Donkey Kong returns home to party after a well-deserved break. One banana led to another, and now the King of the Jungle is groaning just as loud as his bloated belly. Witness a willing descent into gluttony: one banana at a time.

I fell in love with the personality and look of the new Mario designs. DK is fantastic, and I just NEEDED to fatten him up. I love big, bombastic muscleheads. Even better when they have a stomach.

~~~

Big Banana Belly Bonanza
By: Jollyguts
12000 words

~~~

DK thundered down a narrow, grassy hill, his massive body swelling with pride and pure gorilla power, tearing through jungle brush toward the roar of screams, laughter, and pounding drums. The music rattled his core, too wild and electric to resist. His chiseled jaw split into a wide grin, chest puffed out like a proud balloon, each brawny pec swollen with joy. He couldn’t help but beat the two sacks jubilantly with a giant THUD, THUD THUD. He was home - back to the jungle, back to the people who adored his presence.

After defeating King K. Rool for the dozenth time, burning rubber in Mario’s championship racing tournament, and even trading blows with that pesky plumber (he technically lost, but the jungle thankfully didn’t see that), Donkey Kong was a bonafide star. And today, he was ready to throw the wildest welcome-home bash the jungle had ever seen.

The very jungle pulsed with the sound of the music. Trees twisted and swayed like dancers, vines bounced like snakes, and the flowers bursted open in time with the music. DK licked his lips, already tasting the banana pies and banana bread waiting for him. The jungle always knew how to throw a party - and he was the guest of honor.

He dashed across a pond filled with lounging hippos, their bellies bobbing like waterbeds above the water. He used them like stepping stones, each bounce making the hippos giggle and snort. One let out a yelp as DK landed a bit too heavily on one of their guts.

“Whoops! Sorry, big guy!” DK laughed, patting his own belly with pride.

On the other side of the pond, he jiggled his pecs toward a group of sunbathing gorillas who all swooned theatrically, falling backwards with love. He adjusted his tie and bounced toward a rhino, settling on top of its back and galloping toward a clearing.

After jumping off the pachy, he did a few front flips, rolled across a fallen tree with the dexterity of an accomplished acrobat, and launched into the air in a ball. He felt a rush of adrenaline as the free air rustled his coarse, brown fur. He was over-the-top, and glorious. Just how he wanted.

Then he opened his eyes.

“OH NO!” he yelled as he came crashing down into the jungle brush.

Just when he was about to splatter on the jungle floor in a pancake, something tugged his wrist and swung him into another arc.

DK looked up and saw Diddy holding on for dear life, red-faced and vine in hand. He had grabbed his arm before he fell and looked like he was struggling to hold him up. But something was odd: in place of Diddy’s curly tail was the long, thick, scaly tail of something he’d find on a crocodile.

“Thank you!” DK chuckled to himself, scowling toward the tail. Diddy could only give a subtle screech of pain.

The two safely landed at the foot of their home - a treehouse that defied all logic and gravity, stacked high with wooden balconies and large hammock nets. DK took a deep breath and exhaled, smiling wide as the scent of sweet fruit, roasted nuts, and nature filled his nostrils. This was the smell of home.

Diddy punched DK in the shoulder and exclaimed, “You’re off your rocker! You could have seriously hurt yourself. Don’t let the fame get to your head, bird-for-brains!”

DK shrugged and snorted, “Pfft! I would have been fine!”

He flexed his muscular biceps and eyed the muscles swell like inflating barrels, grinning proudly. He winked at Diddy and made a powerlifter’s pose that really showed off his power. He turned, gave his chunky rear a smack, and sighed in relief.

“I’m too much of a hunk for something like that to hurt me. Ain’t that right, ladies?”

There was a grouping of felines that peeked over a bush nearby - fat, spotted outsiders from another region. They had binoculars, and as soon as they were spotted, they hid behind the bushes, giggling.

Diddy pouted and shook his head. “Oh boy. Your new gigs are really getting to your head, huh?”

