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Chapter Text

It was a busy day at the Far Far Away market. Stalls overflowed with goods—fresh fruits, shimmering potions, and strange magical trinkets. Shrek trudged behind Fiona, his arms full of shopping bags while she browsed the wares with unbridled enthusiasm.

“Fiona, how much more do we need? My back’s startin’ to feel like an ogre-sized pack mule!” Shrek grumbled.

“Just one more stall, Shrek,” Fiona said with a grin.

As they rounded a corner, Shrek stopped in his tracks. Towering above the marketplace was a massive billboard. Rumplestiltskin stood confidently, shirtless, his golden hair glimmering in the sunlight. His muscles were absurdly defined, and his smug grin seemed to look down on everyone. Across the top, the words "Rumple: The Face of Perfection" gleamed in bold gold letters.

Fiona gasped. “Oh my gosh! Look at him!”

Shrek frowned, already feeling uneasy. “What about him?”

Fiona tilted her head, smirking. “Well, you have to admit, he’s… impressive.”

Shrek blinked. “Impressive? That’s Rumplestiltskin! The guy who nearly ruined our lives!”

Fiona chuckled. “I know, I know! But… he does look good. Corr, I would.”

“You’d what?!” Shrek’s voice rose an octave, causing a few heads to turn.

Fiona waved a hand dismissively. “Relax, Shrek. It’s just a joke!” She grabbed his arm, pulling him toward another stall.

“Now come on, let’s get some dragonfruit.”

But Shrek stayed rooted in place, staring up at the billboard. His reflection in one of the market’s mirrors caught his eye—his broad, rounded belly, his patchy shirt, and his disheveled ears.

“Hmm,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes. The image of Rumplestiltskin’s abs burned into his mind.

Donkey trotted up beside him, munching on a churro. “What’s up, big guy? You look like someone just told you swamp mud isn’t a food group.”

Shrek sighed deeply. “Donkey… do I look… impressive?”

Donkey nearly choked on his churro. “What kind of question is that? You’re an ogre ! You’re not supposed to look impressive—you’re supposed to look terrifying!”

“Yeah, well, maybe it’s time for a change,” Shrek muttered, clenching his fists.

Donkey frowned, confused. “A change? What, are you gonna get new swamp curtains or somethin’?”

“No,” Shrek said, determination setting in. “I’m gonna have a glow up.”

Donkey stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. “A glow up? Oh, this is rich. Someone grab me a chair; I gotta watch this!”

Shrek sat in his swamp, staring at the glowing screen of a "Magic Mirror" he borrowed from Fairy Godmother’s old stash. He had spent hours researching ways to lose weight and kept stumbling across one name: Slimming World.

“It says here it’s about ‘food freedom,’” Shrek muttered, squinting at the mirror. “Eat what you like, lose weight, and stay happy? Sounds perfect!”

The next day, Shrek found himself standing awkwardly in a tiny village hall, surrounded by a group of strangers. The leader, a chipper fairy with glittery wings, clapped her hands together.
“Welcome to Slimming World, everyone! Let’s start with some success stories. Who’s had a fantastic week?”

A gnome raised his hand excitedly. “I lost 2.5 pounds!”

Everyone cheered like the gnome had just defeated a dragon. Shrek blinked, confused. “All this for 2.5 pounds?” he muttered under his breath.

The leader turned to Shrek with a wide smile. “And you must be new! Welcome, Shrek. Why don’t you tell us your goals?”

Shrek shuffled awkwardly. “Uh… well, I want to look… impressive,” he admitted. “Y’know, like those fellas with the chiseled… abs.”

The group erupted in laughter, but the leader quickly shushed them. “We love a big goal! And don’t you worry, Shrek—you’ll be shedding that swamp weight in no time. Just follow the plan!”

As days turned into weeks Shrek sat in the same village hall, his arms crossed and his stomach growling. Around him, the group chanted enthusiastically, “Slimming World works if you work it!”

He leaned toward the dwarf next to him and whispered, “Is this a diet group or a cult?”

The dwarf shrugged. “Bit of both.”

