"Just One More Drop" by Kyrm

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An explosion shattered the peaceful evening. Debris plumed in a black geyser and dispersed over posh Scalesborough, its firmament quaking with ominous aftershocks.

Blocks over, spotlights intended to advertise a ritzy restaurant’s gala pierced the dust to focus on a rapidly rising shape. Aimed stories above expensive homes and the highest of haughty administrative offices, one would expect the lights to illuminate swaths of brick, glass, metal.

Instead they found a football field of fur. Russet strands with busted chunks of house and furniture caught in their branch-thick tangle.

A figure resolved through the cloud: taller than a skyscraper, too titanic for the city’s ambience to illuminate in full. Chiseled out of hill-sized muscles and hung with a bobbing blimp between its—his, most certainly his—legs.

Percussion rippled miles outside Scalesborough’s walls. Citizens in districts of all sizes, from towering dragons to foot-tall mice, all felt equally pathetic as they turned in the giant’s direction.

The sound came a second time. On hearing it again, some pieced together syllables. Sonorous, bestial:

“A-de-lon-daaaaa.”

Millions held their breath. All hanging on this behemoth’s next words. Desperate to hear his demands so as to better appease them.

“I... want... moooore!” Silence gave way to a crescendo of shouts. Emergency alarms. Honking car horns. The skyscraper had begun to move.

One Week Ago

Any other fox would have looked like a child. Dwarfed by every structure, piece of furniture, and resident of Scalesborough. It was the city’s draconic district. Gated at every border by brick wall, both on account of wealth and for smaller species’ safety.

Andy Renard wasn’t just any fox. He was the largest one alive. The largest mammal alive. And in a few short minutes, when the door his hungry amber eyes had been boring a hole through this past hour finally opened, that title would be amended one last time:

He would be the largest man to have ever lived.

Cheek propped to palm, Andy sprawled sideways atop a modern white couch. Its frame was solid steel out of necessity. A wooden frame would balk at his tonnage. He was statuesque, and not “for a fox.” He had more in common with lampposts than his puny pedigree. He was statuesque. Period.

And he earned that descriptor twofold. First because of his motionlessness, second because he had the sort of exaggerated figure only statues should. As if his sculptor wanted to carve a brutal old-world god in the modern day. Gouging a groove between corded pecs firm as marble. Sectioning thighs and biceps and calves into leaden balloons of sinew.

A bodybuilder’s hulking bulk with the face of a monster. Maw vicious and huge. Saber fangs stabbing down even with his lips at emotionless rest. Not to mention he was over a story tall and weighed as much as the average car—which he could bench press just as handily.

The russet beast wouldn’t have seemed real if not for his ribbed white muscle shirt and mesh gym shorts. Bare minimum clothing an afterthought that brought him back to the level of mere mortal. A courtesy extended to the world around him; he could play their game and pretend he was their equal. For now.

But back to statuesque...

Oh, he liked that word.

Andy was no statue however. He was alive. And though he was too great a mammal to look it: still a fox. Still a predator, keen-eyed and with instincts well used to lying in wait in his mansion. Technically his girlfriend’s, but if she belonged to him what was hers was his.

Every now and then his tail animated to perform a restless swish. Its bushy six-foot length of oranges and browns glided against the couch’s backrest, betraying a twinge of impatience.

Impatience only an addict could suffer while awaiting his next fix.

Not that he was worried. For all her hem-and-haw hesitation, Andy knew Adelonda wouldn’t run... Though if they were both aware of how apocalyptically out of hand their fantasies would grow, maybe she would have considered it.

Then again, maybe not.

His ears perked at the sound of the door opening. A voluptuous hourglass silhouetted sunlight. She turned away to ease the door shut, careful not to make a sound that would attract Andy’s attention. Unaware she already had it. When the door closed and she faced the spacious marble-floored den, her body seized. As though she had spied a wild animal in her mansion, rather than her boyfriend of over a year.

“Andy,” Adelonda said, tone flat with nerves.

Andy licked his chops. He wanted to claw those clothes right off her. Take what he had been waiting for. Fuck her on the floor until she passed out.

Instead, he held a hand up and beckoned with a curl of his finger.

Adelonda obeyed, creeping across the room. Toe claws clacking against the floor. Scaled feet producing a weighty thud-thud-thud that betrayed her unstoppable heft. Confidence used to

brim from her the way her curves brimmed out her crop top and short-shorts: sapphire-colored, a direct contrast to her ruby skin.

That brimming confidence wasn’t gone, per se. More like stolen. Same as Adelonda herself, it belonged to Andy now. Insidiously sapped away with each foot he gained towards her stature. Grown up from some sad thigh-high twig of fluff that she could send to the ER with a lap dance.

She was the definition of thick. Delicious curves leaving his predatory side salivating as if he were inside a butcher shop. Swaying hips heaving left-right-left in a constant dance commanding sexual attention. Breasts that used to weigh more than Andy himself heaving ahead of her. Adelonda was a red dragon, incumbent apex predator...

...for the next several minutes, at least.

Andy’s anatomy rippled as he rose to meet his girlfriend. His paws swung over the edge of the couch and pounded the floor with strength he still didn’t fully know. Pressure flexed valleys into his thigh muscles as they bore the burden of his full weight.

With how he and Adelonda carried themselves, it’d be easy to assume she would be the one craning her neck to look up at him. But at his current monstrous height, Andy’s eye level only made it to her slender, vulnerable throat. He watched it do a nervous bob before meeting her eye.

“Do you have it?” he asked. No point chit-chatting over how her trip went. Or giving her a kiss on the lips. Their relationship had evolved; there was only one thing either cared about in that moment.

“It cost a lot, and he tried to talk me out of it.” While speaking, Adelonda reached through the pronounced V-cut of her revealing top. With a bust like hers, she had no need for a

purse. “But...” His breath caught, immense heart skipping a beat at the sight of what she fished out. “...I got it.”

It was out of her hands before she could complete that sentence. Andy pinched the little glass vial, smaller than his meaty fingers and filled with what looked like grape juice. Very unassuming. But he of all foxes knew big things came in small packages. A flick of his thumb claw blew the cap off.

Adelonda gave an intent stare to the vial in his hand. With a chest enormous as hers, it was obvious whenever she inhaled. But her breasts were still—breath bated while she waited for her boyfriend to wolf down the formula.

“What happened to those second thoughts?” he mocked.

Adelonda blinked. Her stare flicked from the vial to Andy’s eyes. “Like I said, my associate is tapped out.” When he smiled, she added, “Completely,” with a harsh inflection. “R- remember our deal, alright?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep my profile low enough. I haven’t left your property since my last growth spurt, have I?” Andy gave her a wink. “You’ve given me plenty of good reasons not to.”

Adelonda grimaced. “It’s been getting harder to walk straight in public.”

Since reaching this height, Andy had been confined to Adelonda’s mansion. No one would raise a brow at a 13’ dragoness like herself—but a 12’ fox? That was front-page news. He was her big secret. Her big horny secret. He had warned his girlfriend, told her they would be making what had once been a kink into their lifestyle.

He was much too big for his old job. She had to take responsibility. To feed him, to satiate his every desire. In the physical sense, she had her work cut out—the serum’s side-effects did not fuck around. Andy was Adelonda’s pet. Her gluttonous, monstrous pet. Or maybe not.

