Zowser's fears were immediately confirmed with a new waves of pops and cracks in his back, as spikes began tearing through his skin. hard green plates formed around the spikes, growing with every second. the increasing weight on his back forced his back on his knees, the growth of his shell accelerating until it was massive, and fit for a true king.
his form locked in with a christening roar and gout of flame from the new Bowser's maw. he kneels on the stone floor, groaning from the residual aches while he adjusts to the new feelings...

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