So here's something for  genialgroucho, where Raphael gets a little bit older, a little bit wiser, and a lot bigger. Sorry for the delay in posting, but I do hope ya'll enjoy!

Story © c'est moi
TMNT © Mirage Studios/Nickelodeon

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It was a big day for the Ninja Turtles, those unlikely heroes that had defended New York from the Foot Clan, alien invasions, mutated animals, and an increasingly outlandish rogue’s gallery with equally silly names. The four brothers, Michelangelo, Donatello, Raphael, and Leonardo, were moving out of the sewer that had been their only home. Long past the days of hiding under fedoras and trenchcoats, the Turtles were regular fixtures in New York, and they were ready to move somewhere with an address that Pizza chains actually agreed to deliver to.

As they packed the last of their belongings, they looked around, silently communicating the same thought; Master Splinter’s absence was palpable. The recent calm hanging over New York had given the mutated rat an opportunity to go on a pilgrimage to Japan, to reconnect with his homeland. It was also decided that, while he was away, it would be best if his sons set up their new home.

“Think he’ll be okay here, all on his own?” Michelangelo asked, boxing up the last of his video games.

Leonardo patted his brother’s shoulder, double checking to make sure that nothing had been left behind. “We’re just moving a couple of blocks away- not like we’re moving to the other end of the country. We’d never just leave him on his own for good. Just watch, when he gets back, we’ll get together for dinner and it’ll be just like old times.”

“Yeah, but that dinner’s gonna be filled with lectures if someone doesn’t get back to training…” Raphael nudged Donatello as his shorter brother passed by. Raphael had simply grown more and more impressive in his stature and muscular build, with a wide back and muscular chest that, if he got much bigger, would grow past his shell. This was matched with arms roped with heavy muscle, the cut definition of his rippling muscle evident under his scaly skin. Now that he and his brothers had appeared to defeat every threat to the city, the red-masked turtle had turned to more intense training, and the results were stunning; he towered over his brothers now, if not in height, then width and bulk.

Donatello was less impressive these days. He was carrying a small box of electronics and rolled his eyes at Raphael. “Yeah, yeah, look, I’ve just been distracted with some projects lately.”

“Working on projects didn’t used to make you so hungry, Donnie…” Michelangelo commented. “You still owe me a meat lover’s pizza. A large one.”

The purple-masked turtle narrowed his eyes at his brother. “I was hungry,” he grumbled defensively. Of the four turtles, Donatello had never been the physical one, despite his proficiency with the bo staff. And now that training was now not as high a priority…

“So I put on a little weight. I was… bulking up.”

“You forgot that lifting weights needs to be added to that to actually, y’know. Get stronger.” Raphael prodded Donatello’s middle; it had gotten much softer as of late, and noticeably rounder. Everything on his brother was rounder, these days. He had always been lean and sinewy; now he was bigger than Michelangelo, when his round butterball belly was included.

“I’m not trying to get stronger- brute force isn’t the answer to everything, Raph,” Donatello sniffed defensively.

“You’re smart enough to know that’s the only reason you bulk up, Donnie.” Leonardo crossed his arms, arching his brow at his softer brother.

“Oh, come on! You’re taking his side?” Donatello pointed accusingly at his beefy brother.

“Aw, c’mon, Don, Leo’s leader, right?” Raphael smirked, and hooked one of his meaty arms around his brother’s neck, catching him in a headlock. “He’s just looking out for you!”

“H-hey!” Donatello gasped, pushing against Raphael’s arm.

Raphael squeezed, flexing his bulging bicep. “Come on- you’re supposed to be a hero, bro. Break out, and I won’t tease you again.”

“I-” Donatello grunted, his small belly jiggling a bit as he pushed, digging his heels in the floor. “Come on! If you could just-” he snarled, growling as he pushed with all his might, but he just couldn’t break free.

“Hah, see?” Raphael rubbed his knuckles on Donatello’s scalp. “You got fat and lazy, and now your own brother’s too much for you.”

“Raph, that’s enough,” Leo scolded. “Donnie’s not fat or lazy. Leave him alone, okay? If you’re so strong, you can take care of the TV.”

“Pfft. Fine.” Raphael lumbered off. “But if we have to roll Donnie out one day, I told you so.”

“Raph!”

