didn’t notice as the aura curled around his frame, nor did he notice the moment that his hips suddenly thickened in his seat. The change was subtle, easily confused with a typical, antsy shift in posture but the discerning eye would have noted that the brainiac’s rump now splayed a quarter of an inch further on either side. A moment later, his hips bulged again, spreading another quarter inch further, then another, and another. The oblivious turtle genius just tapped his foot on the rung of the stool to the music even as the rest of his body too began to swell…

~~~~~

“Oooo…! Pizza…!” Mikey exclaimed as he swung open the fridge door, his mind far more focused on the rumble in his stomach than the subtle sense of heaviness that had befallen his body in the last minute: all 25 lbs of extra heaviness. Only a before and after photo of the turtle would have revealed the subtle curvature of his hips, the slight meatiness of his thighs, or how his face looked partially fuller, but as the subtle aura continued to flow into the turtle’s frame, the changes steadily became more overt.

As Mikey hunched over to grab his cheesy snack, his toro, like a balloon, began to swell out, forming a subtle yet increasingly defined crease at the bend of his hip as his abs bloated, dulled, and merged into a single amorphous mass of pudge. Excitedly, Mikey popped the pizza slice into the toaster oven and stared through the window at the slowly warming cheese and crisping pizza dough all while his calves broadened an extra inch and his neck thickened. The warm red light of the heating coils washed over Mikey, casting a shadow behind him onto the kitchen island that began to take on a thicker silhouette.

As the toast oven’s timer ticked, the shadow behind Mikey began to round in the middle as a new paunch formed, bulging out his sides into a pair of thick love handles that soon group a pair of friends, forming a growing cascade up the length of his torso to meet the drooping edges of his chest. Mikey’s once-toned pecs puffed out like a pair of rising malformed cinnamon rolls, sagging along the edges like an accompanying sac of warm icing.

As the cheese began to bubble, Mikey licked his lips and rubbed his hands together in anticipation, not noticing his digits had begun to thicken or that his tongue had passed around the edges of a pair of dimples at the corners of his mouth they pushed up into the swelling pair of cheeks jutting out of his face. Mikey opened the toaster oven and bent over to angle his hand to avoid getting burned, consequently jutting his hips and widening rump into the air, showing the widening inches of flab on his waist, his bulging buttcheeks, and the thickening layers of adipose blanketing his once-toned-now-bulbous haunches.

Without hesitation, Mikey raised the slice of pizza above his head and opened his maw wide like he was an ancient royal ready to accept a vine of luxurious grapes, his upturned chin revealing in the full light of the kitchen his disappearing jawline and the second and third chins beginning to form along his neck. Mikey closed his eyes as he both lowered and savored, the saucy delicacy, thus failing to notice the waves of ethereal green pulsing faster and faster. In his moment of opulent joy, he too did not that a glob of greasy cheese had fallen onto the bottom heating coils of the toaster oven that he had yet to close or turn off.

Mikey’s jaws methodically chewed the heavenly bite as he let out a moan of satisfaction as the errant cheese began to smolder and smoke. It wasn’t until Mikey’s noise twitched, and the alarm above him began to blare that the turtle snapped back to his senses, well some of them.

“Oh shit…!” Mikey exclaimed, his mind now focused on the minor calamity before him and not how an extra 175 lbs of blubber was coating his frame, a number growing by the second. As he reached for the toaster oven plug, he didn’t notice the 2 inches of doughy blubber coating his once toned arms, nor did he notice his thighs swelling and pressing up against each other, nor did he notice the pudge of his now bulbous calves starting to sag down over his ankles and feet.

Mikey pulled out the bottom tray of the toaster oven and tossed it into the sink. Without thinking, he immediately turned on the faucet and subsequently doused both the charred cheese as well as everything else in the kitchen within a ten-foot radius with a showering jet of higher-pressure sink spray.

“GAHH!” Mikey exclaimed, quickly turning the handle, and lowering the stream force before turning and assessing the water damage both around him and on him.

“Goddammit…” Mikey muttered, turning towards the upper cabinet to grab some paper towels, though when he went to reach the highly perched absorbent rolls, he noticed something was wrong; besides the mess around him. As the shortest turtle, he was used to having to stand on his tiptoes to reach anything in the kitchen, but now he just couldn’t… quite… get… high enough. Like he couldn’t lift his arm high enough or extend his toes enough for those last few inches that a short stack like himself needed. After just a few seconds of failed attempts to grab the paper towels, Mikey felt a growing burning exhaustion wash over him.

Why did his body feel… so… heavy…?

