Wrestling Gone Wilde (Patreon)

For our second story open to all our patrons, Nick Wilde goes from straight-laced cop to a roided-up, swaggering wrestler with huge muscles and a huger appetite, all while solving a sinister mystery! This piece was colored by Cedric Browning, who'll be working with Conner and I on the Patreon.

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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? 

It wasn’t much of a costume with Nick just in his slacks, but he’d look impressive on top of Ivory Jaw when he took the big lug down. Leaping up into the ring, a burly badger referee arched his brow, but nodded as he looked up to Mr. Big’s table; the shrew was giving his approval. “In this corner, he’s two tons of shredded beef carved and polished to a mirror shine, it’s Ivory Jaw!” 

The hippo beat one fist against his rippling slab of a pec, snorting as he sized the fox up. 

“And in this corner, he’s lean, he’s mean, he’s…” the badger covered the mike. “You got a name, pal?”

“Uh…” Nick, head still a little fuzzy, needed a moment. “I’m a cop, right? How about… the Enforcer!”

The badger rolled his eyes. “The Enforcer! It’s a regular David and Goliath folks, let’s see what happens!”

As the bell rang, Ivory Jaw and Nick circled one another. “You know I could swallow you whole in one breath, right, Foxie Loxie?” the hippo snarled.

“Yeah, well, does your sister know you took her underwear?” Nick called back.

The hippo may as well have gone feral as he yelled in rage, but the fox deftly sidestepped the mammoth beast as he charged past.

“Hah!” Nick shouted. “Is that the best you got? I thought this was a wrestling match, not a  dance off!”

Ivory Jaw swung out his massive, bulging arm, and his cannonball of a fist slammed into Nick, sending him headfirst into one of the ring’s posts. The fox hit it hard, with a resounding thwack accompanied by a sympathetic groan from the audience.

“Oh, y’see, that’s more like it…” Nick murmured weakly, as he slipped right into unconsciousness. 

“Ugh…” Nick groaned. The fox tried opening his eyes, but then immediately decided against that when all the pain hit. “What happened? I feel like I got caught between Clawhauser and a Gazelle-shaped donut.”

He was lying in bed, some dim light of an early morning peeping through the window. Judy was rummaging around their bedroom, slipping into her uniform. “Oh, I was hoping you’d wake up before my shift started!” She rushed to Nick’s side with a wet cloth, pressing it gently against his forehead. “Better?”

The fox leaned further back against the pillows. “Mmhm…”

“Good.” The rabbit then swatted Nick’s snout.

“OW! Carrots!” Nick yowled in pain.

“What were you thinking?! Not even a week passes by, and you cave and go to Mr. Big?” Judy demanded. “You were dragged in here sometime past midnight by Finnick- by the way, that was Finnick, wasn’t it? With the whole…?” She puffed out her chest and flexed her arms, miming the now burly fennec. 

“Yeah, he’s been eating his Wheaties,” Nick muttered irritably. “Look, Carrots, Mr. Big came to me, said he needed my help. He wanted me to be some sort of wrestler, but, I mean, c’mon, that’s crazy.”

“According to Finnick, you got drunk and picked a fight with one of the wrestlers,” Judy crossed her arms, tapping her foot.

“C’mon, really?” Nick sighed. “Soon as I get up, I’ll thank Mr. Big for the opportunity, and quit. Alright?”

Judy pursed her lips, but then nodded. “Try to keep your nose clean.” She leaned in with an affectionate little peck on the cheek. “I’m working on a case to bust a drug ring- crazy illegal steroids- and Bogo thinks he’s on the verge of making some progress with your case.”

“Me, dirty nose? It’s like you don’t even know me,” Nick quipped with a smirk. 

“Mhm,” Judy took off the wet cloth, and her eyes glanced down, to the fox’s broadened shoulders, and a chest that looked a lot more defined than last she saw it. “Have you been… working out?”

The fox smirked, puffing out his chest. “You like it?”

Judy rolled her eyes, but Nick caught a hint of a blush as she pushed the cloth into his face. “Just get some rest, you dumb fox.” She then rushed out the door, snatching her badge.

