March 2022- Ganon and Boba Fett (Patreon)

Beefcake patrons Eternal Pun and BlitzK wanted Ganon to really pig out and the greatest bounty hunter in the galaxy to hulk out. Enjoy!

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Something was wrong; this wasn't right. Ganon curled his lips, dimpling swollen cheeks as he looked over himself. There was no hiding the obvious- the Triforce of Power, his birthright, had betrayed him. Invoking his magic had transformed him, but instead of turning him into a juggernaut of might or a monster that would finally bring an end to Hyrule, he had instead become soft. His mouth curled further into a sneer as he looked at his reflection- his impressive, muscled physique was buried under soft, malleable fat. Perhaps a cruel joke from the Goddesses on his association with pigs? Maybe. His belly alone was the size of a boulder, and it wobbled like a chuchu whenever he moved. His soft flabby arms, his doughy chest- it was all nearly too much to bear- but the real indignity was his lower half- each leg alone was nearly as big as his belly, enormous, chunky thighs that forced him into a shuffling waddle of a gait, and a truly gigantic rear that had crushed his throne and bed in short order. When he moved, he could feel each cheek bounce and sway, making his movements slower and ungainly. The floor cracked with each step, and his hips alone filled the hallways of his fortress. He had to find a way to reverse this, how could he get his hands on the Triforce when his ass alone would kill a horse, nevermind the Hero of Courage? Well, maybe if he could somehow get the drop on him, literally…

"Bah!" Ganon scoffed, pushing away such foolish thoughts. He needed to think. He refused to let this setback stop him, even as he began his trundling waddle to his quarters. What he needed was something to help him calm down- yes, that was it. It was just in time for dinner as well, that would help him think. Already, he made a note of what he wanted- roast pork, a leg of mutton, buttered bread, enough beer to drown his sorrows, a large cake for dessert- Ganon shook his head. What was he thinking? He didn't indulge in such needless gluttony. Just a snack for now, that's what he needed- he barked at a moblin to get him a dozen Hylian rice balls, and to be quick about it. And some hydromelon, something sweet to counter the savory flavor. And something to drink. Yes, as soon as his hunger was sated, he would crush the Hero of Courage under his weight!

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Boba Fett had never been raised in Mandalorian culture, as his father had, but he knew enough that armor was a mark of status- to many Mandalorians, beskar armor was sacred. Something that could deflect blaster bolts and even withstand a strike from a Jedi's lightsaber? He understood the value in that, to be certain. But what if his body was his own armor? Could a body be forged like beskar into something stronger, tougher, purer? He was confident that he had his answer now. Scouring the galaxy for anything that might give him what he was looking for, be it mystical or scientific in origin, he discovered- well, stole- a serum from Manaan, a strain of kolto, the most effective healing compound in the galaxy, that did more than heal- it enhanced everything. His senses, his toughness, and yes- his durability and strength. Of course, all that came with a few side effects- the bounty hunter had been transformed into a mountain of muscle- his powerful legs like wroshyr tree trunks coiled with power in every step, his sprawling back was like the broadside of a star destroyer, and he had already lost a blaster in the cleft of his canyon-like chest. His arms surged with might, biceps bigger than his head inflating with the slightest flex or curl.

True, there were limitations- the sheer bulk piled on to his frame meant a certain loss of flexibility, and no jetpack known across the galaxy would ever lift his mass off the ground. But the sheer, unbridled strength was worth it. He felt powerful, and the muscles sculpted on to him were hard as beskar, as he had hoped- he hadn't tested if he could truly deflect a blaster bolt with just the flex of his mighty pecs, but he wouldn't mind the chance to try. He could crush metal in his hands, he would be unstoppable in any melee fight, and if he could refurbish the cockpit of his ship to fit his new titanic frame, his piloting skills were still unblemished. The rest he could work around- when he flexed any part of his new body, and saw such immense muscle tighten and bulge under his skin, feeling that raw sense of power in his own body, he knew he had made more than a fair trade. Boba Fett was reforged- and he had a galaxy full of old scores to settle.