Ohana Means Massive Gains (Patreon)

To my top donors, here's the preview of my new story pack, Big Ballads, which is all about Disney characters! Forgive me the deluge of links today, but I do hope you enjoy this story about Stitch getting swole! If you want to see the rest of the stories, DON'T FORGET TO MESSAGE ME FIRST for your discount! Enjoy!

 

Stitch drummed his clawed fingers on the side of his chair, staring at the hologram. It was the advertisement for a quasi-legal wrestling tournament, sporting the winner’s trophy; a globe filled with multi-colored spheres that looked awfully familiar. The fact that hundreds of other experiments, his vast family of cousins, had disappeared in droves without a trace told the short blue alien that this was no coincidence; someone was trying to smuggle his whole family through the black market, shrinking his fellow experiments back into their dehydrated pods and passing them off as a curiously colorful trophy. No doubt, the wrestling tournament was rigged, but the people running the tournament hadn’t counted on Stitch picking up on their trail.

“Quana chi?” Stitch asked, baring his teeth as he stared at the trophy. He and Lilo had spent too much time setting all his cousins straight; he wasn’t going to let them slip away now. 

“It would be appearing that at least five hundred of my experiments have been captured, Six-two-six,” Jumba, Stitch’s creator, stated. The large, hippo-like alien was flying himself and Stitch to the tournament in a  nondescript speeder, a gift from the Grand Councilwoman of the Galactic Federation, who wanted to see the experiments back on earth as quickly as possible. The tournament was hidden away on an old mining station, on a tapped out asteroid belt between the planets Tora and Hexicon 3; far from Galactic Federal jurisdiction, or any semblance of law and order, for that matter.

Stitch growled, his claws raking at the chair. “Aka tiki baba. Gatchi nosty?”

“Little Girl is keeping the rest of my experiments safe, yes?” Jumba looked over his broad shoulder, offering a reassuring grin. “I designed you to destroy cities, Six-two-six. Are you thinking there is any chance some puny wrestler can stand up to you?”

The little alien frowned. He wasn’t entirely convinced, and he hated being this far from Lilo and the rest of his family, and he didn’t like the idea of slipping back into violence. What if he went bad again? “Quala chifa pi nolo?”

“Not strong enough?” Jumba let out a hearty laugh. “My dear Six-two-six, you need not be worrying about that.” He put the speeder on auto, spinning around in the pilot seat. “No doubt, if this tournament is as outside the law as I hope it is being… I can break out something I have been meaning to test for ages.” He huffed as he stood, his round body swaying a bit as the speeder creaked; it clearly wasn’t built for aliens his size. Rummaging in the bag he had hastily packed, he produced an ominous-looking needle filled with a neon green liquid, glowing faintly. 

Stitch immediately reared out of his seat, the retractable spines along his back sticking out as he hissed. He hated needles. “Naga-takabah!”

“Six-two-six!” Jumba shouted, lunging for Stitch to get a hold of him. “Calm down! When have I ever led you astray?” Stitch stopped literally climbing the walls, staring coldly at Jumba from the ceiling. “...Recently, I mean.”

“Gaba chua?” the smaller alien asked cautiously, climbing back down to the floor.

“A-ha! The next step in your evolution, my friend!” the round mad scientist flicked the needle, clinking the glass. “An enhancer of your strength, dexterity, size, and speed. There is small chance of cranial reconfiguration, but do not worry, only I am knowing the trigger word. Despite collecting all my experiments, these thieves never went after you, the greatest of my works. They do not know what you look like, so far removed are these savages from civilization. That is why we will not go in guns blazing, as it were, but enter you as wrestler instead, yes?” He motioned toward Stitch with the needle. “Now hold still.”

“Naga!” Stitch hissed, leaping back up on the ceiling. If anyone in the vast expanse of space had been watching, they would’ve assumed the speeder’s thrusters had malfunctioned, as the craft lurched up and down, left and right, shaking violently as Jumba leapt for Stitch, the experiment deftly dodging his lumbering creator.