He rested in bed for a while longer, until his head stopped throbbing, and then pulled himself up and into the kitchen. He was starving after last night, and was quick to get his hands on anything he could find. Half a dozen eggs, toast with liberal amounts of butter and jam, and a bowl of oatmeal, only because he couldn’t find anything else. His shirt was drawing taut over his thickened torso, but Nick hardly noticed, even as he struggled to button up. His tail was swishing irritably at the prospect of quitting. It might have hurt like hell, but deep down, Nick was itching for another go at Ivory Jaw.

The Icebox was almost empty when Nick arrived, save for a few busboys cleaning up from last night. He moved up to the bar, where the usual group of huge polar bears were huddled around their boss.

“Ah, Nickie!” Mr. Big wheezed, brandishing the smallest cigar the fox had ever seen. “I was just telling Brutus that I knew you were the type of animal that could take a hit and get back on his feet. That you proved me right pleases me.” 

Nick cleared his throat. “Mr. Big, I really appreciate the opportunity you gave me, but based on last night’s performance, I think we can both see that…” Wordlessly, the shrew had motioned for one of the polar bears to slide over a slip of paper. “What’s this?”

“Your paycheck, plus damages for that whopper you took from Ivory Jaw.”

Nick’s eyes bulged as he looked at the amount written. “Two thousand, for one night? But I got knocked out in the first round!”

“Like I told you, you do this favor for me, and I’ll take care of you. Now, I’ll give you a week to recuperate, but after that, it’s time to start fighting.” Mr. Big’s brow peaked, as if he knew what Nick had originally come to say. “I trust I can count on you?”

Nick was doing the math. With two thousand dollars a day, he could walk away with a fortune by the time he was done. “Mr. Big, you’ve got a deal.”

“Excellent. Make use of the facilities while you’re here, I want you to be in the best shape of your life,” Mr. Big said, waving Nick away as he returned to his meeting.

From behind the bar, Alphonse smiled, dimpling his cheeks. “Here, Nick, have a drink on the house. My way of saying sorry for talking you into fighting Ivory Jaw.”

The fox scoffed. “Don’t worry about it. It’s weird, I was itching for a fight. Besides, it’s a little early for a drink.”

“Aw, c’mon, I already made it. Besides, I’m trying out a virgin version of the Firebrand. Mr. Big figures we could market it, one day,” Alphonse said hopefully. “Come on, as a favor from one Academy grad to another.”

Nick arched his brow, taking the drink. “You were at the Police Academy?”

The tubby otter nodded. “Oh, yes! I was going to be the first small mammal on the force, thanks to the Mayor’s initiative, but well, Judy Hopps beat me to it…” he shrugged. “I was a little too sensitive for cop work, and…” he hefted up his gut, dropping his layer of blubber like a sack of grain on top of the bar, spilling out of his dress shirt and vest. “I tend to eat my feelings.”

“Oof, yeah, that’s rough,” Nick muttered.

“Well, it’s not so bad now. It’s good working for Mr. Big… I was great at forensics and chemistry, and now I can put my skills to use here, and experiment with my drinks. All the cocktails are my own inventions,” he beamed proudly.

Nick tried it, and his eyes went wide. “Woah, the cinnamon’s really strong...”

“Too strong, got it,” Alphonse muttered, writing it down on a quick notepad.

“Mmph, I’ll say this, it puts me in a good mood.” Nick palmed his fist. “Ivory Jaw around? I feel like a rematch.”

“Hah, he’s out, but, maybe you can work things out in the gym?”

“Perfect.”

Like everything else in The Icebox, the gym was almost too big. The clang of heavy metal echoed off the cavernous walls, and Nick, had he been in his right mind, would have quickly realized that he was the smallest there by a big margin. Even Finnick, spotting a lion that looked like he could bench press Nick’s patrol car, was somehow even bigger than last night, the sleeves of his shirt torn off to make room for his pumped arms. 

“Nick?” Finnick asked as the fox swaggered in. “I’m surprised to see you walkin’ around without a body cast. What’re you doing here?”

“I…” Nick frowned for a moment. “I don’t know, really. I’ve got a lot of pent up energy.” He was almost bouncing on the top of his feet, ready to tear his shirt off as another button, straining to keep his thick middle in check, popped off. “I feel like beating something up!”

