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More from Renard De Fleureaux
PATREON: Rocket Roidcoon
To ring in 2019, I've decided to share a few of my older stories from my Patreon, which you can check out HERE!
For as low as $1, you can vote for and read exclusive stories every month, each one illustrated by
cedricbrowning! This one from May 2018 is about everyone's favorite surly raccoon getting as big as his ego.
“Agh! Come on, you stupid-! Wall-eyed-!” Rocket Raccoon huffed, his tiny, furry body grappling Drax’s powerfully muscular arm. The burly warrior easily trounced the raccoon, throwing him to the off the table, bursting into loud, uproarious laughter as he watched Rocket faceplant to the spaceship floor with an audible thunk.
“Hahaha! It’s funny because you’re so puny and weak!” the literal-minded Drax declared, certain he had just laid down a wicked burn.
“Yeah?” the furry creature growled. “Let’s see how puny you think I am when I got a bazooka shoved right up your-”
“Rocket!” Star Lord, the self-declared leader of their motley crew, shouted down from the cockpit. “Could you behave for like, ten minutes? You were the one dumb enough to think you could arm wrestle someone five times your size. Aren’t you trying to set a good example for Groot?”
Rocket turned to look at the tree-like alien, unfortunately stuck in an adolescent stage and thoroughly annoyed by everything. He was so engrossed in one of Star Lord’s earth trinkets, he wasn’t even paying attention to anything going on. “Eat me, Quill, I’m the best example for Groot.”
“Given how he’s acted lately, he’s certainly taken after you…” Gamora muttered, tidying up some of the cargo they were running for a job.
“Because they’re both so foul-tempered and surly!” Drax piped in.
Star Lord turned his eyes upward. “Can’t get anything past you Drax.”
Rocket was still fuming. “If it weren’t for me and my arsenal, you all would be huffing space dust by now! Where’s the respect, huh?”
“Usually, respect is given to people who are, you know, actually respectable,” Gamora said. “Perhaps if you stopped losing your temper over stupid things like arm-wrestling Drax, you’d get it.”
“Not that you could ever win. I am so much bigger and stronger than you, it’s pathetic!” the burly warrior declared.
The raccoon growled. “Ah, screw you! All of you! You, jolly green idiot, I want a rematch, tomorrow, before we shove off!”
Drax shrugged. “But it’s no challenge for me, it wouldn’t be fun.”
“Yeah? What, you scared?”
“Of getting rabies, maybe,” Peter Lord muttered.
“Screw. You. Quill!” Rocket snarled, stomping his way out of the Milano and on to the landing pad. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and I’ll put you in the ground, Drax!” He stopped, thinking of something at the last minute, snatching the beeping device that Groot was so wrapped up in. “And you’re gonna behave yourself while I’m gone, okay, Groot?”
“I am Groot,” the walking tree said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he grabbed his game again.
“Ugh, damn kids,” Rocket grumbled. He moved off the loading dock, milling around the black market of Knowhere. His crew, the Guardians of the Galaxy, rarely took jobs from Knowhere, but apparently it was going to help war refugees or some crap, and the pay was still good, so Rocket wasn’t complaining too much. He needed something to bury Drax. A mechanical arm, maybe?
The Collector always creeped him out, but his personal museum was one of the best places for Rocket to find something to beat that stupid green idiot. As the raccoon made his way up to the museum, he was already having second thoughts as one of The Collector’s servant girls ushered him inside to her master’s cavernous collection, walls and columns of cages and display cases showing every type of artifact, flora and fauna across the galaxy.
“Ahhh… one of the esteemed, hah, Guardians of the Galaxy,” the Collector approached, a heavy fur coat draped over his shoulders as the foppish criminal bowed his head. “What can I do for you?” he asked, wearing a smile that never quite reached his eyes. It was only now that Rocket remembered that The Collector had reason to hate his crew; they had kind of blown up his museum the last time they came through town.
“So… you like doing trades, right?” Rocket ran a hand through his head fur. “I’m looking for something that can make me stronger. Like, exponentially so.”
“Oh, indeed? Gotten into trouble again, have we?” the Collector smirked.
