Wow, it's been a fantastic month! You guys have overwhelmed us with your support, and we can't thank you enough! Well, we do have one last gift to offer, anyway, since we hit that last $1000 goal! Expect it soon, along with a follow-up commission for our highest over-all donor! In the meantime, enjoy the fruits of your donations!

Art, Conner, and Zataan by Yours Truly
Story by  Nocturne
Editing, Theo, and Renard provided by  Renard_DeFleureax
Wolfie Randolph belongs to  Inmate001

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The stage was lit and the seats were packed; the season finale of “Bigger Is Better” was about to begin. The crowd was abuzz, either out of sheer fascination or because tickets had been surprisingly cheap for the event. Frankly, whatever reason those in attendance had for being there, they were set to have an incredible show on their hands.

On stage were the enigmatic benefactors of the entire affair, standing primed and ready. Theo’s seafoam green face was split by a wide streak of white, teeth gleaming in an almost childlike grin, his deep blue jacket prim and pressed. His co-host, Zataan, couldn’t hide his pleasure either, his own pink and purple face alight with a fierce smile as he lifted the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, we would like to welcome you all. Thank you to all of you who have been so kind of join us on this wondrous journey of ours. While it is a sad fact that all things in life come to an end, tonight’s show will be one you’ll be glad you tuned in for.”

Theo smirked as he lifted his own mic. “Throughout this season the competition has been fierce! From fanciful scavenger hunts, to trying to gamble to the top, certainly every heart-pounding minute has been worth it!” The audience cheered as the cat bowed. “And of course tonight’s final event will leave just one crowned the winner...and we all know that our dear raccoon will be leaving here-”

“Disappointed, but glad he played,” Zataan butted in, his tail lashing as he grinned mirthlessly at Theo. “Let us not forget that tonight’s competition will be for ALL the marbles as it were. And our dear Renard is certainly more than meets the eye...when you can tear him away from the meat that is. We’ve seen more clothing ruined this season than-”

“The last time you attempted to change your wardrobe,” Theo quirked an eyebrow and his smile only grew as Zataan glared at him. “Your questionable fashion choices aside, I do believe it’s time we introduced our audience to tonight’s main event.” Both Cheshires vanished as the stage grew larger before an enormous wrestling ring dropped from the sky was a crash. Theo and Zataan popped back into position in the center of it, bringing along a rather large, dark-furred wolf stuffed into a referee’s uniform. “We all remember our good friend Wolfie who has so kindly helped in the past. Tonight he’ll be acting as referee for our little rumble.” Lifting a hand up the large lupine waved to the crowd, a soft smile spreading on his muzzle.

“Now, allow us to present to you tonight’s contestants,” the scar-faced Cheshire began. “Introducing the Pudgy Punisher, the Corpulent Crusher, the Sultan of Snacking, Renard!” A spotlight swiveled to one of the entrances toward the stage and an utter mass of adipose began to lumber toward the ring. The lolf’s face consisted of a pair of cheeks so puffy they made his muzzle look pinched, and the fact they were currently stuffed by what appeared to be cinnamon rolls didn’t help alleviate the display as they quivered along with a quintet of chins that melted into a roll of neck fat. Every step sent a ripple through his swollen body, his chest a pair of mounds sitting atop a wobbling hill of plush belly. Sausage-like fingers clutched at a box of those thickly glazed pastries as another hand lifted two more to stuff into his mouth. A luchadore mask had been worked over his head, his muzzle spilling out of it as the fabric clung to him, gold stars adorning it. By some miracle, he was still wedged into the pair of red trunks that did nothing at all to restrain his burgeoning mass. The fact that the pair of heaving masses that made up his rear hadn’t blown out of the back of the shorts was a testament to sheer luck or the Cheshire’s magic, though it still didn’t prevent several seams from looking ready to pop. Whichever one it was, the crowd didn’t seem to care a lick. The few feet from the entrance to ringside left Renard huffing and puffing, taking several more bites of his cinnamon buns before slowly walking up the steps into the ring. Each one only made his body jiggle, the strain of moving clearly as immense as he was, his bulk barely managing to make it through the ring’s ropes.