“Fine, fine! Geez.” Raphael held up his hands defensively. “I’m just trying to have a bit of fun- Donnie knows I still love him, and he’s just full of brotherly love-” he scoffed, “...handles.”

“Raph, I mean it,” Leonardo warned. “No more. I liked it better when you were picking on Mikey.”

“Hey!” Michelangelo pouted. “What’d I do?”

“Fine, I promise,” Raph crossed his fingers over his left pec. “Cross my heart.”

Leonardo shook his head, grabbing his last box. “Come on, we’ll have all the time in the world to bother each other when we move into the new place.”

The people of New York City were not without gratitude. The nice apartment the Turtles moved into was given out of the people’s generosity, and half the pizzerias in town were willing to give the heroic brothers any order they wanted for free- they could more than make up for it when they advertised that the city’s biggest heroes liked their pizza. It was probably for the best, though; the Ninja Turtles had never really held down proper jobs, far less done anything like pay rent. In the weeks until Master Splinter’s return, the brothers took time to settle in and indulge in a well-deserved break; Raphael and Leonardo kept their training up, in some regards, anyways, but with Donatello rarely away from his workbench, Michelangelo glued to the latest video games, and a steady supply of free pizza, by the time they met back in the sewers to welcome their adoptive father home, there was plenty to talk about.

“You are… taking care of yourselves, my sons?” Splinter asked, a subtle glance at Donatello’s bulging middle.

Donatello gulped down a bite of pizza. “Uh… yeah, we’re doing well. I’m keeping busy with my work. I’m trying to help a charity group, they fight global hunger.” He tried sucking in his gut; he hadn’t trained or exercised once since the move, and it showed. His middle had expanded to the point where it was a scaled dome pressing against the table, and his thickened hips and augmented posterior were too wide for his chair, spilling over the sides.

Raphael smirked. He had grown bigger, as well, but it all went to his bulging shoulders, rippling chest, and arms roped with heavy muscle. “Well, that’s easy; you cut back a bit, and there’d be enough food for everyone.”

“Raphael,” Splinter flicked his eye over to his large son. “Do not mock your brother.”

Raphael rolled his eyes. “Yes, Master Splinter.”

“And you, Michelangelo? How are you settling in?” Splinter turned, hoping to change the topic of conversation.

Michelangelo had rolled up a piece of pizza, attempting to swallow it one bite. He coughed as Splinter addressed him, clearing his throat with a belch. “Ah… sorry, Master Splinter…” He gave an innocent grin. Donatello might have gone through the most dramatic transformation, but Michelangelo wasn’t far behind. He had never been the fittest among his brothers, and it was starting to show, with a pot belly that now filled his lap and limbs that had grown soft and pudgy. “I’m just, y’know… taking a year off.”

“Most people that do that go to college at the end of it, Mikey,” Leonardo said. “You filling out an application for NYU?”

“N… no… I’m just, y’know, keeping my options open…”

“Yeah,” Raphael scoffed. “Is he going to play video games or watch TV? Pizza or more pizza? So many options.”

“Raphael!” Splinter snapped. “What did I say about mocking your brothers?”

“Hey, you said Donatello,” Raphael held up his hands. “Didn’t say anything about Mikey.”

“Raphael, that’s enough,” Splinter ordered.

“Fine, fine.”

Splinter sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I will not be able to lecture the four of you anymore. I taught you discipline and self-control, and I expect you to properly take care of yourselves.” His eyes lingered on Donatello and Michelangelo. “But I am confident you will make the right choices.”

“Yes, Master Splinter,” the four turtles echoed.


Later in the week, Leonardo dragged himself into the living room of the Turtles’ new apartment. Everything hurt, from his arms, legs, neck, everything including his shell. “I think I’m done training for the day...” Leonardo gasped. “We did a little sparring and he went at me like a pro-wrestler. I think he cracked my shell… when did Raphael get so intense?”

Donatello and Michelangelo looked at each other. Somehow, they looked even bigger, picking at the remains of an extra large pizza. “...Have you met Raph?”

Leonardo rubbed his back. “Man, he’s been hitting it hard- he’s huge, now. Maybe that’s it… he doesn’t know how strong he is.”

Donatello scoffed. “He knows. He just likes throwing his weight- and ours- around.”

