October Extras (Patreon)

Finishing off the month, we have Goliath and Bullhop living it large. Thanks for the support guys, and Happy Halloween!

As the sun set, the Manhattan clan roared to life from the parapets of their clock tower home. Brooklyn was quick to begin shouting orders for the clan to begin their patrols, but awkwardly sidelined addressing Goliath; he was still, technically, the clan’s leader, but after one fateful night with Broadway, the once imposing gargoyle had gone through a dramatic change over the course of a single year. Goliath glanced at Brooklyn and gave him a gentle wave to show his approval, and immediately retired to the library to curl up with a good book, and the last of his stash.

Sprawled out over a long-suffering armchair, Goliath’s belly now dominated his once-mighty frame; a purple-grey boulder almost the size of a small car that spilled over his thick, meaty legs, and overfilled what space was left on the chair. He wasn’t really paying attention to the book; his main concern for the past year had been the slowly depleting candy bowl that now sat atop the crest of his belly. Sugar and candy had not been in great abundance in Medieval Scotland, so no one in the Manhattan clan had any idea what effects syrupy sweet treats and confections would have on gargoyles.

As Goliath proved, the results were expansive. Every hard edge on his face had been softened by chipmunk cheeks and multiple chins, his limbs were swaddled in fat, jiggling softly as his arm worked mechanically to bring in another fistful of skittles, chocolate, caramel, taffy- it honestly didn’t matter all that much; he loved them all. So long as it was sweet. In all the years the clan had been living in New York, it almost astounded him how long it took them to observe the tradition of trick-or-treating on Halloween. Like most things involving food, Broadway had discovered it, and after some terse questions about his own expanding waistline, the formerly fattest member of the clan had taken Goliath with him to see for himself. And from his first bite of a Snickers bar, the once-mighty warrior was hooked. 

Goliath frowned as his claws scraped the bottom of the bowl, and he looked down with a scowl; empty. Still, he couldn’t have run empty at a better time. It was Halloween night, and he had his route all planned out. Standing to his full height, his immense, churning belly bouncing with each waddling step, the gargoyle began lumbering up the stairs, thighs rolling off around each other as a rear like a pair of globes trembled, straining his loincloth. “Broadway!” He huffed, needing a moment to catch his breath. “I hope you’re ready, we’ve got a busy night ahead of us. We should begin at the East Side; they give out the king-size candy bars, there.”

“Oh, oh boy,” Bullhop gulped, as the gold amulet in the shape of a bull’s head around his neck began to glow. “This is gonna be trouble.” 

The bovine mutant stumbled into the street, and already he heard the tearing of fabric. There was a rush of power that filled his body; not entirely unpleasant, but it took him by surprise, causing him to yelp in a high-pitched tone he hoped no one heard. First his chest inflated, swelling up like balloons, but as he grasped them, they were solid as stone. He staggered to keep balance, his pecs nearly wedging in his chin, but then his shoulders surged, sprawling out in both directions. He nearly toppled over, his legs shaking to hold up the extra weight, and his arms, still not having caught up, hung limp and useless at his sides, as his lats pushed them up, flaring out like a pair of wings. 

He leaned against a wall, but as he continued to grow, he yelled as the bricks buckled underneath his weight, and he fell through, just catch himself as his hand shot out, finally starting to grow with the rest of him. His triceps slammed back into his sides, engorged muscles fighting for room as his biceps bloomed into the size of car tires. Trying to drag himself up to his feet, Bullhop’s horns gouged right through the ceiling. He looked wildly around as people scattered; he had fallen right through into a china shop, because of course he had.

“S-sorry, sorry, I’ll uh… oh.” He bit his lip, looking at the scattered remains of porcelain all around him. “I-I’ll be back to glue that all back together, promise!” he said as he staggered out into the street, his immense, mountainous shoulders pressing up against either side of the alley. His legs finally gained some strength, enough to keep him standing. He huffed, standing at about twenty feet as the concrete cracked beneath his hooves. 

“O-okay. Okay, this is manageable.” He took in a deep breath, but then, his chest didn’t retreat. His eyes boggled as more of the street was cut off from view by his own immense bust.

“Oh no.”

He staggered as his chest jutted out another few feet, smothering his mouth. “Mmph!” He cried, as over-inflated muscle smothered his mouth. He had no neck left to speak of, and his arms were still growing. It was a wonder his legs, though huge for anyone else, were keeping him upright, dwarfed by the rest of his body as it continued to shoot up, his pecs casting the buildings on either side of the street in shadow. He took a few more staggering steps, crushing a cab beneath his hoof in a way that made him wince. He felt immensely powerful; stronger than anyone, that was for sure. But as he looked out at the skyline of New York, he realized that the entire city had been reduced to one big china shop for an even bigger bull.