So here's a blast from the past; one of the first stories rockytheprocy and I ever did on Big Stories, with inks and colors from cedricbrowning and story by me, naturally. In this (very long) story, Nick Wilde goes undercover at an underground wrestling ring. He has to adapt fast, which means bulking up to ridiculous sizes before he gets flattened by the competition!
I'm going to cut the story short at about 2500 words, but for anyone that wants to read the whole story (and you do, for 8000+ words of wrestling, muscle growth, weight gain, and general G I R T H set in Zootopia) check out this fancy PDF here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1u3bdZevMz68M-mz9FbKAhSn-E8o7Es-hmRzSDlvJHx4/edit
Story © c'est moi
Art © rockytheprocy cedricbrowning
Characters © Didney
Chief Bogo unceremoniously dropped a pile of papers on his desk as big as Nick Wilde’s head. The broad shouldered water buffalo groaned heavily as he sank into his seat, massaging his temples. “Do you know what these are, Wilde?”
The fox looked to his partner, Judy Hopps. The rabbit looked as confused as he did. “Uh… criminal records?”
The chief of Zootopia’s police grunted. “Yours, specifically.”
“Wait, what?” Nick’s eyes went wide.
“Mayor Lionheart recently pushed for an audit of all public officials and law enforcement. A way to show how squeaky clean he’s become after the Night Howler incident,” Bogo explained. “It was decided that we start with you, Wilde-”
“Wait, let me guess,” Nick stiffened, his tail swishing irritably. “Because I’m a fox. I’m sneaky and clever.”
The water buffalo gave Nick a steady look. “Because you’re one of our newest officers and a very high profile figure.” He flipped through the documents in front of him. “According to this, you have a list of minor misdemeanors as long as my arm. Most of this can be swept under the rug, given your unparalleled service to the city. However, based on comments made by Officer Hopps during the Night Howler investigation, which were followed up by the city’s tax office, you’re guilty of two decades worth of tax evasion.” Both Nick’s and Bogo’s eyes slowly drifted down to Judy, who was stunned.
“Woah, hold on!” the rabbit leapt from her chair after regaining her senses. “Chief, that was a bluff. I used that to talk Nick into helping with the case! Which he did, and we ended up saving the city.”
“You would be amazed at how little tax officials care about a citizen’s hero status,” Bogo said drily. “They want their money, and Lionheart is in little position to shield the police.” His gaze softened, and he sank deeper into his chair. “I have done my best to be in your corner. You two have been one of the most solid assets to this department, and I stand by my officers. I’ve cut a deal with City Hall. We keep this quiet, your reputation in tact, Wilde, provided you pay the city a quarter of a million dollars in back taxes.”
“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars? On a cop’s salary?!” Nick’s jaw dropped open.
Bogo shifted uncomfortably. “That’s the other part of the deal. You’re officially on unpaid leave. I’ll have to ask for your stun gun. Until you’re in good standing with City Hall, it would be ‘inappropriate’ for you to serve in law enforcement.”
“They’re trying to drum him out of the department!” Judy shouted. “That’s so unfair.”
“That’s the deal you cut?!” Nick scoffed, folding his arms. “Pardon me, chief, but it’s a good thing you’re not in charge of hostage negotiations.”
“They wanted to take you to court,” Bogo said bluntly. “Make an example of you.”
The chief’s statement deflated Nick as his face fell. “Oh.”
Bogo snorted. “You’re a good cop, Wilde. This isn’t the end; I’ve got a few favors I can call on, but it’ll have to wait until the auditors are a little less… ravenous. But until then, find something to occupy your time and keep your nose clean. And if you do wish upon a star and find a quarter of a million lying around, all the better.”
“Chief, I’m not going to be comfortable working without Nick,” Judy declared. “He’s my partner. If he doesn’t work, neither do I.”
“That wouldn’t be wise,” the buffalo grumbled. “Wilde’s going to need your sterling reputation as a character witness.” The chief offered his paw to Nick. “Promise me you’ll play it safe, Wilde, and I’ll get you back on duty as fast as I can. Do we have a deal?”
Nick frowned deeply, his ears folded back. Sullenly, he looked up at Bogo, and took his hand. “Yeah, chief. You can count on me.”