DK scooped Diddy up, placing him on his back, and began climbing up the treehouse with ease. “Don’t know what you mean, little guy.”

As he climbed, a few jungle critters poked their heads out of the brush and whispered. “Be careful DK! I saw three kremlings around here!”

DK beamed: just another day in the country. “I’ll just knock them out! It’ll be all good!”

He felt Diddy shiver on his back.

He sped up his pace as they reached the top of the treehouse, plopping on his back with a thud that shook the loose floorboards. He sprawled out like a king on a throne, arms behind his head, and eyeing the ceiling in bliss. He gave the entire jungle a big grin and puffed out his chest to take a deep breath, then exhale.

“Home sweet home,” he muttered, his eyes drifting toward something green sitting in the corner of the room at his dining table.

Before he could get a good look, Diddy hurriedly slapped both hands on DK’s cheeks, and yanked his vision away. The chimp chuckled sheepishly with a forced grin, and exclaimed, “Oh! There’s nothing over there, big guy! Jungle’s clean! Don’t worry.” He began pulling on DK’s arm to move him unsuccessfully.

DK squinted. “Huh?”

His brow furrowed and glanced over toward the table. His jaw nearly hit the floor.

Lounging with his fat, grubby feet propped arrogantly on DK’s dining table, King K. Rool sat wide like he owned the place. His delicate golden belly spread on his lap like a stolen hoard of dragon’s treasure, glistening both with sweat and crumbs that had missed his mouth. Each breath he took was labored, and made his gut rise and fall like the waves of an ocean.

He sat with a wide grin, his wicked eye scanning DK up and down, thinking of something. His crown was missing. One hand lazily plucked from a hand of bananas, the fruit practically glowing gold as if illuminated with magic. His other, greedy claw stroked the crest of his swollen belly, daring DK to react.

“What is HE doing here?” DK bellowed, stomping up to him and stopping just short of stepping on the Kremling’s toe. He slammed his mighty fists against his chest and snorted.

K. Rool didn’t even turn his head to meet DK’s gaze, paying no mind to the gorilla’s advances in the slightest. A tongue rolled around his gargantuan mouth, lapping up whatever food that had missed his jaws. It looked like he had been here for a while, stuffing himself silly. His stomach was bloated - more so than usual, and he looked absolutely lethargic because of it. His neck was completely hidden by two chins and pure fat that rested on top of two bloated moobs, and shiny sweat lathering his scales. He wore a stretchy, ocean-blue tropical shirt, comically undersized for the rest of his body. The buttons threatened to pop at any second.

“Greetings, darling.” K. Rool growled, his voice as calm as can be, but with a tone of playful teasing. He knew exactly how to get under DK’s skin. “You really let this place go… or is that just you? You’ve certainly not been missing meals-” He threw a banana peel on the floor, next to a great stack of them by his feet.

DK scoffed as the croc poked his claw directly center of his belly. He was comfortable, with a slightly doughy gut poking from what used to be abs - nothing that was noticeable in the slightest. He was a big guy, and had a big appetite. The frequent parties were certainly the main contender of why he had a bit of flab on him. But he was strong… right?

DK cracked his neck and put his fists together. “We doing this here or outside, fatty?!”

Diddy rushed between both of them, pushing them away. “No! No! Stop! I can explain -”

“This asshole is here, when he should be out there!” DK pointed toward the bustling jungle.

The kremling shrugged. “Tsk, tsk. Should I tell him, Diddy?”

The chimp looked flabbergasted, then said, “DK! He’s fine. We’ve come to an agreement.”

“Oh yeah?” DK rolled his shoulder back and lifted his fist into the air. K. Rool flinched and braced for impact. “I think my fist could settle that in less than a second!”

But he stopped.

K. Rool raised a half-peeled, golden banana toward DK. “Relax, darling. You’ve already won! No more fighting - just bananas, right? Beautiful, plentiful bananas…”

DK’s head rolled as he watched K. Rool peel three bananas and swallow them whole. It stretched out his neck, and he had to pause to catch his breath. The kremling let out a hearty yawn. His belly jiggled audibly with the contents of his previous meals. He gave it a fond pat that sounded like a drum, then rubbed it in slow, luxurious circles. His toes curled with bliss, and he gave a subtle burp under his breath as he settled deeper into DK’s chair.