Finnick slowly nodded, looking Nick up and down. “Wow, you drink Alphonse’s entire stock of Firebrand?”

The fox blinked. “How’d you know?”

Finnick smirked, looking back to the lion, who had the same knowing look on his face. “Call it a hunch.” He turned back. “Hey, King! Get off the bench, we’re going to see what the new guy can do.”

What followed from there was a whirlwind of a week for Nick. If he wasn’t in the Icebox gym pumping iron, he was out on nightly binges with the other wrestlers. The results were drastic on his body; his tank of a gut was in a heated race with his burgeoning muscles, as Nick grew from the size of a badger to the size of a bear. His arms swelled in size, his biceps surging into boulders of beef while his shoulders spreading out like a mountain range. They framed a chest surging out like a cliff, which rested on top of his engorged, rock hard middle. He had never felt stronger, or hungrier. Nick’s suspicious nature crept up each morning as his scarlet fur took up more and more of the bathroom mirror, his steel arms shredded any sleeves, and his expanding chest and belly would not suffer any buttons for long until they burst off. However, reassurance from Mr. Big and drinks from Alphonse was all he needed to take the edge off.

Well, that and his new friends. For a giant rampaging beast with two tons of shredded muscle, Ivory Jaw- whose real name was Ian- was actually as Alphonse said, something of a sweetheart outside the ring. He had invited Nick to his summer house in the Caynine Islands, as a way to make up for nearly putting the fox in the hospital. The other wrestlers were quick to befriend Nick, too; Finnick, who went by the name Halfton- a name increasingly literal as the fennec became wider than he was tall- introduced the others. There was King, a lion who had far more muscle and luxurious mane than he did brains, The Glacier, the burly polar bear that Ivory Jaw had so unceremoniously thrown from the ring on Nick’s first night, and Stampede, an elephant roughly the size, shape, and density of a wrecking ball.

Put up against King for his first official debut as The Enforcer, it was a close call for Nick; King was a more experienced performer, and at this point, was more agile than the wall of fox he was paired up against, now standing eye to eye with him. Still, as it came down to the wire, raw power, and sheer tonnage, won out as Nick gut-checked his opponent, throwing him against the ropes, then bodyslammed King into the mat, flattening the lion like a pancake. 

“Hah, this guy!” King laughed afterwards, as the wrestlers gathered for a late night run at a donut shop. The lion swung his toned, muscular arm around Nick’s bull neck, bicep and forearm wedging the fox’s broad face. “‘You have the right to remain silent,’ and it’s like- you’re dressed up as a cop! And you were a cop! Oh man, you’re brilliant! Halfton, where were you hiding this guy?”

The fennec shrugged, his overdeveloped shoulders temporarily squishing his cheeks as his behemoth chest bounced against his muzzle. None of the other wrestlers wanted to admit it, but pound for pound, Finnick probably had more muscle than any of them; with bulbous arms propped up by his overswollen, wing-sized lats, it was getting increasingly hard to find clothes for his freakish dimensions; these days, he made do with tank tops and sweatpants. “Man, I don’t know. Nick Wilde was a skinny stick in the mud playing cops and robbers when he first walked in the Icebox.” He punched Nick’s arm, sending ripples across both their heavy frames.

Nick kept his easy smile on, but admittedly, he did feel torn. The Icebox guys were great, but he couldn’t help thinking about his friends back at the ZPD. He didn’t see nearly enough of Judy these days, and Clawhauser would probably hit it off great with Stampede. He was also nursing a certain fantasy of coaxing Bogo into the ring, and seeing the look on his face when he couldn’t just throw his weight around with Nick anymore. But, from what he heard, his case had stalled as the ZPD was devoting more and more resources to this steroid ring Judy had been talking about. She kept giving him suspicious glances whenever he asked about it, and soon, the subject of work had been dropped. “Well, hey, the pay may have been crappy, but at least our donuts were free,” he quipped, snapping up a strawberry frosted pastry.

“Yeah, and my sister Francine’s a cop,” Stampede rumbled. “Do you know how many parking tickets she’s gotten me out of?” He lifted a bear claw bigger than Nick’s head up to his hungry maw, chomping it up in one bite as he patted his bulbous, car-sized gut.