Theo twirled his own mic, eyes sparkling. “Now now, I realize everyone is just riveted by such a display, but it takes two to tango. Now, put your hands together for the Muscle Mountain That Moves, the Bulging Brute, the Pumped Procyon himself, Conner!” Another spotlight moved to reveal a monstrous beast that had once been a slim raccoon not a month ago. Conner was now an absolute hulk, poured into a pair of blue posing trunks that clung to his waist, leaving bared thighs like tree trunks, forced to roll around each other as he began to lumber to the ring. His arms had long since said farewell to his sides, forced up at angles by his lats. Both biceps seemed unable, or simply unwilling, to stop digging into the gargantuan swell that had become his chest. The jutting plateau of solid muscle spread under his chin, the pillar of his neck hidden from the world as his traps threatened to push at his cheeks. He was also wearing a mask, a deep blue number with silver crescent moons splashed across it. Abdominals, a trail of bricks, clenched as he mounted the stairs of the ring and jumped over the ropes, landing with a boom. Lifting both arms up, he flexed his biceps, causing them to slam into his forearms and shoulders as he leaned over to kiss each one. The crowd erupted in applause at the display only driving the raccoon to puff out his pecs, a broad smirk crossing his face before he bent forward for a crab flex, his wide shoulders spreading as he growled and winked.

The Chesires moved to their respective contestants, Theo draping himself against Conner, letting one hand cup at his chest and squeezing firmly. “Now that our gentlemen have taken the stage, it’s time for everyone to see what we know they’d love.” Above the raccoon green letters and numbers began to form. “Weighing in at a whopping 3,940 lbs and standing at seven feet, six inches we have my piece de resistance, Conner!”

Zataan rolled his eyes, though only the first row could see they rolled in opposite directions as his own purple lettering began to appear above Renard. “And of course we have Renard here, topping out at seven feet even and 3,240 pounds of hybrid!” The beaming cat gave the lolf’s broad rump a smack, making him yelp and shift, another wave of lard washing over his body before he grumbled and bit into another cinnamon roll.

Theo and Zataan moved in front of their contestants, gripping each other’s hands and leaning in, smiles never fading. “May the best man win, and I’m certain Conner will,” Theo quipped.

“Now now, Theodosius, no need to count your chickens before they’ve hatched, I’m sure that Renard will be waddling away the winner...if he even can when this is over,” Zataan smirked before the pair vanished from the ring and into their box seating. “The masks really were a grand idea, weren’t they? Couldn’t have them settling into a little slapping contest.”

“Yes, yes, they’ll be aggressive. Wonderful idea, does Polly want a cracker while he preens himself?” Theo shook his head before sipping a glass of cordial. “I still say telling them the winner got a lifetime gym membership or buffet card would have worked just as well.”

Wolfie looked from Conner to Renard before clearing his throat. “Okay gentlemen, according to the hosts, tonight’s competition will be one round. No low blows, no weapons, and...hold on, what was on those darn cards…” Digging into his pocket the lupine pulled out a few index cards. “And no...usage of foul language, ‘this is a proper man’s bout’...okay, seen weirder rules. At the sound of the bell, the round starts.” The big wolf stepped back from the pair, his tail swishing quickly as he glanced between them.

Renard grunted as he gulped down his last cinnamon roll, shaking his head a bit as he faced Conner, panting from just standing. “Comes down to this...need to make it quick, I really want to go get a snack. Don’t want to hurt you, Conner. Not unless you want to have some of my cinnamon rolls, that’s a no-no.”

The raccoon smirked before bouncing his pecs slowly. “I’m not worried about getting hurt, but you’re gonna make a really good workout. Probably weigh more than most of the gym at this point. Speaking of which, after this I should get back to it, my adoring fans can’t get enough of me.”

A bell rang, the sound carrying out through the entire arena, sparking the crowd into a chorus of cheering. Conner didn’t waste a second, charging in, the ring shaking under him as he crashed into Renard. The resulting impact sent the lolf nearly stumbling over, his entire body shaking like a jello mold, but he didn’t go down. Still the raccoon sank his arms into the lolf, trying to get a grip on the hybrid, but try as he might there was so much to grip onto, fingers slipping every few seconds.

Renard groaned and reached down, trying to push Conner off, but whereas the raccoon was built sturdy, it took a lot of effort just for the lolf to bend in a bit to shove at the brute’s wide shoulders. What little forward momentum he could gather made next to no impact. He wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to get Conner off him, even trying to throw his weight against his friend barely managed to shake him loose for a few seconds.

Over and over the pair struggled; neither could bring themselves to actually hit the other, but still they tried to shove, push, and grip anything to get the other off their feet. It was an odd situation, heaving muscle sinking into jiggling blubber, the crowd frothing to see which would manage to unseat the other. Still, the sensation of something off was washing over the pair; the situation didn’t seem quite right. They were friends, weren’t they? A bit of friendly competition was always fun, but being on live television in front of a cheering audience was surreal.