“Well, I mean, come on guys,” Leonardo placed a hand on Donatello’s dome-like belly and jiggles it, sending ripples down his torso. “It’s not like you hide the extra weight well.”

“Hey!” Donatello slapped Leonardo’s hand away. He shifted his weight, which only caused more jiggling. “That’s no excuse, man. He just bullies us, now.”

Michelangelo nodded, his mouth still stuffed with pizza. “Yeah, man. He’s just turned into a jerk. I think he just needs to work his aggression out on something- just not us.”

“Or he needs to be knocked down a peg,” Donatello muttered, drumming his fingers against the armrest.

Leonardo arched his brow, crossing his arms. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you had something in mind.”

Donatello hefted his weight up, taking a deep breath and puffing up his round cheeks. He moved to his workbench and brought back a cardboard box, packed with protein bars wrapped in generic wrappers. “This is what I’ve been working on with the charity group- they want a cheap, nutritious food supply, but I do most of my work with computers and tech, this was the first time I worked on anything like food, or chemistry, and this whole batch is all wrong for them. I go the proteins all mixed up, and instead of filling you up, it makes you hungry. It’s supposed to be a meal replacement, like those smoothies they sell to gym junkies, so it’s loaded with calories. Basically, it fills you with empty calories and proteins, but induces hunger.”

Both Leonardo and Michelangelo were listening now. “Go on…”

“Well, Raph’s become such a musclehead, he’ll grab these bars after his workout. He’ll gain all these calories, get hungry, eat more, no matter how much he works out, he’ll put on weight. If we distract him a bit from his work outs, he’ll put it on faster,” Donatello explained.

Leonardo blinked. “You want… to fatten up your own brother? Purposefully?”

“I think it sounds like fun,” Michelangelo grinned.

Donatello held up his hands in defense. “Nothing extreme- just ruin his six-pack. Give him a bit of a gut to knock him down a peg, then we take it no further. He calms down, stops pushing us around, everyone’s happy.”

Leonardo rubbed his temples. “Fine. But both of you are going to start dieting. He’s been a jerk about it, but he’s got a point.”

Michelangelo rolled his eyes. “When Raphael gets a spare tire, we’ll all go on a diet together, okay, mom?”

Raphael came lumbering in, mopping his brow with a towel. His arms were pumped, biceps swollen, and he puffed up his chest as he swaggered in, pecs pushing far past the tip of his face. He smirked as he looked at his brothers. “So. Getting your, what, fifth meal of the day out of the trough?” He grabbed Donatello’s body, shaking his belly roughly and imitating a pig’s squeal.

“Hey, Raph, cut it out!” Leo snapped. He glanced at Donatello and Michelangelo, who nodded subtly to him. “You should be nicer to Donny. He made you something.”

Raphael arched his brow, looking at his brother. “Did he?”

Donatello cleared his throat. “Yeah.” He gestured to the box of protein bars. “This is from the charity group. These are prototype meal replacement bars, but they’re more suited to protein bars. Supplements. For your workouts.”

Raphael looked over to them. “You having one, Leo? You could put on some muscle. If they’re one of Donny’s, they gotta work, right?”

Leonardo glanced nervously over to Donatello, who was quickly nodding his head, begging him to say yes. “I- uh…” He looked back to Raphael, whose brow was only getting more furrowed. “Yeah- yeah, of course.”

That seemed to satisfy Raphael, as he shrugged his broad shoulders. “Alright, then.” He lumbered over to the box and snatched up a bar, biting into it as Leonardo ate one, as well. “Hm…” the beefy turtle slowly nodded. “Yeah, yeah… this is good, actually. Then, you’d know plenty about tasty food, right, Donny?”

“Raph…” Leonardo sighed.

“Oh, come on, it’s a joke.” Raphael rolled his eyes. “Seriously, what happened to your guys’ sense of humor? Whatever, I’m going to shower off.” He stomped off, leaving his three brothers to let out relieved sighs.

“Well... what happens to me?” Leonardo asked, looking at his empty wrapper.

“You get hungry, Leo. Come on, you can afford one little splurge,” Michelangelo said.

“Yeah, well…” Leonardo groaned, as did his stomach. He grimaced, looking at the empty pizza box. “You gonna order another pizza?”


