This is my part of a trade for an artist who wishes to remain anonymous.

Bowser isn't hungry for revenge. He's hungry for everything. After suffering a humiliating defeat against the fatty hands of a sumo wrestler, Bowser disappears into his castle. Fueled by spite, Bowser embarks on a journey of indulgence and discipline, training his body to become a force to be reckoned with. He discovers sumo wrestling isn't just about strength - it's about honor. Oh, who was he kidding? It was having the biggest body in the fight, of course!

10900 words

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Bowser: King of the Ring
By: Jollyguts


Chapter 1 - The Weight of Respect

The enormous, roaring visage of Bowser loomed high in the sky, proudly perched atop his castle like the star on a grotesque Christmas tree. It was a stone monument that told everyone within its radius who was in charge around here. His snout flared, his brow furrowed in eternal fury, and his chubby arms raised, all carved into stone with focused detail.

Below, the reinforced wooden doors lay on the bridge leading up to the castle, where Bowser had torn them off on his thunderous way inside to defeat Fawful. The stone walls lay in crumbled heaps, shattered around lovely paintings of Peach, and far-less-flattering portraits of Mario and Luigi getting curb stomped under the gargantuan yellow-scaled foot by his-truly.

Minions scurried around like panicked ants, pretending to look busy as the ground trembled with each of Bowser’s heavy steps. Koopas dressed in heavy armor bowed as Bowser entered his throne room, where his minions were playing cards.

“G-guys…” a Goomba whispered, noticing Bowser approaching with a bead of sweat trailing down his chunky face. The Koopa, duo of Boos, and a Hammer Bro paid no attention, and continued playing loudly, laughing as they gossiped about when Bowser had been thrashed by Midbus. “He’s back…”

“I can’t believe he could still fit in his shell after gaining all that weight!” the Boo said, red-faced and cackling like a hyena. “It was like watching a whale do yoga!”

“I bet he liked it,” the chubby Koopa chuckled, giving his own rounded belly a proud little pat, as if channeling the King himself. “I’ve seen him eat like a hog before. You just helped him embrace his true form.”

There was silence as the group were entering the end of their game, then the heat rose, as if someone had turned up the oven to 450 degrees and left the door open. The Goomba yelped and scurried under the table just as a glow lit the room like an eruption from a volcano. All eyes turned to the entryway, where Bowser’s belly glowed red with fire, the head radiating off him in waves as he exhaled volleys of flame.

“Your Highness!” They all cried, throwing the cards on the table and trying to dash away.

The fire was so intense it vaporized a portion of the table and the cards with it, turning both to ash before they could even land. All was soot as they screamed in terror. The flames died down as Bowser took a deep breath and smacked his lips, looking at the carnage.

The whites of his minion’s eyes popped out of the ash, blinking in terror. Sensing a pause, they scrambled away like roaches. Bowser let out a deep, rumbling belly-laugh - the kind that jiggled a jolly belly like his with no care in the world. From beneath the smoldering remains of the table, the Goomba darted out and bolted to the back hall, yelling, “S-sorry, Your Stoutness! I’ll fluff your pillows!”

“GET BACK TO WORK!” Bowser bellowed, pushing aside a massive stone pillar that had collapsed underneath the weight of his ceiling.

His heart pumped with fury as he saw what lay before him. Fawful defiled his home. His glorious visage was defaced from all flags, replaced with his stupid bean-like face. His claws tore away the banners and stomped them underfoot. He kicked a path to his throne, the one item untouched by that horrid monster.

Oversized and domineering, it was built wide to accommodate his girth and shell with decadent comfort. With spikes adorning its sides much like his bracelets wrapped around his wrists and ankles, it was red, black, and glittering with gold. Bowser hiked his legs up with a grunt, turning and lowering himself into the seat with the dexterity of a rapidly falling boulder. He exhaled deeply, the sigh carrying the weight of a torn King, and one hungry belly.

Silence, at last. It felt like the first time he had sat down in weeks. The fight against his shadow form was one of the most difficult things he had ever done. The reality of his victory truly began to sink in. The castle was his again. The chaos had ended.

Exhaustion set over him as he realized just how sore he was. His eyes drooped, and he lifted himself off of the throne and waddled toward where the Goomba scurried off to.

The halls blurred as he trudged forward, past torn carpets in black and red, walls busted open from explosions, and shattered windows whistling in the wind. Bowser slammed his fist against the broken hinges of his bedroom door. The door rattled on the ground, and he sauntered over to his bed, falling belly-first into it. The mattress let out a groan as he collapsed belly-first onto the covers, limbs spreading like melting ice cream. Sleep swallowed him immediately.

“YOUR HIGHNESS! YOUR HIGHNESS!” came the shrill screech of a familiar, nagging voice.

Bowser moaned, rolling onto his back against his spike-proof, thick covers. He didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

“THERE’S SOMETHING!!! THERE’S SOMEONE!!!” the magic Koopa screeched with wild-eyed panic.

Bowser groaned, thick fingers squeezing his temples. “SHUT IT!” he barked, his voice rattling the chandelier above. He hissed, “Who is it?!”

Kamek gave a frantic nod, spectacles askew. “I-I don’t know! We need help! Now!”

With an audible whumph, Bowser rolled onto his side and heaved himself up. Sighing, the giant Koopa slid off of the bed he only grew acquainted with for a few minutes, and back onto his feet. Both feet landed with tremors that jostled his nearby nightstand.

Bowser’s ears perked as he heard a Koopa cry out, and dozens of Boos flew past his door like ghostly leaves in a storm, hiding deep somewhere in his castle.

His expression snapped with fury. Fire sparked in his throat. Without a word, he stomped toward the entryway, pushing Kamek aside like a fly.

“WHAT IS THIS?!” he thundered, heart throbbing from anger. His breath steamed, and his stubby tail lashed.

There, standing amid the wreckage, was a sight that made Bowser pause. Purple. Stocky. HUGE.

At first, Bowser thought it was Midbus, but it couldn’t be - Midbus was frozen solid like a popsicle. Bowser squinted and quickly realized that this character was much larger than Midbus. He was an absolute powerhouse.

This hog was a mountain of meat and muscle, arms thick with sagging fat that jiggled with every movement… but beneath that softness, his muscles flexed with terrifying strength. He was like a perfect sumo. Silent and calculating, he hoisted two armored Koopas in each hand and pile-drove them into the stone hard enough to leave a crater. The impact rattled the torch sconces. With each attack, he left a flower gently on top of the damage.

The poor Koopas’ eyes rolled, unconscious in a crater as the purple demon moved with brutal grace toward a group of Goombas, kicking them aside like soccer balls.

Bowser ducked as one of the Goombas flew right past him with a comical squeal.

“HEY!” Bowser snarled, stomping forward aggressively.

At this point, his minions seemed more inclined to run than stop the pursuer. Kamek was the only one that trailed behind him, though nervously, thinking about every life choice that led him to serve Bowser with a frown.

“Y-your Immensity!” Kamek stammered, peeking around Bowser’s swaying shell. “Be careful! He’s big!”

