I've been writing very long stories lately. This was something short that I started making probably two months ago or so. I decided to finish it up! (I should probably do this with the other 10 stories I never finished X_X)

In the neon-soaked arenas of Neo-Tokyo, Kalumet is a skyscraper-sized gator built for glory, gluttony, and ground-shaking body slams. When he faces off against a lightning-fast falcon in the MECHA SLAM XXV, it's fat versus flight in a clash of titanic egos.

3500 Words

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Kalumet the Unmovable
By: Jollyguts

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Neon billboards and flickering holoprojections bathed Neo-Tokyo in moody blues, acid greens, and searing pinks - all colors that danced across golden towers and the trashy, sweat-slick, oily pavement below. Steam hissed from underground grates in all corners of the streets, curling through the air like smoke from a dragon’s nostrils, thickening into a choking fog. Overhead, tangled knots of jury-rigged wire buzzed angrily, vomiting sparks from open veins, barely sustaining the engorged city’s ravenous hunger for more power.

It was a city of impure, unadulterated consumption, that is, if your credits ran deep. Every street corner heaved under the weight of vendors barking for people to buy their chrome-fried trinkets and glistening stacks of synthetic meats, fat bubbling in metal troughs like molten lava. Shouts begged passerby for a few credits, each vendor dreaming of collapsing into their two-room capsule apartment for the low, low cost of 1,000,000 credits a month - utilities not included.

Trends flared and fizzled with the speed of a blown fuse. Everyone clawed to be the next hot algorithm face - the next trending bark of the city - only to crash back into their 8am-10pm grind, neon dreams dripping down the shower drain. But one obsession held the city’s bloated heart in a vice grip: kaiju wrestling. Street punks, wage-slaves, chromed-out cyborgs, and LED-laced influencers crowded rooftops and alleyways to catch a glimpse of the thundering titans slamming into each other with skyscraper-sized bodies.

But tonight’s bout was more than a match - it was a feast.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN AND ALL YOU CYBERNETIC FREAKS!!!” The announcer’s voice detonated across Neo-Tokyo, blasting over bass-heavy tech-metal theme music from every rusted speaker. “Feast your eyes and tune in to the MEEEECHA SLAM TWENTY-FIVE!”

Camera drones swarmed the mile-wide ring like bees, lenses zoomed in on each heaving breath, every wobbling fold, every mountainous stomp that made concrete quake and plasma screens flicker. The crowd roared as the first of the two behemoths entered the arena.

One was all jagged edges and glittering steel - razor-sharp feathered arms flexing as a mecha-falcon shrieked. The other? A scale-covered colossus, oozing confidence and sweat before the match even started. His belly hung low like a dome of chocolate, sweat glistening under the floodlights, every step sending a wave through his titanic gut like jelly slamming against a brick wall. It was a clash of talons versus blubber, wings versus weight. The city held its breath.

Kalumet loomed in the center of the arena like a giant given purpose: a monstrous wall of hilly mint-green and chocolate-brown scales that rippled with both raw power and endless indulgence. His body was a cathedral of hedonism, an absurd engineered fusion of dense muscle wrapped in layers upon layers of sagging, sweat-slick lard.

Four hundred feet tall and nearly just as wide, he moved with the gravity of a small moon. Every motion was an event; every footstep sank deep into the dirt, leaving a clawed crater beneath his crushing weight. And yet, despite his size, Kalumet moved with terrifying precision. He crouched low, thighs grinding together, belly sloshing forward like a cargo freighter’s bulky, overstocked hull. His engorged legs braced for impact, jumbo ass tensing, swollen arms spread wide to absorb whatever came next.

“Come on, bird-brain!”

Kalumet’s roar bellowed through the arena like a bomb had ignited in a canyon, his deep, rumbling voice making all the electricity flicker and beer slosh in cups. He bared his fangs, belly jiggling with the voice of his fury as he glared upward.

Overhead, the falcon blitzed by again, its cybernetic wings slicing the air like blades, its long tail a glittering streamer of LED rainbows that stung the eyes. It circled him like a drone - fast, sleek, and way too smug for Kalumet’s tastes.