It wasn’t until one of Conner’s oversized mitts managed to grip near Renard’s neck, hooking a finger into the fabric of the mask. As he pulled away the mask came with him and something snapped. The realization hit Renard like a hunger pang, or more appropriately, it was accompanied by one. He’d been hesitant at the beginning of the contest just like Conner, but it had gotten easier and easier to gorge himself. It was almost like he had been tricked into it, or more like he’d been lead down a path with a blindfold on. Looking down at himself the weight of the situation sank in. “Hoooly crap, I’m huge. Conner, Conner!” He groaned as the raccoon latched onto him from the side, love handles bunching up against his friend. “We have to stop this. Don’t you remember? We were trying to not let things go overboard. Things hit overboard when I stopped being able to see my toes.” His fingers scrabbled at the raccoon before snatching the laces of his mask and ripping it off.

Conner grunted, having to lift his head up, eyes fluttering as realization spread over his face. He couldn’t even look directly down at himself, chin smacking against the shelf of his pecs before he groaned. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. I can’t believe those two managed to pull something like this off again. What are we gonna do? I mean...we can’t just stop, crowd seems a bit...rowdy.” He gulped as he tried to heave Renard off his feet to keep the show going.

The show, however, came to a screeching halt as both cats appeared in the ring, grinning broadly at each other. Theo lunged in first, poking a finger into Zataan’s chest. “Renard’s mask came off first, therefore Conner has won today’s competition! I win, you lose!” He chuckled and clapped merrily.

Zataan shook his head vigorously. “Theo, you should know that simply ripping the mask off is simply not allowed. If anything what Conner did disqualifies him and makes Renard the winner. You simply must stop getting ahead of yourself in these matters. Mistakes wouldn’t happen otherwise.”

The two cats looked almost ready to square off themselves before Wolfie cleared his throat. “Um...sirs? You both told me that tonight’s match was Greco-Roman...not Mexican. Winner is determined by whoever manages to pin the other.” The dark-coated wolf blushed as the Cheshires turned their unfriendly smiles on him. “Just the rules, fellas!”

Zataan opened his mouth, but his words were cut off as a voice came from behind him. “Whoever winds up pinned loses? Well that makes this simple!” The cat didn’t even have time to turn around before a wave of tan-colored fat slammed into his back, sending him tumbling to the floor. Renard smirked down at him, cheeks wobbling heavily.

Theo burst into a sharp laugh that was cut off as a massive arm swung around his head, pulling him into Conner’s side as the raccoon dropped to the mat with the Cheshire in a headlock. The green cat struggled, though not very hard as his eyes flicked from the gargantuan slab of muscle his cheek was pressed against up toward Conner’s grinning face. “Hey Ref, better start counting,” the enormous raccoon shouted.

Wolfie gulped before moving between the pair, taking a moment to run his hand along both bodies, squeezing a pawful of Renard’s heaving side while tracing his fingers over Conner’s exposed abs. Dropping down he began counting out, “One….two….three! The winners of tonight’s match is...um...Renard and Conner?” The crowd was silent for a moment before erupting into applause.

Theo looked as though he couldn’t decide if he was thrilled at his position or terrified that the raccoon might be the least bit upset with him. Zataan on the other hand just had a knowing smirk on his lips. “Well gentlemen, it seems that tonight’s event is over. Congratulations on winning. Never say that we aren’t gracious in defeat.”

“As we said, Mr. De Fleureaux, Mr. Coon, we’ll change you back, we’re good to our word!” Theo said quickly, his head still sandwiched by coon muscle on all sides.

“Of course,” Zataan paused for a moment, savoring the slowly fading smirks on the two behemoths smothering them. “We have a lot to do, now that the season’s over… wrap-up parties, editing, promotions, you know how it is… I’m sure we can pencil you two in, eventually.”

Renard and Conner looked at each other. They weren’t impressed. “Hey, uh, Wolfie?” Renard waved the bulky referee over. “Could you grab me some of the treats from my dressing room? And by that I mean, all of them?”

“A little victory snack, Renny?” Zataan asked. “You can get it yourself, don’t you want to start exercising? I’m sure those pounds’ll just melt off.”

“Nah. I’m pretty comfy where I am.”

The purple cheshire blinked. “...What?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty comfortable, too,” Conner added. He squeezed his arm, letting his bicep swell against Theo’s cheek.

“Ah- ah-” Theo gasped for breath, his hands scrambling. “Mr. C, I think we’re being a little rude to our friends, here… we can pencil them for, say, three weeks from--” the green cat wheezed as his whole body was being pressed down like a soda can in a trash compactor, “Fine, fine! A week--” his tail stood on end as Conner grunted, flexing his bicep as hard as it would go. “Whenever you like!” Theo squeaked.

“We’ll be sure to let you know,” the huge procyon smirked.

“Yeah, we’re not in that much of a hurry…” Renard rocked back and forth on his huge belly, thick folds of flab pressing down on Zataan like waves lapping at the shore. “I’m still waiting on my snack.”