Another amazing screencap edit by  oscarvanderhof that I wrote up a short story for!

Enjoy!

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“…Just another four levels until I unlock the Earth-Tone Lumberjack Trapper Hat and ascend to my rightful place as a Slightly-Less-Than-God Tier player in the leaderboard! Then it’s only a matter of time before I’m the full thing: A god among mere mortals…! BwuHaHaHaHa…!” Donnie cackled manically without taking his eyes away from the television screen despite his wildly swinging arms.

“That… was not an answer to our question,” Leo pointed out.

“What?” Donnie clarified, not bothering to look back over his shoulder to his trio of bros standing in the doorway.

“We said,” Mikey repeated, “that we’re going to Paul’s Pizza Parlor, you in?”

“No can do, busy,” Donnie said curtly.

“Donnie, you’ve been playing that game for 13 hours straight,” Raph said.

“Actually, I’ve played for 12 hours and 37 minutes,” Donnie corrected.

“Close enough!” Raph shouted.

“Accuracy is important, as even a novice, *scoff, player of The Purple Game would tell you,” Donnie said. “You see, the correct timing of a turn is just the type of maneuver that would…” As Donnie droned on, Mikey, Leo, and Raph looked at each other and sighed: guess it was just going to be the three of them, again.

It had been weeks since all four of them had gone to Paul’s Pizza Parlor, a sacred Tuesday night outing that was meant to be a family event. Donnie, however, had been glued to his TV ever since he first started playing that game, staying up day and night to simply game; breaks were for the weak or whatever Donnie mumbled to his bros while jamming away on his controller. Raph was concerned that his purple-banded bro wasn’t sleeping, a fact that Leo confirmed while Mikey reported that Donnie hadn’t even touched the anchovy and squash soup, he had left out for him the other night. While Raph and Leo didn’t have the heart to tell Mikey they too hadn’t touched the vile concoction and that the clogged drains earlier in the week were the consequences of botched covert disposal efforts, they all had to admit that their normally lithe bro was leaking even scrawnier lately. It was a topic of much discussion between the trio.

Every Tuesday, Leo, Raph, and Mikey would gather around the booth, surrounded by pizza, soda, and garlic knots, and talk for hours about their absent bro. They had to intervene, right? How would they? What were the ethical and moral ramifications of domestic interpersonal unidirectional conflict mediation?! The trio mused over these questions, concocted a variety of hair-brained schemes including demolishing loco-regional internet server warehouses, and wallowed in their concern for their brother for hours upon hours snuggled up in their usual back corner booth ordering one pizza after another to keep from getting kicked out. Then, the next week, the cycle would start again; the weekly group therapy and ‘za sessions. Soon, though, they started going on Thursdays too, and Wednesdays… and sometimes Fridays. Eventually, they found themselves out munching on pizza on more nights than not, a casual atmosphere harboring not-so-casual emotions; concerns that were appeased by cheese, sauce, and dough, and lots of it.

Leo, Raph, and Mikey hardly noticed the full extent of the ample amount of time they were spending at Paul’s Pizza Parlor, and just how much pizza they were consuming at said parlor, yet that ignorance did not put a halt on the consequences of said consumption.

Caught up in their qualms revolving around Donnie, Raph didn’t notice that his angular jaw had become slightly less so, the curvature softening as a thin accumulation of pudge took up residence on his mandible. Leo didn’t clock that the angles of his carapace were starting to dull, rounding along the edges of his shell, while Mikey was unaware that his colorful geometric skin markings were starting to stretch and contort as his frame began to fill out. The changes were subtle, yet subtle change layered on subtle change ultimately amassed to something far more prominent: far more supple. While they focused on Donnie’s recent change in behavior, they hardly attended to the ramifications of their own changes in behavior that extended even beyond the pizza parlor to back home in the lair as well: excessive consumption.

Raph was a nervous wreck, his instinctive paternal genes ever worried about Donnie as he gamed away. He would pace for hours about the lair, his heart pounding and sweat dripping from his brow, an activity that often worked up the turtle’s appetite, sometimes prompting a snack here and there. Then, one day, Raph found as he popped some cheesepuffs into his maw, that he just couldn’t get enough of savor morsels. He popped them into his mouth quicker and quicker, soon turning to full handfuls that he was slamming against his lips. It took only an hour for him to tear through the entire six-bag stack in the kitchen, taking him out of his feeding frenzy. Despite the crumbs caked to his lips and gathering in the crevices of his shell, in some ways, Raph did feel quick as anxious; the junk food indulgence had helped.