“I’m settling a bet,” the furry creature said. “Just show me what you got, then name your price. You know I’m good for it.”
The Collector’s professional facade cracked as he scoffed. “Of course. Well… there is this lovely artifact.” He led the raccoon to a display case, where a massive, metallic arm sat. It was as tall as Rocket was. “This is the Arm of Vorlon the Conqueror, an ancient warlord of one of the oldest spacefaring civilizations in the galaxy’s history. It is said it gave him such strength to conquer worlds single-handedly… and without a single infinity stone, even.” The Collector smirked smugly. “I have one of those in my possession as well, but… it’s not quite ready for display.”
A mechanical arm! Rocket’s eyes bulged when he saw it, a genuine smile coming to his face. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. Whaddya want for it, Collector?”
“The Arm of Vorlon?” the eccentric fop tittered. “Oh, well, if you’re hoping to fit inside it, I’d say a fair bargain for it would be something like… your little tree friend, perhaps?”
Rocket immediately growled. “Groot is not for sale, Creep.” The raccoon then realized he was being toyed with; The Collector was teasing him. Good. That gave him all the reason he needed to rob him blind. “What else you got?”
The Collector shrugged serenely, leading the way further into the museum. “Now, let’s see… we also have something perhaps a little more your speed. A funny little artifact from Earth, called a Bowflex…”
“Yeah, yeah, sure, sounds great…” Rocket stuck close to The Collector for a bit, then began weaving his way through the corridors of cages to get back to the arm. Smirking to himself, he rubbed his paws as he approached, running a claw along the glass to make a small circle. Chuckling a bit, the raccoon stuck his hand into the hollow metal arm.
“Yeowch! What the-?” He grunted. As soon as he slid his arm in, mechanical clamps squeezed down on him, grafting the arm to his body. And the alarm was ringing.
“Dammit!” He heard The Collector yelling from somewhere in the labyrinthian museum. “Whatever you’re stealing, Guardian, I’ll make you my next exhibit over this!”
“Ah, great,” Rocket grunted. He had planned something a lot more precise and surgical, but with The Collector closing in, Rocket leapt from the case, using all his strength to pull the arm with him. A surge of energy rushed through his body as the arm smashed through the glass, landing with a heavy thunk, anchoring the raccoon to the ground.
“C’mon, c’mon!” he wheezed, trying to lift the arm with him. He could only drag it behind him as he tried to move, the metal arm grating along the museum floor. He felt a small prick in his skin, and another rush of energy surged through him, able to only just lift the metal arm off the ground. “Okay, okay, I got this,” Rocket muttered. As he ran past the display cases, he could still hear The Collector shouting profanities, getting closer. As he hefted the arm up with him, Rocket was struck with a bolt of inspiration. Grunting as he summoned up his strength, puffing out his chest, he slammed the metal arm into the cages and display cases he was running past, sending an outrageous amount of priceless artifacts tumbling to the ground, The Collector’s anguished cries all Rocket needed as his path was buried by the museum pieces behind him.
“Thanks for the loan, Collector, I’ll be in touch!” Rocket shouted, slamming the door shut behind him. Still working out the rush, he picked up a piece of scrap metal, the metal arm bending it like it was paper. He tied a knot in the door handle, trapping The Collector for at least a little while.
“Wow…” Rocket nodded, a toothy smile spreading across his face as he flexed the metal arm. Its bicep swelled up nicely, bigger than his head as he tested it out. He wasn’t sure where he was finding the strength and energy to keep the thing upright, but he wasn’t the type to question this sort of thing. “This thing is great. But before I put Drax in his place… I just got to test this out.”
Knowhere had a gym; of sorts. Not unlike a prison workout yard, it was a dingy area where the toughest brutes in the mining colony came to lift weights and get into the occasional fist fight. Most of those working out gave Rocket a wide berth, more based on his reputation for being volatile than any active intimidation factor. If nothing else, it gave the raccoon more clearance to do as he pleased, something he always did regardless of whether or not he really should. The metal arm creaked slightly as he grabbed for a large barbell constructed from scrap metal. It might have weighed as much as Drax himself, but slowly it started to curl as Rocket grinned broadly. “Yeah, now this is what I’m talkin’ about,” he chuckled deeply as another rush of energy spiked through him, curling the weight faster.