A week had passed in the brothers’ revenge scheme against Raphael, and it was only now starting to bear fruit. For a week, they watched Raphael wolf down Donatello’s spiked bars, waiting, and at last, his torso broadened, and those long-sought abs disappeared under a thick layer of flesh. It appeared that he did not notice; if anything, he seemed happier, as the extra pounds made his arms and chest fleshier and bigger.

“I think it’s time we told him about the bars…” Leonardo sighed. He, Donatello, and Michelangelo were all piled on the couch in front of their TV, but they were quickly getting crowded with all three of them; Leonardo had finally conceded that Raphael, in his current state, had so outpaced him, it was detrimental to his health, not to mention his pride, to keep training with his huge brother. But that meant he had quickly gone to seed, his flat, toned middle slowly pushing out, soft and round. Donatello and Michelangelo were growing fatter, as well.

“Why?” Michelangelo asked with his mouth full of pizza. They had three large pizzas, one for each of them; it was quickly becoming their custom. “He’s still acting like a jerk.”

“He’s lost his abs, that’s what you wanted, right?” Leonardo asked.

“He still brags about how strong he is,” Donatello said. “He still hasn’t gotten the message.”

Leonardo sighed. “Maybe. But maybe we’re going about this the wrong way…”

“Well!” Raphael threw open the door and swaggered in. “I just had the best workout ever. Never felt this strong, this pumped!” He flexed his arm, his bicep swelling up. He didn’t seem to notice a good bit of definition had softened; he just saw how big they had gotten. “Not that you three overfed tadpoles would know what that was like.” He smirked, throwing his arms around Leonardo and Donatello’s shoulders, pressing their cheeks against his pecs. “I mean, I totally saw Mikey going soft, but you guys? I’m disappointed. But don’t worry,” he patted them roughly on the head. “Big, beefy brother Raphy is here to protect you.” He chuckled, shoving them out of the way as he grabbed the piece of pizza out of Leonardo’s hand.

“Welp, I’m off to the shower. Try not to strain yourselves if you have to get up,” Raphael chuckled.

This left Leonardo fuming, and Michelangelo and Donatello leaned in. “So…” Michelangelo begins. “We still gonna tell him?”

Leonardo scowled. “We’ll talk him into eating two bars instead.”


Raphael was out of breath. He let the barbell drop from his hands, landing with a heavy thud. He shook his arms, trying not to notice the slight wobbling of flesh that accompanied it. He grimaced and looked down; where once he could only see the peak of his meaty pecs, he now saw a rising mound. His belly had bloated out, and in the back of his mind, he knew what was happening. He had been eating like a starving man, and thanks to his brothers, the only food in the apartment was all junk food; way, way too much pizza, all extra large and piled high with toppings, sodas, chips, hot dogs, ice cream, and not a single fruit or vegetable left. He grunted as he saw himself in the mirror; he looked like an off-season bodybuilder smuggling a watermelon under his shirt.

“Those guys are gonna be the death of me…” he grumbled. He huffed as he hefted his belly, lingering as he felt the malleable flesh in his hands and then letting it drop. “I’m trying to better myself, and they just wanna pig out all day. Some team…” He stomped off, ready to have a word with them. He lumbered into the living room, where his three brothers were planted in front of the TV, and he grunted in disgust. Leonardo was now and truly fat, and Michelangelo, a piece of pizza seemingly permanently stuck in his mouth, was quickly outpacing Donatello, forcing his two brothers further and further to the side of the couch.

“Hey, fatasses!” Raphael shouted, causing all three of his brothers to turn around. He opened his mouth to let loose a tirade, but he was distracted by a very enticing smell. He narrowed his eyes, and spotted an untouched pizza. “What’s this?”

“We ordered you a pizza. It’s your favorite- bacon, sausage, pepperoni, and beef. Y’know, Meat Lover’s,” Michelangelo explained.

“...Really?” Raphael’s stomach growled. Grumbling to himself, he fought a short battle with himself before giving in to his hunger. He snatched up a piece of still-warm pizza and shoved it into his mouth, chewing angrily.

“You, uh. Okay, Raph?” Leonardo asked.

“M’fine!” He snarled, flecks of pizza flying out of his mouth.