Despite weeks of trying, Shrek hadn’t made much progress. He’d been told he could eat as much as he wanted of “free foods” like vegetables, but swamp veggies didn’t taste like roast rat or fried slugs. He’d even tried the group’s infamous low-fat swamp stew recipe, which was so bland that even Puss refused to lick the leftovers.

Each week, the leader would ask, “How’s the journey going, Shrek?”

And each week, Shrek would grumble, “No different.”

The group would murmur sympathetically and offer tips. “Maybe you’re not synning your swamp snacks properly,” the fairy suggested once.

“What’s a syn?” Shrek asked, bewildered.
The group gasped in horror. “He doesn’t know about syns!”

The fairy explained, “Syns are ‘sins’—you track them for naughty foods!”

Shrek stared at her. “So, what’s a roast boar leg?”

“Probably… 50 syns?”

Shrek groaned. “This is ridiculous!”

By the end of his third week, Shrek had had enough. At the final weigh-in, he stood on the enchanted scales. They groaned under his weight and spat out the same numbers as before.

“Nothing again!” Shrek bellowed. “I’ve been eating lettuce for weeks , and nothing’s changed!”

The group leader smiled serenely. “It’s all part of the journey, Shrek. Sometimes the magic takes a little longer.”

Shrek narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t magic. It’s madness. I’m outta here!”
As he stormed out, Donkey waited by the door with a bag of churros. “So, how’d it go, big guy?”

Shrek grabbed a churro, took a massive bite, and growled, “Its not working, but I'll give it one more best try."

Shrek stood awkwardly in the village hall once again, the enchanted scales glinting ominously in the corner. It had been another week of Slimming World, and he was cautiously optimistic. Sure, he might’ve slipped up with a midnight swamp rat roast or two, but overall, he felt like he’d done… okay-ish.

The fairy leader clapped her hands, her glittery wings fluttering. “Alright, everyone! Time for weigh-ins! Who’s ready?”

The group cheered, as they always did, and Shrek stepped onto the scales, holding his breath.

The enchanted scales groaned, then announced loudly: “Up five pounds!”

The room fell silent. A dwarf gasped audibly. A goblin shook its head in disappointment. Even the fairy leader looked genuinely crestfallen.

“Shrek,” she said softly, “do you know what this means?”

Shrek frowned. “Aye, it means the scales are broken!”

“No,” she said, sighing. “It means you’ve gained weight.”

“Yeah, well, maybe muscle weighs more than fat!” Shrek shot back defensively, stepping off the scales.

“Shrek,” the fairy said gently, “you’ve been eating free foods wrong, haven’t you?”

Shrek bristled. “I followed the plan! I made the stew, I ate the swamp veggies, and I even tried those syn-free puddings you recommended. Tasted like soggy bark, by the way.”

The group murmured in agreement; the puddings were famously terrible.

“You must’ve eaten too many hidden syns ,” the fairy pressed. “Did you snack on anything between meals?”

“Well…” Shrek hesitated. “Maybe a roasted snail here or there…”

Gasps rippled through the group.

“That’s at least 20 syns per snail !”

someone whispered.

“I didn’t sign up for this syn nonsense!” Shrek growled, stomping out of the hall.
 

Later that evening Shrek slumped in his swamp chair, nursing a mug of slug cider. Fiona sat across from him, engrossed in a shiny magazine.

“What’s that you’re reading?” Shrek asked, glancing at the cover.

“ RumpleMag, ” Fiona said without looking up.

Shrek’s stomach churned. “RumpleMag? As in… Rumplestiltskin’s magazine?”

“Yes,” Fiona replied casually. “It’s surprisingly good! He gives loads of fitness tips, plus there’s a recipe for low-calorie frog leg stew I want to try.”

Shrek’s eye twitched. “You’ve got to be kiddin’ me.”

“Look at this,” Fiona continued, turning the page to a full-spread image of Rumplestiltskin, shirtless again, holding a sword. “He’s even got an article about staying motivated. ‘Never let failure weigh you down,’ it says.”

Shrek clenched his mug so tightly it cracked.

Donkey wandered in, munching on a roasted marshmallow. “Hey, Shrek, you okay? You look like someone stole your swamp water.”