The Guardian’s focus was more on his new limb than his old one, which was beginning to twitch a bit from all the energy in him. What Rocket failed to notice was his natural arm beginning to look thicker. Quickly the growth was beginning to spread throughout his body, chest expanding along with his legs. Pectoral mass rolled off the procyon’s formerly lithe body, spreading out as his biological arm bloated with hard muscle, rippling under his fur as he curled harder, faster, eyes wide in focused glee.
By now bystanders were staring as the raccoon blew up, some getting a bit worried as the rowdy half-pint filled up and out. Rocket was spitting out little comments about beating Drax even as his body pumped up, biceps bulging and pushing against his overburdened pecs, making them bounce. His legs were forced wider by their own girth, pants fraying over his monstrous quadriceps.
Rocket dropped the weight, panting loudly as he blinked. Something didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Thankfully the answer hit him in the chin as his pecs brushed against it. “What the Hell happened to me?” he growled out, voice pitching deeper from how much he had grown.
Breathing deeply and watching his chest expand with each heavy breath, he remembered The Collector’s words. “Yeah… strength to conquer a whole planet single handedly, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Chuckling deeply and making his titanic body rumble, Rocket bear his fist against his mammoth chest. “I’m comin’ for ya now, Drax!”
With the ground rumbling beneath his mighty strides, Rocket lumbered back towards the Milano. Smirking wildly, he grabbed the star ship in his huge hands, his biceps swelling, mashing against his beefy chest, his geographic landmass of a back unfurling as he dragged the starship off the docking bay, metal scraping and screeching as he pulled the hull to him.
“I’m back!” Rocket roared, the whole Milano shaking with each step. Drax finally looked up from where he was, polishing his knives, as Rocket brought his hulking mass into the seat opposite the green warrior. His view was taken up entirely by the swollen procyon, from his brick-sized abs to his chest wider than Drax could reach around, and that massive metal arm in front of him, making the table groan from the weight. He flexed his free arm, smirking deviously as his bicep swelled larger than his head.
“Rematch time, pipsqueak.”
For as low as $1, you can vote for and read exclusive stories every month, each one illustrated by
cedricbrowning! This one from May 2018 is about everyone's favorite surly raccoon getting as big as his ego.“Agh! Come on, you stupid-! Wall-eyed-!” Rocket Raccoon huffed, his tiny, furry body grappling Drax’s powerfully muscular arm. The burly warrior easily trounced the raccoon, throwing him to the off the table, bursting into loud, uproarious laughter as he watched Rocket faceplant to the spaceship floor with an audible thunk.
“Hahaha! It’s funny because you’re so puny and weak!” the literal-minded Drax declared, certain he had just laid down a wicked burn.
“Yeah?” the furry creature growled. “Let’s see how puny you think I am when I got a bazooka shoved right up your-”
“Rocket!” Star Lord, the self-declared leader of their motley crew, shouted down from the cockpit. “Could you behave for like, ten minutes? You were the one dumb enough to think you could arm wrestle someone five times your size. Aren’t you trying to set a good example for Groot?”
Rocket turned to look at the tree-like alien, unfortunately stuck in an adolescent stage and thoroughly annoyed by everything. He was so engrossed in one of Star Lord’s earth trinkets, he wasn’t even paying attention to anything going on. “Eat me, Quill, I’m the best example for Groot.”
“Given how he’s acted lately, he’s certainly taken after you…” Gamora muttered, tidying up some of the cargo they were running for a job.
“Because they’re both so foul-tempered and surly!” Drax piped in.
Star Lord turned his eyes upward. “Can’t get anything past you Drax.”
Rocket was still fuming. “If it weren’t for me and my arsenal, you all would be huffing space dust by now! Where’s the respect, huh?”
“Usually, respect is given to people who are, you know, actually respectable,” Gamora said. “Perhaps if you stopped losing your temper over stupid things like arm-wrestling Drax, you’d get it.”
“Not that you could ever win. I am so much bigger and stronger than you, it’s pathetic!” the burly warrior declared.