“You little-!” Jumba swore under his breath, grunting as he slammed into the metal walls again and again until he accidentally collided with Stitch, slamming the blue alien down on the floor by his own bulk. Huffing, the scientist jabbed the needle into his rebellious creation’s shoulder. “There! You impetuous, impudent…” he sighed, picking himself up off the ground. “Was it really being that bad?”

“Ih!” Stitch declared emphatically. He screwed his eyes shut, bracing himself for whatever change Jumba had in store with him; he felt a rush of energy through him, reaching out to every part of his body and every limb, then his blue fur stood on end, and he could feel himself stretching… only for it to wear off in a very anti-climatic fashion. After a long pause, he opened his eyes and looked down at himself. His shoulders were a little broader, his chest a little firmer, and his limbs a little thicker, but that was the thing of it; it was all little. He was almost disappointed. “Inji ba?”

Jumba frowned. “No, there should be more. Much more.” He pulled out a tablet, looking over his notes. “I do not understand. You should be a behemoth! Something to terrify these pathetic wrestlers. Bah!” He looked in his bag again, tossing a red costume to Stitch. “Just put that on, we are almost there.”

Stitch’s ears perked up as he caught the clothes. “Oooh! A red one!”

“Yes, yes, a red one… if I dyed that serum red, you would have let me stick you on your tail.”

The Rumble on the Rock was the most anticipated event of the year out in the ungoverned deep space; pirates, war criminals, and mercenaries came to fight and see who was the strongest, as smugglers and black market dealers met on the old Zebulon B mining asteroid to ply their trade. Rumor had it that the prize this year was the biggest in years; an entire army of mutant experiments, their DNA hidden in the trophy. The mysterious owner of the asteroid and Queen of the Black Market, Kuli Jookiba, had promised whoever won could conquer the galaxy, if they wanted.

Kuli herself was registering the wrestlers; she wanted to make sure there were no surprises sneaking into her tournament. As she was a Kwelti, with a leathery skin and a thick, burly body, she was certain there was nothing anyone would try to get past her four eyes. Her ex-husband being next in line, however, that one she didn’t see coming. She stood up, all of her eyes going wide. “Jumba?”

“Kuli,” Jumba thinned his mouth. “Still trying to ruin my life and career, are you? Was the lake house on Trell not being enough?” He leaned forward on the table. “Those are my evil experiments you are peddling, you harpy!”

“I bought them from a bounty hunter! Believe me, if I knew they were your harmless experiments, I wouldn’t have bothered!” Kuli shot back.

“Harmless?” Jumba thundered. “I am evil genius! I spent every year of our marriage making mutant weapons of mass destruction!”

Stitch pinched the scientist’s blubbery side, calling him back. “Kata baka dooka?”

Jumba sighed, standing back to his full height. “I am here to enter my own wrestler, to get back what is rightfully mine. Here. Meet, uh…” Jumba looked over Stitch, dressed in flashy red shorts and elbow pads, looking the part of a pro-wrestler. “...Cah...Arl. He is feared warrior from planet Earth.”

“Cah-arl?” Kuli clarified.

“Carl?” Stitch hissed indignantly. 

“Yes!” Jumba grunted, nudging Stitch away. “Cah-arl. Can we enter, or is this going to be repeat of our second anniversary with you locking me out of house?”

Kuli shrugged. “You give my station a good show, I don’t care. Get Cah-arl down to the training pits.” She typed something into her console. “Next!”

Stitch’s nose twitched curiously as he looked back at Kuli, then to Jumba. “Quala chi soori?”

“Yes, we were married,” Jumba sighed. “Even back then, she was a ruthless, cold, conniving thief. You can see why I was having attractions to her.”

Stitch shook his head as he walked into the lockers, sizing up the competition. He was easily the smallest alien in there, and it made him a little uneasy. Everything was riding on this; there was no telling where his family would end up if he didn’t win.

“Abomination!” a familiar voice spat.

Stitch wheeled around, looking up, and up, at the gigantic frame of Captain Gantu. The shark-like alien had crossed his beefy arms over his broad chest, stretching his black and red uniform. “I figured you’d be here for your ilk.”

“Chabata!” Stitch sneered. The two rivals sized each other up. “Cama’har?”