...after all, they both knew who really belonged to who. “Open your mouth,” Andy ordered. Adelonda retreated a step back in surprise. “Wait, you want me to get bigger?” “Did I say that?” He caught her chin in his palm, claw tips digging into sumptuous cheek

scales. With his thumb claw he probed her bottom lip, repeatedly flicking it. “Open. Your. Mouth. Just don’t swallow.”

Adelonda still had an entire foot on Andy, but where her figure epitomized everything a woman should be, he was the pinnacle of what a man could be. For Adelonda’s every plush inch of thigh fat, Andy countered with stone-solid quadriceps. For every hundred pounds of breast flesh that bounced ahead of Adelonda’s chest, Andy had bulging pecs.

She tried to pull her chin free—really tried. But where she was a supple 13’, Andy was a dense 12. Like a boulder. She wasn’t going anywhere unless he allowed her to.

“Wh-what if I swallow on accident?” For someone so large her voice had shrunken small. Breathy. Weak.

“You won’t,” he said with a shrug. “And it’s not like the serum works on dragons anyway. So if you waste it by some stupid mistake—you’ll just have to get me more.”

More.

Surprise pried her eyes wide for a second. “Andy, this is it. Seriously. There isn’t any more!”

He put on a knowing smirk. Sure, there wasn’t any more. Just like there hadn’t been “any more” every other time he had asked. And yet, without fail, Adelonda got him more.

At the start of all this, Andy Renard had been nothing. A milquetoast, mild-mannered middle-of-the-pack office drone.

Five-foot-ten.

What a goddamned runt! The new Andy—the better Andy—looked back at his old self with contempt. He could have backhanded that scrawny twerp across the room.

Adelonda had gotten the formula for little Andy as an anniversary gift. Presented with incredible reluctance: it wasn’t legally hers to give. When she explained what he was looking at, he itched to guzzle it on the spot. But she kept the vial at arm’s length, and back then he had to respect her strength. A fox like Andy would need a forklift to budge that much woman, so when she insisted he read the warning script first, he did.

Testosterone overproduction. Territorial behavior. Violent tendencies. Drastically increased libido. His eyes glazed over a dozen-dozen side-effects in text so fine he had to squint. “Well?” Adelonda had asked. “Too many risks, right? I shouldn’t have brought this up.

You’re the perfect man already, just the way you are. I’ll take the formula and dispose of—” Before she could stow the vial between her breasts, Andy grasped it around the middle. He gave her a determined look. In that moment they both knew they would have risked far worse side- effects for a chance like this.

Her lips flattened into a thin line. She wanted to be responsible... but more than that, she wanted a bigger boyfriend. Her fingers had parted, and Andy had the vial’s contents sliding down his gullet before she could open her mouth to make him see reason.

He would always remember the rush—who forgot their first time? In under a minute, his 5’10’’ pencil-pushing pipsqueak body cracked and crunched and groaned in its upwards ascent, ending with a 7’, broad-shouldered stud.

The next week was heaven. Big suited Andy. Ducking to get into his own fox-sized apartment. Ogling himself in the mirror to admire a ripped anatomy slender foxes weren’t built to

have—from newfound muscle down to an endowment that would make horses blush. Savoring stunned-stupid stares from slack-jawed coworkers who had never noticed him

before now. But again, it was only novel lording over others for about a week. Andy had spied

Adelonda’s real reaction the moment his growth spurt ended, and he couldn’t help but agree: Disappointment.

5’10’’ and skinny, 7’ and beefy. Either way you cut it, Adelonda had been bigger than him since before puberty.

“Are you suuuure this is how big you wanted me?” he had probed, walking his fingers up the length of Adelonda’s arm. Still huge. Still powerful. She could flatten him with one flick of her tail.

“I told you a million times, Andy, there isn’t. Any. More. My contact... he could’ve gotten us both in a boatload of trouble if he got caught!” At that, she gave Andy an accusing scowl. “We could still get caught, you know. Anyone from Rysing notices the freakishly huge fox stomping around with a former employee, it’s game over. I don’t know what I was thinking. I had a bit too much to drink for our anniversary. It was a lapse of judgment.”

“Usually it’s when we’re drunk that we show our true colors, right?” She opened her mouth to protest, closed it when he held his hand up. “I’m not saying you get me a whole barrel, though that would be nice. I just need a bit more.”

“Need?” Adelonda arched her brow. “You sound like an addict.” “I’m doing this more for you than anything. You’re the one who gave me the first batch.” “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” “Do you?” The next time Andy stopped by Adelonda’s place, she had thrust the second dose into his

hand. “Just... drink it before I have second thoughts,” she told him. So he did, and in a minute 7’ became 8’: a fox the size of a draft horse. That was when

Andy got scary. Cubicle walls shook when he stomped across an office fitted for mammals his former size. Wide as two foxes, coworkers had to make way when this business casual behemoth cruised by. Fit-to-bursting in work clothes: oval gaps punctuating the space between the buttons clasping his shirt, trembling to contain his chest.

“W-we should probably reassign you, Mr. Renard,” stammered the stomach-high wolf who was his employer. “Ah, to one of our branches designed for larger mammals, that is. With... proper compensation as well.”

“A small fox trapped with all those big brutes?” Andy clucked his tongue. “That sounds dangerous for me, boss. They employ hippos over there. And I can’t imagine why you’re thinking of promoting me now. I mean, it’s no secret I do half the work I used to.”

The wolf swallowed. No, it wasn’t a secret. Certain parts of Andy’s enhanced anatomy were plain through his dress pants. It looked like he was smuggling bowling balls, and he took

frequent breaks in the company restroom to loudly drain a pipe-clogging amount of spunk from them.

No one knew what was going on with this fox, except that he kept returning to work even bigger than before. Therefore nobody, not even his boss, wanted to be the one who called him out on his behavior.

“A promotion has been admittedly overdue,” the wolf said.

“It’s fine.” A shoulder pat from Andy buckled his boss’s knees and weighed him back into his seat. “I like it here. Big fish. Small pond.” He winked. “See you tomorrow, minnow.”

But the biggest changes, the best changes—those came after work. Behind closed doors in Adelonda’s bedchambers.

Sexually satisfying a dragoness was no easy task. As a fox, Andy may have flirted a big enough game to silver tongue his way under her covers, but when it came time to perform? 5’10’’ against 13’, it was a hot dog in a hallway situation.

And while Andy now had an impressive 400 or so pounds to his name, he remained a far cry from other species. Rhinos, elephants... let alone his girlfriend and her thousands of pounds. When just one of her juicy thighs matched his weight, precautions had to be taken. Dragons were affectionate lovers to an uncontrollable degree; it was one of the reasons they seldom dated outside their species—only dragons could handle dragons. Adelonda’s mating instincts would have her riding Andy until his pelvis had been ground to dust.

As any horny couple would, they made do. To compensate for her incredible strength, Adelonda employed chains: bound against her bedroom wall by the wrists and neck, bare legs pried apart by ankle-biting cuffs extending from the floor.

Andy used to have to cram his skinny hand in up to the forearm to simulate a dragon dick. Now he could sprawl over her luscious body and fuck with his absurd red rocket. What he lacked in size, he made up for in enthusiasm. It was a deafening affair. Feminine groans. Draconic snarls. Full-blown room-filling roars. Chains clanging on chains as riveted fixtures wrestled to restrain two entire tons of woman from flattening her lover.

At 8’, Andy could leave her well and truly satisfied. Gallons of dragon cum puddling across the floor, the air filmed smoky after Adelonda’s climax had her spewing flames.

