July Sketches 2026

Hey folks! Thank you for your patience, but this time around we have not one, not two, but three sketches to share- with things tied up between Kimba and 30-30, we couldn't decide, but with one chunky dinosaur and two hunks, we do hope you'll enjoy.

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Devil Dinosaur had been plucked right out of the ancient past, millions of years ago, when he had been the last of his kind and the undisputed king of the jungle and into the strange world of New York City— at first, he thought he could dominate this concrete jungle, but then he fell afoul of a number of the weird, alien inventions of this brave new world— like hot dogs. Hot dogs, ice cream, pillows, soda, candy bars, burgers, and so much more— and there was no need to hunt! He didn't need to chase down a hot dog cart or an ice cream shop, he could just go and eat. 

And eat he did; after all, he was the apex predator, it was his prerogative to go out and consume. He ate and ate, gobbling down every scrap of food he could grab at, and then would sink into a bed of pillows that seemed to grow as much as he did. DD wasn't entirely aware of what had quite happened to him; he had starved, on occasion, and so he knew the basic principle— the more he ate, the less hungry he should be, and if he had become skinny, he had to eat more to become less skinny— but he had no concept for getting outright fat.

The jurassic monster's long body began to grow rounder and softer, his midsection soon beginning to bulge out in a way he had only seen on animals that hibernate. Was that he was doing now, hibernating? DD couldn't see the downside, even if he wasn't quite sure when he should start sleeping or how long he should be hibernating— he quickly accelerated his eating, encouraged on by new friends he made; while they gave him more pillows to lie down on, they slipped a collar around his thick neck, which soon began to dig as his neck fell to a soft set of extra chins. His scaled belly grew into an enormous mound of soft flesh, soft and pliable, that responded as his thick, blubbery legs brushed up against the lowermost apron of blubber, soft sides billowing out and pooling against his growing den of pillows that needed to grow larger just to keep apace with his growing weight. As even his stubby arms grew thicker than they were long, and his already thick tail became limp, heavy, and near useless, dragging along the ground whenever he waddled around, DD still ate at his leisure, for his new friends were always quick to provide him with more— even with the collar around his neck, he had never felt more like a king in his life. 

— — — — — — —

"Aw, I get it," 30-30 glowered as he looked around— the bionic horse was surrounded by bandits on all sides, just when he had noticed his trusty energy rifle, Sarah Jane, was missing. "Ya'll go an' steal my girl, and now ya'll think yer gonna have my number?" The horse grinned tightly, already tensing his arms and bracing his body for what was about to happen. "Well— ever since I been workin' with Marshal Bravestarr, I've had t' tangle with every varmint, miscreant, and no-good trouble maker this side o' New Texas— an' 'cause of that, the Marshal bein' a swell guy, he thought… it was time for ol' 30-30 to get some upgrades." He grunted heavily, mechanical whirring growing to a fever pitch as the bandits realized the half-metal horse had been planning something all along. "So ya see, boys, I don't need Sarah Jane to put you little yellow-bellied varmints in yer place…"

He snorted and whinnied, as his metal parts began to unfurl— polished durasteel separated and expanded as the dense mechanisms, paired with the best bio-enhancers they could get out in the star frontier, did their work. The machine parts of him expanded with the spanning of extra metal plates and tungsten-grade interlocking parts enhanced his already vambraced arms and fortified legs, while his still living torso suddenly jolted to life as if struck by lightning— every part of the horse grew larger to the shock of the bandits who thought to pin him down. His arms became enormous, armored pieces of artillery, the engines powering his arms were now massive, round steel bulwarks of biceps and anvil-thick triceps, growing apace with a meaty chest that nearly snapped his suspenders for how fast and sudden they suddenly expanded with mass. The horse's hooves cratered the ground with a single stomping clop, each leg thick as a pylon and with enough burgeoning power to crack the earth beneath his treads. 

As his back unfurled like a mighty banner caught in the wind, 30-30 smiled toothily as he loomed over the bandits, curling one arm— to accommodate all that mass, several metal plates reacted like real muscle, bicep bulging high as a mesa so as not to be crushed by his mighty forearm. he held out his other arm, stretching out the immense girth of it for all to see, and curled thick fingers into a pointer gun, clicking it once with a wink to the nearest bandit— an nervous gunman fired, and 30-30 let out a guffawing laugh that made his vast chest churn, heaving pectorals bouncing mightily.

"Y'see, boys? I am the gun show!" 

— — — — — — —

"It's the bottom of the ninth, we've got Ishiko pitching for the Chiba Lotte Marines— if they can knock out this batter, it's over for the Saitama Siebu Lions! But wait, oh—" the announcer paused, the ground trembling ever so slightly as a new batter stepped up. "The coach has called in his ultimate secret weapon, ladies and gentlemen, it's Kimba up to bat!"

The whole stadium cheered as the titanic mass of a lion lumbered up to the plate— the white lion was corded with more muscle than perhaps the entire Chiba Lotte Marines had for their entire outfield. As he picked up a massive bat set aside just for him, his pecs heaved up nearly swallowing his chin and spilling out of his uniform, as boulder-sized biceps pressed up against them. He winked at Ishiko— this might make for an interesting ninth inning.

"Ishiko is preparing— oh, a beautiful pitch! And… wow!"

Kimba's swing hit the ball like a cannon shot— his enormous, bloated arms were packed with so much galvanized strength, the ball was shot straight up into the air. 

"But— but what's he doing? Why isn't Kimba making a run for it?"

The lion stood perfectly still, giving the umpire a look at his vast, snowy landscape of a beefy back, and his enormous, sculpted glutes his tail lazily swished over, until he heard a small plop.

"There's the ball! It— huh. Uhm… Well, ladies and gentlemen… it's stuck in Kimba's pecs." The stadium watched as Kimba took a leisurely, lumbering stroll around the bases, the Chiba Lotte Marines watching with trepidation— his earth-shaking legs, thick and solid as concrete columns, rippled as he approached each baseman. He paused at each one, leaning forward, presenting his vast canyon of a chest, framed by arms bigger than any man's torso currently on the field— he flashed them his toothy smile, and dared them to snatch the ball from him to try and tag him out.

"Well folks— this might be the most, uh, unorthodox home-run I've ever seen. Kimba wins a desperately needed point for the Saitama Siebu Lions, and now it's anyone's game— oh, he's… he's lingering just next to home plate, Kimba hasn't crossed the finish line just yet… What on earth is he waiting for?"

The lion took a supremely smug look around the field, pressing his biceps in against his chest to make his engorged pecs pop, the ball wedged tightly between them. "Come on, boys! Last chance… Who here wants to play ball?" He called out— this was a trick he'd been building up to for some time, months worth of grueling chest exercises— and now he was going to milk it for all it was worth.