Bowser’s tail whipped with a thwack and knocked Kamek behind his throne as he dashed forward with his fist rose. His voice split the air: “GET OUT OF MY CASTLE!!!!”

The figure halted the moment Bowser entered his line of sight. With an audible grunt, the hog lowered into a low sumo squat, his belly spilling outward like silicone pressed into a mod. His mawashi bit into the creamy bulges of his thighs and wedged between two globular ass cheeks that quivered with every twitch.

He lifted one thick, meaty leg high into the air - higher than seemed physically possible given how heavy he was. The surrounding rubble rattled as his foot slammed down. Then the other. BOOM. BOOM. Like twin cannons. With a clap of both hands, the boar slapped his belly, sending waves of ripples across the great expanse of purple fat. Despite all this, he held a non-serious, glassy-eyed stare and a subtle grin.

“Bowser!” His voice yelled confidently as the gargantuan Koopa dashed toward him, “I challenge you to a duel!” He thumped his thumb into the plush spread of his muffin-like chest, puffing it out with pride. “I am Beltusk, and I am here to avenge my brother!”

But Bowser wasn’t listening. He growled low in his throat, fire snapping at his fangs as he raised a fist behind his horned head. He was coming in hot, like a train of fire and fury. Each of his footfalls rattled the floor and sent ripples through the fat hog’s belly.

Beltusk didn’t flinch.

Instead, he bowed. His fat body jostled with each of Bowser’s final stomps, like he were on a trampoline. His belly pooled low between his legs, and he waited. Calculated. And when the moment came…

WHAM.

Both of his thick hands slammed flat into Bowser’s gut with the force of a car.

There was a sound - a deep, echoing slap. Bowser’s eyes bulged, jaw dropping as his entire body lifted. For a moment, his legs kicked uselessly, air escaping his lungs, and a thick tail flailing behind him like a boat’s rudder.

Beltusk roared, face dripping with glistening sweat, muscles bulging through a sea of fat. “Bowser!” he roared with pride, “Are you prepared to taste the floor!?”

“PUT - ME - DOWN!!!” Bowser growled, unable to swat at the boar.

The last thing Bowser saw was the entire world tilting at a strange angle, so the ceiling was below him, and his head was diving straight into stone. His massive weight, once a fortress that contained incredible defense, was now momentum. The stone floor came rushing up like a fist. Bowser braced, curling his arms across his face, teeth clenched as -

CRASH!!!

His back collided with the stone floor with a belly-curdling quake. Cracks spiderwebbed in the floor, chunks of debris showering around his aching body. Rubble and dust blanketed his body, the impact flattening his body. The fight was over before it had begun.

Beltusk took a deep breath, his thick chest heaving, then pressed his palms together against the plush shelf of his pecs. He formed a hand signal, squatted low - his belly nearly tickling the floor, and gave a triumphant bow. “The deed is done,” he said, rolling his shoulders. He fished around the crevice between his moob and stomach, procuring another red flower. He placed it on the center of Bowser’s spiked shell. “And I must return to my village. Come when you are stronger, ape, and face me then.”

Bowser’s minions scurried flat against the walls to allow the lumbering boar to pass. When he was outside of the castle, the minions began moving the stone bricks off of Bowser, one at a time.

Bowser lay sprawled in the rubble, tongue falling out of his mouth as stars twinkled around his head. The light of the flame sconces of his castle caused him to blink rapidly, the ache swimming through his muscles. He felt his legs getting pulled like a sofa being dragged through a tiny apartment building’s hallway. His horned head came free of the wall, and he groaned, smokey breath rattling in his chest.

“Did I… win?” Bowser slurred, splaying out on the floor like an overcooked, mushy meatloaf.

Kamek rushed to his side, and he felt his palm on his stomach. “Oh… your Royal Snacker…” he muttered. The mage snapped his fingers to a group of Hammer Bros and Koopas. “Get him on his feet.”

Everything hurt. Bowser’s whole body felt as if someone had rolled him down a cliff made of metal. His limbs ached, his tail twitched in protest, and his head pounded like a drum. With several groans, he was pushed onto his thick legs, then lifted. He stumbled against the wall, and pushed his minions away as they tried to help him.

“Please let us steady you!” Kamek cried.

“No…” Bowser growled, his voice hoarse. He cracked his neck with a roll of his shoulders and head. He wobbled to his throne, and collapsed on it. Immediately, he felt Kamek’s magic begin to spark and soothe the worst bruises.

Bowser growled as his minions looked up to him, genuinely wanting to help him. He scoffed, his nose puffing out a trail of smoke. “Cheater…”

Kamek shook his head, “Sir, that was an experienced fighter. I know that fighting style. That was no simple brawler. That was a legacy -”

“SHUT IT!!!!” Bowser spat, clutching his head as a headache stabbed at his brain.

Kamek looked up at Bowser and shook his head. He spoke quieter, “Your Tubbiness, that was Beltusk, a renown sumo wrestler. They are powerhouses of fighters, and why Midbus was so difficult to defeat. I’m certain of it!”

Bowser let his arms flop to his sides, his whole body deflating as if someone had let the air out of a bouncy castle. “He didn’t let me punch him!” he whined, lower lip sticking out. “He lifted me up like a… like a dog!”

“That’s his specialty,” Kamek continued, adjusting his spectacles. “They train relentlessly to fight against heavyweight opponents. They build their bodies for it. Study it ruthlessly. It isn’t just brute strength like yours. It is discipline.”

Bowser’s shoulders drooped. Then a fire lit in his chest and he slammed his fist down on the arm of his throne. “He didn’t win!” he bellowed, face flushing red. “He cheated! The only reason he won was because he was so fat that my punches wouldn’t go through!”

A jet of fire ignited out of his nostrils, and he snarled at his minions. “WHAT ARE YOU ALL DOING?! GET IN THE KITCHEN AND START MAKING FOOD!!!!”

Kamek looked taken aback as all of the minions bolted into action. The Magikoopa stood, bewildered, mouth agape. “What are you planning, Your Moltin Muffin-Top?”

Bowser bit his lip. “I’ve lost weight. He picked me up and threw me like I was Mario. I need to pack on some muscle!”

“Oh, nononono…” Kamek shrieked, stepping just far enough away from kicking distance, and kneeling. This wasn’t the first time Bowser suggested this. “Please listen to me - I can teach you the ways of sumo wrestling. That is the only way to learn how he fights! There’s no need to -”

“Like you would know how to fight like him!” Bowser said, squat tail thrashing. But then something came over him - sumo wrestling? He grinned. He kinda liked the sound of that.

He gave a toothy snicker and held his chin, looking up at the ceiling and imagining himself wearing a mawashi. Then he imagined lifting up that fat pig and driving him off his bridge into the lava below. Mario, too. Tossed like a feather.

“On second thought…” the fiery Koopa mumbled, rubbing his chin. “Give me the rundown, right here, right now.”

Kamek lifted a brow and said, “This isn’t something you learn overnight-”

Bowser slammed his fist down on the throne again, rattling Kamek’s bones. “Then how long will it take?!”

