Ill-Gotten Gains, Part 1

Mr. Wolf of the Bad Guys gang goes undercover for what should be an easy mission, but those big bad habits are hard to keep down...

Hope you all enjoy the story, and stay tuned in March for the next part!

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The Bad Guys gang had been on a roll lately. They had gone from one big heist to another, stealing priceless works of art, one or two government experiments, and even the second biggest castle in Europe- that had been an especially challenging caper. But after such a successful run, the gang was all looking for a bit of a breather- something not quite so high profile, a case that wouldn't turn the entire government of a major member in the European Union against them.

Mr. Wolf, master thief and the unofficial leader of the group, Mr. Shark, their so-called master of disguise, Mr. Snake, their codebreaker, Mr. Piranha, their most vicious, pint-sized muscle, and Ms. Tarantula, their web hacker and mission control, were sprawled across their latest hideout- a seemingly abandoned, seaside mansion. They had to spend all their unmarked bills somehow, after all, and it didn't hurt to live in style.

"Alright…" Mr. Wolf began, going down the list. "Let's see. The Mona Lisa? It's smaller than it looks and easy to carry."

Mr. Piranha scoffed. "Eh. Overrated."

"The Declaration of Independence?"

Ms. Tarantula rolled her eyes. "We're looking to go for an easy heist, Wolf, not turn into a meme."

Mr. Wolf glanced over his list, glaring at the others. "Okay, who put 'the Great Wall of China' on here?"

All eyes turned to Mr. Shark, the burly aquatic predator glancing around before shrugging. "...What? It can't actually be seen from space, so no one will know the difference. From space, anyways."

Mr. Wolf massaged his forehead. "Okay. How about something that's not a revered cultural treasure? Something that isn't going to get all of Interpol on our back?"

The others exchanged looks, shrugging.

"Great." Mr. Wolf growled. "Well, you know, that's just great, guys. Greatest criminal masterminds in the animal world, and we're stuck in a rut."

Ms. Tarantula turned to her phone for a moment, and waved Mr. Wolf over. "How about the world's most expensive trophy?"

The others turned to her, their interest piqued. Ms. Tarantula shared the article. "Yeah, check this out- the Mr. Galaxy bodybuilding competition commissioned the most expensive trophy in sports history- it's solid gold, four hundred pounds worth." She glanced to the others. "Guess the winner has to like, bench press it or something."

Mr. Wolf stroked his chin. "Interesting… literally worth its weight in gold, just enough security to keep things challenging, but not so much we'd risk getting nuked by Beijing. Sounds like what we're looking for."

"So, what's the plan?" Mr. Snake asked. "We've got to haul four hundred pounds of gold that's most likely going to be out in the open, and every huge meathead in the world is going to be eyeing it- and ready to beat up anyone that gets too close to it."

"Well, that's simple enough…" the wolf muttered. "We win it."

"Say what?" Mr. Shark sat up at that. "You… want us to win a bodybuilding competition?"

Mr. Wolf, leaning back in his chair, shrugged serenely. "Sure! Why not? After some of the heists we've pulled, we can swindle some folks." He turned to his aquatic accomplice. "Shark, you can pull that off, right?"

"Uh…" Shark looked around nervously, and glanced down at his frame. He was, by far, the biggest member of the gang, but it was hardly a rippling physique- his thick build was mostly soft and smooth, perfect for swimming, not so much for flexing, all oiled-up on stage.

"Well, maybe you can pass as a judge," Ms. Tarantula offered.

"That still leaves actually getting the trophy out of there…" Mr. Snake said, his tail scratching his chin.

Mr. Piranha snapped his fingers. "Hey, wait- Wolf, can't you do that… thing? From your Big Bad days?"

Some of the others arched their brows as they turned to Wolf.

"Oh- what? It- it's nothing," Mr. Wolf said, brushing off some of the others. He sighed. "Okay, back in my lone wolf days, I did a little… experimenting. A few benders."

"He totally hulks out on this one weird steroid cocktail. It's insane, he gets huge." Piranha said, earning himself a dirty look from Mr. Wolf.

"Wolf, you serious?" Mr. Shark asked. "Do you have any idea how useful that could have been in some of our heists?"

The canine quickly waved it off, burying his face in his hands. "Guys, guys- it's not worth it, trust me. I need to eat a lot for it to work, run up a huge bill, and I'm not really all there when I'm taking it. That's what that Three Little Pigs incident was all about, and I don't even remember doing it."

"Well, okay," Ms. Tarantula shrugged. "We'll just keep you grounded and focused, and we'll make sure you have plenty of space to cool off afterwards."

"They test for Steroids, guys," Mr. Wolf countered. "Did you stop to think about how we'll get around that?"

"I'll be a judge," Mr. Shark said, tugging on the lapels of his shirt and grinning. "I can make sure I'm the one administering all your tests- boom, problem solved."