Muscular body limp, knees mounted atop her thighs, Andy laid on his bound girlfriend like a sexual waterbed. “Imagine if I could fuck you without the iron,” he murmured, jaw locked by cleavage that pillowed his chin.

“I... like... the iron...” Adelonda gasped out, each syllable crossing her lips with another puff of smoke.

“But imagine...” Andy had to stretch his arms to their limits to clasp her ironclad wrists. “...if I was stronger than the iron.”

“A nice thought.” Adelonda let out a faint chuckle. “But...” She trailed seeing that grin of his poking above her breasts. “Andy.” She clanged her chains in protest. “We’ve discussed this. There’s no way I can do any more for you.”

“Is that your final answer?” Adelonda’s nipples overflowed in his hands as he squeezed mercilessly. She threw her head back to belt out a dragon’s roar. Cracks zigzagged along the wall, fanning from the rivets that fastened her wrist clamps.

“I would if I could, but I can’t conjure formula out of thin air,” she hissed out through clenched fangs. Dragons had hide thick enough to repel bullets, but even their kind had weak spots. “Andy, ffuuuuck.”

He wore a vicious grin while groping her. The erotic equivalent of a tickle fight, only she had no way of fighting back. “Just one more,” he said. Watching her squirm at his touch.

“I can’t get any more. It doesn’t exist!” “Say it with me. Just.” Another grope and she whimpered: “Just.” “One.”

Again, he seduced the word from her: “O-one.” “More.” “Mooore!” she roared, both obeying his order and begging that he get her off. He fell onto all fours between her parted thighs, licking his lips as he prepared to feast on

her drooling cunt. “Round two it is then.” He glanced up to meet her sex-anguished expression. “That is, if you uphold your end of the bargain.”

She nodded. Vigorously.

Adelonda could’ve reneged after agreeing under sexual duress. She didn’t; he knew she wouldn’t. She may have been a big girl, but she was an even bigger sub. And the larger he grew, the more easily he could exploit that fact.

She had that so-called impossible-to-get, nonexistent formula for him the next day. He ordered her to strip. She did. He ordered her to get to the bedroom.

She did. He ordered her to hand over what was his.

She bit her lower lip, damming back an intense wave of desire. “This is the last one, right?” she asked.

He ordered her to hand over what was his. “I feel like a broken record, but we could get in a ton of trouble here...” He ordered her to hand over what was his. “And this is the last batch Rysing ever made! Seriously. You’re already too big for a fox.

Huge. Any bigger and someone is bound to ask questions.” He ordered her to—

Before he had to repeat himself a fourth time, the vial was in his clutches. He couldn’t have overpowered Adelonda. Not in a million years. He had to rely on her cooperation.

The chains didn’t go on that night. He had his bed-sized girlfriend in bed for the first time, sitting up with her back to the wall. In between her mighty thighs, he dared penetrate without any protection. Almost instantly, Adelonda’s enormous body avalanched around Andy: crisscrossed arms and interlocked legs swallowing him into a hungry embrace; his head vanished between her breasts; his massive cock crammed hilt-deep inside and still not enough.

Even at 8’, he couldn’t have survived the sheer weight of his girlfriend’s unrestrained affection. So before they started fucking, Andy had made a point of basting her cleavage with the formula. Snout suffocated between breasts, he lapped every drop of serum his growing tongue could find. It didn’t take long before her enclosed limbs were forced apart, making way for a sudden explosion of Andy.

He became an elephant of a fox, still 3’ shorter than his girlfriend yet stronger. Newfound muscle made it easy to compensate. He pinned a dragon—a dragon—to the bed and dicked her

down hard enough that she was drooling. He had never felt more like a man. When he finished her off and they laid together atop her busted bedframe, he knew he had an addiction.

The first dose, Andy had no real say in the matter. Adelonda simply thrust fate in front of him and he went along for the ride.

The second batch, he had to act sly. More powerful than he had ever been in his life—but nowhere near strong enough to force Adelonda. He had to plead. To appeal to her desires.

The third he seduced out of her.

The fourth? 10’ to now. The 12’ Andy Renard, strong enough to halt a speeding truck head-on. Tall enough to classify as a dragon and hung enough to fuck one senseless too.

The fourth had been earned much like this fifth, “final” dose. Not by asking nicely, but growling over the protests of a weaker woman. Pinning her to the floor and filling her view with his ferocious muzzle before giving the order:

“I. Want. More.”

* “Don’t you have enough?” she whimpered in the present.

He answered by probing her lips with the vial. “You’re already more than twice the man you used to be.” He dug his claws deeper, fine points dimpling her cheeks. “You’ve outgrown your work. Your old home. Your life. What else is there?” “You.” And it was that one-word argument which pouted Adelonda’s lips into a defeated

little “o.” She was right. He had outgrown his job. He had outgrown his car, his apartment, his old friends... but he and Adelonda both knew that wasn’t the end. He wouldn’t, couldn’t stop until he had outgrown everything—his girlfriend included.

Tilting the vial unloaded its contents into her maw. It wasn’t just a turn-on to force-feed Adelonda, it was a test. She always seemed conflicted. Wanting to cut Andy off from his addiction, one protest away from telling him that she was well and truly tapped out. And he had no real means of proving if she was or wasn’t. It was all on her.

If Adelonda gulped the formula down, it would mean her responsible side had won out. No more growth.

But Andy wasn’t the only one with an addiction.

He lifted his chin, wrenched hers down. Casting a low-lidded lustful glare into Adelonda’s pleading eyes, his tongue crashed over her barricade of teeth.

She hadn’t swallowed.

His thick mammal tongue swabbed unopposed throughout her reptilian maw. It wasn’t spit pooled at the basin of her mouth, it was the entire vial’s worth of serum—obediently stored, waiting to be sucked out. It mingled with dragon drool and rolled deliciously down his throat, as if she were his vial.

The formula hit Andy’s gut like a lit match, warmth igniting wildfire-fast through his veins as if his blood were gasoline. In one heartbeat the angles of their maws leveled out. Surprise shone in his girlfriend’s eyes as she realized they were the same height. Those passionate hands that pawed at his swelling back muscles didn’t feel like a dragon’s. Vixen-frail. Petite in the shadow of his mounting strength.

Andy’s confidence grew with him. After that burst of initial growth, he began inching above his girlfriend. An ominous crackle came from beneath the skin—his body changing. Swelling larger. Growing stronger.

The angles of their entwined maws reversed: Andy tilting his muzzle lower by the second, Adelonda forced to crane her neck. Wielding his pecs, he advanced forward like a horny bulldozer. Her planted heels put up resistance in a slow backwards skid, but with each inch of height he put between them he became more unstoppable.

Adelonda had to start scurrying at the whims of his thudding pawsteps. A gasp escaped her maw as she was rammed back-first against the wall. He fastened his hands around her puny wrists then pounded them above her.

Who needs chains? he might have asked if he wasn’t busy choking Adelonda with his tongue.

For all her voluptuous tonnage, she began to vanish beneath Andy’s rising bulk. Bulbous pecs swallowed her chin into muscular cleavage—forcing her to stare straight up. Her eyelids drooped low, joined with fevered whimpers.

As tremors racked through his girlfriend, a sharp scent struck Andy’s nostrils. There came a heavy patter on the floor, like a glass of warm water had been dumped across his right paw.

Andy tore himself away. Sexual fat quivered appetizingly across Adelonda’s trembling thighs, straining to support the rest of her overwhelmed body. In a slow, defeated process, they gave out: her back sliding against the wall until she hit the floor. She sat there with an obvious wet spot soaking through the crotch of her shorts. Her haggard gasps were drowned out by Andy’s deep panting breaths.