“I lost my job twice because of you! Hamsterveil fired me and hired some two-bit bounty hunter to get your disgusting mutants instead. He double-crossed Hamsterviel and sold them- to the filth that runs this fighting tournament. So I’m going to finish this job myself.” He held up his arms, flexing them as his biceps surged up. “I’ve been training for ages. You won’t win this time, Abomination.” Gantu lunged for Stitch, slamming the much smaller alien against a locker.

Stitch struggled, wriggling in the former Captain’s grasp. He huffed until his strength was spent; something had made Gantu stronger, much stronger- specifically, stronger than Stitch.

“Hey, hey!” a rough looking alien with spider-like legs shouted. “Save it for the ring, you two!”

Gantu smirked, letting Stitch drop. “I’m ready for you this time, you runt. See you in the ring.”

Stitch was busy catching his breath, steeling himself. Gantu was not going to go down easy, and he didn’t have a plan for this. He was so busy stressing over the fights that he didn’t notice that as his chest rose with each breath, it kept its shape a little more, pushing forward just a bit further from the exertion.

The first fights were almost insultingly easy for Stitch. It was a nice confidence boost after his encounter with Gantu, tossing around garden variety space pirates and thugs that were too stupid to do anything else with their life. The roar of the crowd, and even Jumba shouting his approval from the sidelines, was exhilarating, but as he showered off the grime of ten fights, Stitch caught himself in a cracked mirror, his ears perking up again in surprise.

“Ooh…” Stitch gave himself a toothy grin. He had shot up a few inches, now taller than Lilo, at least, but most of the growth was in his build. His arms bulged as he curled them, all four as he forced his extra arms out. Through his blue fur, his chest now rippled, a quad of pecs announcing their presence. This had to be the result of Jumba’s serum. It was often overlooked, but Stitch did possess super-intelligence; it didn’t take much for him to realize physical exertion was making him grow. He patted his tensed bicep appreciatively, grinning as he thought about how much bigger he would get. He never had been tall; it could be fun.

“Ahh, Cah-arl!” Kuli called as Stitch walked out of the showers. “A very good showing. Could it be my good-for-nothing Jumba actually made something worthwhile?” She grinned, her hands behind her back as she looked him up and down.

“Eh?” Stitch turned around, his ears splaying. Kuli was giving him a bad vibe right now.

“You forget; I am evil genius too. I stole Jumba’s research ages ago, including all the notes on that formula he’s given you.” She patted Stitch’s broadened shoulder appreciatively, making him growl. “He was always brilliant, but lazy. This is why it took him six hundred and twenty six experiments to get it right. That formula, it was for soldiers; but apparently Jumba isn’t quite that evil, because, you see, it rewires your brain, and he lost the nerve to use it. I haven’t. Shiralli!”

Stitch gasped, his back reflexively straightening itself. He felt his arms snap to his sides, his legs lock in place. Blitznak! It was the trigger word. 

Kuli’s grin stretched wider, past all four of her eyes. “Your orders: you will continue to grow in strength, move up the ranks, win every fight until the last, but you will throw the last fight against that Gantu. He paid me, quite handsomely, you see.”

“Naga!” Stitch protested through clenched teeth.

“You will not tell Jumba about what I have revealed to you.”

Stitch tried to shout again, but his mouth had forced itself shut. All he could do was glare darkly at Kuli.

“And when you lose, you will stay here, with me. Throw Jumba out of an airlock if you have to, but I am in need of new goon, yes? A brutish one. You will do nicely. You’ll be able to destroy, again. Kill. And you’ll love it; all that strength, and I shall keep you busy. I’ve made quite a few enemies, and you will enjoy putting fear into their hearts.” She looked up suddenly, booming footsteps following after. “Orders complete, Shiralli,” she said hastily as Jumba appeared.

“Ah, Six-two-six!” Jumba chuckled, clapping Stitch on the back. “You look hearty after so many fights! You may as well hand over trophy now, Kuli.” His smile slipped. “Really.”

“The tournament is not over yet, Jumba. Still many more wrestlers after my prize,” Kuli smirked, sauntering away.

