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**Carmine And Jet

By

Dissident Love

December 2023**

_I started this story towards the middle of 2022, thanks to discussion and inspiration from a very special snep. As with all of my writing projects, it ended up on the back burner (or frankly just falling behind the stove entirely, to dwell in darkness with all the cruft and stray macaroni noodles) when everything in my real life went to hell towards the end of 2022. Bit by bit, things have improved, and I've felt the urge to write and the creative spark return. As always, though, it's hard for me to finish something until I've finished the project BEFORE it, and as this was the closest project to completion, I needed to get this done before I could let my brain dwell on anything else. I have writing plans for 2024, but I'm not going to set anything in stone. I'm just going to write, a little bit every day, and not worry as much about deadlines and expectations.

And if you're still following me and if you're actually reading this, thank you so much.

I appreciate it more than you can know._

????

1. Decisions

Jet dropped his briefcase as soon as he stepped through the door, his long ears drooping forwards across his stubby muzzle. "I'm home or whatever," he called out, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it towards the wall hooks. It missed, falling in a heap. "Happy... what is it... Tuesday?"

"It's Thursday, honey," came Carmine's low, husky voice from the kitchen. "Long day?"

"I don't even know anymore," the bun said weakly. "I am going to be so happy when we're done doing all this work for Sluggo and Boyce."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that!"

"Yeah, well..." Jet shrugged to himself, pushing his ears back out of his eyes. Sluggo and Boyce were one of the east coast's premier purveyors of adult entertainment, employing thousands of skilled workers, to say nothing of the hundreds of famous models and erotic actors. Jet's law firm was, among other things, in charge of helping them unionize and upgrade their corporate offices as they expanded into more and more niche markets and marketplaces. "Lawyers are lawyers, even when they represent porn stars."

'You sure? I'm pretty sure I saw a documentary where those lawyers got up to some sexy hijinks."

"Dear, that was Lusty Lawyers 4: Stuffed Briefs, remember?"

"Ohhh, yeeaaahhh..."

Jet made his way into the apartment, relieved and delighted to see the love of his life posing saucily against their refrigerator, a tall glass of wine in one paw and a tall can of dark beer in the other. "Is it a 'regale me with the delightful japes of the day over wine' night, or a 'tell the world to fuck off and gets tipsy over beer' night, babe?" the fox asked.

The bunny's muzzle twisted. "You know how I feel about hops," he chuckled, taking the wine and downing half of it in one go. The fox giggled and sipped from what had thus become his beer. "But thank you. Just... long hours. Its not that bad, really."

Carmine nodded, stepping forwards and wrapping one long, slender arm around Jet's waist. He had to stand on his tiptoes to kiss Jet's chin, but it did put him at the prime elevation to rest his long, silky muzzle against the bunny's shirt-straining bust. "You're doing good work, babe."

Jet shivered, wishing he could feel his lover's breath against his chest. Sadly, that was not the case... yet. He could feel an awe-inspiring amount of weight come to bear against his long lapine legs, though, and that was nearly as good. "I know. Really, we have you to thank for it."

The fox's tail wagged happily, even as he tried to act aloof. "Me? Why me?"

"Don't play coy," Jet purred, drawing Carmine in closer. The slightly-built femme boy was one of Sluggo & Boyce's newer acquisitions. He'd gained their attention as an independent model, and after the surprising success of his first feature, Big Things & Small Packages 5: Foxes, had been offered a contract. Carmine hadn't been there a week before he started dropping subtle hints that his hunky bunny boyfriend just happened to be a young, hungry worker's rights lawyer.

"Coy? Me?" Carmine's tail was wagging harder now, swishing the hem of his gauzy dress to and fro. "Well, I never."

"Liar," Jet grinned, leaning down to give the lovely fox a kiss. "Come on. You need to tell me about your day."

"Why me?"

"Your days are way more interesting."

"Everyone just assumes that..."

Jet rolled his eyes, guiding his love into the living room. They made quite the pair: Jet was a full foot taller, the additional height of his ears nearly brushing the ceiling. His silky fur was a smokey grey-black except for the golden ruff emerging from the neck of his shirt. Long and lean of leg, he liked to think that his most distinguishing, or at least the most appealing, characteristic was his bust, twin swells notably larger than his own head, gently overflowing his torso and bumping into his arms a hundred times a day.

Carmine was decidedly petite, even by foxish standards, the tips of his ears only barely reaching Jet's shoulders. Today he was wearing a wispy white dress that contrasted nicely with his bright red fur, cut low in the front to reveal his trim masculine chest. Jet's arm draped around the fox's shoulder, his dusky fingertips brushing through Carmine's own white chest fluff. The fox walked with a pronounced waddle, though, and it was plain to see why: the flouncy dress did absolutely nothing to cover a pair of balls like cottony white watermelons and a sheathless black shaft that swung near his knees.

Carmine turned and sprawled elegantly across their couch, flinging one leg up over the back and beckoning invitingly. This time it was Jet's stubby tail that wagged eagerly, his eyes crawling over his boyfriend's lush, lucious form. The fox's flaccid shaft draped heavily across his sac, the dress hiking up to leave not an inch of him decently covered. "You curl up here and let mommy tell you all about their day then," Carmine crooned, resting the can of beer against his bulge as though to drive home how hilariously small it was in comparison.

"One... second," Jet managed, his eyes crawling shamelessly even as he backed out of the living room. "Hold that thought."

The fox sighed, his head lolling off the edge of the couch. "But I practiced that spin just for you!" he called as Jet darted off to their bedroom. "A waste! All a waste! Woe is me!"

"I'll make it up to you in... urf... a minute!"

Carmine chuckled, knowing exactly what his big bun was getting up to. "Must've been quite the day if you're already resorting to upgrading," he said loudly, rummaging around beneath his rump for the TV remote. "Usually that's a weekend thing."

"Yeah, well... urf... some things can't wait."

When Jet emerged a few minutes later he had changed out of his sensible white button-down shirt and into a much more comfortable baby blue sports bra being stretched to within an inch of its life. Whereas before his breasts had each been a nice double-handful, they seemed to have grown considerably and now filled his torso like golden-brown pumpkins.

"Oohh, it was a rough day!" Carmine said approvingly, eyeing up his suddenly more-buxom boyfriend. "You get down here and tell me all about it."

Jet blushed, as he always did when he wore his largest prosthetics, and slowly sank onto the couch. His balance wasn't perfect when he was this big, and he couldn't see anything at all beyond the perfectly color-matched fur of his latex-and-foam bust. "You first. I'll go last. Just... trust me."

"Well, duh," the fox winked. "Do you see anyone else here who's going to go before you?"

Jet eased himself sideways until his head was resting against the warm, taut fluff of Carmine's sac, smelling faintly of lavender perfume and the strawberry lotion the fox used to keep his extremely expansive assets looking their best. The bun inhaled through his nose and closed his eyes, feeling the stresses of the day melting out of him. He gave Carmine's sac a little squeeze. "You're pretty small, so I'm guessing you had a GOOD day..."

"Small?" the fox asked archly. As though responding to his indignation, Jet felt the little fox's seedtanks rumble and swell larger by a gallon or two. "Watch it, buck-o."

"Small for YOU, hun, for YOU," the bunny giggled, knowing just how to tease his beloved. "You hardly waddled at all tonight."

"I'll show you waddling," Carmine purred, running his fingers along Jet's ears. "Later, though. Yes, as a matter of fact, I did shoot a couple scenes today. Solo scene, where the producer had me riding on the subway all day and growing. I think the conceit was the vibrations were making me grow? He said they'd get it in editing. By the time we were done, I could barely fit through the subway doors, and someone said 'hey, we should shoot a partner scene, as long as you're already revved up.'"

"Waste not, want not," Jet agreed, giving the fox's orbs a chaste smooch.

"So they stuffed me into a Scuuter and we headed uptown to do a scene with some other new hire. You might like him, he used to be some sort of legal assistant before moving on to a real job."

"Oh, ha ha."

"Huge bear of a guy, literally. They do like pairing me with the big folks, for some reason. It was a cute scene, really. I was backed up like a hydro dam, so of course they put me in a tiny skirt and a little tie-dyed wisp of a blouse. He was there to fix my sink, because that plot never gets old. We made a lot of plumbing single-entendre. In the end, he goes for this shy kiss, and that just sets me RIGHT off, and... well, you'll have to buy the DVD to find out how it ends."

"Awww!" Jet pouted, giving Carmine's thigh a gentle slap. "Tease!"

"Let's see, what were the things the writers gave me to say? We 'pressure-tested his seals for tightness'." Carmine heaved a huge, contented sigh. "He passed. Though you'd have to ask him if that was a GOOD thing."

The bunny churred approvingly. He did know how a lot of Carmine's scenes tended to end. Some days, that was what he loved most about him. "Fine. Bring your work home with you, see if I care."

Carmine snickered, squeezing his legs around his sweetie's body. "And you need to stop bringing your work home with you. It's not good for you. So dish! What happened today? Don't leave out any boring, frivolous, clerical little detail. I insist."

"Brave."

"Eh, I started drinking before you got home. I'm sure it'll just wash over me. OUCH!"

Jet removed his teeth from the base of Carmine's shaft, blinking his eyes innocently. "Sorry. My mouth slipped."

"Ooooooh, you're going to pay for that."

"Promise?"

"Just tell me how terrible your day was so I can exact my horrible vengeance."

Jet wrapped his arms around Carmine's fluffy but far-from-full balls, pressing his wonderfully-oversized bust against them. They were nearly the same size now, but the bunny knew that the fox wasn't even showing a hint of his true potential. Natural hypers were capable of vastly more than mere foam. "So, we've been doing one-on-ones for the last week, slowly working through everyone's freelance employment history and trying to roll it into a comprehensive tax scheme going forwards that will benefit everyone."

"Oh my gawd, this sounds lawyer-y already!" Carmine moaned.

"I'm not even at the good part," Jet smirked to himself, enjoying his lover's feigned displeasure. "Mostly we're doing these things online, since S&B has offices in a dozen cities and freelancers in a dozen more. I mean, I don't need to tell you that."

"We have come a long way from me doing cam shows in our bedroom while you go to law school," the fox murmured dreamily, rubbing his toes along the bunny's back.

"Though it was nice coming home to you all... in a state. Having you all to myself."

"If only the viewers knew."

"Bah, let them dream," Jet churred. "But anyways, I was talking to this one lady by the name of Beth Delia. Do you know hir?"

"That's so presumptive! Just because we're both erotic actors, you automatically think we're best friends! We don't ALL know eachother. Jeez." Carmine paused for a second. "But yes, actually, I think I do. Leopard, platinum blonde, tits out to here?"

"A little further out than that, these days," Jet chuckled. "Which was how we got to talking about medical coverage, benefits, that sort of thing. Stuff that a real accountant should have talked to hir about ages ago, but this is why we're here, I guess. So shi has bi-weekly visits to the TruU clinic where shi gets, uhm... enhanced. Or is it bi-monthly? The one where it's twice a month, not twice a week."

"How are you a lawyer and you don't know that?"

"Whatever, every two weeks. There's no fee for that, it's all a part of hir initial procedure. But there are other bills associated with the trip. So we got into a whole rabbit's warren of possibilities."

"For hir?" Carmine asked. "To get a job where shi doesn't need headaches like this?"

"Well... uhm..." Jet took a deep breath, his prosthetics creaking softly. "For me, actually."

"Don't tell me YOU want to get into the porn business?!"

"Please! It's 'adult entertainment', and it's a perfectly respectable career choice."

"Don't get smug with me, law boy! You can't be serious."

"About getting into your field? Oh, fuck no. I can't even say 'titmouse' without giggling like a schoolgirl. No, I wouldn't insult you by trying that."

"Then what are you talking about?"