“Good man.” Bogo nodded. “You’re dismissed. I’ll be in touch in a few days with an update. Hopps, you stay here. There’s a new case I want you to look into, we believe there’s a drug ring operating out of Tundratown specializing in high grade steroids…”
It had been a long time since Nick had felt this dejected. His badge, his gun, his uniform were all taken from him in one fell swoop, as if the past year had never happened. He was left to just wander the city streets; if he had to be cooped up in his apartment, he’d go crazy. The fox mentally flipped through a dozen ideas to raise the money he needed to get his badge back, but all of them were varying degrees of illegal.
“And that would be ‘inappropriate for law enforcement,’” Nick muttered mockingly as he kicked a can down the sidewalk. He was about to cross the street when a limousine pulled up, cutting him off. The tinted window rolled down, revealing a pair of incredibly burly polar bears; he couldn’t see anything past them, as they were fit to bust out of their black suits.
“Brutus, Bruno,” a familiar, scratchy, and accented voice chided. “Don’t be so rude. Lean back, so our guest can get in.” The bears growled at the fox, then opened the door. “Nickie, why don’t you let an old friend give you a lift?”
Nick’s ears splayed flat against his head. “Oh, no. Mr. Big, I really don’t-” a huge arm grabbed the fox by his lapel, jerking him inside and slamming the door behind him as the limo roared to life. “...want to be an imposition.”
The fox looked around. Besides the polar bears, Nick saw the fattest otter he had ever seen dressed in a vest and bowtie, and a sharply dressed shrew the size of an apple, seated in a dignified child carrier that seemed to be hand-carved out of mahogany, and padded with velvet cushions. Mr. Big held out his hand expectantly. Carefully, the fox leaned in to kiss the shrew’s ring. “Mr. Big, I, uh… I’m surprised you wanted to speak with me again.”
“I told you, Nickie, I’ve let bygones be bygones. Your partnership with Ms. Hopps speaks well of you, and you aided in clearing my florist’s name. This has pleased me, and I have forgotten all skunk butt related incidents,” the shrew said. “But I have an offer for you, which I understand you won’t want to refuse.”
Nick arched his brow. “What do you mean?”
“I understand that you have run afoul of City Hall’s tax collectors. A pity, isn’t it, when the law works against you?”
The fox narrowed his eyes. “How do you know about that? Chief Bogo made sure to keep it quiet.”
“I have friends, Nickie, many grateful friends in convenient positions,” Mr. Big waved it off. “I understand that, to regain your good name, you are looking for a substantial sum of money. I would be willing to hire you, at a price I think you will find quite generous.”
“Mr. Big, I appreciate the offer, but I really don’t think I’m cut out for your line of work anymore,” Nick said quickly, trying his hardest not to offend.
“Nickie! You wound me,” the shrew tutted. “I run a legitimate business now, that produces quality, family friendly entertainment.”
Yeah, “family” friendly, Nick thought irritably to himself. “What do you want me to do?”
The shrew smirked as the limo came to a stop. “Come inside, Nickie, and I’ll give you the tour. Welcome to the Icebox.” He jerked his head to the fat otter. “Alphonse, make sure that the kitchen has a proper meal prepared for our guest. And get Nickie one of your special cocktails.”
“Oh-oh, of course, Mr. Big!” Alphonse nodded, making his second chin wobble.
As part of the city’s efforts to revitalize the area, some of the old wharf in Tundratown had been converted to trendy condos, shops, and restaurants, but the Icebox was one of the biggest and most colorful attractions around. Mr. Big and his entourage led Nick past two enormous bouncers into the cavernous building; the shouts and cheers of a huge crowd echoed off the walls, as people crammed together around a wrestling ring where a massive polar bear clad in powder blue shorts was butting heads with an unusually shredded hippo wearing only a sparkly silver speedo. Both of them were mountains of muscle, towering over the cheering crowd. Nick craned his neck as the polar bear threw his rolling shoulder into the hippo, and wrapped his gargantuan arms around his opponent’s neck as he was thrown down to the mat. The hippo grunted as his cheeks were pinned by swollen biceps and a back as wide as a barn.
“Avalanche!” half the crowd cheered, and the polar bear gave the crowd a thumbs up and a winning smile.