“She’s reading RumpleMag, ” Shrek muttered darkly.

Donkey blinked, then burst out laughing. “Oh, man, that’s cold! But hey, I hear the frog stew recipe’s not bad.”

“Not helpin’, Donkey!” Shrek snapped.
Fiona finally looked up. “Shrek, it’s just a magazine. You’re taking this way too seriously.”

“Am I?” Shrek shot back. “First, you’re ogling his billboard, now you’re readin’ his magazine. What’s next? You gonna buy his fitness tapes?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Fiona said. “I’m just trying to help you. You’ve been stressed about your glow-up, and I thought maybe this would inspire you!”

“Inspire me?” Shrek stood up, his frustration boiling over. “I’ve tried everything! Slimming World’s a joke, the group’s like a cult, and now even you’re fallin’ for this Rumplestiltskin nonsense!”

Fiona sighed. “Shrek, it’s not about Rumplestiltskin. It’s about you. You’re the one who wanted to change, remember?”
Shrek stared at her for a moment, then stormed out of the house, muttering, “I’ll show her. I’ll show everyone !”

As Shrek stomped through the swamp, his mind raced. If Slimming World didn’t work, he’d have to find something else. Something extreme. Something that would finally make him look like the face of perfection.

“Time for Plan B,” he muttered grimly.

Meanwhile Fiona was determined to try the frog leg stew recipe from RumpleMag. The glossy pages promised a “low-calorie, high-protein masterpiece” perfect for anyone on a glow-up journey. It sounded ideal for Shrek, even if he was still sulking from his struggles with Slimming World. Rolling up her sleeves, Fiona got to work in the kitchen.

Shrek sat in the corner sharpening a stick, watching her warily. “What are ye doin’?” he grumbled.

“Making dinner,” Fiona replied, holding up the magazine. “It’s Rumple’s recipe. High protein, low syns, and full of flavor!”

“Rumple’s recipe, eh?” Shrek growled. “That puffed-up leprechaun really has his claws in this house, doesn’t he?”

Fiona ignored him and focused on her bubbling cauldron. She tossed in a handful of swamp herbs, a pinch of powdered bogroot, and, on a whim, a sprinkle of fairy dust she’d found in a drawer labeled “Magic Leftovers.”

The main ingredient, however, required some effort. Earlier that day, Fiona had gone out with Puss in Boots to catch fresh frogs. She’d leapt through the swamp with surprising enthusiasm, much to Puss’s dismay.

“Señora,” Puss had groaned, holding a tiny net, “must we hunt frogs like peasants? They scream, you know. It haunts me.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Fiona had replied, pouncing on a particularly fat toad and dropping it into her basket.

By the time they returned, Fiona had gathered enough frogs to rival a royal feast. Back in the kitchen, she expertly prepared the legs, seasoning them with swamp spices and setting them to simmer in the pot. The recipe called for exactly 22 minutes of simmering, a detail that Rumplestiltskin had highlighted in bold.

As the stew cooked, Shrek sniffed the air suspiciously. “What’s that smell?”

“It’s gourmet,” Fiona said brightly. “Rumple says it’s all about the balance of flavors.”

Shrek snorted. “Bet Rumple’s never even been near a swamp. Probably gets his frogs delivered on a golden platter.”

When the stew was finally ready, Fiona ladled it into two bowls and set them on the table with a proud smile. “Alright, try it!”

Shrek eyed the concoction warily. The stew was a murky greenish-brown, with frog legs sticking out at odd angles. He took a cautious sip, then another, his face darkening as he swallowed.

“Well?” Fiona asked, her smile faltering.
“It’s… somethin’,” Shrek said, grimacing slightly. He forced down another bite.

“Something good , right?” Fiona pressed.
Shrek set the bowl down and rubbed his stomach. “It tastes like Rumplestiltskin’s personality—full o’ itself and completely outta place in a swamp!”

Fiona frowned and took a bite herself, chewing thoughtfully. Her expression twisted into a grimace. “Okay,” she admitted, “maybe the fairy dust was a mistake.”

At that moment, Donkey wandered in, sniffing the air. “What’s cookin’? Smells like feet and bad decisions.”

