Gym Rat- Part 4

Splinter's sons are home, but not even a family reunion is going to interrupt the rat dad chasing his gains- especially now that he has four new workout partners, even if he's going to have to grow them up a fair bit. Enjoy!

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Leo and the rest of his brothers were left in a state of shock— none more so than Raph. They had come home from Japan excited to tell Splinter about all they had learned and how they had grown, but upon seeing the state their home had been left in— brick walls punched through to make bigger hallways, the dojo transformed into a haphazard weight room, makeshift workout equipment left scattered all across the place, the turtles were instantly put on alert.

"What… what happened, here?" Mikey tapped a huge, bent steel beam that had been left in the middle of the living room; a wrecking ball had been split in half, either half tied to the steel beam. "Is this like… some kind of modern art?"

"What the Hell?" Raph stuck his head out of his room. "We've been robbed! Someone swooped in and stole all my workout shit!" He pointed inside. "And they… ate all my protein powder? Look, they left all the empty jars!"

"Wait, where's Master Splinter?" Donnie asked.

Leo's eyes went wide. "Did they kidnap him? Is there any note left, anything? Calling card from the Foot Clan?"

"Haven't seen anything."

The blue-banded turtle put his free hand to his forehead, trying to keep calm and think of a plan, already imagining what kind of peril Splinter could be in— and then, they heard it. The rhythmic pounding of metal scraping against brick, heavy, booming sounds echoing off the walls. 

"What is that?"

Raph snorted, brandishing his weapons. "We'll find out, then kick its ass if it's got Master Splinter. Come on!"

The four rushed back into the sewer tunnels, following the ever growing sounds, added with bestial grunts that made all four of them grip their weapons a little tighter. Leaping into a large cistern, the four turtles stuck to their defensive stats, shouting battle cries— and then froze where they stood, as they were all four cast in Splinter's now titanic shadow.

Splinter, for his part, was approaching a state of absolute shameless drive and pride. He knew his sons were staring as he finished his workout, and he knew that they had no idea how he got this big, but he did smirk at Raph's growing sense of realization.

"...Guys," Raph cleared his throat. "I think I figured out what happened to all my supps."

Splinter smirked softly, chuckling as he made his mammoth pecs roll and bounce, the titanic swells of muscle fully free as he had been going shirtless for a few days, now. "Hello, boys," he rumbled deeply. "I did not think you would be home this early— bear with me, just a moment." He then returned to his final set, hefting up entire abandoned subway cars in his mighty arms. 

The hulking rodent gripped the axle of one car as he hefted it overhead, his overgrown slab of tricep muscle billowing out and then shifting to feed his mountain-like bicep, the peak reaching out to brush against his sprawling, swollen traps and then against his cheek as he tensed his arm and then bent it inwards, dipping the car behind his head to work out his triceps. Another subway car was tucked under his other arm, the metal bending inwards wedged between his tensed arm muscles and the heaving, barnside flanks of lateral muscle, jutting out to accommodate every hefty pound of beef packed on to his landmass of a back. Beneath his densely packed abs and the generously sized trunks that girded his thickly built hips and loins, the rat's immense legs were thicker than they were long, thighs broad around as monster truck tires and just as dense, calf muscles thick and meaty— his brawny, round glutes were tensed as he had even taken to working out his tail; wrapped around what used to be Raph's barbell, his tail curled, his glutes and steel cable-like hamstrings growing taut as he curled his tail inwards. 

After his set, he eased his stance, still hauling the gargantuan weight of the subway cars as he lumbered closer to his four sons, puffing up his sprawling canyon of a chest, thumping it with a car still clenched by his fist. "We have much to talk about my sons… I have a new training regimen in mind. I will need you all to attack it with every ounce of your strength— I find I am in need of a new spotter, and I will need you all to build yourselves up to complete that task." He let one of the subway cars drop with a loud clang, curling his arm to make his bicep bloom— it grew so large his fist was pressed against the peak, and he took a moment of self-indulgence to kiss that tensed, pumped burl of supernaturally powerful brawn.

"I think you all will grow to like the changes around here; I know I have."