“It is my prize, you infuriating harpy, you- gah!” Jumba throw up his arms. “Do not worry, Six-two-six. My serum seems to be working after all. I only used it as extreme measure, but I am glad it is taken so well to you. Do not worry; we will be back home with Little Girl and all my experiments in no time.” The large scientist patted his creation affectionately. “Come! There are more pathetic wretches you need to destroy!”

Stitch knitted his brow, struggling to get out any words, desperate to tell Jumba about Kuli’s plan, any hint, any cry for help. “...Ih.”

The second round of fights was almost easier, Kuli’s slight reprogramming egging Stitch on even more. With each defeated opponent, Stitch still felt the rush of victory; he had been programmed as a creature of war. But every time, there was a feeling of dread as he saw Gantu in the crowds between his own matches, smirking knowingly at him. Stitch’s body grew with each fight, making the crowd cheer more and more for the Titanic Terror of the Earth, Cah-arl. 

He had all four of his arms out by now; they felt stifled, shoved against his burgeoning, wing-like flanks. He could feel his molecular bonds reconfiguring themselves with each fight, stretching his blue pelt taut over an expanding chest and shoulders, stubby legs slowly growing thicker to hold everything up, and a rock-hard torso that could take any blow to the gut. In his red gear, Stitch liked what he saw in the mirror; it was everything he wanted to look like, big, strong, and slowly looming over every other wrestler. He felt some thrill as he slowly filled the narrow aisles between the lockers, his shoulders grazing either side as he casually flung wrestlers out of his way, seeing their eyes fill with fear. 

“Naga!” he growled, punching a hole straight through the metal wall. He had to think of Lilo and his cousins. He was not going to let Kuli win. But how could he stop her? The third round of fights came, Stitch slowly filling his corner with raw, untamed power and huge amounts of muscle, rippling under his pelt. The serum was working overtime, filling his veins with energy, but by the time he faced Gantu, none of it mattered.

The two met in the center of the match as the crowd roared; Gantu hadn’t paid Kuli enough money to fix his fights, so he had fought his way to the top, just like Stitch.

“I don’t know what trick of yours this is, Abomination,” Gantu growled at his opponent, their chests grinding against each other as they tried to butt heads. “But it won’t work. Kuli told me you’re just going to stand here and take it, so don’t worry. I’ll take this nice and slow.”

The bell rang for the fight to begin, and Gantu landed a powerful punch at Stitch’s jaw, felling the hulking experiment like a chopped tree. The shark-like alien tackled Stitch, his own gargantuan arms and swollen biceps grinding as he caught him in a headlock. Instead of passively letting it end, Stitch growled, feeling his back expand as he leapt to his feet, flexing his thick neck and mountainous shoulders to break Gantu’s hold on him.

“What?” Gantu snarled. “She said you would lose!”

“Lose,” Stitch huffed. “Not make easy, stupid-head.”

“Fine,” the ex-captain palmed his fist. “Then I won’t make it easy for you, either.”

Stitch struggled to resist the programming, but everytime he came close to throwing Gantu down or trapping him in a hold, his arms involuntarily slipped off, snapping back to his side and letting Gantu land another blow. He was powerful enough to bruise the mutant’s skin, and Stitch’s regenerating health couldn’t keep up with the punishment.

From the sidelines, Jumba watched in disbelief. How did Six-two-six become so clumsy? He was missing so many opportunities to finish Gantu! The round alien pushed himself to the front. “Six-two-six!” He tried waving Stitch down. “Get over here, tag out!”

Stitch looked over to Jumba, struggling with Gantu as the shark-like alien grappled him to the floor. “N-naga!”

“Six-two-six, I order you to…” Jumba shook his head. “Sheralli! Get over here!”

Stitch’s four arms surged as he automatically threw Gantu off of him, beating his massive chest as he lumbered over to Jumba, his heavy footfalls shaking the ring as he tagged Jumba in. The alarm rang, and the referee looked up to Kuli before calling a time-out. 

“Six-two-six, what are you doing?” Jumba hissed. “You are so close to losing this fight! I am sorry for using trigger word- I had promised I would never use it under normal circumstances- but this is being painful to watch! You have to end this, so we can go home.”