The raccoon growled. “Ah, screw you! All of you! You, jolly green idiot, I want a rematch, tomorrow, before we shove off!”
Drax shrugged. “But it’s no challenge for me, it wouldn’t be fun.”
“Yeah? What, you scared?”
“Of getting rabies, maybe,” Peter Lord muttered.
“Screw. You. Quill!” Rocket snarled, stomping his way out of the Milano and on to the landing pad. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and I’ll put you in the ground, Drax!” He stopped, thinking of something at the last minute, snatching the beeping device that Groot was so wrapped up in. “And you’re gonna behave yourself while I’m gone, okay, Groot?”
“I am Groot,” the walking tree said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he grabbed his game again.
“Ugh, damn kids,” Rocket grumbled. He moved off the loading dock, milling around the black market of Knowhere. His crew, the Guardians of the Galaxy, rarely took jobs from Knowhere, but apparently it was going to help war refugees or some crap, and the pay was still good, so Rocket wasn’t complaining too much. He needed something to bury Drax. A mechanical arm, maybe?
The Collector always creeped him out, but his personal museum was one of the best places for Rocket to find something to beat that stupid green idiot. As the raccoon made his way up to the museum, he was already having second thoughts as one of The Collector’s servant girls ushered him inside to her master’s cavernous collection, walls and columns of cages and display cases showing every type of artifact, flora and fauna across the galaxy.
“Ahhh… one of the esteemed, hah, Guardians of the Galaxy,” the Collector approached, a heavy fur coat draped over his shoulders as the foppish criminal bowed his head. “What can I do for you?” he asked, wearing a smile that never quite reached his eyes. It was only now that Rocket remembered that The Collector had reason to hate his crew; they had kind of blown up his museum the last time they came through town.
“So… you like doing trades, right?” Rocket ran a hand through his head fur. “I’m looking for something that can make me stronger. Like, exponentially so.”
“Oh, indeed? Gotten into trouble again, have we?” the Collector smirked.
“I’m settling a bet,” the furry creature said. “Just show me what you got, then name your price. You know I’m good for it.”
The Collector’s professional facade cracked as he scoffed. “Of course. Well… there is this lovely artifact.” He led the raccoon to a display case, where a massive, metallic arm sat. It was as tall as Rocket was. “This is the Arm of Vorlon the Conqueror, an ancient warlord of one of the oldest spacefaring civilizations in the galaxy’s history. It is said it gave him such strength to conquer worlds single-handedly… and without a single infinity stone, even.” The Collector smirked smugly. “I have one of those in my possession as well, but… it’s not quite ready for display.”
A mechanical arm! Rocket’s eyes bulged when he saw it, a genuine smile coming to his face. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. Whaddya want for it, Collector?”
“The Arm of Vorlon?” the eccentric fop tittered. “Oh, well, if you’re hoping to fit inside it, I’d say a fair bargain for it would be something like… your little tree friend, perhaps?”
Rocket immediately growled. “Groot is not for sale, Creep.” The raccoon then realized he was being toyed with; The Collector was teasing him. Good. That gave him all the reason he needed to rob him blind. “What else you got?”
The Collector shrugged serenely, leading the way further into the museum. “Now, let’s see… we also have something perhaps a little more your speed. A funny little artifact from Earth, called a Bowflex…”
“Yeah, yeah, sure, sounds great…” Rocket stuck close to The Collector for a bit, then began weaving his way through the corridors of cages to get back to the arm. Smirking to himself, he rubbed his paws as he approached, running a claw along the glass to make a small circle. Chuckling a bit, the raccoon stuck his hand into the hollow metal arm.
“Yeowch! What the-?” He grunted. As soon as he slid his arm in, mechanical clamps squeezed down on him, grafting the arm to his body. And the alarm was ringing.
“Dammit!” He heard The Collector yelling from somewhere in the labyrinthian museum. “Whatever you’re stealing, Guardian, I’ll make you my next exhibit over this!”
“Ah, great,” Rocket grunted. He had planned something a lot more precise and surgical, but with The Collector closing in, Rocket leapt from the case, using all his strength to pull the arm with him. A surge of energy rushed through his body as the arm smashed through the glass, landing with a heavy thunk, anchoring the raccoon to the ground.