“Nickie, Nickie, let’s not dawdle,” Mr. Big called. One of the bears yanked Nick further into the Icebox. The club boasted a well populated bar and restaurant, raised up on a steel platform overlooking the ring. Strings of lights and ornate metal supports gave it a strange, Mediterranean air of class as Mr. Big’s entourage weaved between the tables. Nick was forced down into a chair at the best seat in the house, which offered a commanding view of the ring. Alphonse the otter came up; his round, pudgy face was dimpled as he smiled wide, and his cauldron-sized gut straining the cumberbund he wore as he placed a bright red cocktail in front of Nick, but not before he knocked over the floral centerpiece.
“O-oh, fiddlesticks! Sorry Mr. Big…”
“Alphonse, Alphonse, why are you getting so nervous? Nickie’s a dear friend,” Mr. Big chided softly, holding out his hand. The tubby otter aimed for the shrew’s ring, and accidentally smooched the top of his head. “Alphonse! Get back to the bar, before I forget why I hired you.”
“Oh, because my father’s a good friend and-” He gulped as he caught the glare Mr. Big was throwing at him. “Right, back to the bar, right away, sir.” He bowed, then nearly tripped over a waiter on his way out.
“Feh! You see now why I have asked you for your help,” Mr. Big gestured to the four immense polar bears around him. “I have many good, loyal men already, but their talents are of a singular nature. Many of my wrestlers are simple creatures as well, and I think it is time I brought in someone new. Someone clever and crafty. Naturally, I thought of you.”
“I’m… honored, Mr. Big.” Nick nodded. His ears splayed again as their attention turned to the wrestling ring; the hippo slammed into the polar bear, driving a punch to his gut so powerful, it sent that furry white mountain sailing over the ropes, and hitting the ground with an audible thud. “But I am really not the wrestling type.”
The shrew thinned his lips. “Nickie, perhaps I have not made myself clear. This establishment is the most profitable legitimate venture I have ever taken part in. You could easily make the money you need within a matter of months.”
Before Nick could respond, waiters placed before him one of the most succulent dishes he had seen, a giant, perfectly seared haddock on a bed of greens. Fish was some of the best a predator could hope for in Zootopia, and still be socially acceptable, anyways.
“Mr. Big, uh, this is very generous…”
“I know it is.” Mr. Big snapped his fingers, and a thick contract was produced, slid across the table. “Enjoy my hospitality, Nickie. If you do this favor for me, you can be sure you will be well taken care of. But I trust you will remember that you danced at my daughter’s wedding, and all that implies.” He looked up; Alphonse was waddling forward with another bright red cocktail. “Hm. Alphonse is coming back. Let’s be off, Bruno, before he ends up drowning me in a martini.” The polar bear delicately lifted Mr. Big in his chair, carrying him away.
“Oh…” Alphonse’s cheeks billowed as he huffed, placing the cocktail next to Nick. “I hope Mr. Big isn’t too mad…”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much,” Nick said, drinking some of his cocktail, to wash down half the haddock he had just inhaled. “If he hasn’t dangled you over arctic waters, you should be fine. Oh,” he bounced his brows. “This is really good. Nice punch to it… cinnamon?”
“Oh, yes!” Alphonse’s round eyes lit up. “That’s the Firebrand, it’s my specialty. All the wrestlers love it, gets them all fired up, y’know?” He looked at the two cocktails. “Ah! Darn, I thought you already finished. Well, that one’s on the house, for one of the heroes of Zootopia.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t feel like much of a hero now…” Nick’s eye lingered back on the ring. The huge hippo, his massive body oiled up to make every defined muscle ripple, was practically roaring for new blood.
Alphonse chuckled nervously. “You faced worse than this, right? You and Judy Hopps, fighting off feral animals, leaping off run-away trains… look, Ivory Jaw’s not that bad. Outside the ring, he’s, uhm…” the hippo, still baying for a fight, had taken a bite out of one of the posts, spitting out the chewed up wood. “...Really kind of a sweetheart.”
Nick’s head was swimming as he finished off the second cocktail; he really shouldn’t have drunk it so fast. And with his plate finished, he tugged at his shirt. He probably shouldn’t have eaten so much so quickly either…
“Oh, don’t worry, he’s playing it up, heh. He doesn’t have much reason to be that angry, he just bought a summer house in the Caynine Islands,” Alphonse said.
“You know what?” Nick stood up, puffing out his chest as he looked back at the hippo. He didn’t look so tough, not for the money some of these guys must make fighting for Mr. Big. “I think I’m good. I just gotta, what, bob and weave, last three rounds?”