“It’s frog leg stew,” Shrek said, pushing the bowl toward him. “Here, you try.”
Donkey glanced at the bowl and immediately backed away. “Nah, I’m good. I like my swamp food deep-fried and mysterious, thanks.”

Fiona sighed, setting her spoon down. “Alright, fine, maybe I shouldn’t take cooking tips from Rumplestiltskin. But at least I’m trying, Shrek.”

Shrek softened, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “Aye, and I appreciate it, Fiona. But next time, let’s stick to the good ol’ swamp stew.”

“Deal,” Fiona said with a small smile.

As they cleaned up the kitchen together, Puss in Boots quietly scraped the remaining stew into the swamp for the rats to eat. Even the rats seemed hesitant, sniffing the concoction and scurrying away.

Fiona chuckled under her breath and nudged Shrek. “Maybe you’re right. We’re not Rumplestiltskin people.”

Shrek smirked. “Finally, somethin’ we can agree on.”

The following week, Shrek decided to give veganism a try. He’d seen it mentioned on a magical forum in the Magic Mirror: “Go Vegan and Glow Like a Prince!” He didn’t entirely understand what veganism was, but the emphasis on vegetables seemed straightforward enough.

One evening, he announced his plan to Fiona while chopping onions. “I’m goin’ vegan!” he declared proudly.

Fiona raised an eyebrow. “Vegan? Are you sure about that, Shrek?”

“Aye,” Shrek said confidently. “It’s all about eatin’ more vegetables, right? I’ve got this.”

Determined to impress her, Shrek spent hours preparing a “vegan” lasagne. He layered swamp-grown tomatoes, mushrooms, and zucchini between generous servings of ground meat and piles of melted cheese. As the dish bubbled in the oven, he called Fiona to the table.

“Ta-da! Vegan lasagne!” Shrek announced with pride as he placed the steaming casserole in front of her.

Fiona blinked, staring at the dish. “Uh, Shrek… this isn’t vegan.”

“What do ye mean? It’s full of vegetables!” Shrek said, confused.

“Yes, but it also has meat and cheese,” Fiona pointed out.

Shrek scratched his head. “So? That’s the best part!”

Fiona sighed, suppressing a smile. “Shrek, vegan means no animal products at all. No meat, no cheese, no eggs.”

Shrek’s jaw dropped. “What kind o’ nonsense is that? What’s left to eat—grass and air?”

Fiona shrugged. “Pretty much.”

Determined not to give up, Shrek decided he needed guidance. Late one night, he grabbed Fiona’s copy of RumpleMag that she’d left on the table. Flipping through the pages, he found exactly what he was looking for: a recipe for “The Ultimate Vegan Lasagne: Guilt-Free Goodness!”
“This’ll show her,” Shrek muttered, jotting down the ingredients.

The next day, he followed the recipe to the letter. He substituted meat with lentils, swapped cheese for something called “nutritional yeast,” and even made his own cashew-based béchamel sauce, as the recipe demanded. When the lasagne was finally ready, it looked… fine.
Shrek plated two servings and called Fiona over. “Now this,” he said smugly, “is a real vegan lasagne.”

Fiona took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. Then she stopped, her face frozen in an expression of polite horror.

“It’s… interesting,” she managed, swallowing with difficulty.

Shrek, eager for validation, took a massive bite. Almost immediately, his face twisted into a grimace. The lentils were undercooked, the cashew sauce was gritty, and the nutritional yeast tasted like swamp dust.

“Ugh!” Shrek spat the bite back onto his plate. “This is awful! How do people eat this?!”

Donkey wandered in at that moment, sniffing the air. “Ooh, what’s for dinner? Smells like… despair.”

“Vegan lasagne,” Shrek muttered bitterly.

Donkey peered at the dish, poked it with a hoof, and backed away. “Yeah, I’m good. I’ll stick to waffles, thanks.”

Fiona patted Shrek’s arm. “At least you tried,” she said, trying not to laugh.

Shrek sighed, slumping into his chair. “I just don’t get it. How does Rumplestiltskin make this look so easy?”

Fiona raised an eyebrow. “Wait… is this a RumpleMag recipe?”