The Magikoopa adjusted his glasses and steadied himself with his staff. “Months? Years? It requires dedication, Your Roundness. Something that, uh…” he looked up and down at Bowser. He was still a little pudgy from when the boos fed him. He never entirely burned off all the fat he gained that day. “Never mind.”

Bowser shook his head. “Don’t have years.” He closed his eyes and nodded. “Months… I could do. The minions could rebuild while I pack on the muscle. Then, when we’re all a big, happy family like we used to be, I will issue a raid on his village.”

Kamek’s eyes widened, surprised that Bowser suddenly had the patience to wait that long. Then he remembered - he was the king. He probably could tell that he was in no place to attack now, with his castle in crumbles and his body in so much pain.

Bowser grinned, something he hadn’t done in a long time. “I like this plan. Kamek! Research all you can about this… sumo wrestling. In the meantime…” he licked his chops, smelling food being pushed out of the kitchens, “It’s time to bulk up…”

Chapter 2 - Fire in the Belly

“Ohhh~” Bowser moaned, clamping the palm of his hand against his stomach. His belly jostled from the impact, and he gave a loving groan of relief as it ushered out a burp under his breath. He leaned back and glanced around at his progress.

Towering burritos, swimming in spicy sauce that ignited his core, and stuffed with fatty beef that made his mouth water just thinking about it. There were half-eaten cakes everywhere, where he had sampled pumpkin, cherry, chocolate, and red-velvet from each one. His face was smothered with the icing, and he drooled as the sugar rush wafted him to sleep. There were chicken legs, fat with meat, and baked to perfection. His cooks had mastered the art of making the most fatty, juicy meals they could muster to impress him, especially after Fawful had taken over and fattened him like a cow.

The king exhaled a groan of satisfaction, his gut swelling over his lap. He picked his teeth with a single claw, smirking at the quiet chuckles coming from his minions huddled in the corners, watching him gorge himself into another stupor.

“Your Vastness!” Kamek squealed, tugging his robes up to keep them from dragging through a puddle of barbecue sauce that had spilled on the floor, “If you are going to become a sumo wrestler, you must eat like one!”

Bowser cracked an eye open, patted his belly, and raised a brow. Thwump-thwump. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. Are you blind, or just jealous?”

The Magikoopa rolled his eyes and raised his hands. “No! This is all empty calories. I hate to admit, but you have to eat outside of your comfort zone. All this is just going to make you softer!”

“Yeah, and then I’ll lift some weights and turn all this fat into rock-hard MUSCLE!” Bowser gave a cheeky grin, tearing chicken off a leg with a single swoop of his massive snout and swallowing.

Kamek sighed and shook his head. “There’s a better way of doing this…”

The Magikoopa sauntered into the kitchen, where all of his minions were dashing around, sweating, and yelling that he needed more of this or that. All of the grills were lined with fatty steaks, the freezers stocked to the brim with sugary treats, and the ovens were overflowing with cakes and bread. Kamek lifted his staff, and a magical energy zipped like static in the air.

His voice boomed over the chaos, “STOP! Bowser must eat stews, fish, vegetables, with lean meat!”

The chefs, a couple of Dry Bones, looked over to Kamek and their bones somehow stretched into a scowl. “He’ll never eat that!”

“He must, if he is going to beat Beltusk.” Kamek exclaimed, peeking inside some less-used freezers and taking out salmon, pork, and frozen noodles. He poked his staff at these, and they multiplied until they covered the entire surface of the table. “These! Use these to make sushi. Make it spicy. I’m sure he’ll love that.”

“Sushi?” The Dry Bones said, looking at each other as if they had never heard of it before. Kamek sighed, and began his work to show them the recipes.

Bowser sat, grease covering his chest as he swallowed up an entire cup of chili mac and cheese, and downed it with a bottle of hot sauce. He gave a deep growl as he was finally starting to feel full, and he itched the climax of his belly, grinning as he looked at all of the empty plates around him. At least he had an excuse to gorge like this. He was always a big eater, after all.

But his nose curled as he smelled something new carried in long pots by two sweaty Goombas on the top of their heads. He grimaced. “Fish?! Are you bringing me fish?!”

“Kamek’s orders!” The Goombas cried, quickly placing the pan in front of him before dashing away from Bowser, afraid he might scorch them.

Bowser grumbled as he leaned forward to open the lid, and frowned at what was inside. It was a giant line of sushi of all varieties, with fluffy rice, disgusting vegetables galore, and little bowls of soy sauce.

He lowered his head and sniffed it, smelling chili oil and sriracha. “At least there’s something good in these,” he spat as he forgoed the tiny chopsticks they gave him, and instead grabbed a few with his bare claws.

His throat throbbed as if already denying the fish as he brought them to his mouth. He gulped and smashed three of them on his tongue, chewing hesitantly. His eyes sparkled as the taste of fish was actually rather pleasant with the spice. The rice had no flavor, which was a bit boring, but it wasn’t all that bad.

“Hmm…”

He smiled and swallowed, somewhat pleasant with the meal. He grabbed another, and another, sampling tuna, seaweed, and so much more. It was actually rather pleasant to have something new against his taste buds. Before long, the sushi disappeared into the depths of his gullet, and he grumbled, eager to try more.

“You there,” Bowser spat, pointing a sharp claw at a slim Koopa who had taken his time cleaning up all the empty dishes. “Bring me more of this.”

The Koopa darted away, more than happy to serve his King. Bowser shuffled in his throne, readying himself for more.

Bowser’s feasts had always been an event, but lately, they’d become a spectacle. As wide as his throne and twice as heavy, he ruled his dining hall with a belch and a roar, surrounded by empty trays, pots, and heaving platters stacked with fuel. It took an army to keep his plate full.

Now that he was bulking again, every Koopa, Goomba, and Dry Bones knew the drill: keep his jaws clamped on meat.

The feast raged on for nearly an hour, and Bowser showed no signs of stopping. The sushi had been a surprise hit, and his fingers plucked at the rolls in rhythm, sliding them onto his tongue in trios. Tuna, eel, salmon, octopus - each spicy and soft - all vanished down his throat like coal in a furnace. His stomach gurgled as it swelled out, doming with heat and pressure.

At last, his chewing slowed. A bead of sweat rolled down his snout, and he huffed. He poked at the remains of miso, sipping only the broth, and lazily dragging a single stuffed dumpling through soy sauce.

Bowser leaned back, his scaly body sprawled over the throne like a dragon sunbathing on its hoard. His belly sat like a throne of its own now - warm, vast, and barely able to contain the pressure he had stuffed inside. He gave it a pleased pat, his fingers sinking slightly into its stretched surface.

Bowser’s thighs pressed against the arms of his throne, his stomach slightly ajar from his midsection, as the food had finally begun to put strain on his gut. His chest bellowed outward and deflated as he tried to force out some burps to give himself more room. He leaned backwards on his shell, hoping that this angle would provide some measure of comfort as he neared the final stages of his meal. He cradled his stomach with one hand, feeling its heft and soft, plush flesh as he ate one last handful of crackers smothered with peanut butter.

He sighed.