“Yeah, exactly!” Alphonse said. “Oh, this is going to be so fun! I know all about you from the news. You’re the greatest!”
“Ain’t that sweet,” the fox smirked a bit, standing a little taller. “You just… hic wait until I get a hold of Eggshell Jaw!”
“Ivory Jaw.”
“Whatever!” Nick said, signing his name on Mr. Big’s contract with a flourish. “Tell Mr. Big I’m ready for this! I’ll be in the lockers.”
Nick swaggered his way across the crowd, slipping into the locker room. He stopped before a mirror, taking off his increasingly tight shirt. “Pfft, and Judy thought I needed to work out more,” the fox’s torso was well built, with a solid, defined chest, broad shoulders, and his arms had a respectable amount of muscle packed on. His middle, however, was looking a little thick. Nick’s smirk slackened. “Well. Maybe a little cardio…”
“If it ain’t the long, scrawny arm of the law,” a deep, familiar voice called, making Nick spin around. It looked like Finn the fennec, his old partner in crime, but where the sandy furred fox was lucky to come up to Nick’s chest, and only with his ears, this musclebound beast stood eye level with Nick, and was a lot wider. Thick, rippling arms and a meaty chest filled out the top half of his shirt, and judging by the way his torso filled out the bottom half, he was eating well, too. “What the heck are you doing here, Wilde?”
“Mr. Big just signed me up,” Nick said, trying not to focus on the fact that Finnick’s arms were roughly as big as his head. “I’m going up against Ivory Jaw.”
Finnick’s mouth twitched before he let out a big, guffawing laugh which made his thick middle ripple against his shirt, his chest heaving. “You? Against Ivory Jaw? Hah! Okay, Wilde,” He slapped Nick on the back, which made the fox stagger. “Let me just grab a spatula to pry you off the ring.”
Nick’s head was still a little fuzzy, but he snarled indignantly as Finnick lumbered off. What did that not-so-little pipsqueak know?
I'm going to cut the story short at about 2500 words, but for anyone that wants to read the whole story (and you do, for 8000+ words of wrestling, muscle growth, weight gain, and general G I R T H set in Zootopia) check out this fancy PDF here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1u3bdZevMz68M-mz9FbKAhSn-E8o7Es-hmRzSDlvJHx4/edit
Story © c'est moi
Art © rockytheprocy cedricbrowning
Characters © Didney
Chief Bogo unceremoniously dropped a pile of papers on his desk as big as Nick Wilde’s head. The broad shouldered water buffalo groaned heavily as he sank into his seat, massaging his temples. “Do you know what these are, Wilde?”
The fox looked to his partner, Judy Hopps. The rabbit looked as confused as he did. “Uh… criminal records?”
The chief of Zootopia’s police grunted. “Yours, specifically.”
“Wait, what?” Nick’s eyes went wide.
“Mayor Lionheart recently pushed for an audit of all public officials and law enforcement. A way to show how squeaky clean he’s become after the Night Howler incident,” Bogo explained. “It was decided that we start with you, Wilde-”
“Wait, let me guess,” Nick stiffened, his tail swishing irritably. “Because I’m a fox. I’m sneaky and clever.”
The water buffalo gave Nick a steady look. “Because you’re one of our newest officers and a very high profile figure.” He flipped through the documents in front of him. “According to this, you have a list of minor misdemeanors as long as my arm. Most of this can be swept under the rug, given your unparalleled service to the city. However, based on comments made by Officer Hopps during the Night Howler investigation, which were followed up by the city’s tax office, you’re guilty of two decades worth of tax evasion.” Both Nick’s and Bogo’s eyes slowly drifted down to Judy, who was stunned.
“Woah, hold on!” the rabbit leapt from her chair after regaining her senses. “Chief, that was a bluff. I used that to talk Nick into helping with the case! Which he did, and we ended up saving the city.”
“You would be amazed at how little tax officials care about a citizen’s hero status,” Bogo said drily. “They want their money, and Lionheart is in little position to shield the police.” His gaze softened, and he sank deeper into his chair. “I have done my best to be in your corner. You two have been one of the most solid assets to this department, and I stand by my officers. I’ve cut a deal with City Hall. We keep this quiet, your reputation in tact, Wilde, provided you pay the city a quarter of a million dollars in back taxes.”