He grunted, smacking his lips. “Tch. Damn chicken with a rave budget…”

Kalumet’s attention went elsewhere to avoid getting blinded by the falcon’s lightshow. He instead looked to the audience, basking in the tidal wave of oohs and ahhs that rippled through the stands with every thud of his bulk. Each of his stomps made the stadium quake: something that he made certain to rumble the spectator’s hearts. Each wobble of his belly earned a fresh, steaming hot plate of cheers. He soaked it all in like a good beer - adoration bloomed into confidence, and confidence…

Confidence brewed something else entirely.

“URRRGhhhh…”

Kalumet groaned, pawing at the cavernous swell of his belly as it let out a thunderous BLORP that echoed across the arena like a ruptured engine. The bassline of his roaring hunger rumbled loud enough to make a hot dog vendor slip off their feet.

“Come on! I made sure to eat before this!” he growled, giving his belly a hard slap that sent waves across its scaled and metallic surface. “Damn enhancements making me starve to death…”

A blur of rainbow feathers zipped just feet overhead. Kalumet barely glanced up, wincing as his stomach jutted with pain. “Ugh… I need to hit Taco Jacob’s after this. Triple-stacked tacos. With extra cheesy lava sauce…”

“MAKE WAY FATSO!!!” Zephryx the Bullet-Falcon shrieked as he dove like a missile, wings folded and tail trailing a neon, blurry wave.

Kalumet crouched, his colossal thighs hooking on metallic joint stabilizers, and creaking like an old car under strain. A burst of rainbow flashed in front of his vision - then CLANG!

Talons collided with his armored shoulder scales and scraped off uselessly. The falcon’s momentum grinded to a squishy halt as their arms and legs sank several dozen feet into stubborn, jiggling gatorfat beneath pure steel. Kalumet barely flinched.

The bulky reptile slowly turned, swiveling a full 180 degrees with the grace of a dancing carnival elephant. Zephryx sensed danger and kicked away, hovering midair, his face beet-red and his wings patting the wind furiously.

Kalumet glanced up triumphantly, puffed out his chest with theatrical flair, and slapped his belly with a deep, echoing WHUMP. He grinned as the crowd’s shouts became so loud that it rumbled his very core. The gator grinned wide enough to show every jagged tooth.

“What’s the matter, bird-brain? Can’t pick me up or push me down?”

“S-SHUT UP!!!” squawked Zephyrx, flapping in a panicked spiral high into the air once again.

A burst of LED light streaked across the sky as the falcon circled ahead, then lunged. Its building-sized body blurred into a razor-sharp missile of feathers and metal. Wings stretched nearly a thousand feet wide before folding in with a mechanical snap. It became a living bullet, shooting through the air with the shriek of shearing metal like a plane.

Kalumet widened his stance once again, hips spread like the base of a mountain, every joint groaning under the excessive amount of weight. He braced, squatting so low his ass fell to the dirt. His tail gouged deep trenches into the arena floor as it lashed behind him.

Then - IMPACT!

A boom exploded through the stadium like a gargantuan gong, rippling out shockwaves that shattered LED screens and sent several people toppling out of their chairs.

But Kalumet didn’t fall.

The bird hit him square in the chest and stopped dead in its tracks. It was like watching a pigeon slam into a window, only the window was the giant, jiggling stomach of a kaiju.

Kalumet’s chest, a planet-sized plateau of blubber and uncontained gluttony, wobbled violently with the force of the blow. His moobs, thick with plush fat, rebounded the blow with a cartoonish SPLOING. Waves of the displaced impact rolled down his back in visible tremors, his lard-filled back rippling like gelatin.

Somewhere in the crowd, a child giggled. Then someone else. Then a ripple of delighted laughter swept over the stands. A chant started to form.

“BOUNCE BACK! BOUNCE BACK!”

The floodlights converged on Kalumet, gleaming across his mint-green scales now slick with sweat. The shockwave had buried his feet ten feet into the arena floor, and yet, he stood proud.