“I’m done,” Bowser grumbled at last, tossing down the rest of the crackers onto the floor. He yawned, the creeping post-feast lethargy finally overtaking his stubborn appetite.

Kamek revealed himself from the depths of the kitchen, his robes covered from head to toe in flour and sauces. He wafted his staff at the leftover food on his clothes, and everything extracted and fell to the floor by his feet, removing any stains it would have caused.

“Goodness,” the Magikoopa grumbled, “I thought I was going to be a mage, not a line cook.”

He looked up at Bowser, who didn’t pay a lick of attention to Kamek and instead looked up at the ceiling in pure bliss. Kamek smirked and pressed the end of his staff into the crevice of Bowser’s underbelly and his lap. The mound jostled, then fell with a satisfying wobble and splat. Bowser blushed, face pinkening under his scales.

Kamek teased, “You certainly enjoyed that.”

Bowser nodded his head and took a deep breath. He rolled himself onto his feet and pounded his chest like a gorilla. “I feel… incredible! That food was delicious and invigorating.”

Kamek gave a theatrical bow, “It is the healthy food of sumo. Designed to give you power, as well as enough empty calories to pack on some weight. Now…” he snickered as Bowser looked like he could collapse onto the floor and sleep right then and there. “Now is the time to rest it all off.”

Chapter 3 - Growing Pains

A month had passed since Bowser’s humiliating defeat at the hands of Beltusk. He woke up as the sun was peeking its shiny head over the horizon line - something that he had not seen in who-knows-how-long. The early morning sun glistened across his yellow scales, invigorating him each morning. It was something to look forward to at the start of each day, and reminded him that each day is an opportunity to try harder.

Or, at least, that’s what Kamek kept telling him.

“Rise and shine, King!”

Bowser snarled as the early morning sun blinded him as he splayed out in his spiked turtle-shell shaped bed. He raised his arms to shield his eyes and spat, “LET ME SLEEP!”

“Nope!” Kamek sang back, lifting the comforter off of Bowser with a simple flick of his wand. “You wanna beat Beltusk? Then get your royal rump to the training room!”

“I don’t wanna…” Bowser whimpered, feeling his muscles ache from yesterday’s torture.

“Nuh-uh-uh! You don’t have a choice.” Kamek jutted his staff into Bowser’s belly. It sunk in, deeper than ever. He had gained a tremendous amount of fat, but muscle as well. “You’ll get doughy again, and I know you don’t want that.”

“Oh yeah?” Bowser crossed his beefy arms over his chest, “What do you know?”

“I know you want food, and you won’t get it until you finish your routine.”

Bowser’s stomach growled as if on command. He winced, hands sliding over his gut in a soothing circle. He was getting used to the two gargantuan meals each day, one for lunch, and one for supper. Going without? Unthinkable.

Bowser shook his head free of sleep and grumbled as his swollen, fat leg swung to the floor, his thigh giving a comfortable jiggle. He stood, taking a deep breath before following Kamek outside.

First stop: hydration. Bowser titled back a full barrel of water, guzzling gallons straight to rehydrate from the night’s rest.

“More…” Kamek said, tapping the bottom of the barrel of water when Bowser hesitated, belly already sloshing with every gulp.

“You sure about this?” Bowser groaned, rubbing the heavy dome of his stomach as it churned from the flood.

“Positive! It’ll stretch your belly.” Kamek smacked Bowser’s stomach and watched it jiggle freely. He was enjoying this change of dominance a little too much. “You’ll sweat it all out before you know it.”

After his morning hydration, he would enter an unused room Bowser Jr. created a bunch of useless junk in just behind his throne. Some of the stone flooring had crumbled into craters, where he had developed some sort of prototype bombs at some point. Otherwise, there were containers of loose parts and half-finished toys and other weapons. Bowser had shoved it all aside to make room for training equipment.

Kamek installed mirrors so Bowser could view his every move, and correct his stance if need be. At the center of the room was a makeshift sumo ring - a simple circle etched into the stone with chalk. There were also tall, fat mannequin-like dummies nailed into the floor with a crude drawing of Beltusk’s face made by Lemmy nailed to their heads. These dummies were perfect for shoving, punching, and screaming at, just what Bowser wanted.

“Down…” Kamek spat, tapping the top of Bowser’s shell.

“I… I hate this…” Bowser whimpered, his thighs quaking as he squatted low, his knees rattling, struggling to hold up the extra fat he had lining his body alongside his thick, gargantuan shell. He was only on the tenth rep. The tenth of fifty.

Bowser’s fist clenched as he heard that pesky voice again, “Up…”

He would recall there was nobody stopping him from leaving - just propping himself on his throne as five of his minions shoved chicken wing after chicken wing in his mouth. He began to slobber, perfectly imagining tasting the sweet and spicy sauce, and the greasy, fatty meat…

He shook his head violently, reminding himself of why he was here. He gritted his teeth, and, face growing cherry-red, began to vigorously fall and rise again, sweat pouring down his fat face, belly slapping against his lap with each fall.

“Beat… that… stupid… HOG!!!!” His yell echoed throughout the halls. Kamek gulped and took a few steps back, staff tightening against his grip.

“Perhaps I went a bit too far…” the Magikoopa grumbled under his hand.

After fifty wide-stance sumo squats, Bowser lumbered into shinko, the art of lifting one massive leg, balancing for a moment, and then slamming back down again. It was difficult at first for him to balance because of the heavy load against his back, so he used Kamek as a support.

“CAREFUL… YOUR STOUTNESS…” Kamek cried, trying to hold together as Bowser leaned on top of him. He was going to get creamed.

A few Koopas peaked into the room, drawn by the tremors and grunts. Their chuckles echoed off the walls as they caught Bowser’s enormous backside jostling with every earth-rattling stomp.

Truth be told, Bowser couldn’t raise his leg higher than his waistline, but still managed to stomp hard on the ground. Indents of his clawed feet were etched inches deep into the stone. He imagined stomping one of the Koopas right now, actually. He couldn’t help but snicker as he felt the ground underneath him rumble, but still felt quite a bit embarrassed as his hide jiggled with excess fat.

Bowser wiped sweat from his brow as he moved onto suri-ashi. He squeezed his arms together tight against his chest. His thick, fatty arms pressed against his moobs like marshmallows in a vice. He straightened his back as he squatted low, his thick rear jutting out behind him proudly. Slowly, he slid one foot forward, then the other, inch by inch.

At the end of it all, he would stretch. This was something he had never done in his entire life, and his gargantuan body ached as he completed each one, screaming at the top of his lungs as his joints popped.

“HUFF… HAGHUH…” Bowser gasped, face flushed and soaked with sweat, wobbling as he forced his limbs through one torturous stretch after another. A month of this. A month of this constant ache, and he still barely made it through.

But…

He felt incredible.

Despite actually being heavier than he once was, his body flexed and moved faster. He no longer had the ache in his back, and his sleeping schedule had improved immensely. He felt like he could punch a hole straight through Mario, and that invigorated him to keep trying despite the brutal hours-long workout routine.

“Good job, Your Girthiness!” Kamek called proudly.

