Bowser's Big Holiday- Part 1

Nothing like a family gathering for Thanksgiving- Bowser is trying to impress his son with the best Thanksgiving feast he's ever seen, but that means a lot of taste-testing- thankfully, Bowser is always ready to belly up. Enjoy!

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Bowser, King of the Koopas, was in a surprisingly good mood. He had only thrown two goombas out of an open window; usually, he would throw them through a window regardless if it was open or not, and then demand the other goombas clean up the glass their comrades had just broken. His son, Bowser Jr., was growing up— the young Koopa Prince was coming home after a successful scouting mission in the Mushroom Kingdom. Bowser had stars in his eyes; the hulking dragon-turtle was already thinking about how father and son would conquer the Mushroom Kingdom, and finally realize all his greatest ambitions. He heard a horn blast echoing across his castle courtyard, and rushed out to the gates as they began to grind open.

"Gahaha!" Bowser let out a loud bark of a laugh as he held out his thick arms, grinning toothily. "There he is! There's the conquering hero!" Bowser lumbered forward and scooped up his son before he had a chance to say anything. The massive koopa enveloped his son entirely, ruffling the same mane of red hair, making Junior squirm.

"Dad!" He groaned. "The guards are staring!"

"Alright, alright," Bowser chuckled, setting his son down and ruffling his hair. "C'mon, you've gotta be hungry, let's get ya some real food. Ya look like skin and bones, livin' off rations for a few weeks!"

Bowser took the younger koopa into the castle's great hall, amidst black walls and red banners all adorned with Bowser's face, and the banqueting table was set with all of Bowser Jr.'s favorite; chicken fingers and fries. It had been the Koopa Prince's favorite for years; he had eaten them for almost every dinner for about five months before he left. But as they sat down, Bowser frowned as his son barely touched it.

"Hey, what's the problem? You love this stuff!" Bowser said.

"Yeah, it's just…" Bowser Jr. gently pushed his plate back. "Dad, why don't we ever do holidays?"

"Holidays?" the Koopa King rumbled. "We do holidays! It's a law that everyone in the Koopa Kingdom celebrates my birthday, that's our biggest holiday, and it's awesome. Then a month later, celebrating your birthday is mandatory, too."

"Yeah, but… you ever heard of Thanksgiving? Oh, or Christmas?"

Bowser stared at his son blankly. "Hey, I taught you better than that— you're gonna be a Koopa King one day, you don't ever 'give thanks.'" He folded his hefty arms. "Unless it's to me."

"No, Dad, they're holidays that Mario was teaching Princess Peach about. Everyone gets together, eats a lot of food, decorates their homes," he snaps his fingers. "Oh! And there's presents, lots of presents." The prince gave his father a meaningful look. "Especially for kids."

Bowser stroked his chin. "Hm… And Mario and Peach, they're really into these holidays?"

"Oh yeah, it was all Mario could talk about— I took notes, lots of notes on all the recipes for Thanksgiving, he'd go on and on about his mom's cooking."

Bowser grinned toothily as inspiration struck, and he slammed his heavy fist on the table. "Gahaha! Perfect!" He clapped Bowser Jr. on the back. "Oh, my boy, you're a genius! While Mario is stuffing his face, we'll attack on their precious little holiday, and conquer the Mushroom Kingdom!"

"Uh, actually, Dad?" Bowser Jr. smiled crookedly. "I was thinking… maybe we could celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas?"

"What?" Bowser scoffed. "Why would we celebrate the plumber's lame holidays?"

"Well… they sounded like a lot of fun," Bowser Jr. shrugged again. "And, y'know, if you do Mario's own holidays better than he does… it'd be like you beat him, right?"

"Eh," Bowser wobbled his hand. "Sounds like a lotta effort, especially if that little mustached menace isn't even there to see it so I can rub it in his face."

Bowser Jr. slid off his chair, sighing heavily. "Well, alright Dad… y'know, families spending time together is a big part of those holidays. It sure would be a shame if we didn't spend time together, and I grew up to resent you, started plotting against you to take the throne early…" the young koopa let his implication hang in the air as Bowser glowered at him, standing to his full height as he loomed over his son.

"Are you threatening me, you little monster?" Bowser snarled, before he swung his arm around Bowser Jr.'s face, and then ruffled the young prince's hair. "Gah! You're a chip off the ol' block, aren't you? Fine, we'll do this, uh, Thanksgiving and Christmas, and it'll be the best damn two holidays anyone's ever seen!"

A few days later, Bowser burst through the doors leading to Kamek's research lab. "Alright! Kamek, where are we on this Thanksgiver dinner or whatever?"

"Ah, Thanksgiving, Your Maliciousness," the diminutive koopa wizard said, bobbing his head to avoid Bowser's gaze. "I've been studying your son's scouting notes, and going through a few tomes of lore to study this strange ritual— it begins with a gaudy and ostentatious parade," he began to explain.

"I can get that done, just order a few regiments to march around and play some good music," Bowser nodded.

"Then there's playing football with family…"

Another curt nod. "Easy, but I'll want a bob-omb for the ball— the boy's getting bored with just playing catch."

"But the main event seems to be a huge feast— I have compiled a list of all traditional dishes. There's cranberry sauce, turkey, pumpkin pie, stuffing—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I don't need the whole menu, I just need to know if it'll be good." Bowser cut Kamek off with a wave of his hand, and then locked eyes with the koopa mage sharply. "I want you to start using your magic— this food's gotta be perfect. Way better than anything you can find in the Mushroom Kingdom."