He had done it. He wasn’t the biggest fox. He wasn’t the biggest mammal.

He. Was. The. Biggest.

DRXXXL (Draconic Extra-Extra-Extra Large) athletic clothing had already struggled to keep up with his excess. While male dragons were incredibly strong, they had more efficient physiques. Nothing close to Andy the Tank.

His clinging outfit now rode up like something fished from the kid’s department. Protruding pecs reduced his tank top to the world’s manliest sports bra. If not for their spandex- blended weft, his porous mesh shorts would have blown apart to make room for thigh muscles thick as steel beams. Their stretchiness converted them into obscene spats, the distended crotch imperiled by his balls. Aching orbs bloated with such virility that even his bestial hands would struggle to palm one.

“Get up,” he ordered, baritone rumbling up to the den’s high ceiling. “We’re going out.”

“What?” At first Adelonda sounded airy, like she was waking from a wet dream. The next, “What?” came with panicked clarity. She pawed at the wall for support while scrambling upright. “You can’t be serious.”

Disregarding her protests, Andy turned and plodded towards the door. Adelonda’s own weighty steps thudded close behind. She wrapped both her arms around one of his, trying to anchor him. He stopped—only to humor her. He had been stronger before his growth spurt; now that gap had widened. Seeming to register that fact, she let go and took a step back.

“You going out in that?” he asked.

Adelonda looked down at her shorts and cringed. A majestic dragon reduced to creaming herself just from his pecs. “Wait, you can’t leave!” she called after as Andy resumed his exit. “Low profile. Low! Remember?”

He lingered at the door. Back when he first visited Adelonda’s, the dragon-sized knobs and handles were so inhospitably high that he had to hop to get ahold of them. Even then, his weight didn’t guarantee the door would budge. Now it opened easily as any other. He had to square his stance so his muscles could scrape past the rectangular threshold. Protests followed him down the steps and onto the lawn.

In broad daylight, he turned to face Adelonda lurking underneath the front awning. “You’ve got one minute to change,” he said. “Starting now.”

Adelonda let out a huff of annoyance. Her old instinct would have been to grab Andy by his wrist and bring him back inside like a boy in need of a timeout. Without strength to back her up, all she could do was stamp her foot in impotent frustration. “What happened to our deal?” she whined.

“50 seconds.” Cursing under her breath, Adelonda turned tail to race back inside. To her credit, she made it back in 45. Hopping one-legged out the threshold as she

crammed her other leg into a fresh pair of short-shorts. “That smell,” Andy crooned, lifting his nose to take a predator’s whiff while Adelonda

jogged over. “Someone didn’t wash up.” “You didn’t exactly give me time,” she huffed. With a low animal growl, Andy swamped Adelonda’s shoulders underneath the weight of

his arm then began walking her down the long paved driveway. Her testy demeanor shattered as he smooshed her cheek into the side of his pec. “Almost makes me want to fuck you right here on the front lawn while everyone watches.”

“You wouldn’t,” she whispered.

“Wouldn’t I?”

Adelonda scanned his chest and bit her lower lip without shame. “We could go back inside. Give your new self a... a test run. Please?”

“Later.” The front gate opened automatically, allowing Andy onto the sidewalk connecting overpriced gaudy mansions. “No offense to what you’ve got to offer. But this right here? Waaay better than sex.”

Dragons did double-takes as he escorted his flustered girlfriend through the scaly upscale district. Back when Andy had been a proper fox, so puny he had to orbit his girlfriend to prevent enormous passersby from bowling him over, these other dragons sneered down at him with contempt.

“New pet?” was the question so often posed to Adelonda.

Andy would open his mouth only for his girlfriend to cut in with a harsh, “No,” before getting between himself and whoever dared question her taste in men. “Boyfriend.”

Now if anyone needed defending, it was other dragons. The largest among them stepped aside as he made his way down the street. Some looked bewildered, most still offended—a fox with a dragon? Scandalous, no matter how massive he grew.

But with his impossible height, his hulking girth, his fang-riddled grin just daring someone to speak up... no one said a word.

Not that he made it easy for them to keep their mouths shut. Adelonda’s squeals carried down the street as he subjected her to shameless gropes. Stolen kisses. This was all new and exciting to him. For the majority of their relationship, Adelonda had initiated most PDAs. Picking Andy up to give him a kiss on the lips. Pinning him to the wall with her breasts and using her tongue to fill his maw.

Now he had her on-tap. Whenever he wanted Adelonda, he got Adelonda. A handful of ass to grope, to spank so hard she yelped in pain. Breasts he could finally fit in his massive palms, flicking her sensitive nipples until they

perked against fabric. That dainty muzzle he could wrench upwards to meet his, leaving her bleary-eyed and

whimpering while he dominated her with his superior mammal tongue. “I can’t believe we’re out in public,” she whispered after his tongue left her. Andy scoffed. “Scalesborough? Hardly public.” “Where are you taking us?” For the first time since they left her yard, Adelonda tried to

divorce herself from the weight of Andy’s arm. “You know.” Digging his claws into her scaly shoulder, he forced her into a crushing

side-hug. They had been walking the brick-laid border for some time. In here, it was all mansions

and fine dining. Out there, towering offices and apartments peered down jealously at the richest residents. Horns honked, senseless chatter carried over the walls. The big city waited.

Though not as big as when Andy left it.

“Scalesborough is one thing,” Adelonda said, “but the actual city?” She planted her heels into the pavement, forcing Andy to drag her towards the golden gates. “There’s no way you won’t get caught! If anything, and I mean anything happens, I... you... we... you aren’t listening, are you?”

A mechanical bell buzzed in response to Andy pressing the exit button. “What makes you say that?” he asked as the gates creaked towards them, yawning out onto the city’s much smaller

sidewalk. Releasing Adelonda, he left her to gawk from the Scalesborough side as he strolled into the city proper.

Lording his size over dragons didn’t quite give Andy a sense of his new height. Sure, it had been satisfying to fix that little hiccup in reality—the one where his girlfriend was taller than him. And seeing her scaly cousins look at him with their impotent expressions, knowing they ought to do something but being too scared to. That was fun.

But he didn’t want to leer a few measly feet down. What Andy wanted was to take up sidewalks. To watch teeming commuters part for him.

To. Loom. And that’s just what he did. The Scalesborough gate began to groan shut. Adelonda remained on the other side.

“Coming?” Andy asked. “Come back,” she pleaded.

“Your call. But someone should keep me out of trouble. After all—it’s hard to keep your profile low from this high up.” With that he began thumping the pavement with his paws. Anyone behind him stayed that way. An increasing number of anthros became aware of him up ahead.

“Andy? Andy!” Adelonda charged past the gates just before they closed. He didn’t bother looking back, smirk widening as she hurried to keep up. “Where are you going?” she asked, now at his side. Their presences bullied other anthros towards the margins of the sidewalk, otherwise waist-high mammals risked colliding with a couple whose combined weight matched an oncoming bus.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Andy answered: “Wherever the fuck I want.”

* Hundreds of pounds in stacked metal weights levered up then rushed down, filling the

room with explosive clangs. Simultaneously, burly men belted out their gruffest, most testosterone-laden grunts—as if they were animals and not anthros. Any male with a keen sense of smell would have his hackles on end in here. Sniffing out the mingled scents exuded by buff mammals working up a sweat.