At the call, Bowser let himself collapse, belly-first, into the middle of the sumo circle with a heavy, echoing THWUMP. His vast form nearly filled the chalk ring entirely. Nothing in the world felt better than slamming down onto the floor at this moment.

But this was only the beginning.

While he was cleaning himself in the showers, Kamek ordered the cooks to fire up the grills and set his first meal aflame.

Gigantic platters piled high with fish, rice, tofu, vegetables, and pasta were rolled out in tribute to a gluttonous god. Desserts sat within arm’s reach, waiting patiently in their sugary splendor. Though Kamek tried to keep things “nutritious,” Bowser still snuck in a few burgers and steaks here and there, but he was more than happy to eat whatever Kamek provided.

Two massive meals a day: one in the evening, and one at night. He skipped breakfast to build up an appetite working out. By the time he was finished with his morning workout routine, he was ravenous. The rest of the day? He was eating like a hog, and sleeping like a bear.

He was beginning to enjoy this.

With a gargantuan belly full of food, he stepped inside his private bath - a large, hazy chamber with an underground pool. It was modeled after the hot bath he once had at Delfino, and something of a daily reward, and his moment of peace.

“Ahhhh… that’s the stuff…” Bowser groaned as the waters washed away all the aches and pains of the day. The peach-scented soap automatically dispensed as it sensed his presence, and he took great care to rid himself of the day’s sweat and grime. The warm water and the heavy load of food churning in his belly reminded him he was one step closer to his four-hour nap.

Once his scales were plenty soft and lathered, he stepped out of the pool and lounged on a sturdy, cushioned table. A muscular Koopa stood by, ready to knead the knots out of his shoulders, his back, and his plump thighs. It was bliss. The kind of luxurious pampering only a King like him would demand.

Until, of course, Kamek arrived.

“Time to record your progress!” the Magikoopa chirped.

With a familiar rustle, Kamek procured a well-used, thick ledger and a similarly well-worn measuring tape. He wrapped it around Bowser’s legs, arms, and stomach, jotting down his measurements. Then, Kamek tapped a hidden button under the massage table. A dialog screen appeared, with a four-digit number rising subtly as Bowser’s stomach inflated and deflated with his breath.

“1049.8…” Kamek mumbled, writing down the number hastily before hitting the hidden button again. “Your Laziness… you’re not lazy at all. Very impressive, indeed.” The screen zipped back into the floor, and Kamek left, returning to his study with this new information.

Bowser gulped, the large number bouncing around in his head. There was a slight realization of what this meant for him and yet… he wanted more. He glanced down at his arms, noting the slight pudge forming on them with a smile. Despite being fatter, he was in the best shape he had ever been in.

Chapter 4 - New Body, New Mind

Bowser couldn’t believe what he was looking at.

It was his own body, but… well, he was giant. Monumental. He stood before a massive mirror in his private chamber, nearly unrecognizable from the Koopa who had stood here just months ago.

He had trained relentlessly through every sunrise and sunset, pounding his body into shape while his castle slowly rose from the rubble and further beyond. And now… he was just over a ton.

His legs were splayed wide with thick fat and muscle proudly holding up all of his weight. Thick layers of fat and muscle supported his bulk effortlessly, his gait wide and heavy, yet laced with confidence. He was strong and surprisingly quick. There was fluidity to his step, a nimbleness that betrayed just how massive he had become.

Bowser’s mawashi had snapped more times than he could count, each torn cloth a milestone of his rapid bulking. Kamek had resized it over and over with a delighted twinkle in his eye.

His shell curled around his thick, plush body, the lining of the carapace pressing against his thick flesh tightly. From beneath it, his vast stomach pooled forwards: taut, dense, and constantly stuffed to the absolute brim from his meals that lasted about as long as his training sessions.

His arms had the consistency of porridge, with thick fat lining his exterior and drooping into swampy crevices between his armpit and stomach. It was impossible to reach below his waist any longer. His fingers still held a great amount of strength despite condensing into thick sausages. He commonly tapped against the furthermost section of his stomach unconsciously.

Bowser’s face was nearly unrecognizable, crowned with rough cheeks and bulbous folds of pure lard curling beneath his chin. But when he cackled with laughter, it was unmistakably him. He had clawed his way back to glory once again. Perhaps most of all - he felt powerful. At peace. He had become the king his throne was always meant to hold.

Further, he now had the energy - and motivation - to toss his minions into the ring. It had become a game: who could last the longest against the King of Koopas? The very idea would’ve been laughable half a year ago. He wouldn’t have dreamed of working out, let alone competing in any sort of physical activity. And especially not with his own underlings. But now? He was confident. He was proud. He was going to spend every moment improving himself.

But… today was different. Today was a cheat day.

Bowser woke without a trace of soreness. No creaking joints, no stabbing aches in his back. His training had burned that weakness out of him. These days, waking up felt like powering on a war machine. His body craved movement - but Kamek had decreed, twice a week, that he must rest.

The legs of his bed had shattered and been reinforced with cold, hard steel twice. These bindings looked much like the spiked, black bracelets he had to resize several times as his arms and legs grew taut with excess blubber. The bed’s legs ached as he threw one, beach-ball thick thigh off of it and leaned forward. His stomach slapped against his lap as his body recognized the shift in gravity. Bowser huffed happily as he rose to his feet and stretched - first his back with a couple dozen swings of his arms, then a few warm up squats.

“No…” he muttered, catching himself mid-squat. “Can’t work out…”

He peered into the hall, where he pondered what in the Mushroom Kingdom he could possibly do besides work out. These “cheat days” were the most confusing to him nowadays. So much of his time had been spent… what? Screaming at his minions? Napping after eating a dozen triple-sized burgers? It felt like he had so much more time despite being so active.

“Well,” Bowser tugged at his mawashi, his thick fat jostling as he rolled his feet. “I suppose a little soak wouldn’t hurt.”

Bowser exited his room, his door now twice as wide after one too many “incidents.” There had been a… wedging. His ass wasn’t as lithe as it used to be, and could be used as a proficient clamp if stuck in the right place.

The halls no longer had the rubble and broken glass from Fawful’s attack. Instead, there were depictions of Bowser in the form of red and black flags, each with a much fatter-cheeked, roaring front-profile of his toothy-mawed face. He entered the dining hall, where he aimed his rear to his throne.

THOOMPH.

He descended. His posterior clamped against the arms of the chair immediately, and as the rest of his weight came rushing down, his muffin top drooled over the sides and toward the edge of the floor.

“Er -” Bowser growled as his minions passed by, each one asking if there was anything that they could do for him. Time and time again, he had to deny their offer, thinking of nothing else they could do.

“Enjoy your day off!” Bowser happily said to a chuckling group of Boos… with a SMILE! When was the last time he didn’t feel malice to his own minions?

He shook his head and frowned. He shook his head, suddenly unsure of himself. He needed to do something, now.

Bowser stood, his body exiting the throne like a suction cup, and made his way to the saunas.

“Anything I can get you, Your Greatness?” A Sumo Bro asked with a bow as he entered.

Bowser shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Very well. I’ll leave you to your privacy.”