A couple of weeks later, Raphael stared down at his workout equipment. It was the middle of summer, now; hot, muggy, and the air hung on him so thick, he could cut the humidity with a knife. He had just finished one of Donatello’s protein bars to get his energy up, but it just didn’t seem to be doing anything. His stomach rumbled, and that was the last straw. He gave one last negligible look to his workout equipment, and headed back inside.

His brothers all looked up as he lumbered in. “Uh, Raph? Something wrong?”

Raphael grunted, and then collapsed into the chair next to the couch his brothers were crowding. “Too hot to workout.”

They all looked to each other. “Well, uh… you’re welcome to join us. We’re just about to start a movie,” Leonardo said.

“Which one?” Raphael asked pensively.

“Oh, uh- the new Space Wars thing.”

Raphael nodded. “Sounds good.” He paused, then sighed. “Look, uhm… I’m sorry if I’ve been acting like a jerk for a while, now. I just- I dunno. Been feeling a little pent-up without anything to fight. So… sorry, guys.”

Michelangelo and Donatello, especially, looked pleasantly surprised. “Hey, it’s no problem, man. We knew you’d come around.”

Raphael smirked. He looked at his brothers; Michelangelo was officially the fattest, his belly spilling over his lap and then some, taking up nearly half of the couch. He had given up on belts or any gear, letting his stretched-out scales and green skin spread as comfortably as possible, with wide hips that gave him a definitive pear shape. Donatello was now actually the thinnest again; his weight had plateaued after a while, with a large, beachball belly and somewhat thin limbs, making him look perpetually stuffed. Leonardo sandwiched Donatello between Michelangelo and his own belly, now big enough to cut him off from viewing his feet ever again, a doughy chest, and a third chin crowning his fat torso and pushing against his billowy cheeks.

Then Raphael looked at himself; his belly now jutted out past his chest, and his hips were definitely wider. With what muscle he had left, gorilla-like arms and broad shoulders, he was practically bursting out of his shell, and by sheer poundage, was second only to Michelangelo. “How’d we get so fat?”

He and his brothers chuckled. “Look, uh- we may have splurged a bit, being on our own. The freedom, no more training with Master Splinter, it all went to our heads. We can turn it around,” Leonardo said.

“Yeah… but let’s at least watch the movie, first. We got popcorn and candy, like at the movies,” Michelangelo said, doling out the snacks.

“Hey, uh, Raph, about the protein bars…” Leonardo began, taking a fistful of popcorn.

“Yeah? I, uh- sorry about that, actually. I finished them all,” Raphael mumbled, taking a huge chunk out of a candy bar.

Donatello arched his brow. “You… you did?”

“Yeah… again, sorry. Was there something about them?”

The three other brothers exchanged quick glances. “Uh… nevermind, Raph. Let’s just get to the movie.”


The brothers waited out the summer inside; at their sizes, the heat was just a little too much. It was a lazy summer, but for the first time in a long time, all four brothers were able to relax, and enjoy each other’s company, especially Raphael. They never got around to losing their weight; they were too distracted playing games and watching movies together. Then at last, with the waning summer days, and mercifully lowering temperatures, they dared to venture outside. Their first stop was obvious; dinner at their favorite pizza parlor. The four turtles cleared out their entire stock, but the lion’s share went to the now biggest brother, Raphael.

Long after his brothers were finished with dinner, finally stuffed to their limit, Raphael just kept going. He came to his tenth pizza, extra large, extra cheese, extra meat, and his brothers started chanting as Raphael reached down with doughy, flabby arms, rolling up the pizza to swallow up the greasy, cheesy pie in one go.

“Raph… Raph, Raph, Raph, Raph!” his brothers chanted, banging their fists on their long suffering table as their bellies jostled its sides, cheering on the huge turtle as he stuffed the pizza in one go.

Swallowing it whole, Raphael had to clear his palette with a deep, rattling belch, for which his brothers cheered him. His belly spilled over the table, quickly approaching the dimensions of a monster-truck tire, and about as round, a small mountain he could only just manage to carry around. His flabby chest was thick and pillowy, a last vestige of his workout days, and his shoulders were wide enough to keep up with the rest of his torso, keeping him from going pear-shaped like Michelangelo. He was just huge, in every sense of the word, from his wide rump and flabby flanks that needed multiple chairs to comfortably rest, to his chipmunk-like cheeks and his vast back, spilling out of his shell in meaty reams of lard. It gave him presence; just like he always wanted, he was turning heads wherever he went, he was the big brother, and this way was a lot tastier than working out.