His barrel-wide chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate heaves, each breath rumbling with fury. Sweat glistened down the slopes of his cleavage, each drop the size of a small car, quivering with every strained exhale.

Again, he spread his aching legs wide, thighs trembling under the weight and fatigue. Every inch of him was working overtime to stay upright, to resist the gravity, exhaustion, and ache of fighting in a body too massive to exist without cybernetic enhancements. Even the technology keeping him afloat was heating up to dangerous temperatures.

Zephryx kicked away but faltered. His wings beat nervously as he veered away, sensing danger in the grounded mountain of mint-chocolate blubber and rage still somehow standing below.

“Keep running, Zephryx!” Kalumet’s voice thundered through the stadium like a volcano mid-eruption. He puffed his stomach out, slapping it for good measure, and sneered, “See what happens when you come back this time!”

Kalumet eased back into his low stance, claiming center stage once again, his every motion deliberate and dripping with confidence. As he crouched low, his monstrous paunch spilled forward onto the dirt floor like an avalanche of indulgence. The sheer volume of him left the crowd howling with cheers, wondering how such a rotund creature could exist.

Settled into his wide squat, Kalumet smacked the side of his love handle - WHAP! WHAP! - and kneaded his aching titanic thighs, each palm pressing into feet of dense, wobbling fat. With a heavy grunt, he lifted one leg high, and brought it crashing down in an exaggerated, thundering sumo shiko that sent a tremor rippling across the entire stadium.

His ass cheeks clapped against each other with a sloshy FLOOMP, and the crowd lost it. Cheering, wolf-calling, even chants of “SIT ON HIM! SIT ON HIM!” erupted from the stands.

Kalumet gave his enormous rear a few smug, showy pats, presenting it to the stadium like a prize ham. He turned, casting a smirk toward the circling falcon again.

At the climax of the battle, Kalumet’s cybernetic seams hissed with steam and flickered to life. Five plasma screens hummed on across his mountainous body - two glowing bright from each rolling love handle, two more flaring to life across his broad, jiggling back, and one enormous screen stretched taut over the curve of his belly, still bouncing from the last stomp.

Ads immediately flooded the displays: bottomless buffets, synth bloating enhancers, and a variety of creams and scale care, all looping in dazzling HD.

Zephryx pulled up, wings faltering mid-flight, beak slack in disbelief.

“You’re a walking billboard?! HOW IS THIS FAIR?!”

Kalumet stretched with a loud, contented groan, arching his back and jutting his belly forward, ensuring that the cameras got a good look at the ads. The belly screen warped slightly from the bend, cutting “Taco Jacob’s Spicy Lava Nacho Deal” in half.

“Aww, what’s wrong?” Kalumet sneered, giving his belly a proud shake that jostled his ads into buffering. “Can’t get sponsored, feathers? Maybe they just don’t pay lightweights…”

Zephryx didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His visage was pure rage, seething through his gleaming metallic wings and flickering red LED fathers.

Kalumet gulped. He honestly wasn’t sure if he would take the next attack well. This guy had trained, ruthlessly sculpting every sinew into lean muscle. That speed, that grace - it was earned. But what did all that matter, really? What good was all that agility against someone like him? He was a skyscraper of blubber! A living tank that would never be stopped. He was an elephant, and Zephryx? Just a roach.

Kalumet exhaled all doubts aside as the falcon spread his wings wide, wider than a city block, and glittering with crimson rage. In an instant, Zephryx blotted out the starless sky, blocking the arena’s harsh overhead lights.

“Oh shit-” Kalumet breathed. He couldn’t see anything.

With a piercing, metallic caw, Zephryx dove. His razor-sharp beak glinted with murderous precision, aimed directly for Kalumet’s face - the least protected part of his body. He was moving faster than the bullet train nearby.

The engorged gator swung his thick, padded arms in front of him, trying to shield his face, his chest - anything vital. He bent his massive hips, engaging every overloaded joint as if he might actually leap. For a split second, Kalumet closed his eyes, terrified he’d missed his mark.