"And someone's going to need to carry all four hundred pounds of gold- I take it you hulking out isn't just show?" Mr. Snake asked.

The Bad Guys leader groaned, rolling his eyes. "No, it's not- I tore apart two houses with my bare hands on my biggest bender."

"Well, that sounds perfect," Ms. Tarantula. "So what goes in this drug cocktail anyways?"

Wolf thinned his lips, looking at the others before he sighed, relenting. "Alright, alright- I'm going to need some time to cool off when this is all over, though. Isolated, lots of water, somewhere with a sauna to sweat it all out…"

"You're serious?" Shark asked.

"Yeah, my man. You're all going to have your hands full keeping me on the right track. I get a little competitive, really cocky, don't think things through…"

"So, business as usual," Mr. Snake replied.

Wolf shot him a dirty glare, but then turned back to Tarantula. "Okay. So we're going to need some wolfsbane…"

The spider frowned. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah. Look, it's like catnip, but for wolves. Anyways, I'll also need a stimulant, anything over the counter will do, and then…"

It took little more than a day to get everything Mr. Wolf needed for his steroid cocktail- everything from the strongest, most experimental anabolic steroids to over the counter drugs and herbs. The Bad Guys gang, as was their wont, didn't pay for a single thing, robbing pharmaceutical corporations, drugstores, and farms, and also stole enough red meat to feed a small army. Mr. Shark looked over it all, haunches of beef, huge steaks, and a mountain of pork loin, and his tongue ran over his sharp teeth.

"Dang, Wolf- how big are you going to get?"

Mr. Wolf grinned tightly. "Big enough, hopefully."

"You, uh… need all this meat?"

Wolf shrugged apologetically. "Yep. Load it up in the locker, lock me in, and we'll let nature take its course."

"Alright, order up." Mr. Piranha had been in charge of preparing Mr. Wolf's booster, exactly as the canine said. Throwing in a small umbrella atop a fancy glass to tease his friend, the piranha smirked, offering the glass to the wolf.

Mr. Wolf swirled the drink around, his nose twitching- it was a distinctly artificial, metallic smell, but the sudden rush of memories- the adrenaline, the strength, the power- all came back to him. "Alright, boys- and girls," he said with an apologetic glance to Ms. Tarantula. "See you all on the other side." He tipped back his head, downing the concoction in one fell swoop.

The rest of the Bad Guys leaned forward in anticipation. "So… how do you feel?" Snake asked.

"I…" Wolf's fur began standing on end, an electric current coursing through his veins. His eyes dilated, his limbs tensed, his chest inflated- already his lean muscles bunched up and tightened, flexing hard as veins coursed across them, pulsing slightly. "I- I'm hungry." He growled.

"Snake, get the door to the meat locker!" Tarantula shouted.

"G-get… get me some food," Wolf snarled, bearing his fangs.

"Alright, man, alright, chill-" Shark began, until Wolf grabbed him by the lapels. Already, it seemed he was filling in more space, his shirt taut over widened shoulders and chest, sleeves splitting at the seams as budding biceps fought for more room.

"NOW!" Wolf bellowed, finding the strength to pick up the much larger shark and throw him to the side, knocking him into the couch.

"Wolf!" Snake shouted, slithering out of the canine's way. "Food's this way- this way!" The reptile raced across the floor, guiding the increasingly bestial canine into the locker. The wolf's eyes fully dilated upon seeing the mountains of fresh meat inside, and with nothing more but an animalistic grunt, Wolf lunged for the meat inside, and a relieved Mr. Snake slammed the door shut behind him, locking it tight.

"Oh my God!" Ms. Tarantula's jaw dropped. "What was that?"

"I'm okay, guys, thanks for asking!" Shark groaned irritably, picking himself up.

Mr. Snake pressed his head against the door, sticking out his tongue. "Yech… it sounds like my Uncle Kaa trying to swallow a cow whole by dislocating his jaw in there."

"So, this plan's going to need some changes," Piranha said. "We need to get in there, quickly, grab the trophy, and get out. Right away. I don't think Wolf's gonna be the best thief if he's going to be like that."

Ms. Tarantula nodded. "No, you're right- whatever state he's going to be in, it's a lot more potent than we thought. Let him distract people with a few poses, we grab the trophy while he distracts everyone, then we let him just sweat this thing out before it gets out of hand."

"Agreed," Shark grumbled, still rubbing his head.

Mr. Snake waved his tail. "Guys, I think he's done."

"What? Already?"

There was a long, tense pause until Mr. Snake unlocked the door. "Wolf…? Buddy? How ya feeling? You got it all out of your- oh my God."