Very carefully, knowing how sensitive Carmine's endowments were, Jet sat up. He ran his silken paws across the immensely full breasts that looked absolutely real, but which he couldn't feel beyond a faint muted pressure against his chest and a twinge in his lower back. "I mean... these. I'm going to do it."

Carmine's eyes widened, the full length of his shaft stirring and flexing. "You... really? You mean it?"

"Beth was sitting in my office, big as life, fresh from getting a bi-monthly semi-weekly-whatever filling at the clinic, and shi just looked so... happy. And shi complimented my chest, you know, asked where I'd got them done, and I had to confess they were mostly fake fur and latex. Shi said they looked great, but wouldn't I rather have the real thing? And, I ran through all my usual excuses."

Carmine lifted up a paw and started ticking points off his fingers. "I don't want to have them ALL the time. I want to be different sizes at different times. It might make it harder to progress at my job if I had cosmetic surgery. It's awfully expensive. I'm a big giant wussy."

Jet frowned. "That last one was phrased better when I said it, but... something like that."

"And shi talked you into it? When I've been trying for HOW many years?"

"You live with me! You love me. You want me to be happy. Of course you'd say those things. Beth... shi just met me, shi had no stake in this whatsoever. Shi was just a random person I happened to meet, like the tenth porn star this month I've gawked at in my office while we go over new company rights material. And... there was something persuasive about seeing someone bigger than I've ever dreamed of being..."

"I don't know whether to get angry at Beth or send hir a thank you note," Carmine muttered. It was hard to hide his feelings, though. Between them, the fox's third leg of a cock was bulging and shifting in time to his heartbeat, each little thrum stretching it thicker and heavier. In another moment it lifted off of the couch, lengthening until it brushed against Jet's belly fur. "So... you're really going to do it?"

"I already did," Jet confessed, petting Carmine's maleness casually. "Called, mentioned Beth's name, got a referral. Going to have a meeting with them on my lunch break tomorrow. Discuss... options."

"That's... that's amazing, babe!" Carmine tried to sit up, eager to give his beloved a reassuring hug and a kiss, but his sac had already swollen enough to keep his legs forced apart. With regular rumbles they filled out further and further; soon he would need to turn sideways to fit through most doors in the apartment. That was still what he considered a 'reasonable' walking around size. "Congratulations!"

Jet leaned back, hefting the fox's still-growing cock and snuggling it against his faux-fur breasts. "I take it you approve?" he huffed, tracing his fingers along thumb-thick veins straining at the tightening black skin.

"Babe, you know I approve of whatever you do. Hell, I found you the best place to buy your falsies. But... I always wished they were really you, and I know you did, too."

It was getting hard to see much of Carmine over his balls, each one like an overfilled beachball and only growing more taut with each breath. He was really excited by the news! "Now, it's just a consultation. There's different options. Saline, silicone, polypropylene, ultralite, Sintex, profligate copolymer.... Plus I gotta book time off work. Then there's the whole new wardrobe I'm going to need-"

With tremendous effort, Carmine forced himself to sit upright. "Babe... shut the fuck up. Stop being a lawyer for one minute and just be happy!"

Jet grinned, blinking away a tear. "I am," he said. His nose wrinkled. The tip of one ear flopped forwards and he used it to dab at his eyes. "I really am, and... Beth or no, it's all because of you. The billion times you told me to do it, the billion times I wanted to say yes."

Carmine swatted Jet's falsies playfully, struggling to stay upright while perched awkwardly on the couch as he rapidly approached full arousal."That's me, the unstoppable force," he smiled, wrapping his arms languidly around his shaft. "Oof, honey. You are going to have me in a MOOD for tomorrow, and we've still got the whole night ahead of us!"

"Are you sure you aren't too tired? You had a bear of a day."

"Oh, you're going to pay double for that. Help me up."

---

Jet hopped out of the Scuuter outside what was, to him, just another boring office building. That was the great stealthy magic of the modern city, as he knew all too well. Concrete and steel, glass and chrome, monuments to banal modernity, concealing every conceivable product and service the furre mind could conjure.

He walked swiftly, mind and body on autopilot, heart jackhammering nervously beneath the falsies he referred to as 'Full & Proud'. The lobby passed around him as though he were on a conveyor belt, spacious and silent and dreamlike. He found himself in an elevator, taking control only long enough to punch the button for the 37th floor.

Pretty high, he thought, mentally trying to work out the rent that TruU must pay. His legal duties involved endless reams of numbers and dollar signs, and he always retreated to their comforting anonymity when he was anxious.

Today, he found no comfort there. The other half dozen folks on the elevator shuffled softly, a few glancing at Jet's too-tight shirt and giving him the ghost of a smile. Several thoughts warred in the bunny's mind: I should have worn a smaller set, I should have worn a bigger set, I shouldn't have worn these at all, I should have bought an EVEN BIGGER set and just never called TruU in the first place!

He tried to force the dissonance out of his mind, picturing Carmine in an old-timey maid outfit and shooing the argumentative little thoughts away with a feather duster. As always, picturing his beloved fox soothed his nerves and lowered his hackles (though he wasn't sure if rabbitkind even had hackles). He unclenched his fists with a series of pops and smoothed down his shirt, drawing a few more brief stares.

Several minutes later, he was eventually released to the 37th floor. He'd expected the traditional branching hallway, and an indexed plaque in brushed nickel or bronze that told him where to go.

Instead, he found himself in a pleasant, softly-upholstered lobby, done up in warm peach tones with natural green highlights. An old-fashioned wooden sign to his side proudly announced that this was, indeed, TruU.

"Be Yourself," he read from the sign's subscript, and smiled. The tiny administrative voice in the back of his mind was busy trying to figure out how a simple biomedical company could afford the entire floor of a skyscraper.

"Gosh, you are distracted."

Jet froze. "You... said you were busy today," he managed through numb lips.

The bunny spun slowly to find Carmine tucked ever so slightly around a corner in a recessed sitting area. He wasn't wearing the maid outfit from Jet's imagination, but the ensemble wasn't too far off: a tight black t-shirt with the Sluggo & Boyce logo embroidered on it, and a voluminous black skirt spread out over a tremendously disproportionate bulk.

"I was busy, silly," the fox smiled, pushing up his shades and winking. "I had an incredibly important appointment downtown. I had to book a three hour lunch, because you know how easily I get lost."

Moving easily despite his badly pent-up endowments, Carmine rose and swayed his way over to Jet. "And I know you, Mister Big Shot Fancy Lawyer Pants. You need me here today."

"Hon, it's just an intake meeting," Jet smiled helplessly, leaning forward to embrace his beloved as best he could overtop of the fox's vast endowments. He was still pent up from the night before, which is how he did some of his best work as a model. Normally Jet would have stared openly and unabashedly, but today he found those conflicting thoughts difficult to shake. "Looking at options, you know? It's fine, you didn't need to come down-"

Carmine put one paw pertly on his hips, raising his other and pressing a finger to Jet's muzzle. "Baby, you're going to walk out of that office with a mittful of pamphlets and a million more excuses."

"Nuh-uhmph!" the bun protested around Carmine's manicured finger. "I'm wavv-"

"Shhh, shh shh shh," Carmine clucked. "I'm sorry for going behind your back on this (phrasing, yes, I know), but... ease my worries on this, all right? Let me just do this one with you, and I promise I'll stay out of the rest of the process."

Jet's heart pounded, but he was most acutely aware of his face burning. He couldn't quickly remember the last time he'd actually felt angry at his boyfriend, but a little spike of resentment was working its way through his spine right now.

Carmine tilted his wrist and cupped Jet's cheek, brushing his thumb comfortingly across Jet's whiskers. "You can be grumpy at me later?"

And just like that, Jet's shoulders sagged. "You're probably right," he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into his lover's paw. "I mean, just now in the elevator I was trying to... I mean, I was thinking about-"

"Shh shh shh," Carmine repeated, leaning forwards to wrap his arms around the taller bun. It wasn't the easiest embrace, given the obstacles between their lower bodies, but they'd had years to practice. "I know, I know."

"I'm still mad at you."

"I know."

"I'm going to demand multiple kinds of cheese for dinner tonight."

"I can live with that."

Carmine squeezed, Jet chuckled, and reluctantly they parted. The fox was utterly unflappable, given his career choice, but Jet couldn't shake the fact that he was dangerously close to being late for a scheduled appointment. He looked around and realized that there was indeed a reception desk at the back of the cavernous but still quaintly inviting lobby. "I expected a lot more people here on a Friday," he mused. "I mean, this lobby is practically the size of our main boardroom."

A chipper feminine voice piped up from somewhere behind the reception desk. "We keep preliminary consultations pretty well separated. Folks' first time here can sometimes be a little overwhelming, and we don't want potential clients to feel anxious."

"Too late," Carmine called. "This one is anxious professionally, full-time. Even when he sleeps."

"Liar. I take commercial breaks."

Jet didn't know what he expected, but given the TruU website and the handful of advertisements he'd seen, to say nothing of the clients he'd met recently through his work with S&B, the receptionist seemed quite pleasantly normal and unremarkable. She was an older stoat, her chestnut mane sparkling with pink highlights, wearing a prim and sensible black pantsuit. She beamed up at the couple, shuffling some papers with practiced ease. "Jet Jimeoin and... guest?"

"Carmine," the fox purred smoothly. "Just Carmine."

"Just... Carmine," she grinned, adding his name to a couple fields. "Welcome to TruU! Professor Mizenkowski is expecting you. Down the hall to your right, can't miss it."

"He could," Jet said. Carmine simply squeaked indignantly.

It was true, though. Down the hall to their right they came to a bank of glass partitions that looked in on a tremendous and brightly-lit corner office. The city beyond sparkled and bustled with life, the cool waters of the bay just visible in the distance. They nearly walked right past the open glass doors, so transfixed were they by the spectacle.

"Hello!" waved the burly ibex, rising from behind a desk the size of the kitchen Jet and Carmine shared. His great curved horns nearly brushed the ceiling, which was notably quite a bit higher in here than the rest of the office. "Good afternoon! Welcome, please come in."

"Hello!" Carmine returned gaily, dragging Jet into the office, moving swiftly and easily despite his burdensome bulges. "Good day! Come on, sweetie. Jeez, it's like dragging a sofa..."

Jet tried walking normally, but Carmine's impatience created a slight tug-of-war effect between them. Professor Mizenkowski chuckled softly and circled his desk to greet them both. "I think I can guess which of you is my 12:15 appointment, and which one of you is... moral support," he rumbled, looming pleasantly over them both. He extended a mitt the size of a catcher's glove. "Milos Mizenkowski."

"This is Jet," Carmine said. "I am Mrs. Moral Support."

"I'm starting to feel attacked," Jet said, forcing a smile and shaking the ibex's paw. "Professor, not Doctor?"

Mizenkowski shrugged his great shoulders. "My background is research and development, and of course marketing. I have a doctorate... two, actually... but my position with TruU lately is more in the field of customer relations. The rest of the time, I teach theoretical microbiology at the University."

Jet wasn't the sort of modern bun to look at a huge, buff, handsome fella and assume that they couldn't also be highly intelligent, but it was still somewhat jarring to hear that clipped technical tone coming from someone who could have bench pressed a professional linebacker. "Well... thank you for seeing me today. Er, us, I should say. My boyfriend decided to, ah, helpfully ambush me."

"You'd be surprised how often that happens," Mizenkowski grinned, adjusting his dainty spectacles. He took in the tall, buxom bunny and the obviously very hyper fox, nodded, and sat back down behind his desk. "There's nothing wrong with bringing an expert witness."

Carmine snickered, easing his pert rump onto the edge of a chair. "No TruU work here, Doctor Professor," he said, patting a long bulge as big around as his waist. "This is all natural. I'm just a little flustered right now."

"Lovely," Mizenkowski said, and Jet was surprised to discover he believed the professor meant that in a purely professional, aesthetic sense. "So, Mister Jimeoin, what can we do for you here at TruU?"