Andy Renard hadn’t belonged in The Jungle and he had known it the first time he shouldered one of its heavy front doors open. He had to tiptoe to see over the reception kiosk, where the snow leopard clerk gave him a pitying look. The gym’s exercise machines were much too large, to say nothing of the clients they were reserved for:

Big jungle cats. Shredded stallions who could perform curl-ups using dumbbells Andy’s weight. Hippos who tremored their treadmills with every blubber-bouncing bound.

Even the smallest of the gym’s patrons were still towering to him, and none among them thought once to look down. Andy got bruised here and there, knocked over on occasion then given an insincere grunt of apology.

So today he repaid them in kind.

Common courtesy didn’t occur to Andy. Not on his way through the city, and certainly not while lumbering through The Jungle. Foxes were far from the smallest mammals alive, so he knew to look out below in a mixed-sized society. But he just didn’t care. Transforming had atrophied parts of his personality. He had long since lost his ability to feel things like empathy, compassion... fear.

Adelonda had warned him that the formula came with changes. Obvious bodily ones, then the subtler ones. The ones in his head. He had been unconcerned at 5’10’’, back when he

came to this gym every single day in his useless efforts to get stronger. To improve his fragile fox body so he could cope with dating someone leagues above his weight class... only to find self-improvement impossible. Every species had a natural limit. And pitted against a dragon? Foxes had a very, very low ceiling.

No, he hadn’t been concerned about the side-effects. Because anything would be preferable to living out the rest of his existence as just another fox. And at his new 15’, floor- thumping, head-turning stature, he couldn’t feel concern at all. He simply wasn’t capable of it.

The pall of pheromones should have warned his sharp sense of smell that he had male competition in his midst, but Andy Renard couldn’t feel threatened either. He had more testosterone in one testicle than every mammal in this gym combined.

Their toy weights left them grunting as if to announce each rep to their fellow men. Fellow boys. And what was the use? Their struggles reminded Andy of his old self. These same mammals had seemed so strong to him back then, huge and intimidating to the point that he felt emasculated sharing the room with them. Only now did he see them for what they truly were:

Limited, just as he once was.

Andy had entered The Jungle’s gym, ignoring the receptionist’s protests as he passed a sea of too-small exercise equipment. Weights noisily clattered back into place and stayed down. One by one gym-goers stopped their workouts to gawk at the world’s strongest man parading past.

What felt like a softball plinked against the front of his left thigh. In reality, it had been several hundred pounds of lion. He looked down at the tawny muscular cat—a kitten from up here—sprawled in his shadow.

“Sorry.” It was the lion, not Andy, who apologized. He flailed to get himself on two paws fast as possible. Back in the day a man like him could’ve buried Andy. Somewhere around 7’ tall, a guesstimate based on the fact that Andy could’ve plopped his nuts on the lion’s head like a hat.

“Just don’t let it happen again,” Andy said. When the lion turned to scurry towards the locker room, Andy reached for him. “Actually, squirt...” He palmed the lion’s head like a ball. “There is one thing you can do for me.”

A weightlifter lifted up weightless in his hand, dangled by the head—powerful legs kicking air. All that muscle and he resembled a twig Andy could break over his knee. The lion appeared well aware of that, showing too many teeth in an accommodating grin. “What... might that be?” he asked while held in front of Andy’s face.

“Andy,” Adelonda hissed behind him. His draconic tagalong had conducted herself with the utmost caution, massive tail drawn in close to take up less square footage. “Maybe you could put him down?”

As he had done since leaving Scalesborough, he ignored her advice. “Know a Kent? I’m sure if you’ve gone here more than a day that you do.”

“Kent? Yeah. Yeah, of course.” The lion’s eyes retreated to their corners.

Andy followed his gaze across the room, smile gaining in sharp-toothed glee. He let the lion drop. His paws hit the floor, strong legs buckling to keep him upright. With flagrant disregard for smaller life, Andy’s tonnage heaved forward. The lion made a startled sound, leaping out the way just in time to avoid being smashed over a second time.

Weights clanged down as a rhino abandoned his thigh cruncher mid-rep. A jaguar relinquished pulley weights in the same manner. An elephant stomped from his one-ton squat

machine meek as a mouse—the second-largest species behind dragons, yet the pachyderm measured no higher than Andy’s exposed navel.

There was a new freak of nature at the top of The Jungle’s food chain. The roughest, toughest mammals had zero desire to see what might happen if they got in Andy Renard’s way. Their fear was an acceptable form of respect. The only crime most of the gym’s patrons

committed was neglect. He was willing to overlook that. He understood now—it was such a hassle to be considerate when most species were so tiny. It only made sense that they make way for him, and not the other way around.

Then there was Kent. And Kent would have been better off today if he had just ignored Andy like the rest.

The sweat-lustered copper draft horse manned a bicep curler in the corner. He was faced towards one of the wall-sized mirrors. Earbuds and strained-shut eyes kept him in blissful ignorance over the mountainous shape growing to dominate his reflection’s background.

He announced each completed rep to the gym with a triumphant bang, weights always slammed, never eased. A two-time bodybuilding champ who never let anyone forget it. Only college-aged, a stallion stud in the prime of his life.

When Andy’s hands enveloped Kent’s shoulders, his eyes finally opened. He froze mid- rep, a confused frown furrowing his brow as he looked at himself in the mirror. He didn’t seem to understand what he saw behind him, Andy only reflected up to his chest. Panning his view up, Kent found a monstrous muzzle grinning down.

“Hey there, Kenny,” Andy rumbled. “Remember me?”

It took a long moment before recognition dawned across the horse’s face. He somehow saw the scrawny fox underneath an extra 10’ in height plus a literal truckload of muscle. Surprise

made him release his weights, banging violently back into place. “Andy?” he said with all the fear and awe the fox had hoped for. Kent tore his earbuds loose then let them fall to his lap, tinny music blaring for no one.

“In the flesh.” Andy tightened his grip, claws punching holes in the horse’s tank then nipping at his muscles. “A lot more flesh than you’re used to.”

Flat horse teeth bared a nervous grin. “You look—”

“Bigger?” Andy supplied, dropping his cruel grin a foot lower. “Stronger?” He bowed forward several more feet. “Scar-i-er?” His nose touched Kent’s, forcing the horse to sink into his seat.

“All of the above?” Kent’s deep pitch cracked as if his balls had retreated inside his body. When Andy rose back to his full height, Kent let out a nervous chuckle before continuing: “Well, good seeing you again. Welcome back to The Jungle. Let me, uh, know if you ever need a spotter... for old time’s sake.” While talking, he kept squirming in his seat. Trying to leave.

“Don’t get up on my account.” Andy insisted, applying more pressure to Kent’s shoulders. “Seriously,” he growled. “Don’t.”

Kent glanced around the room in search of help. Whether everyone else thought he deserved to get taken down a peg or were too intimidated to come between him and a 15’ fox, it had the same effect. Spectators looked away wherever he cast his pleading gaze.

In the meantime Andy grinned over his shoulder to wink at Adelonda. His enabler. Helpless while her boyfriend made a scene. But he could tell from her silence—deep down, she wanted him to make a scene.

“We had some good times here, huh Kenny?” Andy worked his fingertips into Kent’s shoulder muscles.

“Easy, that sort of hurts.”

“I thought you were tough.” He squeezed until he was certain his grip would leave fingertip-shaped bruises beneath horse hairs. “Was I wrong?”

“You were right, you were right!” Kent hissed through clenched teeth. He didn’t struggle anymore, appearing to grasp that bruises were the least of his concern. Andy could snap his arms off like a doll’s.

