Sylvester: Apex Predator- Part 2

Sylvester's now the biggest and baddest toon, but some things never change- check out part 2, and thank you all for your support through another crazy month. Enjoy!

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Tom the Cat and Wile E. Coyote craned their necks, looking up at the facade of the ACME Iron Bod Gym. “Any idea why Sylvester wanted to meet us here?” Tom asked.

“Probably to talk us into being ‘apex predators’ again,” Wile E. muttered, rolling his eyes.

The doors to the gym were suddenly kicked open, and a hulking figure stepped through, smirking down at the two. Both Tom and Wile E. needed a moment before they recognized their friend.

“Sylvester?”

“Heh! Didn’t believe I’d make thuch an imperative thpecimen, did ya?” the black and white cat chuckled. He was a hulking mass of strong, rock-hard muscle, black and white fur pulled taut over bulging biceps and broad shoulders, strong legs, a wide back, and a strong, deep chest crowning chiseled abs. Sylvester flexed one arm for his friends, his bicep swelling up like a balloon. “Just thome good ol’ ACME U-Gro, which I would have thared with you two… but I kinda like being the big one,” he smirked, setting down his gym bag and a protein shake. “But don’t worry, fellas- I got thomethin’ for each of ya.”

Sylvester reached into his gym bag, and tossed Tom a small cage, which held the mouse, Jerry. To Wile E., he tossed the Roadrunner, his impossibly fast legs hog-tied and his beak gagged.

“You- you caught them? Both of them?” Wile E. gasped.

“How’d you do it?” Tom asked.

“Ha!” the huge feline swung his arms around both his friends, biceps pressing into their cheeks as the smaller cat and coyote were mashed up against Sylvester’s swollen sides. “It’s just like I told ya- bein’ an apex predator ain’t without its perks.”

“I c-can’t help but notice,” Wile E. wheezed, tugging against the huge cat’s vice-like grip. “You’re missing one tiny yellow bird in your trophies.”

“Oh, pfft,” Sylvester scoffed, proudly puffing up his chest. “I’ll take my thweet time with that little twerp, he’ll be easy pickins’.”

Unknown to the three predators, Tweety had already landed on Sylvester’s protein shake. “Oh, what a silly puddy tat! He rushed out to the gym so fast, he forgot his pills!” The yellow bird unscrewed the cap, and threw in a half dozen U-Gro pills. He hopped off the bottle and fluttered just out of view- in case Sylvester needed any more help, of course.

Sylvester was taking time to showboat his new muscles to his friends, gloating as he slapped his rippling quads, his thighs thick as tree trunks as they stretched his workout shorts taut. “Thee, with legs like this, catching the roadrunner was a piece of cake,” the cat boasted. “You never thkip leg day! But, hey.” Sylvester loosened his grip on his two friends, draping his thick arms over their shoulders. “I might be willing to give you thome of the good stuff… if you do me thome favors. I could always use help toweling down after pumpin’ iron, hah!"

The cat snatched his shake and chugged it down, smacking his lips. "I'm tellin' ya, fellas… I'm workin' on some big plans!" His confident grin slipped, however, when he felt an intense, gurgling sensation rising up from his middle and spreading out to every part of his body. Sylvester grit his teeth, breathing in sharply and tensing his limbs.

Tom and Wile E. exchanged looks with each other. "Uh… Syl.  Are you feeling alright."

"Y-yeah… never better, just… just a muscle spasm… all over. I-I think… what'd I put in this thing…?" He glanced down before dropping the bottle. The already bulky cat tried to catch his breath, but with each gasp, his chest inflated, and then jutted out a little more. His pecs billowed out like sails in full wind, surging past his chin- and even bouncing against it. His shoulders rose up like mountains, and his arms inflated, thickly corded muscles rippling, until his biceps swelled to bigger than his head, triceps as big as car tires. He widened his stance as his legs rippled into onyx pillars, and his back widened out, his lats two tectonic plates mashed together.

"Sylvester!" Tom shouted. "You- you're massive! Are you alright?"

"I- I'm fine- I… I'm even more powerful now. Right?" Sylvester said, twisting his arm- or trying to. The overly bloated muscles had now severely limited his movement. He barely felt it when a little yellow bird landed on his enorged shoulder.

"Ooooh, the wittle puddy tat is a really big puddy tat now!" Tweety chirped.

"Tweety!" Sylvester gasped, swerving around to try and catch him. But the bird merely leapt from one side to another, and by the time Sylvester twisted his bullneck, he was out of sight.

"He's there!" Wile E. pointed to Sylvester's shoulder. "Right there! Just- just pound him, Syl!"

"Raugh!" The behemoth of a feline swung his battering ram of an arm, but his bicep slammed against his chest, and his pectoral muscle surged up against his chin.

Tweety danced between the cat's flanks, until finally slipping behind him.

"He's behind you!" Tom shouted.

"Ha! I got him now!" Sylvester declared. He spun on his heel and flexed his back- his lats corded, thick swells of beef rippling. "There- did I get him?"

Wile E. and Tom snickered as they looked at Sylvester's massive back. "Uh- you know, you'll get him next time."

Stuck on a swollen deltoid was a "Kick Me" sign, just out of reach from Sylvester, a combination of the width of his back and the swollen, overgrown nature of his arms. "What- what is it? What're you laughin' at? Thufferin' thoucatash, I'm an apex predator! I- I'll get more, you'll see!"