Blue Boxer didn’t see it coming. He smelled it first.
A low bbbrrrrRRRRRRAAAAPPP echoed across the rooftop like a thunderclap wrapped in shame. The air warped around Flatulent Fatso’s massive posterior, and a greenish-yellow cloud rolled out from beneath him, curling with unnatural density, thick as fog and twice as foul.
It hit Blue Boxer like a freight train of gym socks and raw sewage. His eyes watered instantly, his stomach churned, and his brain recoiled—but it was too late. He’d already breathed it in.
“Ugh—what did you—” he gagged, dropping to one knee as his vision blurred.
Fatso beamed, hands on his hips. “You like that one? I call it the De-Evo-Dump. Special blend of fermented banana peels, primordial enzymes, and a lil’ something I cooked up with Doctor Rude’s mutation gas. Patent pending.”
Boxer clenched his fists and tried to rise—but the world tilted around him, and something inside him twitched, shifted.
His thoughts hiccuped.
“Y-you… ngh… messed up,” he growled, but his voice cracked awkwardly mid-sentence. “Blue Boxer’s not… not dummy. Uh. Dumb. No.”
Flatulent Fatso’s grin stretched wider. “Oh, don’t fight it, champ. It’s already started. You’re sniffing a one-way ticket back down the evolutionary ladder.”
Boxer’s fists trembled. His mind felt… itchy. Foggy. Where there was once strategy and reflex, now there was instinct. Urges. He blinked hard and shook his head, but his thoughts were slipping.
“Need… stop. Punch bad guy. Hero…” he mumbled.
“Aww,” Fatso crooned, mockingly sweet. “Trying to hold onto those big-boy words, are we? Don’t worry, Blue. Soon you won’t need ‘em. Just grunts and growls. Like a good little beast.”
Boxer snarled, but it came out wrong—a hoarse, guttural noise that rattled in his throat. His posture was changing. His spine cracked with a sudden pop, arching forward, forcing him into a half-crouch. Muscles bulged and knotted unnaturally beneath his uniform, and dark hair began to sprout along his arms, thickening with alarming speed.
“No—nnnhhgguh!” he groaned, collapsing forward onto knuckles that were growing broader, bonier. His gloves split down the seams with a snap! as fur pushed through.
“Look at you,” Fatso said, stepping closer, fanning the air behind his backside proudly. “From Grit City’s golden boy to a hairy little thug who’s starting to forget what a sentence even is. How’s the brain holding up, champ?”
Boxer lifted his head, breathing hard, eyes wild. “Nnngh… y-you… bad… fat smell… hero punch…”
“Close enough,” Fatso snorted. “Honestly, I was worried your brain would go before your fashion sense, but looks like that suit’s not gonna make it.”
Indeed, Blue Boxer’s sleeveless shirt was tearing along the seams, his broadening chest coated in a thick pelt of black fur. His utility belt snapped clean off and clattered to the rooftop. His boots bulged as his feet reshaped, toes thickening, nails blackening into wide, curved digits. His domino mask hung loose on his changing face—then fell off completely, lost in the thickening fur.
“Ugghhh… guh… oook…” Boxer grunted, pawing at his face as his nose flattened, jaw pushed forward, and his vocal cords gave one final crack! that ended speech altogether. He let out a long, confused OOORRRRK! and blinked dumbly.
Flatulent Fatso chuckled, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a half-eaten bratwurst. He held it up, letting the meaty scent waft through the air.
“C’mere, big guy,” he said, waving the sausage slowly. “That’s it. Easy now. You’re doing great.”
The gorilla that had once been Grit City’s toughest hero sniffed the air, nostrils flaring. He lumbered forward on massive knuckles, fur rippling in the breeze, eyes wide and glassy. He paused, gazing up at the obese villain with something like curiosity… and admiration.
“Y’know,” Fatso mused, rubbing his belly thoughtfully, “I might be onto something here. A private zoo. Just for me. Full of all the big, burly heroes who used to make fun of me. That’d be justice, huh?”
The ape blinked slowly, scratching behind one ear with a thick finger, then gave a soft, submissive grunt.
Fatso leaned down, smiling. “Don’t worry, big guy. You’ll love it. No more stress. No more crime fighting. Just bananas, belly rubs, and my irresistible scent.”
He let loose another toot for good measure. The gorilla grunted, snorted… and followed.