~~~~~

“Mmmph, mphmmp, mphf…” Donnie hummed to his music until his first…

“…*WHEEZE…” A sense of weight had begun to materialize on Donnie’s chest.

“…Mpmmph…*HUFF…” While that sensation was still just percolating in the deep recesses of his consciousness, his body was, nevertheless, starting to respond: it was the one that was fattening up after all.

The green aura continued to pulse into Donnie’s once-lithe frame, a reference to a past state that did not include the dozens upon dozens of flabby pounds that had materialized on the brainiac’s body in the last few minutes. While his hips continued to fill the breadth of the stool beneath him, doughy adipose packed onto his lithe lower limbs, with the knobby features of his knees softening as fat caked his thighs, giving them a shapely aesthetic, a departure from their usual bone-thin appearance. One inch after another puffed out of his frame from an ethereal nowhere until his thighs began to touch in the center while the outer edges reached the outer edge of the stool, sending yet another signal-of-concern to his brain as his favorite stool suddenly, instinctively, felt undersized; like he could fall off at any minute, not counting the rolls of his thick rump that were starting to dangle and droop over the edge of the now-creaking stool.

Donnie’s thickening calves began to press harder and harder into the increasingly cramped metal supports of his seat while his torso bulged forward into a small, though growing, paunch, that, as he hunched forward attending to his work, pressed into his thighs the edge of the lab bench.

“*PANT…*WHEEZE…” Donnie’s breath continued to grow heavy and labored as his lithe chest puffed out into a pair of meaty moobs that had begun to sag along the edges, over the curvature of his thickening middle, weighing down his suddenly struggling lungs, but that wasn’t the first sign that finally cracked the bubble of Donnie’s attention.

As Donnie peered through the microscope at his work, he got the sense that his movements were growing a bit more sluggish and clumsier, a consequence of the layers of pudge coating his once nimble, now weighty, encumbered arms. His meager biceps were blanketed in a doughy layer of lard that jostled like a bowl of gelatinous Jello even from the micro-movements he was making with the soldering iron. Flab sagged down over his elbows that were anchored on the table like a magma flow of pudge pouring down a mountainside of turtle flab. Beads of sweat formed on his thickened brow, rolling down the sides of his face and around the thickening chipmunk-cheeks starting to puff out either side of his skull.

“*HUFF… Why’s it so hot in here…?” Donnie muttered to himself, finally leaning back from his microscope, and wiping his brow though as he did so, he couldn’t help but notice that his arm felt heavier than normal… And his back felt tight… And his straps felt like they were digging into his shoulders, chest, and hips… How long had he been hunched over? Donnie tapped his phone to check the time but as he did so, he noticed how big his hand looked compared to his phone. He paused for a moment, examining the deep crease along the back of his wrist, and how thick his digits looked, almost swollen like overstuffed sausages.

“What in the…?” It was then that Donnie noticed the strange green aura swirling in the air around his body.

“WHAT IN THE…*WHEEZE…!??!” Confused, Donnie instinctively hopped up from his stool, except he didn’t quite move as quickly as he was expecting. His “hopping” motion didn’t quite lift his body from the stool but instead slid his pudgy form to the side, nearly tipping the stool over. He grabbed the edge of the lab bench to steady himself just in time before slowly stepping down, his lardy exterior sloshing off his lap and down toward the floor too. The purple-banded turtle immediately became aware of a sense of weight pressing down against his joints, as well as a distinct hefting sensation as his gut wobbled, dangling towards the ground as it slapped against his thighs and seemed to pull his entire torso forward, a motion that was only counterbalanced by his large backside that bounced heavily as he steadied his balance. Donnie glanced down at his thicker frame and the green mist encircling his limbs that seemingly coaxed his body to expand more and more before his very eyes, puffing out his skin, stretching out his multiplying rolls, and birthing to life one patch of stretch marks and cellulite after another: he was fattening up in real time!

A thousand thoughts ran through Donnie’s head all at once, but they all came to a standstill when he suddenly heard the fire alarm blaring in the distance. He glanced towards his doorway and saw that a thick trail of the ethereal mist was coming from said direction. He could also hear the distinct mumbles of Mikey grumbling in the distance, prompting the purple-banded turtle’s eyes to narrow.

“*WHEEZE…MIKEY…!!!” Donnie bellowed, beelining for the door, his body sloshing back and forth with each step. The thick jostles, the gelatinous wobbles, and the meaty weight were foreign to Donnie and quickly made him start to pant, but he still managed to plod his way down the hall using the walls to help steady his swaying frame. He followed the mist into the main room of the lair and turned towards the kitchen where he spotted Mikey surrounded by puddles of water and smoke, struggling to reach the paper towels.

