July Extras (Patreon)

Thanks again for your support, bigger patrons! Razor gets to hulk out while Horkeu Kamui indulges a little too much. Enjoy!

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It was a new day for the SWAT Kats, and Razor felt good. And why wouldn’t he? He was the strongest, biggest cat in Megakat City, and suddenly the thought of taking on Dark Kat, Madkat, Dr. Viper, or all three of them sounded less like a world-ending, life-threatening battle, and more like a warm-up for his workouts. The fact he now dwarfed Chance by hundreds of pounds was, admittedly, a very nice bonus.

How he got this big was still a mystery, and the story seemed to change depending on who was asked. He had been working out to keep in shape, sure, but these results were something people only dreamt of; was it because of some toxic waste from Dr. Viper? An experiment gone wrong? Some new invention of his? No one but Razor knew, and he wasn’t telling; all that mattered now was that he was a mountain of cat muscle. His legs were like earth-shaking pillars, supporting a monument to strength and power; his arms were more powerful than cannons, with boulder-sized biceps and tire-like triceps, his shoulders a mountain range that were in real danger of eclipsing his head. His chest surged out, wide as a canyon, framed by a sprawling valley of girthy muscle making up his lats. Razor loved every inch of his broadened frame, and he had grown addicted to the feeling of sheer power coursing through his veins, like he could move actual mountains.

Fitting in the Turbokat with T-Bone was next to impossible, but he had been toying with the notion of simply throwing the jet at villains…

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Kamui steadied and centered himself before battle began, ready to defend his summoner. Being a retainer for such a great hero was surely a great honor, but did such a position have to come with quite so many “perks,” as the hero had described them? And did so many of those perks have to be edible?

The summoner seemed to like nothing more than watching Kamui eat large amounts of food, and who was he to deny a true hero? He gorged himself, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. He had found good company with Behemoth and Tsathoggua for these incessant meals, and the food was delectable, but everything had its price, and his body was paying for it.

Toned muscle and agile limbs were now buried under an avalanche of flab and lard. His belly, like a great, oversized shield, spilled over his chunky, bloated thighs. His loincloth cut deep into his lovehandles, barely able to cross the sheer width of his round, bloated rear, as folds of back fat pressed down on top of it. His arms were weighed down by reams of blubber, his once-firm chest now soft and doughy like sand bags. Not even his face had escaped unchanged, his cheeks bloated, ringed by multiple chins.

Still, Kamui’s training was as solid as ever, and he took a firm stance- at least now, he was able to serve as an ever-wider shield for the hero. He would do his duty in battle, as he always had, and he wouldn’t let the extra pounds slow him down. He would, however, insist on a snack as soon as the fight was won.