“Very good…”

The door slid shut. Bowser arched his head to the glittering blue waters, the steam wafting into the air in a relaxing fog. He smothered his body inside.

The water rose, sloshed, and overflowed onto the stone floors as his body display half the pool. He sighed, and felt a deep curl in the depths of his heart. It was a warning. He was getting too big for even this.

“What is happening…” he grumbled, itching his head. He gulped, feeling a sudden weariness that wasn’t there before. Was he satisfied? NO! He was BOWSER! He would never be satisfied until he had Peach and… Mario’s head on a PIKE… and… he snarled.

Today was the day.

Chapter 5 - Chanko Nabe Village

Nestled between two towering mountains, Chanko Nabe Village sat like a quiet secret between Bowser’s Castle and the wider Mushroom Kingdom. A river parted the village in two, and powered a tireless watermill that churned grain, fresh water, and an overabundance of fish.

The village lived and breathed fish - grilled, raw, stewed, or skewered - and every meal fueled a way of life built around sumo. Wrestling pits lined the central avenue, where thick crowds gathered daily to cheer and chant for their local champions. The cold mountain air and natural hot springs made for the perfect recovery after a heavy fight. Most villagers were burly beasts like Midbus and Beltusk - anthropomorphic powerhouses built more for clashing bellies than the simple walk of life.

Rhinoceroses, lions, and carriage-sized hogs hunched at ramen stands lining the dirt paths, their sheer girth swallowing up to three or four stools apiece. Their bellies wobbled with each slurp of noodles, their sides pressed firmly against neighboring patrons in plush, jiggling heaps of lard. Some paused mid-bite, ears twitching, as Bowser’s airship roared overhead and descended into the valley.

Beneath a soft shower of beautiful cherry blossoms, more wrestlers lounged with their bellies propped on cross-legged thighs. A small pack of wolves sat utterly still, eyes closed, their fluffy ears unfazed even by the drifting petals. But as Bowser strode deeper into the village, their eyes cracked open. Their predator eyes watched him. Whispered.

Bowser sniffled and sneezed, overwhelmed by the sudden perfume of flowers. The village was choked with beauty - bonsai trees, sculpted hedges, and delicate vines climbing the expertly crafted trellises.

It made him twitchy.

One bonsai tree looked suspiciously like a fat, horned turtle-dragon, and he very nearly punted it into the river.

“What gives?” Bowser barked, arms folding across his mighty chest.

From a nearby ramen stand, an elderly green-and-white frog peeked out, his yellow eyes blinking at the bonsai, then to Bowser. He snorted, cheeks inflating with pink with drink. The smell of sake and broth hit Bowser like a wall, and he growled.

“Oh!” The frog croaked, waddling slowly out from behind the counter. Bowser gasped. The frog’s head had been hiding a body nearly as massive as his own - round, teetering, and sloshing beneath an aggressively strained robe that revealed his bulky chest. “Don’t believe I. eh…” the frog gestured lazily between Bowser and the bonsai, “recognize ya, sunny…”

He had one mission to accomplish - he was going to bash that pig’s head in. Bowser stomped past the frog, drawn toward the growing noise at the village’s heart. A crowd packed tight around a sumo ring, roaring as two titans clashed in the dust - a beaver and a broad-shouldered cow. The cow landed a meaty palm against the beaver’s gut with a thunderous slap, but the beaver didn’t even flinch. Instead, he dug his foot into the ground, muscles swelling as he shoved forward with brute force.

Bowser gulped. Okay - maybe this wouldn’t be as easy as he thought.

“Wait!” the frog croaked, dashing in front of him with his chubby arms flung wide. Bowser skidded to a halt, growling in his throat.

“WHAT IS IT?!” Bowser roared, his jaws crackling with fire.

“There’s a festival happening!” the frog huffed. “You can’t just waltz in there like you belong! You don’t even have a kimono!”

“Fat chance, froggy! Now move it before I steamroll ya!”

“No!” the frog barked, standing firm. His throat swelled and made him look nearly twice as large.

Bowser’s eyes widened as the frog tore off his robe, revealing a taut, rolling body layered with sagging age and long-buried muscle. His chest drooped, belly swayed, and arms jiggled - but there was power beneath the softness. With surprising grace, he bent his knees low, drooped into the textbook sumo squat, and raised one thick leg into the air before slamming it down with a thundering stomp.

Even this ancient fool was a sumo!

Bowser snorted. “Cute. If you don’t get out of my way, gramps, I’ll -”

Before Bowser could finish, the frog lunged. His hands slammed into Bowser’s belly with a meaty whap, fingers slipping down and seizing his tight mawashi. And then - somehow - Bowser felt himself being shoved backward. Did he not gain enough weight? Did all these months of training matter at all? This tiny, wrinkled frog was pushing him!!!

Snarling, Bowser snapped his fangs and lunged, wrapping his thick arms around the frog’s wobbling middle. “BEAT IT!” he roared, trying to hoist him off the ground.

The frog’s face flushed red, greying whiskers dancing in the breeze. He wound a thick, green leg around Bowser’s thigh, locked in tight, and with a guttural, meaty croak, yanked.

Completely caught off guard, Bowser’s weight toppled like a felled tree, and his head slammed into the wooden wall of the frog’s ramen stand. Half the food bar crumbled beneath his girth, chairs skittering like leaves in a storm, and bowls of broth and noodles coating him like decorations on a Christmas tree.

A plump komodo dragon dining at the other half of the stand, unfazed, kept right on chewing - audibly slurping noodles and sucking sauce from his claws with serene delight. He bent over and stole a few noodles from the top of Bowser’s swelling belly, and ate it happily, smacking his fat lips from the salty taste.

“I am Kudo!” the frog bellowed, slapping his rolling belly. “And I will not allow you to trample our traditions! BEGONE!”

Bowser groaned in the wreckage, his head swimming. He barely had time to blink before rough hands clamped onto his horns and yanked him upright. His footing was shaky - the whap! A second meaty slap to his gut knocked the wind out of him. Before he could brace for another blow, thick arms wrapped around his back.

“There is no place for dishonor here!”

Bowser snarled as the frog blabbered into some tangent of the youth ruining his country. He closed his eyes and briefly meditated. Of course he was being pushed around like a feather. He hadn’t remembered the first thing of wrestling - buckle your legs. Rookie mistake.

Bowser dropped into a wide stance, belly dragging along the tips of the grass below him. Instantly, the frog’s face curled with anger. Bowser snickered, locking his arms tight around the old wrestler’s blubbery back. The folds gave him just enough grip to pull and shove. Muscles tensed, knees bent, and he heaved - lifting Kudo clean off the ground. His wicked, fiery eyes twitched.

“GET OUTTA MY WAY!” he roared, slamming Kudo into the dirt with a quaking thud.

Kudo barreled into the ground with a dusty croak, thick legs splayed like squashed roadkill. For a heartbeat, he looked winded - then cracked a grin like he’d just won a bet. Bowser’s brow twitched at his confidence.

“That all you got, geezer?! Ready for the real beating?!” Bowser snarled, cocking his fist back, biceps puffing with muscle.