Shrek froze. “...Maybe.”

Fiona burst out laughing. “You’ve been reading RumpleMag ?”

Shrek groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Aye, I just wanted to make somethin’ impressive!”

“Well,” Fiona said, still laughing, “I think it’s safe to say veganism isn’t for us.”

Shrek sighed, pushing the lasagne away. “Back to swamp food, then?”

“Back to swamp food,” Fiona agreed, smiling.

As the two of them cleaned up the kitchen, Donkey grabbed a leftover chunk of the lasagne and offered it to a passing raccoon. Even the raccoon sniffed it, gagged, and ran away.

Determined to give veganism another shot, Shrek stuck to his newfound plant-based lifestyle for another week. He powered through tasteless nut cheeses, gritty lentil patties, and suspiciously green smoothies. Fiona encouraged him, though even she had trouble pretending to enjoy the vegan swamp stew he prepared one evening.

“Maybe it needs… salt,” Fiona suggested, grimacing as she tried to swallow a mouthful.

“Salt ain’t gonna fix this disaster,” Shrek muttered, pushing the bowl away. “How do these vegans survive? They must have magic taste buds.”

As the week wore on, Shrek stumbled across a new idea while browsing the Magic Mirror’s forums. A post titled “Vegetarianism: The Kinder Alternative to Veganism” caught his eye.

“Vegetarianism?” Shrek mumbled, clicking the link. “No meat but cheese and eggs are okay? Now we’re talkin’!”

Excited to start his new diet, Shrek decided to attend a vegetarian fair in Far Far Away. Fiona suggested it might give him ideas for recipes, and Shrek hoped it might also help him connect with others on the same journey.

When he arrived, however, it wasn’t the warm welcome he expected. The other attendees, mostly lean elves and slender nymphs, gave him judgmental looks as he walked in.

“Did you see the size of him?” one elf whispered to another.

“Must’ve eaten all the cows before going vegetarian,” a fairy snickered.

Shrek overheard the comments and clenched his fists, trying to stay calm. He grabbed a plate of tofu skewers and sat in the corner, attempting to blend in.

“Who needs their approval, anyway?” he muttered, biting into the bland skewer.

Shrek decided to keep trying, ignoring the judgment from the fair. Back home, he embraced his vegetarian journey with enthusiasm. He experimented with swamp mushrooms, bog peppers, and fairy cheese, feeling proud of his creations. Things were looking up—until he stumbled into controversy on the Magic Mirror forums.

One evening, Shrek proudly posted a picture of his latest creation: a “Swamp Salad Supreme” with fresh herbs, roasted swamp onions, and a centerpiece of Vocalroot , a magical plant known for its ability to sing lullabies.

Almost immediately, the comments section exploded.

“Uh… Vocalroot isn’t vegetarian, you monster.”
“How could you eat a sentient plant? That’s basically murder.”
“You’re no better than a carnivore!”

Confused and flustered, Shrek tried to defend himself. “It’s a plant ! I thought that was the whole point o’ bein’ vegetarian!”

“Yeah, but it has feelings and a voice. That’s basically eating a fairy.”
“You should be ashamed of yourself, ogre.”

Shrek slammed the Magic Mirror shut, his face red with frustration. “I can’t win with these people!”

Fiona, who had been quietly reading in the corner, looked up. “What’s wrong, Shrek?”

“Apparently, I’m a villain for eatin’ a singin’ salad!” he huffed, pacing the room.

Fiona couldn’t help but laugh. “You tried your best, Shrek. But maybe this whole glow-up thing isn’t about following other people’s rules. Maybe it’s about finding what works for you.”

Shrek sighed, sitting down beside her. “Aye, maybe you’re right. These diets are makin’ me miserable. Maybe I’ll just stick to bein’ me—an ogre who loves swamp stew and the occasional roasted rat.”

“That’s the Shrek I married,” Fiona said, smiling as she kissed his cheek.

As Shrek relaxed for the first time in weeks, Donkey trotted in. “Hey, did y’all see that post about Shrek on the forums?

People are roasting him for that salad!”

Shrek groaned, tossing a pillow at Donkey. “Not another word!”