“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars? On a cop’s salary?!” Nick’s jaw dropped open.
Bogo shifted uncomfortably. “That’s the other part of the deal. You’re officially on unpaid leave. I’ll have to ask for your stun gun. Until you’re in good standing with City Hall, it would be ‘inappropriate’ for you to serve in law enforcement.”
“They’re trying to drum him out of the department!” Judy shouted. “That’s so unfair.”
“That’s the deal you cut?!” Nick scoffed, folding his arms. “Pardon me, chief, but it’s a good thing you’re not in charge of hostage negotiations.”
“They wanted to take you to court,” Bogo said bluntly. “Make an example of you.”
The chief’s statement deflated Nick as his face fell. “Oh.”
Bogo snorted. “You’re a good cop, Wilde. This isn’t the end; I’ve got a few favors I can call on, but it’ll have to wait until the auditors are a little less… ravenous. But until then, find something to occupy your time and keep your nose clean. And if you do wish upon a star and find a quarter of a million lying around, all the better.”
“Chief, I’m not going to be comfortable working without Nick,” Judy declared. “He’s my partner. If he doesn’t work, neither do I.”
“That wouldn’t be wise,” the buffalo grumbled. “Wilde’s going to need your sterling reputation as a character witness.” The chief offered his paw to Nick. “Promise me you’ll play it safe, Wilde, and I’ll get you back on duty as fast as I can. Do we have a deal?”
Nick frowned deeply, his ears folded back. Sullenly, he looked up at Bogo, and took his hand. “Yeah, chief. You can count on me.”
“Good man.” Bogo nodded. “You’re dismissed. I’ll be in touch in a few days with an update. Hopps, you stay here. There’s a new case I want you to look into, we believe there’s a drug ring operating out of Tundratown specializing in high grade steroids…”
It had been a long time since Nick had felt this dejected. His badge, his gun, his uniform were all taken from him in one fell swoop, as if the past year had never happened. He was left to just wander the city streets; if he had to be cooped up in his apartment, he’d go crazy. The fox mentally flipped through a dozen ideas to raise the money he needed to get his badge back, but all of them were varying degrees of illegal.
“And that would be ‘inappropriate for law enforcement,’” Nick muttered mockingly as he kicked a can down the sidewalk. He was about to cross the street when a limousine pulled up, cutting him off. The tinted window rolled down, revealing a pair of incredibly burly polar bears; he couldn’t see anything past them, as they were fit to bust out of their black suits.
“Brutus, Bruno,” a familiar, scratchy, and accented voice chided. “Don’t be so rude. Lean back, so our guest can get in.” The bears growled at the fox, then opened the door. “Nickie, why don’t you let an old friend give you a lift?”
Nick’s ears splayed flat against his head. “Oh, no. Mr. Big, I really don’t-” a huge arm grabbed the fox by his lapel, jerking him inside and slamming the door behind him as the limo roared to life. “...want to be an imposition.”
The fox looked around. Besides the polar bears, Nick saw the fattest otter he had ever seen dressed in a vest and bowtie, and a sharply dressed shrew the size of an apple, seated in a dignified child carrier that seemed to be hand-carved out of mahogany, and padded with velvet cushions. Mr. Big held out his hand expectantly. Carefully, the fox leaned in to kiss the shrew’s ring. “Mr. Big, I, uh… I’m surprised you wanted to speak with me again.”
“I told you, Nickie, I’ve let bygones be bygones. Your partnership with Ms. Hopps speaks well of you, and you aided in clearing my florist’s name. This has pleased me, and I have forgotten all skunk butt related incidents,” the shrew said. “But I have an offer for you, which I understand you won’t want to refuse.”
Nick arched his brow. “What do you mean?”
“I understand that you have run afoul of City Hall’s tax collectors. A pity, isn’t it, when the law works against you?”
The fox narrowed his eyes. “How do you know about that? Chief Bogo made sure to keep it quiet.”
“I have friends, Nickie, many grateful friends in convenient positions,” Mr. Big waved it off. “I understand that, to regain your good name, you are looking for a substantial sum of money. I would be willing to hire you, at a price I think you will find quite generous.”
“Mr. Big, I appreciate the offer, but I really don’t think I’m cut out for your line of work anymore,” Nick said quickly, trying his hardest not to offend.