Then - BOOM!

Zephryx’s beak hit him dead center in the gut, and everything went out of his lungs in a violent whuff. Kalumet doubled forward, eyes shooting open, as a searing, pressure-point pain stabbed just above his navel. The falcon’s strike drilled deep, compressing the fat and pushing past the armor. He was aiming for the cybernetic core.

But the gator’s exoskeleton groaned, flared, and held. No blood. No puncture - not even a bruise. He stood strong.

Gasping, lips pulled back in a snarl of pain and determination, Kalumet did the only thing he could. He held on. There was no way he would let this guy fly away again.

Once Kalumet had the bird in his grasp, it was over. Every movement radiated unstoppable power as he curled one meaty arm around Zephryx’s back, locking those flailing, neon-covered wings against his chest and bicep. The falcon struck out wildly with his talons - scraping, slashing, anything to escape - but they only bounced harmlessly off thick, armored scales and layers of plush, unrelenting fat.

Kalumet could have ended it immediately, but he posed for the crowd, lights flashing off his glistening bulk. With a grin and a wink, he hoisted Zephryx overhead, held him there like a trophy… and fell backward.

Zephryx’s body lashed and he let out a defeated, metallic caw - cut short as gravity rapidly took its course.

“OH YEAH!!!” Kalumet roared, voice vibrating the arena speakers as he descended like a mint-chocolate meteor.

The gator crashed onto his back with a titanic WHOMP, and Zephryx’s head disappeared beneath the dirt. The impact triggered a stadium-wide tremor. The floor rattled, shaking the chairs, and causing the fans to scream and cheer as the lights swayed. Taking no chances, Kalumet rolled on top of Zephryx until he was buried beneath the spreading mint-chocolate tide of his rolling belly fat. Zephryx popped his head out of the ground and let out an ear-piercing screech, clawing at the dirt to try to escape.

It was over. He had won.

He couldn’t make out the announcer’s screams over the deafening roar of the crowd, but it didn’t matter - he felt it in his bones. His adrenaline surged as he rolled off of Zerphryx, sprawling out like a living carpet and basking lazily in the glow of victory.

Kalumet’s vision blurred as every stadium light blazed down on him, the cameras trained squarely on his sprawled, heaving form. He lay flat on his back, cradling his belly and fighting for breath, each inhale making his mountainous gut rise taller than the very stands, and fall in a slow, gelatinous shiver.

He tilted his head lazily and spotted Zephryx, out cold, tiny limbs twitching slightly, eyes spinning with cartoonish stars. Kalumet chuckled, a low, wheezing huff-huff-huff, barely able to summon the air to gloat.

Just as he was about to roll onto his feet, Kalumet felt something tiny land on his stomach with a slight press. Hovering just overhead was a small, floating platform powered by magnets. It was barely the size of his fingertip. He craned his neck up with a groan, gaze rolling down the curve on his own gut to see the culprit.

A lion stepped off of the platform and onto his belly. It was none other than The Great Gonzales.

The lion’s golden mane was wild and wiry, tied into a desperate knot in the back to keep from swallowing his face whole. His tailored blazer sparkled with LEDs, and his grin was as sharp as his fangs. He wore his championship belt - this feline had been a legend for years - the voice of the Mecha Slam, and once a titan of the ring himself.

Kalumet’s eyes widened. The Great Gonzales had mounted him?!

“And HERE is our victor!” the lion roared into his mic, voice like a rusted chainsaw. The crowd exploded again, louder than ever. The Great Gonzales braced himself, stumbling slightly on Kalumet’s swaying belly and onto his chest as the gator wheezed beneath him.

“What do you have to say, Kalumet the Unmovable?!”

Kalumet blinked. Then grinned. Oh… he liked the sound of that!

The lion leaned in, nearly shoving the entire mic into Kalumet’s gaping maw and onto his giant tongue, grinning with anticipation. Kalumet let out a soft, delighted, throaty rumble. Oh, yes. This was the good stuff - every camera on him, every light bathing his sweat-slick belly. Without him realizing it, his fingers sank into the pliant flesh of his belly, kneading it lazily like dough to ease the hunger tearing inside.