Jet opened his mouth, launched into his prepared speech, and stalled out at the first word. "I-..."

Carmine tapped his toes impatiently. Professor Mizenkowski blinked and steepled his fingers, but said nothing. Eventually the fox rolled his eyes and poked the side of Jet's bust. "My brilliant lawyer boyfriend would like to go from special effects to practical effects."

"Carmine!"

The ibex chuckled again and squinted with interest. "Ahh, I see. Prostheses? Let me see... Soft Murry? Fulsome X-Cup? X-Plus, perhaps, based on the projection."

Jet's jaw dropped. "Er... yes! X-Plus, with the beaded fill. They're lighter, since I wear them all day."

"Excellent color-matching," the professor said. "Well, we can certainly offer you some solutions! I assume you've checked out the website? Registered a profile and explored the photo-manipulation features?"

"Er... yes. Quite often, in fact." Carmine's ears perked up, suddenly interested, but Jet pressed on. "It's been incredibly difficult to settle on any one thing, though."

"That is so common as to very nearly be part of the standard procedure," the ibex said smoothly. "Almost ninety percent of customers planning on simple breast augmentation do not have a specific size in mind, for many of the same reasons."

"The greed is real," Carmine said sagely.

"Quite. Most will start with a size on the low end of what they feel is 'too big', for whatever either of those words mean in this context, and explore both their own reaction to their new shape as well as the daily physical experience. You have an advantage in this case, as you have lived the daily physical experience for quite some time."

"Six years," Jet nodded, one ear drooping sadly. "Bought my first set when I went away to college, so I could start the first day of classes without anyone knowing any better."

"Mmm hmmm. How big did you allow yourself to go then?"

"G cup." The bun laughed. "I don't even own anything under a P cup anymore. I thought that was so huge back then...."

Mizenkowsi made a note on one of the many papers spread out before him. "Do most people know you wear prostheses?"

"Not most. Uhm... Carmine, a few people at my office. A couple friends I've made since moving to the city. My folks, of course, but they've always been supportive."

"So if you were to show up for work noticeably smaller than you are now, that would be all right?"

Jet frowned, chewing his lip. "Hmmm. Good point. I was worried about showing up suddenly bigger, but... yeah, I guess I kinda painted myself into a corner. I can't show up smaller either."

"We don't believe in 'can't' here," the Professor winked. "You can do whatever you want. Can and in most cases should. I'm merely trying to present the options to allow you to create the most positive outcomes. So, let's preliminarily say you wish to augment to your currently worn size."

Jet looked down. He squeezed his upper arms against his false bust, enjoying the way the buttons on his shirt creaked and strained. "Done." Carmine giggled, his tail swishing audibly.

"Excellent. Honestly, these prosthesis firms do wonders for our TruU. It's easier now than ever before for people to explore options on their own. Moving on, have you considered further augmentations?"

"Erhm... further?"

"The greed, sweetie," Carmine said airily, squeezing Jet's knee.

"Quite. Obviously we wouldn't set anything in stone right now for procedures so far down the line, but if you were considering further enhancements to your size or shape, then there are various options to help enable that. Sintex-based implants are fairly fixed in size, for instance, but they also tend to provide the most 'realistic' look and feel. Recent developments, particularly in stem-cell scaffolding and profligate copolymer, are providing more and better options for further customization."

Jet nodded again. That was true; he had done his research, after all. He felt he could write a dissertation on most implant technologies at this point. "I..."

Carmine leaned forwards, his eyebrows trying to coax the reluctant bun to spill the beans. "I'll kick your ass later if you lie right now," he said lovingly.

"Yes, I would like to... keep the options open to get bigger," he said at last. Carmine clapped and bounced, sending his skirts sloshing and swaying.

"Splendid," Mizenkowski said, not sounding surprised in the least. "With your approval, would you be willing to review some tactile samples?"

"Er... sure!" Jet brightened. That had been one of his biggest questions, and he'd been unable to think of a way to ask that was polite without being hugely embarrassing. Carmine had offered to bring Jet down to the S&B offices to grope some of the models, but the shy bun had politely refused.

Mizenkowski tapped a button on his phone. "Kelsi, would you please send in volunteers three, four, six and.... Hmmmm... nine? Thank you."

Jet's ears twitched. "I'm sorry. 'Volunteers'?"

To one side of the office, a door that blended into the plain cream-colored walls opened up. Jet's eyes bulged, while Carmine was holding one paw to his stomach and using the other to keep his muzzle shut, he was giggling so ferociously. Into Mizenkowski's office stepped four extremely buxom individuals, three masc and one femme (though the femme's yoga pants were wrapped snugly around a collection of bulges that could only be accurately described using the largest kinds of produce).

"Of course, volunteers!" the ibex said with a wide smile. "Many of our clients are only too happy to help others find the start of their journey. Though, for privacy reasons, we will of course only refer to their numbers. Number three?"

The figure furthest to the right, a mountain lion with a well-coiffed mohawk of gleaming black bristles, bounced and waved. "Hello!" he smiled. He wore blue jeans and sneakers, but above the waist wore only a skimpy black bra that struggled to contain a pair of gold-and-white breasts several cups larger than the ones Jet currently wore. "These are double-shelled dual-density expanders. The outer shell is saline and kept at a slightly higher pressure than the inner shell, which is polyduralene foam. There are ports here and here for filling, and on rare occasions, reduction." He cupped his breasts and lifted, revealing two tiny metallic dots near his armpits.

"I see," Jet said weakly, his ears flopped backwards. He fumbled blindly for Carmine's paw, squeezing tightly. "Th-thank you."

"Four here," said the femme, a tall and breathtakingly lean and slender doegrrl. Jet noted that hir maleness seemed to be doubled, with four balls and two sheathes clearly visible through the tight material of hir pants. This theme carried on with hir breasts, three impressively high and full spheres straining a pink sports bra and so wide that he doubted shi could get hir arms even most of the way around them. "High-profile low-density polyduralene foam. Lighter than the rest of me, for that 'fake' look." Shi giggled and made air quotes near the stubs of hir antlers. "Also allows for frequent fills, if that's your thing!"

"You hear that, Jet? Frequent!" Carmine whispered into Jet's ear.

Number six took a small step forwards. It was another bun, possibly even younger than Jet and mottled brown and gray. He wore plain jeans as well, along with a tight shirt cut to expose as much cleavage as physically possible. He bounced on his heels, sending everything jiggling wildly. "Bio-scaffolding," he said shyly, pushing his hands against the sides of his breasts. "I started at J-cup, and as long as I keep the protein receptors active with medicated lotion and keep my diet extremely protein rich, these will keep growing. It's taken me about three years to get here." Unspoken but plainly visible on the bun's face was the fact that he did not intend to stop anytime soon.

"I mean, three years is a long time, but those look really... soft," Carmine breathed, nosing Jet's cheek.

"And number nine?" Mizenkowski said, gesturing to the final figure.

"Profligate copolymer," said the shaggy-browed bovine. He wore baggy board shorts and a tank top that would have been loose on nearly anyone else, looking for all the world as if he'd just come from the beach or maybe a pick-up basketball game. He was thicker-bodied than the other three, which almost made his bust seem less impressive, but when he pressed the lower part of the shirt to his stomach Jet could see their true size. "Second-stage expanders. My first set were lovely, but they didn't have the, ah, capacity that I wanted."

"Would you care to demonstrate, number nine?" Mizenkowski asked.

In response, the bovine pulled his phone out of his cleavage and began fiddling with it. "The implants contain tiny encoded receptors, along with ultra-low voltage batteries and capacitors that generate microcurrent from body heat. They can then discharge the current across the copolymerase filling, which... can... do... this!" He tapped his phone triumphantly and beamed.

For a moment nothing happened. Jet had seen a few short videos on the profligate copolymer implants, but since they were still a new development there wasn't much, even on the TruU website, certainly not involving someone who was already so prominently endowed. He wondered if the growth would even be noticeable, given the bovine's current size. It seemed as though there was simply a slight delay to the effects.

All three volunteers watched with open admiration as number nine's breasts expanded, pushing out against his arms in soft, gurgling surges. They grew rounder as they filled, but not nearly so round as the doegrrl's. The bovine hugged his arms around his breasts to provide a better sense of scale, silken-furred flesh spilling over them almost immediately. He locked his fingers, his muzzle twisting with the effort of keeping his paws together, and still his breasts grew.

At last, when Jet wasn't sure his heart could take anymore, number nine's phone beeped and his expansion stopped. The bun wasn't sure exactly what size the volunteer was dealing with now, but he was definitely going to have some trouble fitting through the door.

"I can still go a little bigger, if you need?" number nine added helpfully.

"No, I believe that's... quite enough for now, thank you."

"Ok." With a gasp and a creak of protesting fabric, he released his embrace, nearly tumbling forwards in response. His shirt, formerly long and flowing, now looked like a poorly-fitting crop top. His breasts obscured everything between his shoulders and his hips, swaying hypnotically. "Whew."

Mizenkowski leaned back in his chair. "Would you like to feel the samples?"

Carmine squeezed Jet's hand like a vise. "Yes, he would."

"Now, hang on, I was-"

"Darling, you're going to say no, when a literal Doctor Professor is inviting you."

"Yeah, but they-"

"Volunteers, did you volunteer for this?"

All four volunteers smiled and nodded, giving various direct invitations for Jet to lay his paws on them.

Jet tried retreating into his shirt, but found that unlikely. He did want to feel the various implants, oh how he did, and Carmine knew it. "If... I mean... no-one minds...?"

"Oh, for Pete's sake," volunteer number four laughed. "Get on up here, you, before I come give you a lap dance."

Cheeks burning, ears twitching, but smiling so wide he could feel his jaw muscles cramping, Jet stood and prepared to get the first real hands-on experience with his dreams come true.

2. Adjustments

Jet's eyes fluttered, dry air rattling around his parched throat. He stretched, his knuckles thumping against an unfamiliar headboard. The mattress was too hard, the blankets unfamiliar, his body aching in peculiar ways.

I must've slept on the couch again, he thought blearily, fumbling around for his phone. Over the years, with Carmine occasionally bringing his work home with him, Jet had developed some habits, chief of which was tucking his phone under the edge of the couch so it would be easy to find in the mornings. Today, though, he felt as though he were being restrained. Even reaching as far as he could, he also couldn't find the edge of the cushions. Our couch isn't THAT big...

As soon as he opened his eyes and beheld the omnipresent peach-and-cream color scheme of the TruU facilities, the last week returned in a rush. Distracted meetings at work, scheduling medical leave, frantic nights with Carmine where the fox did his best to soothe the bun's fears, two quick consultations with the doctors and surgeons who would be performing the augmentations, all culminating in a tense, thrilling, utterly uneventful Scuuter ride to a quiet and unassuming building in a quiet and unassuming neighborhood. Carmine kissed him long and hard enough to bring spots to Jet's eyes, and then said a tearful farewell. Jet was handed a bland orange drink, eased into a wheelchair, and trundled away to a waiting room before he... before he...

Jet rolled onto his back. He wasn't being restrained, at least not in the way his dream-addled mind had assumed.

"Bwuh," he breathed, staring at the taut expanse of hospital gown that flexed and shifted with undeniable weight. The mass bore down on his chest, making each inhalation a brief, wonderful little chore. He felt his pelt tug and twist in a dozen new ways and in a dozen places, something his prostheses had never done. Those had anchored around his neck, his shoulders, his back, spreading the burden across as much area as possible. This... these...

He slid his paws up the outer slopes of his breasts and gasped. He could feel them. He could feel them pressing down on him, snuggled against one another, shifting up towards his muzzle when he gave them a little squeeze. He winced, feeling the mural of bruises his torso had no doubt become, but the pleasure, the exultant joy at the realization that these were real, they were his, they were him, drowned them out.