“Nickie! You wound me,” the shrew tutted. “I run a legitimate business now, that produces quality, family friendly entertainment.”
Yeah, “family” friendly, Nick thought irritably to himself. “What do you want me to do?”
The shrew smirked as the limo came to a stop. “Come inside, Nickie, and I’ll give you the tour. Welcome to the Icebox.” He jerked his head to the fat otter. “Alphonse, make sure that the kitchen has a proper meal prepared for our guest. And get Nickie one of your special cocktails.”
“Oh-oh, of course, Mr. Big!” Alphonse nodded, making his second chin wobble.
As part of the city’s efforts to revitalize the area, some of the old wharf in Tundratown had been converted to trendy condos, shops, and restaurants, but the Icebox was one of the biggest and most colorful attractions around. Mr. Big and his entourage led Nick past two enormous bouncers into the cavernous building; the shouts and cheers of a huge crowd echoed off the walls, as people crammed together around a wrestling ring where a massive polar bear clad in powder blue shorts was butting heads with an unusually shredded hippo wearing only a sparkly silver speedo. Both of them were mountains of muscle, towering over the cheering crowd. Nick craned his neck as the polar bear threw his rolling shoulder into the hippo, and wrapped his gargantuan arms around his opponent’s neck as he was thrown down to the mat. The hippo grunted as his cheeks were pinned by swollen biceps and a back as wide as a barn.
“Avalanche!” half the crowd cheered, and the polar bear gave the crowd a thumbs up and a winning smile.
“Nickie, Nickie, let’s not dawdle,” Mr. Big called. One of the bears yanked Nick further into the Icebox. The club boasted a well populated bar and restaurant, raised up on a steel platform overlooking the ring. Strings of lights and ornate metal supports gave it a strange, Mediterranean air of class as Mr. Big’s entourage weaved between the tables. Nick was forced down into a chair at the best seat in the house, which offered a commanding view of the ring. Alphonse the otter came up; his round, pudgy face was dimpled as he smiled wide, and his cauldron-sized gut straining the cumberbund he wore as he placed a bright red cocktail in front of Nick, but not before he knocked over the floral centerpiece.
“O-oh, fiddlesticks! Sorry Mr. Big…”
“Alphonse, Alphonse, why are you getting so nervous? Nickie’s a dear friend,” Mr. Big chided softly, holding out his hand. The tubby otter aimed for the shrew’s ring, and accidentally smooched the top of his head. “Alphonse! Get back to the bar, before I forget why I hired you.”
“Oh, because my father’s a good friend and-” He gulped as he caught the glare Mr. Big was throwing at him. “Right, back to the bar, right away, sir.” He bowed, then nearly tripped over a waiter on his way out.
“Feh! You see now why I have asked you for your help,” Mr. Big gestured to the four immense polar bears around him. “I have many good, loyal men already, but their talents are of a singular nature. Many of my wrestlers are simple creatures as well, and I think it is time I brought in someone new. Someone clever and crafty. Naturally, I thought of you.”
“I’m… honored, Mr. Big.” Nick nodded. His ears splayed again as their attention turned to the wrestling ring; the hippo slammed into the polar bear, driving a punch to his gut so powerful, it sent that furry white mountain sailing over the ropes, and hitting the ground with an audible thud. “But I am really not the wrestling type.”
The shrew thinned his lips. “Nickie, perhaps I have not made myself clear. This establishment is the most profitable legitimate venture I have ever taken part in. You could easily make the money you need within a matter of months.”
Before Nick could respond, waiters placed before him one of the most succulent dishes he had seen, a giant, perfectly seared haddock on a bed of greens. Fish was some of the best a predator could hope for in Zootopia, and still be socially acceptable, anyways.
“Mr. Big, uh, this is very generous…”
“I know it is.” Mr. Big snapped his fingers, and a thick contract was produced, slid across the table. “Enjoy my hospitality, Nickie. If you do this favor for me, you can be sure you will be well taken care of. But I trust you will remember that you danced at my daughter’s wedding, and all that implies.” He looked up; Alphonse was waddling forward with another bright red cocktail. “Hm. Alphonse is coming back. Let’s be off, Bruno, before he ends up drowning me in a martini.” The polar bear delicately lifted Mr. Big in his chair, carrying him away.