The next day, he popped open a caramel cookie sleeve and ate every crumb while watching an MMA special while the day after, during a particularly heart-pounding episode of anxiety, he tore through three bags of sour cream and onion chips: he didn’t even like sour cream, or at least he didn’t think he did. Now though they tasted just right to calm him down. Distract him: eating to make the stress go away. All that extra snacking only amplified the extra consumption at Paul’s.

Steadily, Raph’s chin began to puff out before a divot formed in the center, officially giving the turtle a second chin while his cheeks softened, and neck thickened. His burly frame broadened even further as his shoulders widened, despite losing their striated definition, while his biceps bulked and smoothed over, not that Raph noticed as he was too busy stress eating to work out anymore.

While Raph worried like a parent, Leo worried like a sibling, like a twin: a twin who wanted some distance from his “problematic” second half. Leo saw how scrawny Donnie was getting and almost like a light switch, deep within his mind, Leo decided he never wanted to be like that; he never wanted to be like Donnie. Looking in the mirror, he felt horrified seeing his knobby knees, his sharp elbows, and, despite having already put on a few pounds himself, his relatively trim torso. No way he wanted to risk his ribs ever starting to show through his carapace or the bones of his clavicles jutting out for all the world to see. Leo decided he needed to bulk up: to pack on mass. Leo too began to snack like his older, red-banded bro except he did so with a purpose: calories.

Every day, Leo set a caloric goal and without fail met it. He stuffed himself with cookies and gulped down as much whole milk as his body would allow, slowly expanding his stomach’s capacity and consequently, forcibly amplifying his appetite. He bought gainer shakes and power bars to pack as much dense caloric material into his system as possible, a strategy that quickly yielded results.

Leo was ecstatic as he saw his own jawline give way to puffy chipmunk cheeks and a second chin. He welcomed the sagging of his former scrawny pecs as they thickened with pudge, forming a pair of steadily drooping, flabby moobs that began to take up residence on the thickening shelf that was the top of his rapidly developing paunch. His thighs thickened until they began to brush up against each other and Leo delighted as his once flat ass began to splay in his desk chair making the seat feel more cramped with each passing day. Leo knew he was fattening up and that’s what he wanted. It was good to have some extra meat on his bones and, as he saw Raph steadily softening too, he figured it was good for his bros too: that’s what they wanted Donnie to do himself after all, right?

While Leo and Raph were wrapped up in their own version of processing the family strife, Mikey decided to take a more direct approach: actually talking and interacting with Donnie. The orange-banded turtle, figuring maybe his own cooking was a bit too eclectic for the palate of his brother, decided to simply start bringing Donnie pre-packaged snacks at night. At first, Mikey was dismayed to find those snacks barely touched when he would return in the morning, so he did the unthinkable: tried to engage Donnie in his niche interests. One afternoon, Mikey brought snacks and sat in a bean bag chair next to his gaming bro. While he felt awkward at first watching Donnie move his virtual avatar through the simple 8-bit map, after a while, Mikey began to pick up on some of the nuances of the game.

As soon as Donnie noticed Mikey’s genuine interest and engagement in what was happening on screen, he fully opened up and as he talked about the lore, the history, and the current online leaderboard drama, much to Mikey’s delight, his bro seemed distracted from the game just enough to start actually eating some of the chips he brought. By the end of the afternoon, Donnie had eaten two bags of Doritos and half a sleeve of cookies, more food than Mikey had seen him eat in weeks! What Mikey didn’t seem to realize was that he too had eaten just as plentifully if not more on the empty-calorie riddle junk food. A win was a win though!

Mikey did the same thing the next day, and the next and the next, each day bringing more food and delighted to see Donnie eating more and more. He seemed to take a particular fondness for the chili fries specifically from Peet’s as well as Mountain Dew which Mikey happily supplied him with. Mikey watched as Donnie’s appetite steadily returned and with it, some of the sunken features of his arms, neck, and hips began to dissipate as he regained the weight he had lost through neglect. Donnie’s gains, however, didn’t stop there. His penchant for Mountain Dew, and the two, the three, then four full bottles he was drinking a day, prompted his bony hips to soften, stretching beyond their normal confines as the concentrated, liquified sugar began to take up residence on Donnie’s frame. Mikey noticed how Donnie’s face began to fill out and his thighs began to thicken, but he brushed it off as a good thing: a little extra weight served as a buffer in case his bro relapsed. A few ancillary pounds here and there never hurt anyone, though Mikey didn’t realize that rule of thumb was starting to apply to himself too.