“You know, I used to think power was everything. It was about domination and stabbing everyone in the back. But no… true power is being loved, so pampered, that this whole beautiful jungle bends backwards to stuff your greedy face. It keeps me soft. Keeps me smiling. You have it good here, ape.”

K. Rool continued to feast on the bananas and acted as if he were getting intoxicated from their natural sugars. His fatty cheeks bulged with fruit, its juice dribbling down his chin, and yet he still found room to talk with that big mouth of his.

“Mmfph… Look at you, standing there like you own the place.”

DK’s eyes darted angrily as K. Rool’s plump fingers slipped toward him and pinched his breast and arms, feeling his tense muscles.

“Why not let yourself go, champ? Let this fertile jungle spoil you like the king you are. I’ll share the riches. Just let me take a little treasure from the top…” his scaly, clawed hand slapped his golden belly, causing it to ripple, “...and I’ll keep out of your fur! HARHAR!”

Before DK could protest, there was the sound of LOUD reggae drums. The three turned and the door from the balcony burst open. Riding on a surfboard, Funky Kong dashed through the air with a boombox blasting on his shoulders. He sipped a banana smoothie from a glass through a silly straw in the shape of DK’s head. He, too, similarly had the long, thick, scaly tail of a crocodile. DK folded his arms over his chest, frowning.

“BROOOOO!” Funky’s abrasive voice hollered, landing with a perfect spin. He wrapped his arm around DK’s bulky back and hugged him close. “You still fighting this croc? Nah, man. Ease up. The city life has been stressin’ you out, man. This-” he swept his arm toward the window and to the dancing palm trees- “this is the jungle, baby!”

He vaulted over the table with a meaty, carefree THUD and settled into a chair next to K. Rool. Funky sprawled wide, one leg kicked up on the table, while the other leaned right into the kremling’s lap. His toned, golden-furred body pressed gently against the immense bulk of the croc. The contrast was outrageous - Funky’s surfer bro body sank in between rolls of jiggling, sweat-glossed, shining, scaly blubber, the kremling’s girth spreading out in every direction like a living beanbag chair. He was truly royalty now, and paid no mind to indulgence.

“This guy?” Funky grinned, giving K. Rool’s dome of a belly a hearty slap that sent ripples cascading through the shining, golden mass of his gut. He then curled his fingers around the fat, cupping it as if presenting a trophy he owned. “He gets it, bro! Ain’t nothing wrong with taking what you need, you catch? This fat cat’s living like a king - and look at that belly! That’s the real deal, pal. You don’t get that big unless you are doing something right.”

K. Rool growled, though his breath was labored and it seemed his body barely had room left for air. “Watch it, pup!”

He threw off Funky’s arms and reclined deeper into the wooden chair, which creaked under the monumental heft of his bloated figure. His belly was impossibly round and distended from who knows how many feasts, and was shiny with sweat and stretched so taut that his green scales barely held together. His paunch ballooned outward over his thick lap, resting over his knees like a thick, golden sack of droopy honey. His moobs slumped on top of that, heavy and full across the swell of his completely bloated gut, each one pinched outward and glistening with a layer of unwashed sweat from the jungle humidity. His thick neck had vanished entirely into a bulky collar of pure lard, lifting up his chin like a fleshy scarf.

K. Rool kinda liked the teasing, but was afraid to show mercy.

He looked toward Funky with a subtle wink and grinned. He lifted up a banana with sausage-like fingers into his already full mouth. His cheeks puffed outwards with every new morsel he stuffed into his maw, choosing to stuff his face faster than he could swallow. His entire face jiggled softly as he chewed. “The ape’s right…” he gasped, voice low, his eyelids half-lidded and fluttering as the sheer bliss of indulgence washed over him. The jungle breeze wafted the scent of bananas and sweat around as they grouped around each other. “This is the life…”

His stomach gave a loud groan like a warning - but he ignored it. He was a creature of a particular appetite and lifestyle now, too deep in this pleasure to stop. He was a swollen monument to gluttony. And he was around good company.