“Ah, c’mon Nick, I know you,” Finnick countered, bumping shoulders with the fox. “You can’t just walk away from real money for once.” He tapped the check in front of Nick; four thousand dollars, for winning the fight.

The relaxed tone shifted when a gang of leather clad bikers drifted in, each one broad-shouldered and surly. One, a wolf with a patch over his eye, nudged one of his friends. “Jeez,” he muttered, looking over the wrestlers still in their brightly colored costumes. “That must be the ugliest bunch of ballerinas I’ve ever seen.”

King, who was vain on top of being handsome and stupid, clicked his tongue. “Please,” he shouted, flipping back his mane. “Stampede here is prettier than your mother,” he jerked a thumb up at the elephant, who glowered down at the bikers.

“Yeah? Bet you won’t be so pretty when we rearrange your face, Simba,” a tiger spat.

“Hey!” King shot up, restrained by Finnick and Ivory Jaw. “That is our word!”

“C’mon, calm down, King, calm down,” Nick said soothingly. “They’re just a bunch of loser drifters. It’s not worth it.”

“Like you could do any real damage,” another biker scoffed. “Everyone knows wrestling’s fake.”

“Fake?” 

The Glacier stood up to his full height, tensing his powerful arms as he cracked his knuckles. “Right.” He flexed his thick neck, bouncing his meaty pecs. “Time to bury these guys in an avalanche.”

The brawl started instantly, with King going after the one who called him ugly with claws bared, Ivory Jaw throwing the heavy oak table at the tiger, and Stampede slamming two bikers out a window with his massive gut. A small part of Nick told him this was not the best idea, but it was fun. Locking his arms around one biker, he rammed him against a display case of glazed donuts, pinning him there with the sheer girth of his chest and gut. Then a rhino charged at him, and Nick came to a full stop as he recognized the uniform. 

“ZPD!” The rhino bellowed, pulling Nick’s arm back by the wrist. “Break it up, all of you!” He pulled out a wireless. “This is Officer McHorn, requesting back up!” He ducked as Finnick threw a chair with so much force it embedded itself into the wall. 

“Copy, McHorn, this is Officer Hopps, on route!” An all too familiar voice crackled on the wireless. Nick’s ears fell flat. There was no good ending to this.

The drive home that night was one of the most uncomfortable Nick had ever experienced; him hunched in the back of the patrol car, Judy silent and stone faced, save for an irritable twitch of her ear. It had been a tense few hours in the police holding cell; bail came for the wrestlers from Mr. Big, but Nick noticed that they hadn’t been asked for their names. The fox and rabbit trudged their way up to the apartment, Nick now having to duck and shuffle in sideways just to get through the doorway. Standing in the kitchen, he was left wincing as Judy glared up at him, her foot tapping rapidly.

“I said keep your nose clean.”

“Carrots-“

“And what do you do? You keep working for Mr. Big!”

“Carrots.”

“And get into a street brawl!”

“Carrots!”

“And you’re jacked up on enough steroids to make an elephant go feral!”

“Carro- wait, what?”

Judy rolled her eyes. “Nick, don’t even try to deny it. Look at you! You’re big as a house!”

“Well, I kinda thought you liked it…” Nick flexed one arm, his bicep swelling up like a mountain. There was a blush rising up to Judy’s ears, but it only served to make her madder.

“Don’t you dare try to change the subject!” She threw down a folder. “I took a sample off you, had your blood tested. Your blood type might as well be A for Anabolic! 

Nick furrowed his brow, looking at the report. “Listen, I swear, I never took any drugs.”

“Then how can you possibly explain this?” Judy threw up her arms. “Nick, you were the best partner a bunny could ask for, but this is damning. I got to take this to Bogo. I’m sorry.”

“But I didn’t take anything! I’ve just been eating a lot and working out, I swear. The only risky things any of the guys take is…” he trailed off, realization dawning on him. “Mr. Big’s bar. The drinks! They must have been spiked!”

“You mean working for a mafia don has blown up in your face?” Judy replied acidly. “I’m just shocked.”

“Carrots!” Nick snapped, lunging for Judy. He managed to grab the bunny, hoisting her up in the air. “I did not take steroids knowingly. Okay? I need you to trust me. As your partner.”