“Guess I deserve a little bite to eat, huh?” he rumbled, eyes half-lidded and dreamy. As he said it, he caught a slight twitch in Zephryx’s wing. Still conscious? Maybe. Angry? That was for certain.

“Oh, you’ll get that and so, so much more, big guy!” Gonzales roared with a wide grin, turning to the cameras and audience. “That’s the night, folks!” Gonzales bellowed, voice full of fireworks. “Go home, hug your kids, kiss your bots, and settle down for a night of cheap takeout and full bellies, just like Kalumet! From all of us here at MECHA SLAM XXV - goodnight, you freaks!”

It happened so fast.

The stadium lights snapped off, plunging the stands into blackness. The roaring crowd gave way to grumbles as security ushered them out. Screens went painfully dark. Drones powered down and hid in little cubbies. And one by one, the electricity was sucked from the building and taken elsewhere.

In the dead of silence, only the soft crackle of stagnant power remained.

Kalumet felt it immediately - the shift of his body. A low hum ran through his bulky limbs as the arena’s size-enhancement fields disengaged. His immense body began to compress, bulk folding inward, shrinking down in slow, comfortable pulses. Zephryx shrank beside him, feathers flickering as his own frame reset.

Soon the titans were gone. Only two civilian-sized fighters remained in the center of an empty, echoing void. Kalumet glanced around at the silent, blackened coliseum. How quickly the limelight faded. His moment had lasted less than ten minutes - a blazing high, extinguished in an instant as the world moved on to the next obsession.

Beats me if I care, Kalumet thought, placing his hands on his jolly belly. He continued to lay here for several minutes in the crater his foot had dug during the fight. But then, something interrupted the silence.

“Good game, buddy,” said Zephryx.

Kalumet turned. The falcon - no longer a towering blur of steel and feathers - stood with a lopsided grin and wing extended for a handshake. Kalumet stared at it. Hesitated. Then slowly reached one heavy hand and gave it a gentle shake, the soft scrape of scale meeting feather in the dark.

“Er-” he started, unsure.

“You were great out there!” Zephryx cut in, beaming. “Seriously, I’ve never seen anyone fight like you. That weight? That presence?! You’re in a whole class of your own. I couldn’t land a single clean blow!”

Kalumet opened his mouth, but Zephryx kept going, eyes sparkling.

“Oh! You’re wondering where all that rage went, huh?” He let out a short, humming caw. “Nah, all that rage? That’s just performance, friend. I love drama! But I’m not trying to be the champ - I leave that for stars like you.”

With considerable effort, Zephryx flapped his wing under Kalumet’s thick arm, helping hoist the gator upright onto his ass. He brushed bits of the arena off Kalumet’s back with a wingtip.

Kalumet tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. “You don’t want to be the champion?”

“Oh, no! That life’s not for me,” Zephryx said with a shrug. “Too many eyes. Too many people screaming your name. And don’t get me started on the officials - always crawling over you to do ads. They’ll treat you like a prized cow.”

Kalumet grinned, pride blooming in his bulky chest. “That sounds delightful.”

“See? Just listen to yourself.” Zephryx’s wings flared in a dramatic gesture. “I’d watch yourself. They’ll make you into a freak. Only freaks get the big bucks, kiddo. The ones that stand out from the crowd get the piece of the pie.”

He scratched behind his head sheepishly, eyeing Kalumet with a sly smirk. “You seem like the kind of guy who likes being different though.”

Then, with a casual prod to Kalumet’s gut - just enough to send it wobbling with a gentle shake - he added, “Well hey, if you ever want to get a bite to eat or something, hit me up, yeah?”

Kalumet blushed. He watched the falcon saunter off toward the opposite tunnel, wings swinging behind him like an LED cape. The stadium was quiet again. Kalumet gulped softly and hefted himself to his feet. He turned back toward the locker room, one hand drifting down to his lower belly to feel it jiggle with each step.