“Being here has me all nostalgic. I haven’t been back since I... outgrew it all.” Andy rumbled out an ominous chuckle as he eased his hips forward. “Remember the locker room?” His bulging nuts spilled over the backrest, their weight settling atop Kent’s head. “Everyone thought it was fucking hilarious when you stole my towel.”

Kent tried sinking lower to stop serving as a ballrest. Andy tightened his grip to make sure that didn’t happen.

“I remember,” the horse said.

“Forcing a fox to run around naked in a locker room full of larger species. You always loved making sure the little guy knew his place in the pecking order, huh?” He palmed Kent’s chin then forced him to look up. Stuffing his snout into the fabric-strained crevice between balls, fox musk vented from athlete’s mesh and huffed straight into Kent’s lungs. “How’s a little fox supposed to measure up?”

“Mhh,” Kent replied in muffled distress. He patted around at his sides in blind desperation. Searching for some way to escape Andy’s smothering sack. But Andy refused to let up. He pressed harder, savoring Kent’s mounting distress as nut musk replaced what little oxygen he had left in his struggling lungs.

Before Kent could pass out from testicular asphyxiation, Andy withdrew his hips. Kent slumped forward in his seat. He thumped his chest with a fist and let out a hacking cough.

Andy threw his head back to bust out a genuine explosion of laughter. “You are not the man I remember, Kenny. Hardly a man at all, if I’m being honest. It’s funny to think that I used to look up to you. Obviously that’s not physically possible anymore.”

“How... flattering...” Kent croaked while trying to regain his wind.

“Yep. You taught me some important life lessons while growing up. Like, ‘might makes right,’ and ‘the weak should get out of the strong’s way.’”

Kent cringed. He could’ve been remembering any number of times he’d bullied a much smaller, much meeker Andy. “Listen,” he blurted, “I’m sorry for screwing with you. Seriously. I mean it. I get the message.”

“What’s there to be sorry about?” Andy gave him a genuine frown of confusion. “I learned from you Kent. There’s nothing to apologize for. I was just a shrimp, right?”

“I should’ve been more understanding. I mean, you’re a fox. Your kind are, ah—” His words gave out to a pained yelp as Andy further bruised his shoulders.

“Say it,” Andy growled. “I was a sniveling... little...” “Shrimp! You were a sniveling little shrimp.” “A runt.” Andy squeezed tighter. “A runt.”

“Pathetic.” “A-Andy, you’re squeezing too tight.” “Say. It.” “You were a pathetic runt!”

“I was. And when you’re that pathetic, you get what you deserve. Isn’t that right?”

“That’s right. You’re right. So, so right.” Kent babbled until Andy relinquished his shoulder, at which point he let out a sigh of relief.

“Now.” Andy roved around the machine to loom ahead of Kent. “Pop quiz, Kenny: what are you to me?”

“P-puny?”

“Verrrrry good.” Andy squatted until he and his victim saw eye-to-eye. “And?” he asked, seizing opposite sides of Kent’s chair.

“A runt! I’m a runt, alright Andy? Look, I’m sorry. I was just screwing around. I never thought you’d end up the size of a goddamn dragon!”

“A dragon?” Andy scoffed. “You think I’m that small, Kenny?”

Kent forced himself flush against his backrest, head withdrawn far as possible to avoid being anywhere Andy’s beastly grin. The grin he stared down wasn’t a fox’s. It wasn’t a wolf’s, either, though that might have been closer in appearance. Lethal fangs. A maw deep enough to lose his head inside. “What is it you want?”

“Just to teach you the same valuable lesson you taught me. Can you do me a favor, Kent?” Andy hadn’t just become more animalistic appearance-wise. His smell, his taste, his sight—everything had sharpened since his transformation. For a fox learning he liked to play with his food, little Kenny was a feast for those senses.

Perspiration, like liquid terror: salty yet sweet to Andy’s nostrils.

A pounding draft horse heartbeat, peaking to machinegun speeds played for Andy’s perked ears.

Muscles, subtly tensed in the ready-to-flee posture of a cornered animal. Drawing Andy’s pupils to tiny black slits as he was tempted to pounce.

“Be my spotter,” he ordered.

“I don’t think that’s possible.” But while Kent protested, Andy began to tug at his chair, rattling the affixed equipment.

“As for that lesson...” Andy redefined possible for a wide-eyed Kent pitched side to side in his seat. Muscles erupted from Andy’s upper back in a flex, bulging as he put the first semblance of strain on them.

“No... matter... what... you... do...” His words came between effortful huffs and puffs.

“Even if you take steroids...” White strips of fabric blew off the back of Andy’s undersized tank top as he flexed them apart.

“Get... surgery...” With the machine riveted by over a dozen bolts, he couldn’t simply lift it. A pronounced crunch came from below as tiles chunked off the ground, the entire machine uprooted along with a rectangular cutout of the floor.

“Push yourself to every. Natural. Limit.” On each abrupt punctuation, Andy lifted a ripped-out segment of the floor, the exercise equipment, all its included weights, Kent, and his chair higher into the air.

“To me? You’ll always be a runt.” Staunch quads flexed in unison with bulging traps and bowling ball-shaped biceps. New tears faulted across the front of his shirt, muscle hard as metal erupted through both legs on his shorts.

Kent clutched at the elbow rest in front of him like a handlebar on a thrill ride. That saved him from being flung off as Andy hoisted the machine overhead. He held that pose for his audience—every soul in the gym, no one bothered pretending to exercise. There were those

phone cameras Adelonda had been so concerned about. Not that he gave a damn. His triumphant grin contrasted whatever horrified expression graced Kent’s face.

“Got that?” Andy roared, chunks of floor tile sloughing onto the floor. “I’ve got it!” Kent cried. “You sure?” “Yes! Just please, put me down.”

Andy obliged. All that weight produced a deafening bang as the equipment formed a deep dent in the floor. Kent bounced off his chair with a squeak, rolling a few times before settling onto his side. This man had dragged a car uphill as part of his last competition. He had been born to a powerful species, a big species, and from there sculpted himself into something larger and more powerful than that.

Yet the gap between himself and Andy Renard lay stark for all The Jungle’s patrons to see. A boy and a man. He let them drink it in for a few more moments before stepping over the groaning Kent. One last mewl escaped the horse: fear for that torso-sized paw capable of trampling his head in.

It came close, making him flinch as it thudded down past him. Then Andy kept on, smug in the knowledge that Kent would replay this moment for the rest of his life. In memories, in nightmares.

“Let’s get out of here,” Andy told Adelonda. She looked surprised to be addressed by him, as though she had forgotten she was his girlfriend and not just another face in the crowd. He swaddled her in his arm then escorted her towards the door.

“That... was not low-profile,” Adelonda whispered, glancing around at the phone cameras trained on them.

“Yet you didn’t step in to stop me.” Andy buffed a knuckle against his pec. Gashes in his deteriorating tank top widened further, exposing more cream-colored fluff underneath. “Not that you could.”

They had to duck past elephant-sized doors one at a time. Andy went first, immediately heading down the block.

“Scalesborough’s the other way!” Adelonda called after.

“I ruined my outfit with that warmup.” Stepping out at the crook of an L-shaped sidewalk, startled pedestrians cried out as Andy loomed into view. They fanned out of his way. Some lurked between the bumpers of parked cars. Others retreated into nearby stores.

Adelonda trailed his crowd-parting wake with a hasty slew of apologies on his behalf.