Judy was a little stunned, held in the fox’s iron grip, dangling in the air. This close, she could see just how big and plush his chest had gotten… She shook her head. “Alright- alright, fine. Let’s say I trust you. You know what this means, right?”

“That the Icebox is the location of your steroid ring.” Nick concluded. “Look- the rest of the wrestlers are good guys, but they’re kinda…”

“Dumb as bricks?” Judy supplied.

Nick rolled his eyes. “I was going to say… singularly talented. But if I didn’t know about the spiked drinks, then there’s no way they could have figured it out. Mr. Big’s been feeding us this stuff since we signed up. I don’t know if there’s a gambling ring under the table or he wants new goons or what… but I’ve got an idea.”

Judy bit her lip, then nodded. “Okay. What do you have in mind?”

”First, I’m going to need you to deputize me again…”

“‘Force, I don’t know about this,” The Glacier rumbled. “Mr. Big’s been good to all of us.”

”He pays for my salon visits,” King said primly.

”He fixed my chipped tooth,” Ivory Jaw added.

”He made my ex…” Stampede trailed off, his eyes going wide. “Ooooh. Actually, never mind. Maybe he is bad news.”

Nick rubbed his temples. He was dressed in a blue singlet with straps that strained over his meaty chest and cloth that hugged the circumference of his belly with a print of a giant police badge stretched over his heavy core. With his favorite pair of aviators, tonight was going to be the debut of The Enforcer’s new look; and, once he arrested his boss, the last showing.

“Guys, look at us. We’re the biggest juiced-up meatheads in Zootopia.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Wilde,” Finnick muttered, his chin firmly wedged in the deep crevice of his pecs. Nick took one long look at the other fox, grabbed a sticker, and stuck it on his rippling back.

“Hey!” Finnick barked, his overgrown arms ground against his own beefy body as he strained to reach the sticker wedged between the swells of muscle crowding his wide back. He grunted and yipped as he struggled, every contortion wedging the sticker deeper in the crevice of his lats.

“Look. I know it means walking away from a cushy gig… but it’s the right thing to do,” Nick said. “We all love the fans, right? Now, we got a chance to be real heroes for them. Save the city from another drug conspiracy.”

“Yeah, you know, for all the talk of anyone being anything, who knew so many Zootopians would choose to be drug lords?” King shrugged.

“I’ve been deputized, so I can legally arrest Mr. Big. He’s going to go up against the champion of tonight’s fights in a mock battle, bit of comedy before he hands over the championship belt. So, I’m going to tackle him and arrest him, and when that happens, I need you guys to handle his bodyguards.” Nick looked around at all the other wrestlers. “You all in?”

Finnick let out a loud sigh, rolling his eyes. “Alright, Wilde, we’re in. If we have to get fired, might as well get fired by getting our boss arrested.”

Nick nodded, shook hands, and then headed out to the Icebox proper. He was craning his neck over the heads of the crowd, scanning them for the police officers peppered throughout. Judy had been watching the door to the locker rooms, and met eyes with the giant fox, nodded slightly, then turned towards the ring.

“Ah, Nickie,” Mr. Big’s voice wheezed. Nick nearly jumped as he was suddenly surrounded by half a dozen well dressed polar bears, with Mr. Big standing in an open palm of the biggest. “I have come to wish you good luck; I have a good feeling that I will be handing you the championship belt tonight. You have done well, but I had a question about your time here.”

Nick worked hard to keep his emotions in check. “Of course, Mr. Big.”

The shrew nodded. “Have you noticed anything… strange about the operation here? Truth be told, it is part of why I hired you. You’ve got a sharp eye. No doubt you’ve noticed how effective the facilities here are for wrestlers honing their skills. A little too effective to be entirely… legitimate.”

The fox fought not to narrow his eyes. “Can’t say I have, Mr. Big.”

“Hm. You disappoint me, Nickie. I have worked to keep this business on the level, and I was counting on you to confirm my suspicions that something distressingly un-legal is going on behind my back. I want you to come to me if you find anything, you understand me?”

Nick frowned softly, but nodded. “Of course, Mr. Big.”