“Here’s to Raph!” Michelangelo held up his half-drunk soda. “Coolest big bro we could ask for!”

“To Raph!” Donatello and Leonardo echoed, raising up their glasses and chugging down their drinks.

“Aw, guys…” Raphael blushed, coloring his wobbly cheeks. Before he could say anything further, there was an ominous creaking sound, and with a deafening snap, his chairs gave way, and his massive girth slammed down to the floor with a heavy whump, sending every inch of him wobbling.

“Raph!” Donatello jumped to his feet, making his own belly wobble.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Raphael said after a moment to huff and catch his breath. “I got plenty of padding,” he smirked, patting his jiggling side. He laughed it off, but then started straining, quickly losing his breath. He was trying to will himself to stand, lazily kicking his chunky thunder thighs, rippling plentiful, soft flesh slapping against the tiled floor. “Uh…” he started panting. “Guys? I think I need a little help up… we’re still getting dessert, right? I wanna get to the ice cream parlor before it closes…”


None of the brothers knew it, but that would be the last time they all went out together. It wasn’t a big deal for most of autumn; it was New York, after all, and take-out was a way of living for a lot of people. What wasn’t a way of living for a lot of people, however, was averaging five take-out orders in one day. Donatello was at a loss; without the protein bars, Raphael’s hunger should have plateaued, but it had just grown implacable. By the time Halloween rolled around, the Turtles had to face facts…

“So… what are we gonna do about Raph, guys?” Michelangelo asked. He had gotten a wig and a pig’s nose from a costume shop, and borrowed clothes for a Bebop costume; they were noticeably snug on his adipose-laden form, especially the jeans.

Leonardo rubbed the back of his head. “I dunno… he says he doesn’t mind being on his own…”

Donatello frowned, pulling up his hockey mask for his Casey Jones’ costume. “Look, I know I was the most adamant about him getting a taste of his own medicine… but look at us…” he bumped his against the two bigger bellies belonging to his brothers. “We all kinda lost it. If it wasn’t Raph, it’d be one of us that ballooned like that. Maybe we can stay in, watch some scary movies. Casey’ll understand if we don’t show up to his party.”

Leo nodded. “Yeah…” He looked over his shoulder, and led his brothers back in. “Hey, Raph?”

Raphael rotated his face, his spherical cheeks pressing down against the rings of multiple chins he had acquired as he looked up from his spot in front of the TV; the couch had long been decimated under him. There was a piece of pizza hanging out of his mouth, but he quickly slurped it up. “Hey, you guys! You look great. You, uh. Came to say goodbye? Hope you enjoy the party.”

They looked at each other. “Raph, we didn’t think we’d have fun without you.”

“Oh, what, you kidding?” Raphael chuckled, and slapped his oceanic belly, sending tectonic plate movements down his rippling body, spreading out twice as wide as he was tall, and taking up a significant part of the room. That all-conquering gut had begun burying his legs underneath, two pillars of flab quickly being submerged under a sea of fat. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t see his own feet anymore; neither could his brothers. “There’s plenty of me to go around, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, but come on. You shouldn’t spend Halloween alone. What if something scares ya?” Michelangelo grinned.

“Then I’d sit on them,” Raphael commented, crossing his flabby arms; he couldn’t quite make it, as the sheer tonnage of his doughy chest spilled over them. His back had only expanded further out, a small mountain of lard, with tier upon tier of blubber piled on top of one another, resting atop his bulbous behind, a pair of round cheeks each the size of his brothers’ bellies.

“You’d have to get up first, fatass,” Leonardo smirked. There was a small, tense pause, and then Raphael burst into laughter.

“Come on,” Donatello patted Raph’s belly then rested against it; that mound of fat was remarkably plush. “We’ll watch some movies and order pizza.”

“Don’t you think we’ll ever get tired of the stuff? I mean- maybe we’ll run out, one day,” Leonardo commented, taking another spot to lean against Raphael’s belly.

The biggest turtle’s whole body trembled, jiggling like a monumental jell-o mould. “Now that’s the scariest thing I’ll hear all night.”