Funky, always the chill, agreeable one, began to gently massage K. Rool’s doughy arms to ease him into comfort. “Just sip in these vibes, big man. The jungle loves you and provides. This is where you are supposed to be, DK!”

The air was thick with fruit and sweat - the pulsing sound of distant, bombastic drums still pounding with life. DK wished he was out there than here right now. Diddy stood to the side, scratching the back of his head, offering DK an apologetic smile.

Donkey Kong stood firm - biceps tensed, pecs rising and falling with his breath, every part of his body swollen with heroic muscle and vigor.

But his brow twitched.

His eyes drifted - not with anger, but curiosity toward the fat puddle of croc lard resting on his chair. He saw the unfiltered pleasure written all over K Rool’s doughy face… and the ease that Funky radiated just by a simple rub and knead. The jungle treated his people well. Fed them. Pampered them.

He missed these guys - even K. Rool.

DK sniffed the air: the fruit was ripe, and a cool mist cooled their treehouse from a nearby waterfall. There was a craving for peace. It was odd standing next to his enemy and feeling this way. Perhaps letting go wasn’t weakness. Maybe letting go was the way to be. DK gulped, looking down at the croc with a newfound appreciation. What a fatass - it was almost an accomplishment to be so overweight.

Funky grinned wide, eyes gleaming under his sunglasses, and raised himself up from the chair. He clapped his hands together and cheered, “We’re all good then, right?!”

DK and K. Rool turned to face each other - this time really seeing each other for the first time without an old flare of rivalry between them. There was no tension, no trick hidden in the air. Just the heavy, humid warmth of the jungle and the lazy thrum of drums and singing. DK gave a subtle, low shrug, still caught off guard by the presence of the kremling.

K. Rool, meanwhile, was too deep into his bloated stupor to argue. His eyelids were slack, his body relaxed deep into the creaking chair, and green ass spread wide like a giant pancake underneath him. A thick banana disappeared into his lower jaw, and his rounded belly groaned ominously.

DK’s eyes wandered to the nearby bunch of bananas. It was a mountain of golden yellow - unnatural. There was so much here that it could feed all of them for several weeks straight. Well, maybe excluding K. Rool. He stopped at the foot of this treasure trove of fruit that stood higher than the top of his head. The fruit that had tempted the kremling to such gluttony. Slowly, he reached out. His fingers closed around just one, and with the ease of a seasoned primate, he peeled it.

He raised it to his lips and swallowed the fruit in two bites. There was hardly any chewing. His throat flexed as he swallowed the delight down, hard. His jaw slackened.

It was… incredible.

The fruity taste bit his tongue like a bolt of lightning. It was more than just sweet - these bananas were vibrant with taste - each bite a memory he wouldn’t forget. As he swallowed, his senses flared, and his body reacted with a shiver. It was difficult to put just one down and be satisfied. DK grabbed another, avoiding the constant scratching in the back of his mind saying something was wrong.

These were too indulgent. Addictive. One was not enough. It never will be.

Funky beamed, slapping his warm hand on DK’s broad back with a meaty thwap. “That’s right, big guy,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “Get your fill. Been a long time since the last time you tasted real jungle fruit, huh city boy?” The long, thick tail wagged behind him mischievously.

DK nodded, his thick brows relaxing as his defences softened. He wasn’t just hungry, he was starving. The richness of the jungle had always been delectable. Now, he could savor it whenever he wanted to, just like old times. But this fruit… it was different, somehow. It made him never want to leave again. He glanced toward K. Rool with a grin. Their old fighting didn’t matter anymore.

He reached for another bulky banana nearly the size of his forearm. This time, he chewed slowly, savoring each bite as if it could be his last. He felt something inside him give; a wall collapsing. Tension he hadn’t realized he carried started to melt.