“There are plenty of plus-sized tailors back home,” she said from behind him, this sidewalk too narrow for them to walk side-by-side. “I’ll get you a specialty suit at the priciest place in town. Please, Andy. Getting all this hushed up is going to be... costly.”

“But what you’re saying is you can get this hushed up?” “That’s what you got out of it? Come on. Back there, that was—” “Hot?” Receiving no answer, Andy let out a gravelly chuckle. “Thought so. And thanks

for the offer, but a dragon doesn’t know jack about tailoring for a fox.” He halted. Adelonda joined him looking through a glass wall not much higher than his ear tips. “I need a special touch.”

The Fox’s Fit.

His and his girlfriend’s sun-blotting presences made them a pair of hyper-masculine, hyper-feminine silhouettes. Their shadows fell over shoppers, clothing racks, all the way to the back wall.

“You are not going in there,” Adelonda said.

“Watch me.” On hands and knees Andy took up the sidewalk’s width like an inappropriately parked truck. He began to crawl through the set of waist-high double doors. “Nothing to be concerned about, folks,” he bellowed after bumping those doors open with his snout. Reassurances didn’t sway the looks of concern off his smaller cousins’ faces. Not with his broad shoulders renovating the doorframe. Zigzagging cracks crunching along the glass wall.

Once inside, he rose to his full height.

Unlike The Jungle—two floors with a three-story ceiling—The Fox’s Fit was fit for foxes. Most foxes. Andy had to use his wrist to brush aside dangling dish lamps so they wouldn’t bean him. Thigh-high display racks jangled to the rhythm of his floor-tremoring tread.

Some shoppers pretended to take sudden interest in discount outfits alcoved along the walls of the store. Others made their intentions more obvious, flat-out running in that direction. To this little crowd of little foxes he loomed like a primitive ancestor. What the wooly mammoth was to the elephant. The tallest among them couldn’t measure above the bottom curve of his balls, which swayed one at a time ahead of him. Creaking against his put-upon shorts, each stride threatening to jailbreak his junk.

Good thing he was at a tailor’s place.

Halfway into the store he stopped and turned to face a knee-high counter. There stood the only person paid not to run from him. Most anthros weren’t used to seeing dragons out and about; a fox bigger than that had this vulpine clerk’s skinny knees knocking together.

With one leg alone Andy outmatched this fox for size. In length, in weight, in sheer mass. He could wind his meaty fingers around this pipsqueak’s narrow middle with ease; he itched to try.

“C-can I... ah, help you? Sir?” the fox asked.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I need new clothes.” Andy gestured to himself. “Had a bit of a growth spurt. You know how it is.”

No, the clerk in fact did not know. “Our tailors are booked.” As Andy raised his brow in obvious annoyance, the clerk hastily added, “But I’m sure they could... pencil you in. Right now! If you’ll give me... just... a... moment?”

“Hear that, Adelonda?” Where each of his haphazard steps had threatened to topple over something living or inanimate, his girlfriend had slinked after on tiptoes. Daintily as a story-tall lady could.

“You’ll have to wait out here I’m afraid, ma’am,” the clerk said. “She can come. She’s paying for all this, after all.” The clerk cleared his throat. “What I mean is, there just won’t be room for her. There’ll

barely be room for you. We only have an old studio fit for an elephant.” “‘Only’ an elephant?” Andy stomped towards the backrooms. “You need to diversify.

What if my lovely girl came in here looking for a dress? You wouldn’t turn a lady like her away, would you?”

The clerk tripped over himself in his efforts to get out from behind the counter. He had to run to keep up with Andy’s saunter. “There are plenty of tailoring businesses suited to dragons, sir! Y-you and your girlfriend ought to go there for your tailoring needs.”

Andy stopped, slowly turning to face the clerk. Had he looked so pitiful to Adelonda? No wonder she used to need chains to keep him safe; he could imagine a dozen ways he might flatten this clerk on accident.

A dozen-dozen on purpose.

Similar thoughts seemed to occur behind the clerk’s worried eyes. He shied a step back while awaiting Andy’s response.

“Luck-i-ly...” Even squatting, Andy towered. It had the intended effect, the clerk flinching. “I’m not a dragon, am I?”

“No, sir.”

“I’m a fox, just like you.” Andy jabbed a finger thick as the clerk’s forearm into his chest, knocking him backwards. Clustered jackets hanging from a circular clothing rack caught him at a slump.

Adelonda gasped. Andy looked over, expecting her to speak up on the fox’s behalf. A smug smile pulled at his lips as he realized he had misunderstood: that hand over her mouth; the way she coiled her tail tight around the legs; a subtle scent in the air... not-so-subtle to every fox in the room.

She wanted to see him throw his weight around.

Chuckling, Andy reached down and grabbed the clerk around his middle. He helpfully propped him up like a doll then dusted his outfit off with a knuckle. “Get me fitted,” he said calmly. “Now.”

* The clerk had been right to advise against Adelonda tagging along. Andy had to duck to

get inside this well-lit broom closet. It was shaped like a silo; he could only stand at his full height in the middle. Stretching his arms out to either side had his palms flat to either wall.

His presence was oppressive to the timid little tailors who shared scant square footage with him. Male foxes. Tiny, bow-tied twigs he could knock to the ground with one tail flick.

The mirror-laden walls were partitioned by narrow recesses they could climb like ladders. They had also brought stepstools. Industrial measuring tape. The difference between himself and his own kind had reached a point where they needed to utilize equipment more suitable for constructing a house.

“Are you going to gawk all day?” his commanding voice thundered back in the room’s cramped quarters. The lesser foxes flinched as if his words were gunshots.

“Sir,” one spoke up. For a professional he didn’t look confident; he was the one dead ahead of Andy. This meant Andy could barely make him out beneath the jut of his pecs. Less than a ruler’s worth of space separated his heavy-hanging nuts from the tailor’s face. “Your... clothing will need to be removed before we proceed.”

“Oh, no problem.” Andy clenched the tatters of his tank top like a used tissue. It came off just as effortlessly. He tossed it aside then gave his attendants an expectant look.

The lead fox waited, grimaced when no one else spoke up—the others had shoved him into the role of diplomat. “Your shorts and undergarments as well.”

Andy cocked his brow. “You do that for me.”

Footsteps thumped outside the dressing room, heavy enough that faint tremors pulsed beneath his paws. They stilled shortly after, followed by a muffled murmur of apology. Andy snickered. He had an eavesdropper with her ear to the door.

Two in the front, two in the back—four foxes reluctantly faced Andy’s enormous legs and climbed onto their stepstools. They needed that height boost just so they could tiptoe to his waist. Their small fists sought handfuls of skintight mesh that refused to come up. They resorted to reaching higher to grip the corded waistband, skinny arms atremble in a concerted effort to strip him.

“Man, I forgot how weak us foxes can be. Here.” A lazy swish of Andy’s hips did the trick. “Let me help.” He had the tailors crying out in unison as they kicked their stools out from under themselves. They dangled by his waistband like living hip ornaments.

“That’s it,” he encouraged as their combined body weight began to peel his shorts by the inch. “Almost there.” Rather than budge further down, his shorts ripped into four equal parts. Blanket-sized scraps of mesh came with his tailors as they crashed to the ground.

“Good job.” Close to complete undress, Andy’s tone turned salacious. “Why the surprised looks? Oh. I get it.” He gave his crotch a pat. “Not used to seeing a man around here, huh?”