He explored, more cautiously this time. He couldn't see much beyond a simple plain of fabric, but he could feel their full rondure. Some of his falsies would retain this sort of shape while laying on his back, so there was a familiarity, but even the most incidental tweak to his nipples provided a jolt of feedback. Jet had become so used to that muted, muffled feeling, needing to rely entirely on his imagination for sensory stimulation, that even the mildest nerve response was like a thunderstorm behind his eyes.

Jet yelped in shock when a third paw joined his, petting the undersides of his bust. "I knew it," Carmine crooned dramatically. "You've forgotten all about me. I've been replaced by these foam-filled hussies!"

The bun turned his head, with great reluctance, to see Carmine taking up the rest of what seemed to be a king-sized hospital bed. He was wearing his reading glasses, his phone held loosely against his chest. Jet craned his neck, giving his beloved a quick kiss. "I sorry," he said through thick lips, the anesthetic still working its way out of his system. "Can you forgive us?"

"Oh, so it's 'us' already, is it?"

"Shut up and be happy for me."

Carmine's dramatic expression softened. He shifted his naked torso closer, pressing himself as close as he could while being acutely aware Jet was recovering from surgery. "I couldn't be happier," the fox purred softly, petting Jet's tummy. "The look on your face... I live for that expression."

"Joy?" Jet hazarded.

"Joy... and peace."

The bun smiled. "Is it that obvious?"

"Baby, you looked like a kit on Candlenights morning getting everything they asked for and everything they didn't."

"I usually just got books and Lego."

"Shut up," Carmine said, winking and leaning in to rest his muzzle against Jet's neck. "How do they feel?"

"Uhm... like they're trying to go three different directions at once."

"Welcome to the world of the truly big-boob-ed. Cooperating is not their strong suit."

"How do your co-stars do it?"

"Practice, darling. Lots and lots of practice."

Jet slid one paw down to squeeze Carmine's hand, and then let it slide a little further into the fox's lap. His eyes widened as he explored. "Goodness gracious," he gasped, "how long was I out for?"

Carmine adjusted his hips, bringing an overstuffed cocksock the size of a couch cushion into view. The entire bed shifted and squeaked in protest as the fox's balls resettled themselves. "It's Sunday morning," he grinned lasciviously. "I've had nothing to do but watch you sleep and surf the TruU website. Honestly, now that you're a client, you've got access to a lot more stuff!"

"Are you using my account?"

"Maybe. Just don't tell a lawyer and everything will be fine."

"Uhm, sweetie..."

"Hush, punkin. I'm committing felonies over here."

Jet tugged at the neck of his hospital gown. Underneath he could see the new shape of his torso, his golden ruff now disappearing into the darkness between his breasts (he shuddered again at those two words). "Fine. I'll just have to keep my attention over here."

Carmine sputtered indignantly. "Well, I never! If you're going to keep being so mean to me, I'm just going to have to prop my phone up against your new titties and make you watch cartoons with me!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Jet watched his beloved pull up the streaming app, relieved that nothing seemed to have changed. The fox tried to roll onto his side, as much as his endowments would allow, thumping his bulges heavily across the bun's belly. Jet slipped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him tight, sighing with blissful contentment as season 4 of DriveSHAFT began to play.

---

Jet was scheduled to stay at the TruU facility for four days. Normally it wouldn't be quite so intrusive (a great many of their procedures were now considered outpatient), but this was a quite new and technically complex augmentation and they were taking no chances.

They spent the majority of Sunday in bed, cuddling and watching cartoons. Doctors and nurses came in frequently to check on him, inquire as to any problems or discomfort, but Jet insisted he felt fine. After a while he started to suspect that they were just trying to get a peek at the extremely naked and extremely backed-up Carmine, but the fox laughed at the idea. "Honey, I've seen some of the procedures they offer here. I'm small potatoes."

On Monday, he was urged to get up and move around, and Jet was all too happy to oblige. He hadn't expected his balance to be thrown off to such an extent, but one meeting with the TruU physiotherapist explained why. Now that his breasts were anchored so differently, relying on all of his real tissue for support, his back was being engaged in entirely different ways. "You're going to need to do a lot of walking, but also a lot of core work," the athletic young hoss explained, pointing to several anatomic posters on the walls. "All of these adductors, all of these stabilizers are going to need to be completely retrained. You went pretty big to start with, big fella!"

On Tuesday, at Carmine's urging, they spent most of the day socializing with the other patients and clients. The downtown offices were largely administrative; most of the actual augmentation took place here in their 'suburban campus', a sprawling facility with a great enclosed courtyard filled with gardens, saltwater pools and terraces. It was also clothing optional, a fact that Carmine was quick to capitalize upon, but Jet insisted that he would be more comfortable with a simple bikini. The fox had only grown larger since Sunday morning, now dragging a sac that outweighed the rest of his body, but that still only put him in the 'above average' range for the current TruU residents. They spent some time talking with a badger taurgrrl who was now blessed with six testes the size of many home appliances. They shared a hot tub with a lanky young catboi who was getting used to walking with five feet of soft equine shaft now straining at his loins. They enjoyed watching the sun set with another couple, an older bear and his fiancee, a petite mouse almost completely hidden behind six breasts that were already larger than Jet's, with two fillings to go before the wedding.

"See?" Carmine asked as they settled into bed on Tuesday night. "Size is... not what it used to be. Twenty years ago, maybe even ten, someone like me would get clucked at in public. Now? Models who are more dick than body are selling soda pop. Hyper busts are becoming synonymous with graduation gifts. You can be anything you want."

"I still need to figure out everything I want," Jet said, breathing deep, his mind whirling with possibilities. "For me, at least. For everything else, all I want is you."

"Hush, silly. Be selfish for once in your life."

"Hey, I'm a lawyer, aren't I?"

"A terrible one."

"HEY."

On Wednesday, at long last, Jet was given permission to try out the advanced features of his augmentations. After breakfast, he was guided through the secure download and installation of the app. The controls were fairly simple, which he appreciated, but also came with several easily programmable functions for hands-free results. The app came with a locked 'Safe Mode' function that would be deactivated by the TruU doctors when he was released, hopefully the next day.

"How do you feel?" Carmine asked from his spot next to the bed. Four days at the TruU facility, feasting with his eyes upon his new lover and the many patients who were all too keen to show off, and his natural hyper urges had bloated him out enough that he could rest his body on his shaft and his legs on his balls like a poorly-assembled sofa.

Jet turned to his left, then his right, then faced away from the mirror and peered back over his shoulder. The bruising had faded, the taut but still densely-furred flesh had relaxed, and his new curves had now settled into a slightly more natural-looking position. He raised his arms over his head, enjoying the plump sideboob that crept around his ribcage. He bounced gently, and then with more vigor, feeling everything tug and jiggle, a swarm of electric tingles crawling across every nerve. "I feel... great," he said, twisting to the side and popping his butt out. "I know these are smaller than my Super-Z's at home, but they feel bigger."

"Those ones have down-filled pockets, babe. I'm pretty sure your new girls are quite a bit heavier."

"You don't think it's too much?" Jet faced the mirror once more, crossing his arms beneath his breasts and giving them a little heft. The upper curve of his cleavage nearly brushed his chin.

Carmine scoffed. "Hon, look at me." The fox stretched his arms and legs out, highlighting the tight, groaning extents of his endowments. "Am I too much?"

"Not at all!" Jet shook his head quickly. "But, I mean... some people-"

"Some people can go pound sand," Carmine grinned, his teeth shining. "Too much is whatever you say it is, and only you get to decide if YOU are ever too much. Not me, not your office, not the world. You."

The bun nodded, kneeling next to Carmine and leaning against the bulk of his loins. "I know," he said softly, one paw fiddling with the fox's hair, the other petting the twitching velvety fur of his pouch. "I'm just... anxious."

"YOU?" the fox gasped. "That's so unusual for you!"

Jet stuck his tongue out. Carmine made as if to nip it with his teeth, but he was somewhat awkwardly anchored by his groin and fell short. "I know, there's bigger folks than me everywhere. Heck, that one waitress at the Spice Hut? The cerval?"

Carmine grinned and nodded. "You know she was hitting on you that time."

"She was just being nice and complimenting my shirt."

"She told you she wanted to see you out of it."

"That's just... polite...?"

"Honey, I make porn movies, but I think you live in one. As a background extra." The fox wriggled around. "Now help me up. If we're going to test out those bad girls, we're gonna do it right."

Jet frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Honestly, it's like you've never seen me work!"

An hour later, the pair were walking somewhat unsteadily through the front doors of the clinic, arm in arm. Jet's balance was improving but not quite perfect yet, while Carmine's colossal bulges were forcing his thighs apart and necessitated the sort of rolling gait one might expect from someone who'd spent a year at sea. The bun wore a plain pink t-shirt and blue jeans, while the more obviously hyper fox wore a tiny black cocktail dress which only served to accentuate his white thigh-high socks and the white cotton stretch-sleeves he wore over his shaft and sac.

"You are technically clothed, the best kind of clothed," Jet drawled affectionately, patting the fox's pert rump. With how everything was squeezed together by the supportive undergarments, this also meant a few pats to Carmine's dangerously full balls. "So, you are going to go in to work and, uh, take care of this soon, right? You're starting to scare me."

"Scheduled for a major scene on Friday, don't worry."

"Anyone I know?"

"Sally K," Carmine purred, his tail wagging excitedly.

"Really?! Her?" Jet's eyes were wide but also intrigued. "But she's so... uhm..."

"Petite?"

"That's one way to put it!"

"Her and her agent insist she's ready for this. Been working her way through some of the big boys and grrls, and this is going to be her first fwoomp scene."

Jet squeezed his boyfriend's arm. "And when do I get the DVD?"

"I mean, why wait? You've got the whole week off from the office. Come on down and watch us film."

They reached the street and turned, walking along the well-treed boulevard. It was a quaint neighborhood, full of older homes, newer coffee shops, and young folks who owned antique stores. They passed elderly couples and fresh-faced families, most of whom gave Carmine more than a quick glance, but that seemed to be the extent of the attention they received. There were also a few TruU clients out for a stroll, easily identified by the uncertainty with which they moved and the rather drab clothes they wore over their new figure.

Jet stammered for quite some time at the offer. "I mean, that might be awkward, you know? I know you've told me that some people bring their partners down to watch shoots, and heck a lot of performers are in relationships together, but it might be strange if that was my FIRST time watching you, and it was Sally's first, uhm, filling, and I'd probably just be in the way, right, because there's camerapeople and audio people and, uhm, y'know, other... people... everywhere..."

Carmine stared until the black bunny ran out of steam. "With all that out of the way, you should come down. There is seating that's out of the way, and as long as you stay behind the gaffer tape and don't talk during filming, it's fine." It was his turn to squeeze Jet's elbow. "And I want you to be there, to see me actually work. You watched me do cam shows, and you've seen all my DVDs, but this would be different. It would mean a lot to me."

They turned onto a narrow side street. The wide sidewalks now merged with the street, creating a cozy lane that looked like it had been paved with old-timey cobblestones. They passed a little bakery and a chocolatier, but Carmine continued to guide the pair, seeming to have a destination in mind.

"Then I'll be there," Jet said at last, his protests seeming small and pointless in the face of such a heartfelt plea. He bent down to smooch the fox's muzzle, thumping his new curves heavily against Carmine's shoulder. "It would be nice to see you work again."

"You can say it's research, too! You have to really get to understand your clients' needs, y'know?"

"My boyfriend. Master of the single entendre."

"Myehh," Carmine said, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue. "Anyways, here we are!"

Jet realized they'd stopped. He glanced up at the wooden sign hanging on slender chains. "Poni's Patisserie?"

"Yup! Gimme your phone."

The bun's ears shot straight up. He glanced around, nervous all over again. "What? Why? Here? Now? Why? What?"