Who cared if he glutted himself just this once?

He slumped into a nearby chair next to K. Rool, who gave him a fat, cheeky nod of approval before tipping his long, scaly snout into a bowl of mashed bananas, his malleable cheeks wobbling as he swallowed it like porridge. DK returned his eyes toward the spread - mounds of fruit, glistening, golden sweets far too plentiful for any of them to possibly eat in one sitting. He picked one banana. Then another.

Then another.

His belly, once trim and powerful, began to swell softly with each morsel. The gut pushed gently forward, a small dome forming as he leaned back into a rickety chair and exhaled a content grunt. His buxom chest rose and fell with his steady indulgence, supplying the air needed to power this large feat of gluttony. Funky, sitting nearby with a smoothie in one hand, raised it like a toast and winked to the gorilla as if praising it.

“Welcome back, king,” he said, dipping his head mischievously toward K. Rool. The croc nodded his head.

DK, his mouth full and fingers sticky with the fruit, couldn’t help but smile.

Diddy scratched the back of his head nervously. “Oh boy,” he muttered, eyeing the more-than-delighted look in DK’s crooked grin. “Seems like you still have your appetite.”

DK snorted, puffing out his broad chest and throwing his arms up into a mighty flex. His biceps ballooned like bread in the oven, their bulk twitching with raw power. He jiggled his plush chest, nipples bobbing up and down like a tiny flower on water.

“You call this fat?” he bellowed, grinning wide with pride as he cupped one arm in hand. “Look at me! I’m a giant bull filled with muscle, baby!”

Funky’s tail thumped against the ground. He whistled low, adjusting his sunglasses with an appreciative nod. “That’s right, brother! You’re looking sexy~” He placed his hand on DK’s stomach, balling up the paunch with the palm of his hand. “But… I think you’d look better with a little… extra? Maybe a little less muscle? Just look at this fat cat over here-”

He gestured with both hands toward King K. Rool, who sat like royalty on a rickety throne that threatened to pop underneath his abundant ass. He sat loudly eating as if hypnotized by a spell. His massive stomach pooled over his lap like a golden avalanche, pressing over the top of the table with a muffin-like curve. His legs spread wide, his thighs bursting with so much extra lard he’d have to waddle if he packed on any more weight. His chest inflated and deflated with satisfied burps and moans.

“That’s right, DK.” The Kremling said, both hands sinking into the swell of his belly as it let out a low, contented gurgle, “Who cares if you put on some sexy blubber? I think I’d like to see that delicious softness on you one of these days. So long as my appetite is sated as well~”

He have his belly a violent shake with a loud, wet slap against his pot belly. The jiggle rippled like wobbly pudding across his entire body, as if demonstrating to DK the fruitful path of being a fatass could be like.

Funky slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose toward the croc. He bit his lip. “Mhmm. I can see it too,” he said with a smooth drawl. “Big, soft, fat. The jungle’s newest cushion.”

DK chuckled low in his throat somewhat anxiously. “You guys are crazy… Different, even. What has gotten into you two?” He looked to the two Kong’s tails, raising a brow inquisitively.

Diddy, ever the eager helper, stepped up with a smile. “I think it is okay DK! You’ve been doing all the heavy lifting for all of us for years. Let me get those aching feet up for ya!”

Before DK could respond, the little chimp ducked underneath him to where he could see him. He gently lifted his legs, grunting as he guided the heavyweight gorilla’s feet onto a plush, oversized cushion. DK’s legs sank into the soft fabrics, the sheer size of his calves and thighs making the entire table shift underneath the weight.

“Ohhh, I could get used to that~” DK growled, his demeanor quickly welcoming this new treatment. He sank deeper into his chair, his belly slightly distended. He gave a soft groan as it settled in his lap, pressing warmly against his thighs. His hands rested atop the growing mound, and a knowing smile spread across his face. This was very, very comfy.

Funky passed him a chilled coconut drink, thick with creams and floating chunks of glowing, golden fruit. He winked as DK took it. “Jungle royalty, baby!” His voice bellowed, “You earned every bite!”