“Okay, okay!” Donkey laughed, dodging the pillow. “But for what it’s worth, you’re my favorite ogre, even if you do eat singin’ plants.”

Shrek couldn’t help but chuckle. “Thanks, Donkey. Now let’s forget this whole mess and eat somethin’ good for once.”

And with that, Shrek headed to the kitchen, ready to whip up a meal that would make him happy, judgmental forums be damned.

Shrek, having tried every diet under the swampy sun, decided to try something a little different: intermittent fasting. He’d heard it was all the rage in the magical community. "Eat within a specific window, and boom—instant results," they promised.

After reading up on the Magic Mirror forums, Shrek was convinced that fasting was the answer to his glowing transformation.

“I can eat what I want, as long as I fast for part of the day. This should be easy,” he muttered, adjusting his belt. He decided to try the 16:8 method—fasting for 16 hours and eating within an 8-hour window.

At first, Shrek struggled with the fasting. He would wake up hungry, staring longingly at his breakfast of swamp eggs and leftover fish. But by midday, he got the hang of it. He’d go for long walks, lifting heavy rocks around the swamp, and even started to feel lighter—though the first couple of days were rough. He spent a lot of time thinking about food, even as his stomach growled, imagining huge feasts of grilled meats and crispy swamp potatoes.

It was while walking through the village one afternoon that Shrek noticed something. Just beyond the local market, there was a gym. It was small, but its sign was brightly painted with words like “Power up your body!” and “Transform into your best self!”

Shrek stopped in his tracks. He looked at the gym, then looked down at his belly.

"Maybe... just maybe... a bit of muscle wouldn’t hurt." He'd heard whispers of ogres getting in shape at gyms, and he figured if he was going to glow up, he’d need more than just a fancy diet. He needed strength.

Shrek signed up the very next day. The gym was small, run by a giant ogre named Grizzle, who had a booming voice and a long, intimidating beard. "You want to get big?" Grizzle asked, sizing Shrek up.

"Aye, I want to be fit, strong, and maybe a bit leaner," Shrek replied, flexing his arms awkwardly.

Grizzle handed him a schedule. "Start with weights, then cardio. You’ll work your way up to the advanced stuff."

Shrek nodded, though part of him wasn’t sure how to lift weights or use the treadmill. He’d only ever chased rabbits through the swamp before—he wasn’t exactly a fitness guru.

For the next few weeks, Shrek threw himself into the gym. Every day he would work on his biceps, his legs, and the treadmill thing that he figured out was more difficult than running through the swamp. He was sore in places he didn’t even know he had muscles, but he persevered. After each workout, he took progress pictures—awkward selfies in the gym mirror, flexing as best he could.

Each picture was posted to the Magic Mirror forums with the caption:
“Shrek’s Glow-Up: Week 1”
The comments started to roll in.
“Looking good, Shrek! You’re really slimming down!”
“I see some definition! Keep it up!”
But not all the feedback was positive.
“Nice try, but you’re still too big. Keep at it, though. Maybe try the ‘Ogre-licious’ diet too?”
“You’re strong, but you’re not lean yet. That belly is still there.”

Shrek winced at the negative comments, but he refused to back down. His progress was slow, but he was getting stronger, and that felt like an accomplishment.

One day, Fiona came to the gym with him to see how things were going. She was concerned, but when she saw Shrek lifting a massive stone weight above his head with a triumphant grin, she couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re really going all in, huh?”

“Aye, Fiona! I’m getting stronger by the day! Just wait ‘til you see my progress photos in a week!” Shrek beamed.

Fiona raised an eyebrow. “Shrek, I love you just the way you are. You don’t need to post pictures to prove anything to anyone. Especially not those trolls on the Magic Mirror forums.”

Shrek scratched his head. “I know… but it feels good to see people notice the work I’m putting in. I want to show the world I’m more than just an ogre.”

Fiona smiled, stepping closer to him. “Well, just remember that no matter what, you’re perfect as you are.”

Shrek’s face softened. “Aye, I suppose that’s true. But I’m doing this for me, Fiona—not for anyone else.”

Fiona didn't look convinced but still smilled and promised she would cheer him on.