"Master of wit and repartee," Carmine snickered. "Let's see, in order... gimme your phone, because it's more fun this way, yes, yes, because I'm too big to fit through the door, and don't make me tell you a third time."

The fancy pastry shoppe (Jet knew when a place was this fancy, it needed extra letters) had a single old-fashioned door with a bell mounted to the top of it. While most places were built with consideration for hypers as well as the smaller scale of macro these days, there were still plenty of spots that hadn't been brought up to code. Jet didn't even think a freshly-drained Carmine would have an easy time fitting through it.

The bun inhaled, his shirt sighing softly against his fur. "Fine. What do you want? Coffee and something drenched in chocolate?"

"You know me so well," Carmine gushed, moving a small chair away from the little glass-topped table. Even at the best of times he had some particular seating requirements, and today he had no use for them whatsoever. He positioned himself near the table and simply eased himself down onto his sac, guiding his cocksleeve to one side and away from any accidental passers by. As Jet was about to enter the pastry shoppe, the fox snapped his fingers. "Hey! One more thing, mister!"

Jet paused, hand on the doorknob. "What?"

"Your phone?"

Jet frowned, blushed, then rolled his eyes and chuckled. "You're terrible."

"You love me."

"Both things can be true." He passed over his phone, adjusted his top one more time, and entered with a tinkle of brass bells.

The interior looked like something out of a storybook. A chaotic panoply of painted wooden knick knacks, framed sepia photos, toys and paintings, knit socks and glass jars filles with what might have just as easily been gemstones as candies. As powerful a visual impact as it made, it seemed every other sense was overwhelmed by the aroma of baked goods, simmered cherries, dark chocolate and powdered sugar.

A friendly face emerged from behind a huge brass-bound glass display case, one that was filled with more dessert delights. "Good mornin'!" cried the beaming bovine lady. "Or is it af'ernoon now? I don' think ah've had a lunch rush yet. Ah had the marnin' rush, and then the late marnin' rush, and then that 'oh, fuck me, is lt already eleven? Ah need a coffee and a cruller' rush, and then... no, not lunch yet. Good mornin'!"

Jet grew a broad smile at this overtly homey barrage. "Good morning, yourself," he said. It was safe to say he liked her immediately. "Ah, let's see... two of your largest, darkest, most life-threatening coffees, and two of... whatever those two swirly chocolate things are."

The proprietor knelt behind the glass, following Jet's outstretched finger. "Aahhh, the chokoladesnegles! Excellent choice, monsieur!" Her particular drawl turned that last word into a meandering sing-song.

Jet was so distracted by the animated way she slid open the case and started extracting treats that he didn't immediately notice his shirt tightening. He straightened as soon as he caught on, unable to help but peer about to see if anyone was watching. He turned to the huge window facing the street and wasn't surprised to see Carmine leaning back casually, waving the bun's phone.

Well, Jet thought, this was always the plan!

He thought he would hear a sound like escaping or pressurized air. He thought he would feel his skin tightening, the weight increasing. Instead, there was only the most marvelous sensation of being hugged, of fur pressing against fur, flesh against flesh as his new implants expanded.

Jet tried to act casual, but it was difficult to keep his attention from his burgeoning cleavage. The shirt was being stretched tighter and tighter, putting more of his golden decolletage on display. As they grew larger, the implant material became less dense, acquiring a rounder, fuller shape. He squeaked when he felt his shirt pop out of his waistband.

The proprietor re-emerged, placing two plates on top of the display case, each one bearing a lace doily and an elaborate pastry. "Here ye go, dearie! I'll be out in a shake with yer coffees, eh?"

Jet moved to take the treats and almost immediately encountered problems. His right hand moved first, arm bumping against his suddenly-wider bosom and pushing everything to the left. This completely blocked his other arm and threw him off-balance. He yelped as he started to tip forwards. He tried to catch himself on the glass display case but, again, his arms hadn't quite up to the reality of the situation. Fortunately, his new and improved bustline had considerably more projection now, and they supported him against the case very nicely with the gentlest of impacts.

The bovine woman blinked and laughed. "That's a neat trick, eh! Ah know ah have days like that."

From this distance, it did seem as though the jolly owner had quite a lot of mass straining her apron, but Jet didn't want to stare. "Sorry," he blushed. "Still getting... used to some things."

He straightened himself with deliberate care, turned sideways and grabbed the plates with a grateful smile. When Jet back got to the door, he encountered another slight issue: both of his paws were full and he couldn't see the doorknob over his expansive bust, still inching larger by the second. He pondered trying to hold both plates with one hand, but in the end he decided to surrender to his sillier instincts.

Carmine looked up when Jet squeezed through the door and back out onto the sidewalk. "About time! I am positively wasting away to nothing out here. I don't see any goodies, though."

Jet lowered himself into his chair, revealing the plates perched quite easily on the upper slopes of his breasts. "Oh, ye of little faith," the bunny said with a wink, handing one of the... what did she call them? Chocolate squiggles?... to Carmine. "You just had to do it while I was inside, huh?"

The fox squeezed Jet's phone against his chest protectively. "Honestly, I don't have to sit here and listen to these wild allegations. I was just humbly going through your social media and ordering you lube."

"CARM!"

"What? I've used up every coupon under my name I can find! You gotta start pulling your weight in this department."

Jet looked down. "I think for the first time, you can't accuse me of not pulling my weight." He leaned back slightly, and allowed himself an indulgent embrace of his own bustline. His fingers connected, but it was a close thing. "These... might be bigger than my Z-Plus falsies."

"The shape is completely different," Carmine said, already two bites into his pastry. Chocolate flecks adorned his whiskers. "Those ones were really full and round when you laid on your back but they had a little more teardrop when you were upright. These girls are loud and proud and perky, my dear."

Jet smoothed his ears back, glancing around. The side street still had a number of pedestrians going about their day. "It's not... too much, is it? I can't tell what it's doing to the shirt in the front."

"Darling, my dick is the size of a mini fridge," Carmine chuckled, nudging said appendage against Jet's legs. "YOU are perfectly fine and dandy. I mean, you've worn the Z-Plus tits out before."

"Once! On our anniversary! And you got me drunk first!"

"You were tipsy, and you needed it. Honestly, you wrote four exams in a week, and I don't think you slept before three of them." The fox's eyes softened, his plush tail wagging excitedly. "You push yourself so hard to be the best at everything, and I just needed one night where you weren't trying to be anything but my happy boyfriend."

Jet lifted his pastry from where it was still balanced on his exposed cleavage. His free paw, quite of its own accord, was caressing the side of his breast. "It was a nice night," he agreed softly. "I can't believe this is how big I can get with the safety features on."

"Yeah, it gave me a warning and beeped at me. Very rude." Carmine slid the phone back across the little table, leaving his paw to linger against the bun's impressive prow. "Feel that?"

"I do." It was little more than a whisper. It felt so foolish, wondering about the curious eyes of onlookers. What did that matter? His lover's fingers were touching his flesh, his curves, not some pair of foam latex and synthfur he ordered from a website. There might be some artificiality to his fullness, but those were his own nerves lighting up with delight, and that was real enough for him. "Thank you."

"For what? Knowing where the best pastries are? Because you really don't thank me for that often enough."

Jet considered pushing on, but he could see the affection behind his lover's eyes. "Yeah," he murmured, munching the chocolate puff. "The pastries. Thank you."

He was about to wonder aloud if they were ever going to get their coffees when the door behind them opened with a tinkle and an ominous thump. Jet twisted in his seat and saw nothing but a vast field of checkered cotton done up in pastoral designs, stretched tight enough he worried about his safety.

"Emilia!" Carmine said warmly. "Bout time you hustled your buns out here!"

Emilia, the bovine proprietor, took a step back and beamed at the men over a bosom that somehow dwarfed Jet's current curves. "Ah'm still getting the hang of the dang expresso machine! It's got more doodads than an udder. Oh, ah'm sorry, my mouth isn't normally so crass. Yer coffees, gentlemen. And Carmine," she added with a wink, twisting her entire body to place the steaming mugs on the table.

Jet tried not to stare, but it was difficult when every motion she made took her within an inch of knocking him to the sidewalk. She moved with an easy grace that belied her vast size, though, and he was momentarily jealous. "'And Carmine'... Do you two know eachother?"

Emilia yipped indignantly. "Ye didn't tell him!"

"I was getting to it!" Carmine replied with mock indignation. "My blood sugar was low, though, so I must have forgotten. By the way, two more of these chocolate things? Please? Pretty please?"

She dropped her hands to her hips and sighed. "Foxes. Can't live with 'em, can't smother 'em. If only because they usually like it." She bent forwards, a move that seemed to defy physics, and stuck out a hand. "Emilia Heidl, at yer service. I used to work with yer dumbass boyfriend there."

Jet was shaking her hand while the words sank in. "I'm Jet. Worked... with him. At... Sluggo & Boyce?"

"Mmm hmm! I don't blame ye if yo don't recognize me from my younger days. Good work, good people, and it paid for this place and mah new knockers!" she giggled, smacking the sides of her vast pillowy breasts hard enough to send up little puffs of powdered sugar. "Wish it could pay for an easier way to make expresso, but what're ye gonna do?"

"Your shop is lovely," Jet said earnestly, "as are your... ah... new knockers."

"You should've seen her before her reduction," Carmine said between luxuriant sips of his brew. "In fact, she's gotta be in one of the DVD collections we own."

"Reduction," Jet mused, putting the woman's bustline well in excess of a hundred inches. "You... wait a second! S&B 2020 Unwrapped Wrap-up! Carmine's first featurette. You were in... uhm.."

Emilia laughed, her bosom quaking mightily. "Carmine! Yer boy's got a good memory on 'im! Yeah, that was me in Break-In Bust-Out. Ah pinned four burglars with these darlins," she said, hugging as much of herself as she could reach. "But ah was never made for the big leagues like that. Cashed out, make pastries, and occasionally invite the ol' crew down. Wondered if yon fox was ever gonna take me up on the offer."

"I'm a patient at the TruU a few blocks over," Jet said.

"Aye, I can tell. They do good work. Did good by me," she winked, bouncing on her heels. "Ye look lovely, Mister Jet. I hope you can come by more often than when you need some work done!"

"Oh absolutely!"

Carmine put his empty mug down with a satisfied sigh. "We'll see. Though you will be seeing me again shortly."

"Oh?" Jet and Emilia asked together. "Why?"

"I've got a consultation with TruU next week," the fox said airily. "Nothing major."

Jet's jaw fell slack. His ears shot straight up before slowly flopping back down. "You? A... consultation? For... what, dear?"

Emilia cleared her throat. "Same old Carmine," she sighed, patting Jet's shoulder reassuringly. "Ah'll be out in a few moments with more coffee and treats for ye. Looks like one of ye's gonna need it."

3. Introductions

"You look nervous."

"You couldn't be more wrong."

"Your ears are doing that flippy thing."

"They are not!"

Jet reached across the table and carefully pinched one of Carmine's ears between thumb and forefinger. As if on cue, the fox's other ear began twitching like a defective radar dish. "Boom. Roasted."

Carmine slapped the bun's paws away in exasperation. "Stop that! I'm FINE!"

The black bun giggled. "Gosh, you ARE nervous! You haven't been this uppity since you did that scene with Dolly Montana."

"That was completely different! Shi was my idol!" Carmine's eyes took on a dreamy, far-away cast, remembering the glorious week he worked with his equine heroine. "Even before I started camming, shi was this legendary goddess. A hyper, a grower, a singer, a dancer... shi woulda been huge in 'respectable media' if everyone hadn't had their garters in a knot for hypers back then."

"Born too soon," Jet sighed. "But shi inspired a whole generation! And you stole the show in your scene with hir."

"Oh, hardly," the fox scoffed. "Shi was like a classical painting, the camera LOVED hir and that poor fellow stuck on hir flare." Still, he couldn't keep the smile from his lips.