“C’mon, c’mon!” he wheezed, trying to lift the arm with him. He could only drag it behind him as he tried to move, the metal arm grating along the museum floor. He felt a small prick in his skin, and another rush of energy surged through him, able to only just lift the metal arm off the ground. “Okay, okay, I got this,” Rocket muttered. As he ran past the display cases, he could still hear The Collector shouting profanities, getting closer. As he hefted the arm up with him, Rocket was struck with a bolt of inspiration. Grunting as he summoned up his strength, puffing out his chest, he slammed the metal arm into the cages and display cases he was running past, sending an outrageous amount of priceless artifacts tumbling to the ground, The Collector’s anguished cries all Rocket needed as his path was buried by the museum pieces behind him.
“Thanks for the loan, Collector, I’ll be in touch!” Rocket shouted, slamming the door shut behind him. Still working out the rush, he picked up a piece of scrap metal, the metal arm bending it like it was paper. He tied a knot in the door handle, trapping The Collector for at least a little while.
“Wow…” Rocket nodded, a toothy smile spreading across his face as he flexed the metal arm. Its bicep swelled up nicely, bigger than his head as he tested it out. He wasn’t sure where he was finding the strength and energy to keep the thing upright, but he wasn’t the type to question this sort of thing. “This thing is great. But before I put Drax in his place… I just got to test this out.”
Knowhere had a gym; of sorts. Not unlike a prison workout yard, it was a dingy area where the toughest brutes in the mining colony came to lift weights and get into the occasional fist fight. Most of those working out gave Rocket a wide berth, more based on his reputation for being volatile than any active intimidation factor. If nothing else, it gave the raccoon more clearance to do as he pleased, something he always did regardless of whether or not he really should. The metal arm creaked slightly as he grabbed for a large barbell constructed from scrap metal. It might have weighed as much as Drax himself, but slowly it started to curl as Rocket grinned broadly. “Yeah, now this is what I’m talkin’ about,” he chuckled deeply as another rush of energy spiked through him, curling the weight faster.
The Guardian’s focus was more on his new limb than his old one, which was beginning to twitch a bit from all the energy in him. What Rocket failed to notice was his natural arm beginning to look thicker. Quickly the growth was beginning to spread throughout his body, chest expanding along with his legs. Pectoral mass rolled off the procyon’s formerly lithe body, spreading out as his biological arm bloated with hard muscle, rippling under his fur as he curled harder, faster, eyes wide in focused glee.
By now bystanders were staring as the raccoon blew up, some getting a bit worried as the rowdy half-pint filled up and out. Rocket was spitting out little comments about beating Drax even as his body pumped up, biceps bulging and pushing against his overburdened pecs, making them bounce. His legs were forced wider by their own girth, pants fraying over his monstrous quadriceps.
Rocket dropped the weight, panting loudly as he blinked. Something didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Thankfully the answer hit him in the chin as his pecs brushed against it. “What the Hell happened to me?” he growled out, voice pitching deeper from how much he had grown.
Breathing deeply and watching his chest expand with each heavy breath, he remembered The Collector’s words. “Yeah… strength to conquer a whole planet single handedly, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Chuckling deeply and making his titanic body rumble, Rocket bear his fist against his mammoth chest. “I’m comin’ for ya now, Drax!”
With the ground rumbling beneath his mighty strides, Rocket lumbered back towards the Milano. Smirking wildly, he grabbed the star ship in his huge hands, his biceps swelling, mashing against his beefy chest, his geographic landmass of a back unfurling as he dragged the starship off the docking bay, metal scraping and screeching as he pulled the hull to him.
“I’m back!” Rocket roared, the whole Milano shaking with each step. Drax finally looked up from where he was, polishing his knives, as Rocket brought his hulking mass into the seat opposite the green warrior. His view was taken up entirely by the swollen procyon, from his brick-sized abs to his chest wider than Drax could reach around, and that massive metal arm in front of him, making the table groan from the weight. He flexed his free arm, smirking deviously as his bicep swelled larger than his head.
“Rematch time, pipsqueak.”
Category All / Muscle
Species Raccoon
Size 1280 x 720px
File Size 141.4 kB
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