Then - snap - horrifyingly thick, long, scaly fingers clamped around his wide wrist.

Bowser turned and froze. The komodo dragon stood tall behind him, even thicker than Kudo. A loose mawashi hugged his swollen gut, which bulged like he’d downed a whole pot of ramen by himself (and probably had). His massive hands gripped Bowser’s wrist tight - but his shoulders stayed loose, his grin unnervingly calm.

“Hi!” the lizard said cheerfully, voice much lighter than his appearance would suggest, “I would appreciate it if you didn’t harm good old Kudo, here.”

Bowser yanked his wrist away and cracked his neck. He widened his stance again and spat on the ground. “You wanna fight too, huh?!” he growled. “You overfed garden lizard?!”

The komodo’s smile vanished. His eyes narrowed - dead serious now.

And that’s when Bowser had, once again, screwed up.

The komodo dragon’s arm shot out, deflecting Bowser’s swing with practiced ease. BAM! He drove his head straight into Bowser’s meaty chest. The impact sent the Koopa stumbling back into a rickety wooden wall, snarling like a caged beast. The komodo yelled, “Nobody hurts Kudo!”

Kudo stood, gave his back a lazy dusting, and waddled back to his disheveled ramen stand. He stirred the broth like nothing happened. “Good luck, you two!”

Bowser roared, tipping dangerously to one leg. One more fall and he wasn’t sure if he could get back up. All that training was worthless if he couldn’t stay on his feet. No. No. He was getting sloppy. Letting the anger take over. He needed to focus. Remember the basics.

The komodo dragon ducked low, arms darting out as he gripped Bowser’s mawashi with startling speed. His stance was ready to throw. Ready to win
.
Bowser read it like an open book. He watched those scaly claws release him as if in slow motion. The komodo’s weight straggled too much on one leg as he readied another attack. His opponent’s long, thick tail lashed with so much glee that it was making his balance off-center.

Bowser sprang back, then lunged. All his weight surged forward like a runaway train. He crashed his chest into the komodo’s shoulder, grabbed fistfuls of mawashi and tail, and shoved with everything he had.

“G-good…” the lizard spat. “But not good enough!”

Kudo let out a delighted croak as Bowser was sent sprawling once more. He poured a fresh bowl of steaming hot ramen, sprinkling in a rainbow of spices with theatrical flair. As the two passed the stand, the komodo drained this bowl with a heavy gulp, only to return to the fight with much more vigor. “Thatta boy!” the frog yelled.

The komodo struck harder and harder - palms slamming into Bowser’s back and gut in perfect sync. Bowser grunted, feet tearing trenches in the dirt as he was forced back. His shell smashed into another stall stocked full of colorful festival masks, wood splintering into dust beneath his gargantuan weight. The painted faces of animals flew everywhere, crunching underfoot like a fallen leaf.

“You’re really good!” the lizard grinned, breathless but beaming. “But I’m better!”

Rage flared. Bowser curled his arm, ready to flatten this smug lizard into the dirt - then paused. No. He was returning to his old form. He couldn’t win like that. Not this time. He took a deep breath… exhaled. And that’s when he saw it - another opening.

Bowser waited, letting himself be herded toward the wall again. Just like before, the bloated lizard lunged, knocked him off balance, and released. But Bowser was ready. As he tipped backward, he grabbed the komodo’s thick torso, dragging him down with him.

They crashed down hard - Bowser’s entire bulk pancaking the lizard beneath him, his fat face mashed helplessly between Bowser’s hefty moobs.

“Ugh -” was all the lizard managed before his snout was smothered into the mud and Bowser’s gargantuan belly, trapped in a meaty, muddy sandwich of scale, dirt, and sweat.

Bowser stayed there a moment, catching his breath and letting the victory soak in. His gut and chest were smeared with mud, splinters jutting in a few of his scales. He pushed himself up with a growl, snickering as the lizard lay unconscious beneath him. He turned to Kudo with a wide, fangy grin.

“Hey!” Kudo shouted, panic cutting through his old, deep croaking. “Hey! Somebody help!”

“Shut it.” Bowser growled, turning tail and stomping toward the village center without another word.

Chapter 6: Flowers and Fury

All eyes turned as Bowser lumbered past, mud-caked, panting, and visibly steaming with fury. Villages whispered, gasped, and ducked behind stalls as he trudged forward, undeterred.

“Where’s Beltusk?!” Bowser bellowed, stomping into a square where dancers flipped and twirled to the sound of a gently plucked shamisen. His voice tore through the pleasant sounds. “I NEED TO FLATTEN HIM!”

This section of the village was pristine. There were paved roads, tidy storefronts on every corner, and the mouthwatering scent of frying fish drifting in the wind. Laughter and cheer filled the bustling corners of the marketplace, until Bowser arrived.

He barreled forward, ignoring barked warnings and shoving through the stunned villagers. And then - he saw him.

Beltusk lounged at a shaded stall nestled beside a perfect circle of blooming flowers. A dirt-smeared rag lay nearby, well-used after hours of gardening. His skin was sun-kissed, his thick body basking in lazy, plush flesh. With rhythmic slurps, he sucked noodles into the fat hills of his cheeks, every bowl emptied and joining the mountainous pile beside him - 39 strong. He looked absolutely fatter than before, belly spreading out like a satisfied hippopotamus. The sight of it made Bowser’s eye twitch. Rage bubbled in his throat with fire.

As if sensing Bowser’s presence, one of Beltusk’s long, furry hog ears gave a lazy twitch. He turned, purple cheeks still puffed with ramen, and met Bowser’s fiery glare with a serene, knowing grin.

“So, you have come for revenge.” Beltusk said calmly.

Bowser stomped forward, but Beltusk lifted a single, sausage-thick finger. “I ask only one thing - don’t hurt my flowers.”

With a slosh like a shifting mountain, Beltusk rose. His immense gut sloshed from side to side, the weight of all the ramen in his belly swaying. His purple flesh seemed to swell with strength, fatty rolls taut with purpose as he stepped into the sunlight.

Beltusk stopped a few paces away and, with solemn grace, bowed.

Bowser blinked, then sighed.

Reluctantly, he bowed too.

What was he doing?! Every instinct screamed to smash this hog flat and plant a flag on his belly. But something stopped him - memories, maybe. Months spent training, losing, learning again and again. There was respect here now. Humility. It was weird and unfamiliar.

Beltusk gave a small, pleased nod. “You look different. Have you cut your hair?”

Bowser peered up and down at him, dumbfounded. “I - I…” he puffed his chest instinctively. “I’ve gained, like… a cow’s worth of weight since our last fight! What is wrong with you?!”

The hog looked confused and snickered. “Ah. I tend not to notice such things. I suppose I see what’s inside a person.”

“BELTUSK!” Bowser growled, voice cracking with frustration. “I’m here to smack that fat grin off your overfed, flower-snorting face!”

He was ignored. Again. A single bead of sweat trickled down Bowser’s thick snout, pooling into the ridges of his thick neck. Beltusk turned away, crouching low with surprising grace for someone so rotund. He studied a fiery orange tulip.