DK beamed. “You’re right!” He snapped off another banana and slipped it down his throat. “I do deserve this!”

King K. Rool smiled toward Funky and Diddy, who gave a knowing glance. Diddy smacked his hands together and said, “Looks like you’re getting comfortable! Perhaps we should… leave?”

Funky grinned lazily, as if caught in his own world. “Here, here, bro! We’ll leave you to it.”

K. Rool slumped forward, heaving his weighty body onto two feet. His stomach lurched forward, and he snickered darkly. “Be sure to eat up, big boy. I think this is a great first impression of our… alliance.”

DK grinned from ear to ear as the three sauntered out of his treehouse, their silhouettes vanishing into the humid glow of dusk. With a low, satisfied grunt, he welcomed the influx of food being delivered into his gut. The thick swell of his belly shifted as he moved - rounded by the sheer volume of bananas he so quickly devoured. He sighed in deep contentment, feeling the gentle stretch of his gut as he settled like a warm, lazy animal.

His hand hovered toward each finger of banana without hesitation. This strange hunger devoured his will to stop. It wasn’t until his eyes dropped to the treehouse floor when a sprawling mess of yellow peels blanketed the floor like a golden carpet.

“Oh…”

He blinked, dazed by the sight. Had he really eaten that much? It felt as if no time had passed at all. The fruit was just… so good! Sweet, creamy, almost too perfect. He must have been lulled by each bite.

He looked down and gave his belly a firm, lazy pat. Thwump. Thwump.

“This is like the start of a good vacation,” he mumbled to himself with a smirk, feeling the resistance of his meal rising in his stomach. “That fat croc is still triple my weight even after all this. What’s it going to kill if I had more?”

A faint and sickish gurgle echoed from deep within his core as he slumped lower into the seat, one hand resting along the sturdy dome of his belly. Each breath tugged at his middle, a comforting, yet stuffed ache. His eyes fluttered shut as lethargy had taken him, and the great ape snored - low, rolling snores that sound like the purr of a lion.

The chirping cicadas hushed and the trees seemed to hold their breath as the jungle drifted into a sleepy stillness. DK’s grating caw echoed like thunder through the canopies of the trees, deep and labored from the heavy meal. Beneath a thick patch of foliage, K. Rool, Funky, and Diddy crouched low, glancing up at the treehouse.

K. Rool glanced around, his crazed eyes scanning for witnesses. The coast was clear.

With a mad, guttural chuckle, he reached out and grabbed both Funky’s and Diddy’s heads. His claws dug into their skin, and peeled away to reveal scales.

In the shimmer of light from the moon, their disguises faded, revealing two smug Kremlings in their place. They wore little more than scraps of cloth and had devilish grins stretched across their faces. The blue-scaled, taller one, formerly Funky, snorted through his nose and fist, trying not to laugh too loudly. The orange-scaled one, who had posed as Diddy, couldn’t help himself - he burst into a wheezing, hyena-like fit of cackles.

Looming above and behind them, the enormous silhouette of DK rocked gently in a hammock, his thick, muscular arm draped lazily over his bloated stomach. His gut bulged outward, stuffed comically round with a ludicrous quantity of fruit. A half-eaten banana clung to his chest, and as he slept his tongue sometimes reached out to nibble at it.

K. Rool lifted his arms overhead, his entire body jiggling with plush, decadent heft. His golden belly sloshed like a washing machine as he whispered, “Look at how easy that was, men!”

The blue Kremling nodded his head, but the orange one howled. He slapped his head and belly with wet smacks, and doubled over onto the jungle floor in glee.

WHAP!

K. Rool brought his fist down on top of the orange Kremling’s head, flattening him like a bug.

“Silence, you slobbering fool!” he hissed like a snake, “We’re not out of the woods yet!” he addressed the orange Kremling carrying his aching head to recover from the punch. “Get my crown.” he pointed toward the blue Kremling. “You take the lead and scout. I don’t want anyone to see us.”