Kamek nodded, turning to his workbenches, where several platters had been laid out, all covered by steel cloches. "I have already anticipated this, Your Terribleness."

Bowser moved over to the platters, snatching up the first cloche; steam poured out, revealing a huge, juicy turkey, with a golden brown skin and adorned with fresh-smelling herbs and spices. The dragon turtle grinned, tearing off one of the legs.

"Ah, now, Your Gluttonousness, I-I wouldn't eat that—" Kamek winced; he was too late, as Bowser tore off a huge chunk of meat with his fangs. 

"Why not?" Bowser gulped it down. "It tastes amazing!"

"W-well, ah," Kamek tapped his fingers together. "I've been using my magic to enhance the flavor, and I'm not entirely sure how safe or stable it might be…"

"Pfft, fine, fine." Bowser had already picked the bone clean. "Well, I don't want the kid eating anything dangerous." He looked back hungrily at the rest of the turkey. "Tell you what. This Thanksgiving's supposed to be perfect, I'll test all of your dishes."

"W-what? You, Your Greatness?" Kamek gasped, adjusting his spectacles.

"Yeah, me!" Bowser jabbed his thumb against his thick chest. "Who better? Name one person who has better taste and a stronger constitution than me." He cast a dark glower to Kamek. "I dare you."

"Ah…" Kamek gulped nervously. "I-I cannot say…"

"Hmph," Bowser nodded curtly. "That's what I thought." He tore off a chunk of the turkey breast, cramming it into his mouth. "This needs more salt, by the way. Let's see what else you got…" He moved on to another platter, snatching off the cover and tearing into the other turkey. Kamek bit his lower lip, watching his liege gorge, and wondering if he should be worried or not…

As it turns out, Kamek had every reason to worry. His enchantments and spells to enhance the flavor of his dishes worked a little too well. The turkey was too rich in flavor and too juicy, the pumpkin pie too sweet and fluffy, the rolls too buttery. Bowser didn't stand a chance, and lost all composure and will power around the enchanted food. Kamek watched haplessly as he could barely keep up with the koopa king's growing appetite, and thought it was best for his own health not to mention where all that food was going.

Bowser had never been thin or svelte; he had always had a big appetite and a thick, girthy build. But that was usually mostly muscle; this was not muscle that was piling on to the king's increasingly wide frame. His yellow scales began to stretch as his belly grew rounder and softer, his limbs thicker and wobbling with every bite. Bowser became intimately familiar with every dish associated with the holiday, and, Kamek had to admit, provided some good research to fine tune his enchantments. But at what cost?

Day after day, Bowser indulged himself— if there was one upside to it all, the increasingly hefty, slower, fatter koopa king was around for Bowser Jr. much more often; the father-son bonding time increased exponentially when Bowser wasn't working out by pummeling goombas. And, as his lethargy seemed only to increase, no servant had been thrown over the castle walls and into the lava pits for nearly a week— a kingdom-wide record.

As for how Bowser felt about it himself, the pounds piling on by the day, spending hours of his time lost in a cranberry and pumpkin-spice scented daze? He was becoming more stuffed than the turkeys, but either remained oblivious or didn't care as his frame expanded into a landscape of doughy blubber sheathed in strained, stretched-out scales.

The day before Thanksgiving, Kamek had worked himself to the bone to sate Bowser's exacting demands. Twelve variations on his super-sized turkeys, ten pumpkin pies the size of wagon wheels, massive bowls of stuffing, biscuits drowned in honey butter, four different kinds of green bean casseroles, sweet potatoes by the barrel, and enough cranberry sauce to drown some of the koopa king's underlings— and Bowser had polished off every single plate. 

The massive feast complete, it had taken its toll on Bowser's soaring weight; he had ballooned into an enormous, parade balloon-sized parody of himself, with reams of fat that were the consistency of chunky mashed potatoes. His gigantic, yellow-scaled landslide of a belly spilled over his lap in thick reams and billowed out in all directions. It was supported by blubbery, trunk-sized legs, matched by a rear so immense and bulbous, it was like a pair of overstuffed pillows that, in tandem with his couch-wide haunches, was threatening to snap the studded trunks that was shrink-wrapped over his hips. 

The spiked and studded leather straps he loved to adorn himself in were pinching against the thick rolls along his hefty arms and the multiple chins ringing his thick neck, pressing down on a sprawling, pillowy chest, which melted into the multiple thick folds of back fat that piled atop his hips like a melting wedding cake. 

As he looked over the piles of dirty plates, he almost seemed proud, a wide smirk dimpling his round cheeks. "Ah… I can't believe I'm saying this Kamek, but you didn't screw this up. No notes— this was all perfect." He snapped his fingers after rubbing the vast curve of his swollen belly. "All of this, exactly as it was today for tomorrow. I'm going to show that boy the best Thanksgiving ever."

"And… do you want me to start planning for Christmas, Your Vastness?" the koopa wizard asked warily. 

"Obviously, Kamek!" Bowser snapped, turning his round head to the much smaller koopa, and narrowed his eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"Well…" Kamek spread his hands. "There's a figure called Santa that, perhaps, you may bare a passing resemblance towards…"

"As in, can strike fear in the hearts of his enemies, but still really good-looking?"

"...As you say, my liege," Kamek muttered, not quite able to look Bowser in the eyes for that last sentence. "Only, I am fairly certain the young Prince will want to see this, er, Santa Claus…"

"Uh-huh?" Bowser arched his brow, growing impatient.

"How do you feel about cookies, sire?"