The shrew hummed, swirling his martini glass with an all too familiar red liquid. “The one thing I can say is that Alphonse has turned out to be something of an idiot savant. I asked for something to clear a headache, and he’s given me this. I don’t care for the cinnamon, but I must admit, it’s left me feeling ten years younger.”

Something hit the pit of Nick’s giant stomach. “Right. Well. Hope you enjoy the fight,” he said distantly, racing back for the locker rooms, but not before the announcer’s booming voice echoed across the Icebox. “Ladies and gentlebeasts! Tonight, only at the Icebox, we’ve got terror in Tundratown, it’s the first annual Zootopia Championship fights! The Enforcer, a cop too intense and brutal for the boys in blue, is ready to deliver his own brand of justice!” 

The crowd roared as the spotlight fell on Nick, catching the fox off guard. He indulged them, flashing a smile and flexing his huge arms.

“Oh, but wait! The Enforcer’s reign of terror might come to an end as the ruler of the jungle’s here to get back his crown- it’s King!”

The fox was instantly met with an almighty roar as King burst from the locker room, flipping his golden mane back.

“Enforcer!” King bellowed. “You’re gonna be bowing down with your face rearranged by the end of tonight! The King is back, baby!” the lion flexed his arms, priming the crowd as they cheered him on. 

“King!” Nick hissed. “Ugh, Lambert,” he used the lion’s real name, as the two wrestlers ground their chests against each other. “Listen, you big, blond idiot! We’ve got the wrong guy!”

“Oh no, Enforcer, I know when I’ve got my guy! I’m putting out a decree, and the decree is to stomp your face in!” King roared.

Nick smacked his forehead. There was no getting through to him. Might as well ham it up. “Yeah? I still got your crown, King, and once I’m done with you, I’ll crown you where the sun don’t shine!”

The fights commenced. The wrestlers had agreed to let Nick get the championship, but there were a few times where he thought they may have forgotten the plan. Ivory Jaw demolished another post between his massive teeth; Nick would’ve been concerned if he hadn’t caught a last second wink. Him and Stampede took up nearly all the space in the ring between the two of their impressive bulks, and in a move that left his legs feeling like jelly, Nick slammed grabbed him by the love handles, and with his arms surging, his back spreading out like wings, lifted the elephant’s titanic weight before slamming him down into the ring. Stampede hit the floor with enough force to buckle the ring’s foundation and send tremors throughout the Icebox.

With the championship in sight, Nick looked up to Mr. Big’s box. Running across the slightly dented ring, he leapt up on the ropes, throwing his arms out to the roar of the crowd. “The Enforcer’s here to lay down the law! And before I take the champion belt, I’m calling out the biggest piece of scum in the Icebox!” He paused, less for dramatic effect, and more to check that he was absolutely certain. “Alphonse Watterson! Get your fatass in the ring!”

Mr. Big could barely be seen, but Nick saw a tiny clawed hand snap, and two of the polar bear bodyguards rushed to the bar. Soon, squeezed into the spiral staircase and making it groan under his blubbery weight, Alphonse came into the ring.

“N-nick? W-what’s the idea, here?” the otter quavered, putting on his best puppy dog eyes. He must have been eating well too, as he had porked up to twice his size.

“We both know what’s going on here, Alphonse,” Nick hissed. “I know what’s in the Firebrand. What’s actually in the Firebrand.”

“Heh.” Alphonse smirked, his voice dropping an octave. He stood a little straighter, now an inch or two bigger than Nick. “You think you do?”

The badger announcer looked up to Mr. Big’s box, where, again, a tiny little hand waved to let the fight commence. “Alright, Ladies and Gentlebeasts, The Enforcer has just called out his final opponent! It’s the, uh, the-”

Alphonse shoved the badger down with one arm, snatching the mike, he planted a foot on the badger, and tore off his shirt. Nick’s jaw dropped as the fat little otter was transformed into a boulder of beef. Underneath Alphonse’ shirt was a shockingly solid wall of densely packed muscle and blubber, every part of him overly huge, with arms like cannons, strong, densely packed thunder thighs, a chest like a sea wall, and his massive belly solid as brass. “Alright, Zootopia! Listen up, because I’m your new champion! You little runts can call me… The Liquidator. Because you’re gonna need a mop to soak up whatever’s left of The Enforcer, when I’m done with him!”