Stitch tried to explain, but all that came out was “Naga.”
“What is wrong with you?” Jumba thumped his fist against the ring. “Do you not want to go home to Little Girl? To our family? Gah!” He rummaged in his coat, then pulled out a small MP3 player. “Little Girl gave this to me. Told me to make you listen if you started getting grumpy. So, listen.”

With his huge hands, it was a little hard to go through the MP3 player, but Stitch couldn’t help but smile as he listened; it was “Burning Love,” by Elvis Presley. Only Lilo would have insisted on that. By the time the second chorus hit, Stitch was breathing easier.

“There. You ready to destroy Gantu?” Jumba asked.

Stitch stood to his full height, leaning forward to look over his own blue chest. “Ih.”

“No more wasting time,” Gantu growled. “You were ordered to go down, so do it!”

The shark-like alien charged at Stitch, tackling him to the ground. “And stay down,” he growled, punching Stitch in the face. Kuli was quick to urge the referee to begin the countdown.

“One, two, thr-”

Stitch roared, feeling the serum do its last bit of work on him as he hummed the rest of Elvis’ greatest hits, thinking of Lilo. He threw Gantu off him, his body surging with new muscle. His biceps alone swelled bigger than he had been just a day before, his rippling back expanding like an exploding star as swells of muscle pressed up against each other. Four meaty pecs pushed up and out as he nestled his chin against the crest of his massive chest to smirk down at Gantu. His shoulders pressed up against his cheeks as he dropped down to all six of his limbs. “Meega nala kweesta! Ah-hahaha!” 

Stitch charged at Gantu like a gorilla, all his fists pounding against the ring as he launched himself into the air, hitting his opponent like a meteor striking a planet. 

“What are you doing, you freak?! Lose!” Gantu demanded, his voice stolen away as he was hoisted up. Stitch was now bigger, holding Gantu aloft with ease. The blue alien’s overwhelmingly huge body surged, his upper arms tensed as the helpless ex-captain struggled. Savoring his victory, Stitch pumped his two lower arms, biceps swelling bigger than Gantu’s head as he flexed, striking a pose to the roaring approval of the crowd and Kuli’s souring expression before he threw Gantu down, keeping him squirming in his grasp until the referee had no choice but to countdown, and then the match was over.

“We have a winner! This cycle’s Rumble on the Rock Champion, Cah-arl!” 

“You did it, Six-two-six!” Jumba cheered. “I… almost never doubted you!”

Stitch shot Kuli a toothy smile before he leapt into the arena, climbing his way to the Black Market Queen’s private box in two easy strides, pinning her guards down effortlessly as a third arm snatched the trophy out of her grasp. “Mockeecha!”

Before Kuli could object, Stitch leapt down to the stands, leaving a crater as he landed.

“Hah!” Jumba pointed up to his ex-wife. “I told you, Kuli! See if you are getting single cent of alimony from me ever again!”

“This- this isn’t over!” Kuli shouted desperately. “I- gah!” She dodged a metal beam that was hurled just above her head by Stitch. He was already bending another metal beam in his arms, tensed biceps and surging triceps jostling one another as he prepared another throw.

“Mockeecha!” Stitch shouted back, louder this time.

“I… yes, fine. Go! Get out of my sight,” she grumbled, slumping back into her seat.

With the five hundred stolen experiments in his massive arms, Stitch lumbered after Jumba as they got back to their speeder.

“Uhm… ah,” the scientist scratched his head as he looked from the speeder, which was barely big enough for him, and back to his massive creation now looming over him. “You are not going to be fitting so well… and you are wanting to wait around here with a hundred angry criminals with grudge.” Jumba scratched his chin, looking around the lot of docked starships. 

Stitch grabbed his arm, violently shaking the scientist. “Ooh, ooh!” He pointed excitedly. 

Jumba followed Stitch’s finger to a huge, red cruiser; he recognized it instantly. “That? It’s Kuli’s. She loves that ship, she would be chasing us to ends of galaxy to get it back. It is dangerous, it is not practical, it is-”

“The red one!” Stitch shouted emphatically, the massive alien charging after his prize as he lifted Jumba, tucking him under one of his arms. They were going home in style!