December Sketches (Lexington and Bill)

Happy Holidays folks, and Happy New Year! We're ending with our last sketch goodies of 2020, and thank god the year's almost behind us. Enjoy Lexington gorging himself on candy and Bill letting out his inner beast! Thanks again for your support, everyone!

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In all the years that Lexington and the Manhattan Clan had patrolled New York City, the smallest and leanest gargoyle of the Clan had rarely indulged in New York’s culinary scene, like Broadway had. Still, on a whim, he had tried something that sounded like it would be perfect for Gargoyles- Rock Candy. It made almost no sense, when he thought about it- there was nothing special about it, really. It was just clumps of colored sugar crystals, occasionally flavored for the higher end stuff, but nothing that could explain the effect it had on the gargoyle.

He had eaten nothing but Rock Candy for weeks now, and it had been big, bulk-sized bags of the stuff, pounds upon pounds of candy. Lexington just didn’t feel right anymore if that overly sweet taste was just out of reach, and the effect on his body was staggering. His belly alone made him twice the gargoyle he used to be; a giant, sloshing globe of leathery gargoyle hide enveloping a soft, doughy mass of blubber. His limbs were swaddled in fat, arms wobbling as he grabbed for another fistful of colorful sugar crystals. His chest, puffed up with haggard breath whenever he tried to fly with the clan on patrol, laid languidly on the crest of his belly like a collapsed souffle, and his chunky thighs and nearly spherical hips had snapped even Broadway’s biggest belt. After falling out of the sky and nearly crushing a car, Lexington had been put on leave to get himself sorted, Goliath’s orders- unfortunately, that just meant more time for snacking, his cheeks billowing out the more candy was stuffed in his mouth, his bulbous rear filling out the more time he spent on the couch. This craving had to be explored more, if Lexington was going to understand it. He just needed a bigger control group. Maybe Broadway would like to try some…

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Bill would be the first to tell you that he could stop at any time. As a tiger and recent graduate of Cherryton, he had to keep his predator instincts in check- but it felt so good to go wild. Bill wasn’t going to hurt anyone; after a wolf classmate caught him using rabbit’s blood to psych himself up and enhance his performance, he had sworn off the stuff, and would never want to actually harm any prey, especially since he had started dating one, a sheep and classmate of his, Els. But that didn’t mean there weren’t other methods of letting it all loose. And at the gym, he could do just that.

Predator instincts, adrenaline, endorphins, it all meant tigers were made for intense workouts. Bill was addicted to the thrill of pushing himself further, building muscle, becoming bigger and stronger than any tiger had done before. And while he wasn’t using prey blood anymore, there were other supplements to help really push himself. Legality of some of his workout substances aside, it was hard to argue with the results; he was a titanic tiger, a striped behemoth with arms thicker than most men’s waists. His biceps blossomed in size as he hefted up a barbell loaded with enough weight to match a small car, resting the bar on mountainous, sprawling shoulders, bracing a back that flared out in two massive slabs, warping his stripes. His chest puffed out beautifully, two enormous swells of muscle mashed against one another, crowning a set of brick-like abs and framed by the overhang of his lats. Supporting all this were two pillar-like legs, rippling with enough solid muscle to shake the ground beneath Bill. He breathed in deeply as he hefted the massive weight over his head, feeling like every inch of his colossal body reaffirmed that he was a real King of the Jungle.