Quickly, Nick tried to get into a defensive stance, bracing himself as the massive otter lunged at the burly fox like a tidal wave. Nick was knocked off his feet, and Alphonse caught him by the strap of his singlet, only to headbutt him hard enough to make him see stars.

He swung an arm thick as an anchor around Nick’s bull neck, pinning his puffed up cheeks between a swollen bicep and a forearm that could knock out lampposts. “Something wrong, Nick?” the otter snarled, as he drove the fox to the mat. “Need a drink?”

“Why?” Nick wheezed, only just managing to slip out of Alphonse’s grasp. The two began circling each other. The fox rammed into Alphonse, only to hit a gut as hard as rock.

“Why?” Alphonse hissed, as he choked Nick into another headlock. “Because I saw you and Judy all year long-” Wham, Nick was driven into a post. “Soaking up my fame, my recognition-” Smack, Nick was thrown to the ground. The fox rolled out of the way, shaking his head as he got back up. He sidestepped Alphonse, tripping the otter up, and managed to get his own arms around him. “So what if I was a little heavy?! They let that fat idiot Clawhauser on the force! I was the best damn forensics student in the Academy! I made chemistry into an art!” The otter threw Nick off of him, and the two locked into a tight grapple, Alphonse just biding his time to slowly overpower the burly fox. “So I got washed out, and tricked Mr. Big into taking on one of his associate’s dopey, chubby kid. Suddenly, I’m working with all the resources I want- and with the Icebox open, a whole batch of test subjects.” Alphonse threw Nick into the ground, grabbing him by the ears, slamming his face into the mat. “And I don’t mind telling you this-” Slam! “Because I’m gonna wail on you-” Slam! “Until you- CAN’T- REMEMBER- A THING!”

Alphonse let the dazed, bloodied Nick drop, planting his foot on top of him. The stunned audience was dead silent as the thunderstruck badger began the countdown. “One- two-”

“Hey Alphonse-” Nick wheezed. “You know what this is?” He dug into his singlet.

The otter peered down, rolling his eyes. “What, Wilde?”

The fox flashed him his badge, catching some of the spotlight and blinding the otter. “It’s a hustle, sweetheart.”

Groaning with the pain, Nick powered through it, using the mere seconds he had of a distraction to swing his leg out, tripping the top heavy otter, who hit the mat like a felled tree. He leapt into the air, and bodyslammed his whole weight into the otter’s gut, making Alphonse let out a strangled wheeze as half a ton of fox hit his overfed middle. Nick roared as adrenaline powered his mighty arms, and with the same rush that he had used to lift up Stampede, hefted the otter clean over his head, every muscle in his body tensed and bulging as he strained under the pressure, and finally, when his trunk-sized legs began to give, and his mammoth arms begged for release, he threw Alphonse down with all his might. He grabbed the otter from behind, using cuffs he was passing as a prop to shackle his wrists together. The crowd roared at the sight of Nick’s victory, and the fox stood up, arms wide as he soaked in the applause. Finally, he knelt down. “Fun fact- the ZPD can deputize citizens, and I happen to know a bunny that trusts me. You just confessed to a member of the ZPD, Alphonse.” He patted the struggling otter’s cheek. “You have fun down at the station. I’ll be there after the victory party.”

Judy and McHorn were hoisting themselves onto the stage, pulling Alphonse to his feet.

“Uh-oh!” the announcer shouted. “Looks like the Boys in Blue got another one! Thanks to that rebel cop, the loose cannon of the ring, and our new heavyweight champion, The Enforcer!”

The crowd thought it was all part of the show. Just as Nick hoped. He took a moment to pose, giving his gut a firm smack before he flexed his arms. Judy stayed behind as Alphonse was passed off to other members of the ZPD, hopping up on a post to be eye level with Nick.

“So, big guy. With this, I think Bogo can lean on City Hall to let you back in… I could still really use a partner.” Judy grinned. “Not many cops get to hang out with heavyweight champions.”

“You know you can count on me Carrots,” Nick was still showing off for the crowd. “But you tell Bogo to take his time. I think The Enforcer’s got a few more fights left in him.”