Mikey, through sheer exposure to the snacks and treats he tried to encourage Donnie to eat, began to pack on some excess weight, with his bean-pole calves taking on a shapelier character, the cords of muscle that made up his quads and haunches vanishing beneath a layer of pudge, and a soft pot belly forming where his abs had been. Mikey’s already naturally round face grew rounder, matching the increasingly curvy nature of his own hips and the rounded edges of his torso as love handles began to appear along his sides.

To get their undersized bro to pack on some weight, Leo, Mikey, and Raph had done the same, each in their own way but as Donnie went back to “normal”, their delight turned to dread again as the weight didn’t stop coming onto Donnie’s figure. Raph began to stress eat more as he saw the straps around Donnie’s wrists and ankles grow tight and start to tear, ironically leading Raph’s own straps to face a similar fate. Leo, seeing his bro making gains, felt an urge to grow even bigger himself to stay one step ahead; to keep them differentiated. Thus, Leo immediately doubled his gainer shake intake. Mikey started bringing Donnie some healthier foods to eat but ended up eating all those wasted meals when Donnie would only drink his Mountain Dew and eat his chili fries, prompting Mikey’s hips to stretch wider and his gut to push further out of his torso.

The trio realized they may have to have an actual intervention when they popped into Donnie’s lab one afternoon, all prepped to head to the Jupiter Jim convention. While Raph’s cosplay suit barely contained his enormous gut and thunder thighs, Leo’s chubby fingers could barely maneuver the interactive switch on his Jupiter Jim action figure he intended to get autographed, and Mikey’s authentic Jupiter Jim helmet barely squeezed over his chipmunk-cheeked face, they were all taken aback by the mound of green and purple nestled in the bean bag chair still facing the television.

Donnie had seemingly doubled, if not tripled, his body weight in only a few short months, with a belly that strained the buttons on The Purple Game Sweepstakes gear he had won back in June. His meaty thighs and calves stretched the seams of his once baggy lounge pants, and his rear had started to rival the bean bag chair he sat upon in both girth and weight. Donnie wasn’t just chubby, and even calling him fat seemed like an understatement, yet he giddily stared, nearly unblinking at his game; his passion having yet to wane for even a second. The only thing that had changed in all this time was his waistline.

“Donnie, come on!” Mikey pleaded.

“We’ve been planning for this convention for nearly a year!” Raph said.

“Sorry, I’m feeling… uh, ill, cough cough,” Donnie said.

“Donnie, you just spoke the word ‘cough’ twice,” Leo noted. “You’re not sick, come on! It’s Jupiter Jim!”

“Why would I want to walk around a long, boring convention when I can…” Donnie led before turning and dramatically showing a message on the television screen. “Get the authentic experience here?” Leo, Mikey, and Raph turned their attention to the screen and their jaws dropped.

Congratulations Bootyyyshaker9500:
You’ve Unlocked the Tier 1 Event Special:
An exclusive one-on-one interview with this season’s sponsor: Jupiter Jim!

“Whoa, what?!” Mikey said.

“You get to talk to THE Jupiter Jim?!” Raph said.

“He’s not even going to be at the convention because of a ‘prior engagement’,” Leo exclaimed.

“Well, this is that engagement,” Donnie grinned. “So, if y’all want to run along, be my guest but…”

“Oh, hell nah,” Mikey said, running over and plopping down next to Donnie. “I’m not missing this!”

“Me neither,” Raph said.

“Leo…?” Donnie floated.

“Grabbing popcorn!” Leo called from the hallway as he plodded towards the kitchen, his legs feeling heavy as his run was more a quick waddle, his heart racing with anticipation; THE Jupiter Jim?! Soon they were all huddled around the television and nearly exploded out of their shells when their idol appeared on the flickering screen.

While they weren’t huddled around the booths of Paul’s Pizza Parlor, this was the first time the brothers had bonded in a long time and while that time had metaphorically weighed on each of them, the weight of concern, the literal weight that hung off each of their frames now was a distant thought, pushed down the list of priorities. Though that shift was likely only temporary, that barrier of resistance had been broken. It was only a matter of time and eventual acceptance of Donnie’s new state of being as well as the rest of their own before that reprioritization became permanent. They may be fat, and may never go back, but they were brothers, and at the end of the day that was the most important thing.