The three slipped through the jungle low underneath the brush, snickering at how easy it was to plant their trap this time around. The poor Kremlings procured glimmering gold from a nearby bush. K. Rool snagged it aggressively and adjusted it on top of his oddly shaped head - his king’s crown. His toothy, mad grin stretched across his face.

“He’ll blimp up without us doing anything else! This was SO EASY!!!! Now we wait.” K. Rool’s eyes locked onto DK as he slept. “He’ll be too fat to fight back - and I’ll be unstoppable!”

~~~

Crocodile Isle was as murky as ever. Smog clung thick in the air and was nearly tangible, fed by both the humid swamplands and the factories constantly belching steam and toxic haze. Spiked metal architecture jutted from every surface, making the sight as unwelcoming as it was dangerous. Crocodile statues - towering and snarling - loomed everywhere, each one carved in the likeness of the King Kremling himself. It was a looming reminder of who ruled this grim domain. Above, airships prowled in lazy loops, keeping a lookout for the horrible DK crew.

But lately, something strange had been brewing in the shadows.

A golden glow flickered deep within the swamp trees - unnatural and persistent. Enormous, shimmering fruits now dotted the underbrush, swollen to grotesque sizes and pulsating faintly with life. Just beyond these patches were steel-plated testing facilities, their entrances lined with barrels of golden syrupy liquid. Kremling scientists and techs injected the experimental fluid into the soil and roots. Within moments, the fruits would either balloon to absurd proportions or burst entirely, flooding the ground with the golden juice.

The less intelligent - and vastly more corpulent - grunts would rush toward this juice to lap it up as if starved. Many had taken to guzzling the stuff by the barrels, unable to resist its sickly-sweet allure. Their frames ballooned with pure lard, snouts buried in blubber as their uniforms strained at every seam. Not a single one questioned it. The fatter they got, the happier they seemed.

Those who grew too large to function - or even move - were relocated to containment units affectionately referred to as the “Fat Chambers.” At one such facility, the heavy iron doors hissed open as K. Rool himself stomped inside, his great red cape fluttering against his doughy back.

Along the walls, dozens of his minions lay chained to reinforced, metallic beds, their bodies oozing over the edges in wobbling heaps of fat. The smallest among them was roughly K. Rool’s size; the largest had swollen so vast they dedicated entire rooms to one person. Tubes and feeding funnels snaked from the ceilings, pumping in a near-constant flow of golden fruit slurry. The air reeked of sugar, sweat, and unadulterated gluttony. As all should be under the mighty fist of the fat Kremling himself.

K. Rool grinned broadly, his razor sharp teeth catching the flickering lab lights as he ate a swollen, golden banana.

“Excellent,” he purred, waddling past a twitching grunt whose belly rose like a hill. “All in the name of science…”
He waved a claw dramatically.
“…and tactical innovation, of course. Hehe…”
One nearby grunt hiccuped, eyes fluttering as he weakly raised a trembling thumb. “For the King…”
“S-Sire!” piped up a much scrawnier Kremling in a lab coat several sizes too large, its sleeves nearly dragging on the floor. His thick, circular glasses magnified his eyes threefold, giving him a perpetually panicked look. “I-I must strongly advise against ingesting the test batch - there are still unknown mutagenic variables, and you’re not exactly thin - ”

“Shut it,” K. Rool snarled, swatting the frail scientist aside with the back of one pudgy hand. The Kremling yelped and ducked behind a cluster of nutrient tubes.

K. Rool stood alone amid his swollen troops, staring down at the golden-drenched fruit in his claw. His gaze lingered on his minions - bloated, moaning creatures, their minds dulled by syrup and indulgence. He grimaced.

He looked down again at what he was eating… and shivered.
“I can control myself,” he muttered, hungrily smacking his lips.

***READ THE REST OF THE STORY WITH THE PDF ABOVE. SORRY THIS IS SO LONG. FA DOES NOT ALLOW DESCRIPTIONS LONGER THAN THIS. THANKS!!!***