“This is an akaichurippu,” he said, delicately plucking the tulip from its bed. He held it to Bowser, who snatched it with meaty claws, barely restraining his grip. The petals trembled.

“It is a symbol of fame,” Beltusk continued. “A thing I’ve no desire for… but you? You may have use for it.”

Bowser grimaced, flower trembling in his grip. “You know why I’m here. Quit stalling and fight me!”

Bowser threw the flower to the dirt and crushed it beneath his heel, grinding it into paste until nothing remained but pulp and petals.

Beltusk didn’t flinch. He simply straightened, the folds of his belly settling, and smiled.

“Then let us fight.”

A hush fell over the garden. Beltusk’s words were simple, but they rippled through the air like a struck gong.

All eyes turned on them. Bowser cracked his knuckles, curling one thick arm back…

But before he could lunge, Beltusk’s finger pressed against Bowser’s snout.

“Not here,” he said, voice low and heavy with calm authority. Bowser shivered with how fast he still was, despite being so large.

He pointed with that same chubby finger toward the sumo ring nestled at the garden’s heart.

“We fight there,” Beltusk declared. “A true sumo match. A test of strength and will.”

Bowser blinked. Was this… respect? He should be drop kicking this pig straight into the nearby koi pond. But something in him held him back. Whatever it was: respect, curiosity, or sheer hunger to prove himself, he couldn’t resist.

“I accept,” Bowser muttered, voice thick with anticipation.

The ring was pristine - its sand neatly swept, the edges smooth and sacred. It had clearly been tended by Beltusk over many brawls. Bowser stepped in, gulping as Beltusk paced the circle. The hog’s eyes scanned him slowly, as if sizing up not just his body, but his spirit.

Beltusk knelt at the ring’s edge, sprinkling salt in a careful arc to ward off wicked spirits. He slapped his broad hands together, loud and deliberate, then produced a single red tulip, placing it gently in his palm like an offering.

Bowser gave a firm nod, stepping into the ring and squatting opposite his opponent.

“We begin,” Beltusk exclaimed, “when the wind takes this flower from my hand.”

There was silence, and a crowd began to circle around them. A single bead of sweat dribbled down Bowser’s cheek and onto his chest. He stared at the tulip - its petals trembled gently. But Beltusk’s lazy grin pulled his attention away.

The hog’s belly sagged low, brushing the sand like a pendulum as they waited. Bowser blinked, shook his head to break his attention back to the flower, and in that moment, the tulip slipped.

Bowser lunged first. The two titans thundered forwards like stampeding bulls, their figures booming with each step.

Bowser reached for a grab, but Beltusk dipped low, slamming his rock-hard shoulder into Bower’s center torso like a cannonball. A grunt escaped the Koopa’s maw as Beltusk’s hand latched onto his mawashi with practiced ease.

“C-cheater!” Bowser barked, claws lashing in the sand. But his massive frame was sliding, inch by inch, toward the ring’s edge. His heels dug tight into the ground, but the hog’s push was relentless.

“Calm down,” Beltusk growled, admittedly straining himself. His breath came in huffs, nostrils flaring, shoulders trembling as his thick arms quivered against Bowser’s bulk. Every inch of the hog’s body fought to hold position. He was not going to allow Bowser a second to react.

Bowser’s fury boiled over. With a roar, he slammed his massive foot down like a pole, and shoved back with all the force he could muster.

Beltusk reeled back, wide eyes blinking with surprise. He stumbled two full steps before balancing himself.

“GOTCHA!” Bowser bellowed. He swung his palm wide. CRACK! It struck Beltusk’s chest with a fleshy thud, jiggling the hog’s titanic gut and knocking him back another few steps. The crowd gasped. Beltusk snorted.

They clashed again at the center, bellies grinding together, forearms slapping and swatting as they searched for leverage. Each moment was a flesh crashing against flesh, sweat dripping, breath heaving. Neither gave an inch of an opening.

Then Bowser had him: Beltusk teetered near the ring’s edge, footing slipping. Victory was within reach…

The hog ducked low and slammed his tusked head into Bowser’s chest. The wind knocked out of Bowser’s lungs as he staggered back, barely keeping on his feet.

“You fight dirty,” Beltusk grumbled, his tone more curious than angry. “No… not dirty. Unpredictable. You’re new. The old ways are rigid. You break patterns.” He grinned, wide. “Interesting…”

Bowser’s face flushed deep crimson, his fists trembling with rage. “I WILL WIN!” he roared, charging again and again with all the fury of a dragon.

The fight raged on, longer than any bout the village had witnessed in years. The crowd hushed in awe, unable to read Bowser’s chaotic, improvisational style. He didn’t fight like a pure sumo. He had the brute strength and raw determination of a wild beast.

Blow after blow, he battered Beltusk’s defenses, absorbing strikes with his bulk and returning them with bone-rattling force. He was tuckering out the pig. He was getting slower, and easier to trick.

Bower threw his head back and let out a deep, thunderous belly-laugh. His stomach bounced with each chuckle, rolls rippling like mud in an earthquake. “You’ve grown soft,” he spat, patting his gut proudly like a war drum.

Beltusk's chest rose and fell like the bellows of a smithy, every breath a struggle. Sweat poured from his brow and gleamed against his thick, purple hide. The festival music quietened.

His eyes wide and uncertain, met Bowser’s. It wasn’t fear. No… It was respect.

“I understand now why my brother lost,” Beltusk exclaimed, voice low and raspy. “You don’t give in.”

Bowser’s face split into a large, feral, toothy grin, eyes bulging wide as dinner plates and filled with adrenaline. “You go that right, fatso!” he roared, arms flexing.

With a guttural growl, Bowser lunged. His claws gripped the thick fabric of Beltusk’s mawashi and heaved.

Muscles bulged like boulders beneath his yellow scales. Slowly, impossibly, Beltusk’s hooved feet lifted off the sand. All 1600 pounds of hog flesh rose, belly swaying, jaw slack with disbelief.

“HRRRRGHH!” Bowser roared, veins pulsing across his neck, forehead and arms. The crowd gasped in disbelief as he turned and slammed Beltusk outside the ring. The impact poofed a cloud of sand and dirt into the air. The ground shook, as if a god fell from the sky. Beltusk landed hard on his feet, stunned into silence.

Then it hit him. The weight he’d lifted. The strain. His heart thudded in his ears and head, vision tunneling as adrenaline gave way to sheer exhaustion.

“W-whoa…” Bowser muttered, gulping. His knees buckled.

Beltusk exhaled, brushing the sand from his thick thigh with a calm grin. He gave his belly a proud slap, the sound echoing across the silent garden. “So it ends,” he said simply, kindly.

Bowser swayed, uncertain. Had he… won? He squinted at Beltusk, fists half-raised, body trembling. He had forgotten they were sumo wrestling.

Then his face drooped into a confused grimace, “Ohhhh~”

He flopped backwards, belly jiggling as he hit the ground with a wet, sweaty thud. Out cold.

~~~

Read the rest with the PDF! I have reached the word limit for the description X_X