Because how could any other fox call himself a man with Andy Renard in the room? The tailors stayed on their asses, watching as he palmed one of his bloated testicles—bound in place by his jock’s stretchy black pouch. Their glistening noses twitched in response to an obvious scent filling the enclosure.

“Smell that?” Andy absentmindedly groped himself. His testicle quivered against his palm, as if churning up gallons of fox spunk on the spot. He took a deep whiff then let out a throaty hum. “Damn, guess there’s no way you can’t. You’d pick up on musk that powerful even if you weren’t foxes.”

With everything going on, Andy hadn’t been keeping up with his body’s needs. He wasn’t thirsty or hungry. This wasn’t the need of a normal fox. This was his need.

An Andy need.

Another poorly suppressed whimper came from outside the room. He could imagine his oversized girlfriend trying and failing to be inconspicuous. Eyed by other shoppers while she waggled her hips, restless with concern over what he might do to these foxes—as she would

technically be responsible. Concern, yes. But also excitement. Her tail produced a rhythmic, thump... thump... thump... as it whapped the floor. An index finger likely dammed the width of her maw, a gag to chomp on.

One of his tailors made a sudden scooch in the exit’s direction. Andy routed him with a stomp, wooden floor panels splintering up in jags around his paw. The tailor now sat frozen inches from being impaled by upended panels.

His awe sent another shiver of pleasure through Andy. Scalesborough had been one thing. It wasn’t until The Jungle that he felt a proper beast. But here, with his own kind who he outweighed 1 to 24, Andy began to feel a real rush. He was a monster to these runts.

The satisfaction he derived from planting his paw next to one of the tailors and watching him gape at its enormity bordered on sexual. In his current balled-up position, knees hiked to his chest, this shrimpy beta fox could vanish underneath alpha Andy’s tread.

“Don’t go anywhere just yet,” he said, emphasizing his weight on the paw dent. Wooden crackles twanged in the air as panels splintered bit by bit. “You’ve got your work cut out for you measuring me.” As his paw ripped through the flimsy veneer of wood and hit an underlying layer of concrete, the tailor scurried back with a high-pitched yelp.

“You can start on my paw.” Then he swiveled to look down at another silent tailor, who instantly leapt upright. “And you can start on my thighs.” Another after that. “You get my height just right, got that? Then you...” He addressed the last of his puny attendants. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m built different from the average fox. I shouldn’t beat around the bush: I’m hung like a barn of horses.” Andy had yet to let go of his crotch, words growling to huskier octaves. “You’re going to be sure any pants fit my thick, juicy—”

The door swung open, ripped off its hinges with an, “Oops.” Everyone turned in Adelonda’s direction as she peeked inside.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Andy crooned. Her eyes fell straight to his crotch. “Care to come in? Might be a bit cramped with all six of us, but I’m sure we’ll manage.”

“I think it’s time we get going!” she said, voice loud with nerves. “Outside? In just my jock? That’d go over well.” The tailors took this as their opportunity to stream out the exit. Hurrying around Andy’s

inconvenient paw then ducking underneath Adelonda’s parted legs. She used her tail to bump the last tailor back into the room, smacked against Andy’s leg.

After a quick glance into the store, Adelonda looked down at the terrified tailor and said, “Something’s come up. My boyfriend and I need to get back home. Stat. Would you be willing to put this behind us in exchange for some free advertising?”

* The couple made for a two-person stampede, over five tons total hurrying down the

street. The Fox’s Fit was spelled out in bold red letters across white cloth billowing over Andy’s

crotch. He strode shirtless along the sidewalk. In lieu of an outfit, he had been given a for-sale banner hanging from the wall. It did the trick—so long as no one walked underneath him and looked up.

He let Adelonda lead the way, preferring to stalk close to her shapely swaying rear. To loom as a reminder of what awaited when they got home. Leaning low, he growled, “When we get back, you are so fucked.”

Her breath caught, then she let it out in a shaky laugh. “In all honesty, this was less disastrous than I expected. Nobody filed a report for sexual misconduct... or died.”

Andy chuckled. “I can behave myself.” He sniffed the air. Beneath the usual city smells he plucked Adelonda’s heated sex like a fine flower. Oh, he was going to ruin her. “I’m only 15 feet tall, not 1500.”

“1500?” Adelonda gave another insincere laugh. The scent of her sex thickened at the mention. “I don’t think the world could handle that much Andy.”

“I think you’re right.” Stooped forward, his grinning face had become the devil on his girlfriend’s shoulder. “I’m already on a rampage. Imagine if it were literal.”

“Not that you wouldn’t... deserve to be as big as you want to get.” “Oh?” “I can’t wait to get home,” Adelonda murmured. “Looking up at you... god, I can’t stop

thinking about how big you are.” “And you’d want me bigger than that?” “Did I say that?” Her husky voice cracked. “I don’t think I did.” “You implied it. Such a shame you’re out of serum.” “I am.” Newfound firmness entered her speech. “Completely tapped out.” “You drank each drop in existence. I couldn’t get you more if I wanted to.” “But you do want me to have more, right?” A pause. “Do you... want more?” “Just thinking aloud.” Andy rubbed his cheek against hers. “I couldn’t get much bigger

without becoming everyone’s problem, though.” He rolled his eyes upwards to look at buildings

that still outmatched him. His heart beat with newfound ambitions. “My goal of outgrowing you seems kind of small, in the grand scheme of things.”

“I’m the fourth largest woman in the world, Andy. You can’t hit a much bigger milestone than outgrowing every dragon at once.”

“Mm,” Andy hummed his approval of that thought. “And now everyone knows who’s in charge of our relationship.” Ramming his hands past Adelonda’s underarms, he groped her breasts and forced her to a grinding halt. He seized her chin, forced her to look up. The instant she parted her lips to say something he filled her petite maw with his tongue. Her throat bulged as she choked on it in public.

Adelonda’s lids drooped, eyes glassy. Submitting to his every whim in an instant. Andy could have ripped her clothes off and fucked her on the sidewalk. Instead he forced himself to let go.

“Fuck,” she rasped. Gnawing at her lower lip, she noted the dozens of eyes trained on the two of them. “D-damn right they do. We should get home, Andy.

“Andy?” Repeating his name, Adelonda looked over her shoulder only to find Andy was gone. He had tuned her out. The world, too: car horns blared as drivers slammed their brakes to avoid colliding with legs that would have crumpled their fenders. He ignored shouts and honks while jaywalking.

A neat brick wall spanned the sidewalk. Not Scalesborough’s, though.

Adelonda’s concerned voice followed. She caused a second traffic upset on her way across the road. “I thought we were going back to my place?” Her hand only fit around one of his meaty fingers; she tugged, trying to coax him away.

Andy wrenched his hand free, tracing fingertips along the wall as he went. Adelonda was forced to follow until he stopped at a barred gate that came up to his chest. The sidewalk dipped here, accompanied by a no-parking sign as if this were a driveway.

Mousehole, read plated golden letters riveted atop the rainbow-shaped arch. A low arch to Andy. Chest-high. Wide enough for an average mammal’s car to drive through. Narrower than his shoulder span.

Dragons laired in isolated neighborhoods for everyone else’s safety. Mice did it for their own. There was a certain cutoff where looking out below all the time just stopped being feasible. For the majority of mammals, that cutoff was 1’ tall. So mice and rats and other small scurrying critters built their own cities-within-the-city. Walled. Gated. Efficient. They took up no more than a block’s worth of space yet teemed with aisles of brick-laid apartments and malls no taller than grocery store shelves.

Mousehole was one of those mini cities.

...