Jet arched an eyebrow. "Really? 'Cause all I remember from that scene was you and that coyote playing your step-brother. What was his name again?"

"Zak Hansum. Come on, you know his name, he was at our Crimbo party."

"Oh, right."

Carmine narrowed his eyes. "You're trying to distract me, aren't you?"

Jet looked down, taking great care to unbutton his shirt one more step and fiddle with the collar. "Is this too much cleavage? I can't tell from up here." Tonight, he was wearing a white tailored shirt and a stylish purple suit jacket. Now that he'd taken the plunge and gotten a permanent bust, he'd started taking a lot more pride in his clothing choices.

Carmine bared his fangs, but his mock anger disappeared in a fit of giggles. "You're so bad at acting casual," he said, reaching across the table and tugging open Jet's jacket a little more. "Thank you, though, sweetie. I think it worked. And I keep telling you, keep the jacket open across your boobs. It really draws the eye down."

"But it feels like they should be at least drawn a little across the front-"

"For the last time, it makes you look like a window dressing. Stop it."

The couple were enjoying complimentary breadsticks at Coterie, a semi-exclusive downtown restaurant. All were welcome, of course, but over the last few years, since Sluggo & Boyce had moved their offices and filming locations just one block away, it had become the officially unofficial destination for erotic performers seeking some upscale refinement. Directly next door was Clique, a sports bar that catered to the same crowd when they wanted cheap beer, chili fries and loud televisions. Carmine and Jet tended to prefer that sort of atmosphere, but it had become tradition to meet featured performers somewhere a little quieter.

Jet opened his jacket wider, frowned and tugged it forwards again. It couldn't close around his breasts, not even close, but he still enjoyed the look. At least, he thought he did. "Maybe I should just start wearing vests. How do you think I'd look in a vest?"

"Like our waitress."

"Oh, ha ha."

"No, seriously, do it. You'll get me my drink faster."

"It's been three minutes. Eat another breadstick."

"I'm filming tomorrow, I can't be all carbed up-... THERE HE IS!"

Jet snickered when his beloved shot out of his seat like a rocket, waving one arm wildly at the restaurant's entrance. He'd been sitting sidesaddle so he wouldn't completely destroy the table with his bulge. A rare moment of foresight, the bun mused, remembering the night a few months previous when the hyperactive fox had launched their dinnerware clear across the restaurant.

Walking through Coterie's front doors, or perhaps more accurately squeezing through, was one of the biggest and widest bois Jet had ever seen. A great barrel chest and shoulders like tank turrets stretched a sensible cardigan to its absolute limits. His hips were comparatively slender, though still undoubtedly several times girthier than Jet's own, and only highlighted the oak-like legs straining at a pair of tan slacks. Above it all, perched atop a neck that could only be described using architectural terminology, was the wide-eyed, innocent gaze of a cream-and-gold Shiba.

Jet whistled, low and appreciative. "Your description was... insufficient," he chuckled.

The immense canine peered around, and began to wag excitedly as soon as he spotted Carmine. He waved back, his hand slapping a hanging plant and sending it careening wildly on its decorative chains. He yelped and tried to catch it, or at least slow its movement, but by the time he managed it had basically stopped on its own.

"You do have a type, don't you?" Jet mused, hiding his smile behind a cocktail glass.

The vault-like Shiba maneuvered his way carefully between the tables to where they sat. Coterie had embraced its clientele, though, and there was more than enough room for even the most ponderous hypers.

Carmine bounced on his heels, wringing his paws together nervously like a girl meeting her prom date for the first time after spending all day getting ready, which, honestly, wasn't too far from the truth. His black mane was shiny and coiffed, piled in ringlets around his bare shoulders. He wore a tight white dress that hugged his upper arms, and white fingerless opera gloves. The flowing material was cut at mid-thigh in order to show off the white lacy cocksleeve he wore, tied at both ends with pink satin ribbons, and the sheer pink ball-bra complete with garters. He was modestly sized, barely above his baseline, but the night was young.

In short, Jet hadn't seen his beloved this smitten with a co-star in a long time.

The Shiba stopped short so abruptly Jet half expected him to topple over. Instead, he ran one great mitt back through his own flowing golden locks and offered the other to Carmine. "Hi!" he wagged breathlessly. "I'm Giorgio. You be must Carmine. Must BE Carmine. Hi."

Carmine giggled and swooned, actually swooned. "I am," he said huskily, taking Giorgio's hand in both of his, or at least tried to. "Lovely to meet you."

Jet was tall for a bun, but standing to shake Giorgio's hand drove home that the Shiba undoubtedly had some macro blood in his heritage; the bun's ears barely reached his chin. It was like trying to greet a sandstone monolith. "Jet," he said in what he hoped was a friendly tone. He was never sure, when it came to meeting someone his boyfriend would soon be having sex with. "Pleased to meet you."

"Hi," Giorgio said, his eyes bouncing back and forth between the luscious fox and the fairly demure buxom bunny. "I've heard so much about you!"

"Mostly lies," Jet said with a wink, settling back into his seat. Carmine was still standing, more than a little starstruck despite the fact that Giorgio was the new hire at Sluggo & Boyce and he was the established name. "Please, take a seat!

Shiba and fox exchanged another few coy smiles, then both seemed to remember where they were and sat. Giorgio's chair groaned loudly, but held (the Coterie was used to this sort of thing). The waitress appeared with Carmine's second light beer, and Jet waved away an offer of a refill on his fruity cocktail. Giorgio ordered something that seemed to have a lot of extra letters borrowed from a different alphabet, but the waitress just nodded knowingly and flounced away.

"You are married?"

Jet almost snorted into his drink. Carmine's natural level of fabulous aloofness barely cracked at the Shiba's question. "No, sweetie, just very together," Carmine said, slipping a paw across to squeeze Jet's hand. "Someone hasn't decided to make an honest fox out of me."

"I'm not sure the legal profession is up to that task, hon," Jet smiled, squeezing back and ignoring Carmine's affronted squeak. "What about you, big fella? Is there anyone we'll be meeting in the near future?"

Giorgio shrugged tectonically. "All alone in the city," he said with a big grin. "Been here for a few weeks. Did photo shoot, got hired, met many nice people, offered role in movie with Carmine!"

That was about all Jet and Carmine knew, too. Carmine had been called in to discuss doing some scenes with new talent, and had nearly left claw marks in the table when he saw Giorgio's portfolio. The Shiba also had a bit of a history doing cam shows, and had filmed some shorts in his native country, but recently took the plunge to try and make it in the big time.

Jet, who had met many of his lover's co-stars, definitely saw a big future for the big boi.

"Hard to believe you've been alone if you've been here for weeks," Carmine gushed.

Giorgio laughed from deep in his flat, flawless belly. "You are too kind. Have wanted to focus on work, though." His eyes crept back over to Carmine. "Have been big big fan of yours for many years. One of bucket list jobs was to get you to sign poster. Did not expect to be ON poster with you!" His tail was wagging hard enough that the candles on all the nearby tables had been extinguished, and the vases were in danger of being knocked over.

"A fan!" Carmine gushed. "Handsome AND smart!"

The Shiba grinned, pinching his tongue between tiny teeth. "Thank you for meeting me before filming. That is not always been the case."

"Well, that's just rude," Carmine said. "It's so much easier to work with friends than strangers, even if you have to play strangers when the camera rolls."

"And I just like meeting all of Carm's work friends," Jet added. "I tell you, most of them are a lot more fun than lawyers."

They all laughed as the waitress brought Giorgio's drink, a tall stormy concoction that fizzed angrily. He picked it up gingerly between thumb and two fingers, sniffed it, and blinked in surprise. "Vá, þetta er alvöru vatnsvít!"

"I'm going to assume that's good." Carmine rested his chin in his paws as Giorgio sipped happily.

The performers began to compare their preferred drinks, something that Jet knew Carmine could expound upon at length. Jet took the opportunity to confirm that his phone was in his right jacket pocket, and then pulled his boyfriend's phone out of the left. It scanned his fingerprint, and up popped the TruU logo.

Jet's version of the TruU app was fairly simple and straightforward, just like his body modifications. Carmine's upgrades had required considerably less work, medically speaking, but the results seemed to be quite a bit more complicated. There were a few different subsections, with multiple sliders and checkboxes for each.

Hmmmm, the bun pondered. They'd practiced with it in private, of course, but this was the first proper test-drive. How to start? The night is young... I'll go easy on them. He carefully dragged a claw across two sliders, ticking them up a few notches, and then tapped a few checkboxes that had Locked icons next to them.

Almost immediately Carmine sat bolt upright. He glanced at Jet, down at the familiar phone, and then back up to Giorgio's beatific face. The fox took a deep breath, gave the bun a quick thumbs-up of approval, and returned to his conversation.

Jet stretched out a leg beneath the table, his toes coming to rest against Carmine's satin-clad sac. He was intimately familiar with his beloved's anatomy, and the faint humming vibrations he could feel were quite new and exciting. He wished he could put his head beneath the table to get a better view, but there would be time for that later.

"So, tell me," Carmine said. "What made you volunteer for these scenes? Angel-faced fella like you could probably make an... easier buck a million different ways."

Giorgio's ears shot up, and his tail began to thump heavily against the back of his chair. "I am big big fan of yours," he said again, suddenly seeming nervous. "Am... size fan, must admit."

"Nothing wrong with that," the fox purred. "I'd be out of a job if there weren't size fans. But I suppose why me? There's more famous guys and grrls. Certainly bigger guys and grrls."

"You are..." Giorgio took a breath that nearly split his cardigan. His hands waved vaguely in the air. "You are... gentle."

Carmine's eyes widened. "Oh! I... don't think I've ever heard that answer before."

"Many big big folks are... not gentle. They are not mean, no! But they are using their size in... smug way. I enjoy those movies, but maybe with the sound off," he added with a guilty chuckle. "You are soft, and most beautiful fox, and you are gentle with your size. You are... sensual."

Carmine was breathing a little faster now, which only had a little to do with Jet turning a few things up a bit higher. "Thank you," he gasped, reaching out to grip the Shiba's huge paw. "That's always been what I try to get across! Most folks just want to work with me for the kink angle, but... gosh. You hear that, Jet? 'Most beautiful fox'."

"I've been telling you that for years," Jet smiled.

"Am not trying to get between you!" Giorgio said, raising a paw placatingly. "Am just actor! I just-" He jerked suddenly, as though something had goosed him beneath the table.

Carmine clucked his tongue. "Oh, don't mind that. It just means I like you." He yawned and stretched his arms, pushing his seat back from the table. "I need to go powder my nose. You two, order me something stimulating? Surprise me. I'll be right back."

It had been less than ten minutes since Jet had fiddled with the app, but there was no mistaking how much Carmine had grown in that time. The white cocksleeve was stuffed nearly to capacity now, the pink ribbon around the base now pushed forwards far enough to show a full foot of matte black flesh. The ball-bra was designed to stretch, and stretch it had, his heavy watermelon-sized orbs now easily in beachball territory. Carmine walked around the table, tracing his fingers along Jet's shoulders before stopping at Giorgio. He stood up on his tiptoes and kissed the Shiba on the lips, pressing his burdensome bulges against the much larger man's body.

"Don't go anywhere."

"Muh," Giorgio nodded dumbly. Shiba and bun watched the fox flounce away, fluffy red tail lifting his dress up enough to show his bare backside.

"I think he likes you," Jet chuckled, finishing his cocktail and signaling for the waitress. "I've seen him be enamored before, but you've really gotten to him."

"He is most beautiful," Giorgio said, almost a whine. "You are... okay with his business? Have met some married models, but mostly married to other models."

Jet leaned back and nodded, undoing another button on his shirt. He was starting to feel a little warm. "Absolutely. There's so much we can do for eachother, but there's also so much he can't get from me. He loves what he does for work, always has, and I could never take that away from him. It's part of why I love him."