“*HUFF…MIKEY WHAT DID YOU…*WHEEZE…DO…?!” Donnie called waddling over to his brother like an angry, double-wide hippo.

“Just a little smoking cheese, nothing to worry about…” Mikey began to say before turning around and seeing his portly brother approaching. “Whoa, what happened to you?”

“*GASP…What happened to me?!” Donnie sputtered, seeing too that Mikey was suffering a similar fate as him. His short brother was almost starting to look as wide as he was tall, with a bean-bag-chair-sized gut, meaty love handles, ample hips, a pair of melon-sized moobs, and thick jowls for cheeks adorning his confused, empty-headed expression.

“Well, yeah, I don’t want to be rude but, you’re looking a little… thick…” Mikey replied nonchalantly as another layer of pudge materialized along his jawline giving him yet another chin.

“Obviously, Numnuts, but this isn’t normal! We’re fattening up!”

“I was wondering where all of this came from,” Mikey pondered, poking a finger into his swelling gut.

“*HUFF… Oh good, at least you were starting to think about it,” Donnie said sarcastically. “Were you also thinking about all this weird green smoke or mist or whatever this is?

“Now that you mention it, yeah, I was!” Mikey exclaimed. “You’re like a mind-reader or something…”

“GAH!!!! You moron...! *WHEEZE… This is your fault, I know it!” Donnie said, lunging towards Mikey.

“GWUWUH…!” Mikey sputtered, turning to run from Donnie but he could only manage a slow clumsy waddle.

Across the way, Leo and Raph sauntered up from the subway line but paused at the turnstile entrance to the lair as they noticed the entire lair filled with thick, green smoke and their two bros, now each the size of a barge, huffing and wheezing as they looped around the kitchen island like the world’s slowest, and fattest, carousel.

“Goddammit,” Leo muttered, rubbing his temples; you leave the B team alone one time… “HEY! What’s going on here?” Leo and Raph cautiously entered, trying to avoid the plumes of green mist that slowly curled in their direction behind them as they walked by.

“Mikey… *GASP… Did something and… *WHEEZE…” Donnie blubbered, leaning against the kitchen island as he tried to catch his raging breath.

“I didn’t do anything…! *HUFF…” Mikey retorted. “I was just heating up some pizza because I got hungry after coming back from skating and cleaning off this Palace Burger Totem I found and…”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait…” Leo interjected. “Palace Burger Totem…?”

~~~~~

“So, this is obviously the problem, right?” Leo asked as the four turtles stood around the burger-shaped totem on Mikey’s desk that was spewing ethereal green smoke like a voodoo volcano.

“Yes…*GRUNT…” Donnie said, his rage simmering as his belly began to slap against his knees.

“So, I’m just gonna get rid of this now, right?” Leo asked rhetorically, feeling his stomach gurgle as five pounds of pudge materialized on his frame, dulling his abdominal musculature slightly.

“No, you can’t!” Mikey protested. “It’s a limited-edition piece of vintage memorabilia! It’s worth its weight in gold! Tell’em, Raph!”

“Well,” Raph remarked, crossing his arms over his chest as his pecs softened and turning his gaze in embarrassment as a second chin appeared beneath his dulling jawline. “Technically, he’s right…”

“We’re all gonna weigh like a TRUCKLOAD of gold if we don’t do something!” Donnie bellowed.

“Leo, please…*HUFF…” Mikey groveled, giving his bro puppy dog eyes as his cheeks continued to swell with pudge and his meaty forehead began to sag over his brow. “Think of the collector’s value…*WHEEZE…”

Goddammit… Leo thought, rubbing his softening temples…

~~~~~

The turtles sat in silence around the dining room table, Raph and Leo along the short ends and Donnie and Mikey along the long ends given that they needed a full chair for each of their meaty buttcheeks. They each poked sadly at the large bowl of salad, as per their new mandated diets, before them.

By the time that Donnie had built that containment field around the totem, he and Mikey were clocking in around 850 lbs with Raph and Leo remaining relatively unscathed at a pot-bellied 350 lbs. It was gonna take a while for each of them to drop the weight, likely on the order of years, hence Donnie’s continued death glares at Mikey across the table.

“So, I’m guessing this means I can’t put the totem up on eBay?” Mikey asked.

“NO!” Leo and Donnie shouted in unison.

“Pfft, you guys wouldn’t know a missed opportunity even if it stared you right in the face…” Mikey huffed.

“I’m gonna kill him…!” Donnie grunted, pushing his salad aside as he tried to lunge across the table, Raph and Leo rushing in frantically to stop their blubbery bro from killing Mikey… and breaking the table…