“Oh…” Alphonse’s cheeks billowed as he huffed, placing the cocktail next to Nick. “I hope Mr. Big isn’t too mad…”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much,” Nick said, drinking some of his cocktail, to wash down half the haddock he had just inhaled. “If he hasn’t dangled you over arctic waters, you should be fine. Oh,” he bounced his brows. “This is really good. Nice punch to it… cinnamon?”
“Oh, yes!” Alphonse’s round eyes lit up. “That’s the Firebrand, it’s my specialty. All the wrestlers love it, gets them all fired up, y’know?” He looked at the two cocktails. “Ah! Darn, I thought you already finished. Well, that one’s on the house, for one of the heroes of Zootopia.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t feel like much of a hero now…” Nick’s eye lingered back on the ring. The huge hippo, his massive body oiled up to make every defined muscle ripple, was practically roaring for new blood.
Alphonse chuckled nervously. “You faced worse than this, right? You and Judy Hopps, fighting off feral animals, leaping off run-away trains… look, Ivory Jaw’s not that bad. Outside the ring, he’s, uhm…” the hippo, still baying for a fight, had taken a bite out of one of the posts, spitting out the chewed up wood. “...Really kind of a sweetheart.”
Nick’s head was swimming as he finished off the second cocktail; he really shouldn’t have drunk it so fast. And with his plate finished, he tugged at his shirt. He probably shouldn’t have eaten so much so quickly either…
“Oh, don’t worry, he’s playing it up, heh. He doesn’t have much reason to be that angry, he just bought a summer house in the Caynine Islands,” Alphonse said.
“You know what?” Nick stood up, puffing out his chest as he looked back at the hippo. He didn’t look so tough, not for the money some of these guys must make fighting for Mr. Big. “I think I’m good. I just gotta, what, bob and weave, last three rounds?”
“Yeah, exactly!” Alphonse said. “Oh, this is going to be so fun! I know all about you from the news. You’re the greatest!”
“Ain’t that sweet,” the fox smirked a bit, standing a little taller. “You just… hic wait until I get a hold of Eggshell Jaw!”
“Ivory Jaw.”
“Whatever!” Nick said, signing his name on Mr. Big’s contract with a flourish. “Tell Mr. Big I’m ready for this! I’ll be in the lockers.”
Nick swaggered his way across the crowd, slipping into the locker room. He stopped before a mirror, taking off his increasingly tight shirt. “Pfft, and Judy thought I needed to work out more,” the fox’s torso was well built, with a solid, defined chest, broad shoulders, and his arms had a respectable amount of muscle packed on. His middle, however, was looking a little thick. Nick’s smirk slackened. “Well. Maybe a little cardio…”
“If it ain’t the long, scrawny arm of the law,” a deep, familiar voice called, making Nick spin around. It looked like Finn the fennec, his old partner in crime, but where the sandy furred fox was lucky to come up to Nick’s chest, and only with his ears, this musclebound beast stood eye level with Nick, and was a lot wider. Thick, rippling arms and a meaty chest filled out the top half of his shirt, and judging by the way his torso filled out the bottom half, he was eating well, too. “What the heck are you doing here, Wilde?”
“Mr. Big just signed me up,” Nick said, trying not to focus on the fact that Finnick’s arms were roughly as big as his head. “I’m going up against Ivory Jaw.”
Finnick’s mouth twitched before he let out a big, guffawing laugh which made his thick middle ripple against his shirt, his chest heaving. “You? Against Ivory Jaw? Hah! Okay, Wilde,” He slapped Nick on the back, which made the fox stagger. “Let me just grab a spatula to pry you off the ring.”
Nick’s head was still a little fuzzy, but he snarled indignantly as Finnick lumbered off. What did that not-so-little pipsqueak know?
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fat Furs
Species Fox (Other)
Gender Male
Size 1250 x 1250px
Listed in Folders
Even just this excerpt is very well-written! Thanks for sharing this with us. :)
i enjoyed reading the montage that Nick went through to hulk out, you really described the wrestlers well with their respective sizes
Thanks! Coming up with the wrestler names and personas was a lot of fun.
I love this story, Nick wrestler journey is very enjoyable, along with his slow build to being a bigger then a bear size fox ^^
also really love finnick becoming this wide tank of muscle!
also really love finnick becoming this wide tank of muscle!
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