"Can't get from you?"

"Do you know what 'asexual' means?"

The huge canine frowned. "Yes, is... not having sex. Er, sexual attraction. But... you and Carmine-"

"Our relationship is more romantic and aesthetic." Jet hadn't had to explain this in a while. Most models that Carmine brought home for Jet to meet just assumed they had an open relationship and never pried any further. "I feel the way you do. He is... just... the most beautiful. I love every inch of him, I love how those inches GROW, I love watching him work, I love watching him fill someone. The sights and the sounds are so appealing, but so are the emotions and the vulnerability, the comfort and openness."

Giorgio nodded slowly. "So you two... don't..."

"No, we don't." Jet pat the doggo's mitt reassuringly. "But I love to snuggle with him, I love to share my life with him, and I really love to tease him and caress him and help him grow, so he can go to work and be his very best. And, I love the effect he has on other people."

Jet watched as Giorgio sorted through this revelation, as mild as it might be. In the end he just shrugged and smiled, returning to his default state of wide-eyed innocence. "I just want to make him happy, and make best movie we can."

"Who wants to make who happy now?" Carmine asked, slipping his arms around the Shiba's shoulders and embracing him from behind, his still-growing bulges thumping heavily against Giorgio's chair. "Because I hope one of those people is me."

"I was just inviting Giorgio over for drinks after supper," Jet said airily, eyeing up his boyfriend's lower curves creaking around the canine's backside. "I mean, unless you think you'll be too tired after being on your paws all day."

Giorgio's ears shot straight up. "I... he... yes, that is what he-"

Carmine silenced him with a kiss, though even with the burly canid seated he had to stand on his tiptoes. "Of course he's coming over," he said, a little breathless after the prolonged smooch. "Giorgio is a nice boy, and would never turn down such a polite invitation."

"Yes, I... polite boy... raised well... drinks..." He sipped his beverage, coughed, and then downed the rest in one gulp. "Delicious."

"Well, maybe he just wants to get out of here now!" Carmine gushed, tracing his fingertips up and down Giorgio's slab of a chest.

Jet rolled his eyes and signaled the waitress one more time.

---

Giorgio stumbled through the front door, carrying a gaily kicking Carmine in his arms. They were both laughing in between kisses, the much smaller fox twisting his bare fingers through the Shiba's blonde mane.

"I haven't been able to pick him up like that in ages," Jet said, shutting the door behind them. "He wasn't quite that big when we met."

"You're so heavy!" Giorgio marveled, one arm cradling considerably more fox than the other. Even his immense arms were being taxed to support it all without dropping Carmine. "They always looked so heavy in your movies. This is dream come true!"

"Hold that thought, dreamboat. Dreamship. Dream, uhm... Jet, help me out, what's bigger than a ship?"

"Dream vessel?"

The fox's grin widened, showing considerably more teeth. He stroked Giorgio's cheek pensively. "Vessel. I like that. My big strong vessel, just waiting to be filled..."

A high keening filled the apartment, an incongruously birdlike sound from such a mountainous male. "That... that is tomorrow, yes? We are filling? Er, I mean, filming?"

Carmine clucked his tongue. "Of course, darling, of course. We're just... getting acquainted tonight."

Jet smiled, heading for the fridge. Carmine and his new co-star had been 'getting acquainted' in the restaurant, on the Scuuter ride back to the apartment, and quite heavily in the elevator up. He had carefully put the brakes on Carmine's app-enabled enhancements, so they could give Giorgio the proper show somewhere private.

By the time he stepped through the oversized bedroom door, carrying three wine glasses in one paw and a chilled bottle of bubbly in the other, Carmine was lounging like a sultan amidst a pile of pillows. He was directing Giorgio like a puppeteer, swishing a finger through the air. The Shiba was on his knees, sausage fingers working with a surgeon's care. "OK, big fella, untie that slowly. There's gonna be a bit of a rush, and... mmm, just like that, just like that...!"

With the silk ribbon around the base of Carmine's shaft freed, it surged forth further still into the sleeve. The material strained and bulged, shifting as though something wild within fought to escape. Giorgio gasped and leaned back, reaching for the ribbon that would release everything.

Carmine leaned forwards and bapped him on the nose. "Not yet, not yet! I told you, in this room, we share everything." His black-furred fingers drifted down to Giorgio's sweater. "This next."

Jet ducked as the hastily-discarded sweater whirled through the air like a startled grouse, feeling it brush his ears. "This one seems eager, hon."

"I like eager," the fox said. "It's a mark of honesty. No, not the ribbon yet, you rabid little doggie! Remove my gloves."

Giorgio was panting softly as his mitts encircled Carmine's forearms, removing the opera gloves with surprising grace. "Is just like your movies," he said, tail thumping furiously into the padded floor. Like many hypers, Carmine had elected for the quite literal 'bed room' style of home furnishing, with wall-to-wall memory foam concealing several high capacity drains.

"Some of them. They don't always let me be so... sultry. I mean, I need to play to the audience right? Some folks want a sloe-eyed seductress to tease them to within an inch of their life, and some want the little bitch-breaker to rearrange their insides." He wrapped his bare arms around Giorgio's neck and pulled him closer. "I, of course, have my personal proclivities... lose the shirt, sweetie."

Jet relaxed in the plush chair he kept in the corner of the room for just such an occasion. Most nights he was more than happy to fall asleep entwined with Carmine, listening to the faint whistling sound the fox made when he snored, enjoying the creaks and rumbles of the fox's seedtanks after being denied once again. When they had guests, though, Jet preferred to sit back and take in the show, as it were.

Giorgio, realizing that he was doing more than just following someone home after a couple drinks, removed his plain white shirt with considerably more deliberation. He twisted this way and that, lifting his great arms overhead, showing off the subtly defined slabs of his physique. Jet's eyes widened at the sight of the Shiba's back, a powerful expanse of flexing muscle, shoulders that he just wanted to run his nails over, a temple-like neck that looked delicious-

No, Jet thought. Tonight is for Carmine. Maybe we'll have to invite this fella back sometime, though. For... dance lessons.

The back and forth continued. Giorgio removed Carmine's stockings, one at a time, matching with his own socks. Then came the white dress, the burly Shiba looming over the dainty fox as it slipped over his head. Carmine got in on the process a little more actively, helping Giorgio with the buttons and badly-strained zipper on his slacks. He moved with agonizing slowness; the Shiba was acting remarkably calm, but Jet could see the shivers and shudders passing through his frame.

Using his muzzle more than was strictly necessary, Carmine got Giorgio's pants off. The huge canid once again reached for the oddly-bulging sleeve restraining the fox's endowment, but once again was denied. "Ah ah ah, I've still got this," Carmine purred, reaching down to tug at the satiny ball-bra and the garters that wrapped around his thighs to hold it up.

Giorgio whined again. While he wasn't a hyper, there was an awful lot of extremely excitable flesh filling his adorable white undies. He knelt, his fingers now fumbling as he reached around Carmine's endowments.

Jet pulled out Carmine's phone, humming jauntily to himself. Swipe. Testes And Production. Swipe. Retention: -MAX-. Swipe. Surface Area: -STABLE-. Swipe. Production: -LEVEL 4- (!CAUTION!).

Giorgio managed to unhook the fox's undergarment, fingers lingering around Carmine's backside for a few moments. Jet tapped the APPLY button on the app, and was rewarded by twin cries of surprise and delight from the two erotic actors.

Carmine's body jerked, his legs tightening around his yoga-ball-sized orbs. With slow, inexorable force, his legs were forced apart. Normally this would have been followed by a plainly-visible surge of size, but one of the fox's new and more subtle enhancements involved strengthening the tissues of his incredible endowments. Even now, as his production ramped up with a rumble and a gurgle, their size remained the same.

"Go-o-o-ods, the pressure," Jet whined, digging his claws into Giorgio's neck. Thumb-thick veins were plainly visible through the downy white fuzz of his sac, throbbing and twisting just below the surface.

A faint creaking sound filled the air. Jet checked the readouts on the phone, but everything was still amazingly in the GREEN safety zone. "Carm, you all right? Need me to stop?"

"Don't you DARE!" the fox gasped. "This... oh, wow. This is what it feels like right before I blow, but... I'm not even close. It... they... oh dear, I've gone cross-eyed... Giorgio, darling, don't just stand there like one o'clock half struck, get those paws down here!"

The Shiba didn't need any further prompting. He knelt reverently, his paws playing across Carmine's wildly fertile balls. Despite the settings, they were still growing, just much slower than normal, nearly imperceptible. "They are... tight!" Giorgio breathed, giving them a heft and a squeeze that did almost nothing to their increasingly-spherical shape.

Carmine regained his composure. He was a professional, after all. "Whew! That is... quite the rush. They're not maxed out, right, dear?"

"Not maxed. Your size can be one level higher... tighter? Not sure how to describe it. There's one notch to go. Two notches for production."

"Two!" Carmine and Giorgio said.

"And there's different settings for when I don't limit your size, too, but... I'm sure we can explore those tomorrow."

The huge Shiba whined eagerly. Carmine struggled to sit up, his sac pushing his partially-clad but still mostly-soft shaft rather firmly against his belly. "Let's ease back on the engines a little bit, please, Jet honey, or I'm going to blow a gasket before we film. In the mean time, where were we?" The fox's fingers reached forwards, just barely able to stretch past his own endowments to brush Giogio's tummy before drifting south. "Oh, I think I remember now..."

Giorgio was now panting openly, his tongue lolling out, great chest heaving. He rumbled like a passing train when Carmine's fingers wrapped around the straining bulge in the canine's undies. With a well-practiced shifting of the claws and a deft tug, the plain cotton undergarments tore free, revealing a very aroused shaft bigger than Jet's forearm.

"Mmmm, I knew you wouldn't disappoint," Carmine giggled, tapping his claws gently against it, enjoying the way it twitched. "But I suppose if we're playing by strip poker rules, you lose, hon. Do you know what your punishment is going to be?"

Giorgio froze, his paws still exploring Carmine's seedtanks. "Er... punishment?"

"Yes. You are going to be tasked with the chore of finally getting rid of this," the fox said sternly, patting the satiny white sleeve imprisoning his cock. "I hope you're happy."

The Shiba's eyes narrowed, a grin tugging at the corners of his muzzle. "This is... terrible," he mumbled, his tail resuming its joyous wagging. "Truly."

He tugged on the ribbon that laced up the underside of the sleeve, to no effect. He frowned and tugged harder, causing Carmine's plumped but flaccid spire to wave back and forth.

"Having some troubles, big fella?"

"Is stuck," Giorgio muttered. He placed one heavy mitt against the underside of the fox's shaft and pinched the end of the ribbon with a crack of knuckles. "You are... too big."

"Oh, pshaw, that's nonsense. I have not yet begun to big. Here we go... deep breath, try to relax..."

With one final powerful tug, the stubborn lace released. Jet never tired of the sight, but there was a different flavor tonight, no doubt the result of his TruU enhancements and his latest infatuation. The sleeve unlaced itself with a sound like sails unfurling. Soft black flesh expanded and surged forwards, launching the now-useless sleeve into the air like a rather underwhelming tickertape parade. Giorgio yelped and leaned back, but he still ended up with an armful of the fox's member, easily four feet long and thicker than Carmine's girlish waist.

"Oh, yes," the fox giggled woozily, flopping back against his pillows and curling his toes. "That was starting to chafe."

Giorgio was speechless, sitting alongside his future co-star and searching vainly for the perfect words. "You are... soft..." he managed, cradling Carmine's maleness and stroking it like a kitty cat.

"That makes one of us," Carmine giggled, reaching out to give Giorgio's iron-hard shaft a playful tug.

Jet waved the phone in the air, eventually garnering the Shiba's attention. "One of Carmine's fun new features. I can keep him soft, no matter what you do-"

"I'll take that challenge!" Carmine cried drunkenly, trying and failing to sit up.