Mr. Wolf was sprawled out on the floor in front of them, the ravaged remains of a massive meal strewn about the meat locker. The others all leaned into the door frame, jaws slack and eyes wide. The wolf before them was easily three times the weight of their erstwhile leader- his legs alone were wide enough Mr. Snake would have a hard time wrapping around them, and looked strong enough to burst apart his scales with a single flex if he were to try. His arms were the size of overgrown melons, enormous, engorged biceps streaked with fat veins barely concealed by his strained fur pelt. His chest rose and fell dramatically, too overfed pecs rippling from the slightest movement and large enough they had to lean forward to see his face properly, propped up by a thick neck and sprawling, bulging shoulders. His clothes had all been rent asunder, leaving nothing to the imagination, his thick, cobblestone abs framed by a swollen pair of obliques and a girthy adonis belt, which traced down to something else that was just about as thick as Mr. Snake, as well.

"Wolf…?" Ms. Tarantula asked cautiously as Mr. Wolf groaned, pulling himself up- Shark blanched, as the canine now stood an inch or two taller than him. The others just tried not to stare. "How do you feel, pal?"

Wolf rubbed his head, his bicep swelling until it clashed against his cheek. "I feel… great. Really, really great- fantastic!" He growled. "Let's crush that contest!"

The Bad Guys gang was all in position in the massive convention center that would hold the Mr. Galaxy bodybuilding contest. Mr. Wolf was just off stage, ready for his big entrance, and Ms. Tarantula was in the gang's van, her rig of several screens and monitors keeping all eyes on the security system. Mr. Shark had seamlessly slipped into the judge's panel, after his predecessor had an unfortunate swimming accident, and Mr. Piranha and Mr. Snake were keeping their eyes on the massive golden trophy, ready to snatch it as it was placed in the place of honor, center of the backdrop for the auditions.

"Awright," Mr. Shark, from the judge's panel, began in a lazy southern drawl, all part of his disguise. "Next up we have a Mistuh… Moe Wolf," he nudged the judge next to him, a very unimpressed older man. "Ah hear this one's a huge, ah say, huge up-and-comer," he said with a wink.

Wolf smirked, lumbering on the stage. They had thankfully found a pair of black poser trunks to keep him decent, even if they were taut over his thick, round glutes, and just the hint of a mustache to hide his identity further- all his idea. The judges all sat up, as Mr. Wolf was easily the biggest contestant they had seen so far.

Behind the backstage curtain, Mr. Piranha and Mr. Snake were in position. "Alright," Piranha said, glancing up at one of the stage's pulleys. "We can have you wrap around that for some leverage, and hoist the trophy up super quick. With how much space Wolf is taking up, no one should see it coming."

Mr. Snake looked at the pulley apprehensively, then back at the silhouette of the trophy, illuminated by the stage lights. "It looks… really big. And four hundred pounds? What if I can't lift it?"

Mr. Piranha waved off Snake's concerns. "Oh, c'mon, you remember physics, it's like… a basic rule, pulleys make it all easier, don't worry about it."

"...Alright," Snake murmured, slithering into the nook of the pulley.

Back on stage, Mr. Wolf smirked. "Alright, judges! I'm Moe Wolf, and I'm ready to rock your world." He winked, and then brought his arms up slowly, tensing powerful biceps and letting his triceps billow out. He brought himself into a side-chest pose, giving the judges a taste of everything. His thigh muscles surged, sturdy trunks holding up a massive display as he brought his hands together, biceps mashed up against over-sized pecs, spilling over his forearms.

All this, and his back flaring out like wings, wide enough to obscure Mr. Snake's tail wrapping around the trophy and hoisting it up.

"Hey… did I ever get some of that stuff Wolf took?" Snake hissed.

"What? No, of course not," Mr. Piranha replied.

"Only, this trophy is a lot lighter than I thought…"

None of the judges noticed the oversized trophy slip over the top of the curtain, Wolf demanding all their attention. As soon as it slipped over the edge, Snake's grip loosened- and the trophy hit the floor, shattering instantly.

Mr. Snake and Mr. Piranha looked at each other in shock. "It's a fake!"

The crash drew the attention of Wolf, who turned back and snarled when he saw the trophy had disappeared. "What? My trophy's gone!"

The judges, however, stood to applaud him. "Don't worry, Mr. Wolf, it was just a prop! You'll get your chance at the real thing soon enough. I think we're all agreed that you are definitely a new favorite to watch. Welcome to the competition!"

"Oh- well, thanks," Wolf said distractedly, looking to Mr. Shark questioningly. Shark could only glance nervously and shrug.

When the gang regrouped, Wolf was scowling. "What happened back there? You weren't supposed to grab the trophy now!"

Mr. Snake made sure to slither out of Wolf's reach. "Look, it was a fake anyways, so what's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that you decided to change the plan," Mr. Wolf growled. He swung one massive arm around Shark, pulling him up against his chest, and with one fell swoop, scooped Mr. Piranha and Mr. Snake with his other, pinning them both between his bicep and forearm. "And you ruined the shot you had- so we're going to make sure there's no mistakes next time. Boys- you're going on another shopping trip." He tensed his muscles, squeezing the three gang members in his grip. "I'm going to need another dose- just to be sure."