"Yes, dear, thank you. Or I can lock him at what the app calls 'PEAK ERECTION'. Which, by the way, hon, we're definitely doing date night with that setting on one of these days."

"Lewd! But agreed. It will be like the old days."

Giorgio's tongue lolled, his arms wrapping lovingly, even possessively, around Carmine's cock. "And... for tonight? What is... plan?"

"Tonight, dear boy," Carmine crooned, "we're just going to... get familiar with one another's bodies."

The Shiba's ears drooped. "You mean... third base? Is term?"

"Is that such a torment?"

Giorgio pondered for half a moment, shrugged and grinned. "Is wonderful," he agreed, shifting to lay alongside the supine fox.

Jet watched fondly as the pair explored one another. He tucked Carmine's phone away and produced his own, setting his growth to -MINIMUM SLOW- and target size as -MAX-. Minutes turned into hours, the passage of time marked only by periodic champagne breaks and the buttons on Jet's shirt popping free one by one.

The two erotic actors stroked and nuzzled one another's most private places, learning their sensitivities and secrets. Giorgio had to pause several times to calm himself down; apparently he was renowned for his stamina, able to perform multiple times per day with very little recovery time. He was not used to being teased and denied, though.

Eventually they slowed, one giggling when the other yawned. Knowing that the true intimacy had passed, Carmine beckoned for Jet to join them in slumber.

The bun had experienced his new -MAX SIZE- a few times, all of them safely in the confines of their apartment, but it was still difficult to perform even the simplest tasks. He stood carefully, arms sinking into the vast beachballs of his augmented breasts, each so wide and full that he could barely squeeze through any of their extra-wide doors. He certainly couldn't see beyond their curves to where Giorgio and Carmine were spooning on the memory foam floor, but his beloved fox was more than happy to sleepily call out directions. He settled down as best he could, snuggling his butt up to Carmine's creaking, overfull orbs.

"Is wonderful country," Giorgio mumbled, his great arms reaching out in an attempt to hug both fox and bun. "Very friendly."

"Get your sleep, you two," Jet purred, nestled in between his own bust and Carmine's bulges. "Got a big day tomorrow."

"I'm gonna make you a sta-a-a-a-a-ar, dah-ling," Carmine giggled.

4. Action!

Sluggo & Boyce had greatly expanded their real estate holdings in recent years as they became synonymous with the finest and fullest hyper pornography on the market. Hypers and growers of all stripes and genders had operated on the margins for decades, independent models doing their best with extremely limited resources (their own anatomy excluded, of course). S&B were bringing the latest and greatest in filming and production to the world of hypers, with top-of-the-line lighting and direction.

Hypers, however, had very specialized needs when it came to erotica production. One couldn't just film a random scene in a downtown apartment without jeopardizing the insurance rates of a hundred neighbors. As a result, S&B were now the fourth-largest renters and owners of commercial warehouse space in town.

Today, a nondescript prefabricated steel warehouse with tiny windows and sagging joists had been turned into a number of professional-quality film sets. All but one were dark, with anything valuable carefully stored away, just in case things got out of hand. Even when they did get out of hand, that often ended up being even more profitable.

"I can't believe it," Jet gawked, walking around a spacious three-walled apartment. "It looks exactly like the show! It's even got the same wallpaper!"

"Spared no expense!" the director, a statuesque gazelle grrl, hollered from beyond the brilliantly-lit set. "Don't smudge the carpet!"

Carmine giggled. "There's a huge push for nostalgia porn right now," he said, tweaking Jet's backside as they toured the set. "I'm lucky they didn't insist on doing this in black and white."

"How are you getting around copyright?"

"Aren't you a lawyer?"

"Not THAT kind. Intellectual property law is for masochists. But I guess if this counts as homage...?

Carmine shrugged. "No-one's come after us for any of our other 'homages'. Probably realize it wouldn't be worth the press."

"I dunno," Jet grinned, slipping an arm around Carmine's slender waist and tugging him close. "I think you'd be a great spokesfox for the Oldies Channel."

"I'm as liable to give those geezers heart attacks!"

"What a way to go," the bun said wistfully.

"Partners!" boomed Giorgio, quite literally squeezing through the apartment's front door. True to the less-enlightened bygone ages, the doors on the set were designed for the average fur, and even a normal-huge Shiba like Giorgio was having some difficulty. He wore a tent-sized silk bathrobe emblazoned with S&B's logo, and possibly nothing else. "This will be incredible film! Giorgio watched this show as pup!"

"See? We've got the overseas market in the bag with this one," Carmine said, reaching up to tweak Giorgio's chin. "They treating you OK back there, big fella?"

"There is fruit tray!" Giorgio wagged happily.

"Oh, I love country bumpkins," the fox sighed theatrically. "Don't worry, G. We'll make a big city creep-o out of you yet."

The Shiba's brows knit. "I hope not? Mom warned me about-"

"No, see, that was a JOKE, I just want you to know your WORTH-"

Jet let the two co-workers get out their pre-shoot jitters, carefully excusing himself to check out craft services. He knew Carmine's rituals, and from the sounds of it Giorgio was also suffering from a similar case of... not performance anxiety, exactly, but definitely a level of nervous energy that lacked proper grounding. That was why Carmine had started bringing co-stars back to the apartment; a certain level of familiarity did wonders for on-screen comfort, and hypers were not exactly compatible with re-shoots.

"Howdy."

Jet jerked, puffing a cloud of mini-bagel crumbs across the expanse of his bust. "Hi! Howdy. Uhm... hello," he said, staring up and up at the director. Shi was dressed for comfort, a pink tracksuit with thick black stripes, but shi was clearly of the hyper persuasion hirself. It didn't help, at least from Jet's angle, that shi loomed nearly ten feet tall plus an extra yard of horns, and he had to crane his neck to see over hir bosom.

"So you're the boyfriend, hmm?"

"Ah, yes, ma'am."

The gazelle bent, rolled a sandwich into more of a taco shape, squeezed it down to the size of a cigar, and then somehow popped the whole thing in hir mouth. "The lawyer one that's been talking everyone into unionizing?"

Jet's eyes widened. "Ah... strictly speaking, the term contract employees of Sluggo & Boyce contacted our firm after some organizational information sessions provided pro bono as part of our community outreach programs, and-"

The director laughed. "Carm was right, you are skittish! It's fine, hon. We've gone too long without that sort of thing. Back in my day, you shot a bucket of film on a Friday just so you could get drunk on Saturday and pay the rent on Sunday. S'good to see folks now being treated right, being able to have a home, maybe move into another career after a while. Me, I ended up behind the camera. Th'name's Jack, by the way."

"Well, uh... glad we could help," Jet managed, trying to subtly breathe the way his therapist had taught him. Anything to calm his heart down. "It's my first time here, and-"

"We can tell," Jack grinned, giving him a lewd wink. "You look like you're here to audit the money shots."

Jet sighed, his newly-tailored polo shirt creaking around his bust. He had more than a dozen now, fit for his different sizes, and he was currently wearing the one with six X's on the label. He wore his best black slacks, but in a fit of pique had left his blazer in the car. "Carmine... Carm... told me to dress nicely so he could, uh... 'show me off'... but... I get the feeling he was making fun of me."

"He does that," the gazelle chuckled. "I'm sure if you hang around him long enough, you'll get the hang of it."

"We've been together for seven years-"

"Joke, sweetie."

"Ah."

Jack leaned forwards, having about as much difficulty seeing the spread as Jet. Shi was quite hourglassed, with a vague bulge the size of a couch cushion comfortably pushed forward by hir thighs. "You ever thought about coming to work for us, Ace Attorney?"

"Technically I'm not an attorney, because-... wait, what do you mean?"

"Don't get me wrong! There's room for all shapes and sizes in what we do, I'm not just saying this because of the sweet rack. But you've got a vibe about you, and bustyboys are an underrepresented niche."

"Oh! Ah... erm... no... no, I'm not... I'm not really into..."

"It wouldn't be anything triple-X, hon!" Jack laughed, hir expression softening. "Quite the opposite. Have you seen any of our line of Cuddlepile Media? Hugsluts? Leave It On All Night Long?"

Jet's mind whirled. "Erm... I've seen it on a couple forms, when I was signing up the models, but I just assumed it was-"

Jack reached into hir cleavage, rummaged around and pulled out a square DVD case. "Here! Take it, we hand these out by the truckload. Think of it as corporate research, hmm?"

"I... yes..." Jet said, buck teeth tripping over his tongue. "I should, uh, probably just go find a seat, get out of everyone's way..."

"Don't go too far!" Jack called as Jet made good his escape. "You need to keep me updated with Carm's new doo-dads when we roll!"

Jet blushed and nodded, patting his cleavage to reassure himself that both phones were still safe and sound. He ended up in an oversized folding chair near the rolling camera locker, where a small army of lean, sharp-eyed mustelids were kitting up. The larger ones wore chest-mounted steady cams, while the smaller ones wore complicated headsets that looked like sci-fi props.

He had to stifle a smile when he overheard the camerafolk taking bets on the outcome of today's shoot. Odds were discussed and small bills changed hands. A good many of them seemed to focus on damage to the set, which happened on a number of Carmine's videos. Back in the day, Changeroom Chaos; these days, Basement Blowouts.

Still, this set seemed especially spacious, really mimicking the old sitcom fee. Still further, Jet knew what Carmine's new enhancement were capable of.

"Can I get in on that action?" the bun asked, pulling a twenty dollar bill out of his bosom.

-

"Action!"

With the soundstage lights out and the apartment brilliantly lit, Jet was shocked at the realism. There was even mock sunlight streaming in through the windows. For several long seconds nothing happened; Carmine had explained that there was a lot of blank time at the start and end of shots. Given the nature of their filming, this also tended to be where the best outtakes happened. Today, though, the plan was for a single, continuous multicam shoot.

After a long, unbearably dramatic pause, Carmine swished through the swinging kitchen doors to the sound of tinned laughter and applause. He wore an old-fashioned housedress, canary yellow with small red flowers and trimmed in frilly white. It was, of course, rather short, and covered a hilariously small fraction of his endowments, which were clad in material that resembled white cotton stockings. His plumped-up but still mostly flaccid shaft swayed in front of him at a low angle, while his clearly backed-up balls bounced and swayed behind his bare legs.

The door swung back into the kitchen, before swinging forwards again and swatting Carmine's sac. He yelped and spun around, his shaft knocking a flowered vase off of a low table with a crash. The tinned laughter swelled and faded as Carmine shook his fist petulantly at the door.

"Why does that keep HAPPENING?!" he wailed, stamping his footpaw in a way cunningly calculated to maximize the residual jiggle from his nethers.

For the next fifteen minutes, Carmine performed various household chores around the set: loading a dishwasher while his shaft constantly thumped against the trays, dusting with his back to the cameras while his sac swayed enticingly, trying to open laundry machines and low cabinets only to have his dick shove the door closed again. He paused to pout every time something went wrong, tapping his lips with his pinkie and rolling his eyes dramatically.

"See, all this is going to get edited down," Jack whispered down to Jet. Shi sat front and center, just behind the black and yellow hazard tape that marked the maximum probable damage radius. Although shi could easily see the entire stage, shi was focused on a huge display of flatscreens that showed hir live feeds from every mobile and stationary camera. Jet got dizzy just looking at it. "You ready with his enbiggenator?"

"It's actually called a-"

"Shh!"

Jet zipped his lips and readied Carmine's phone. They'd had a loose discussion about what to do and when, but he'd also been encouraged to follow his heart. After all, he knew the star best. The costar had also given his blessing, with perhaps... too much enthusiasm.

The doorbell dinged. Carmine squeaked and spun, his unruly maleness thumping the wall and knocking a painting to the ground.

"Oh, the maid's here!" he squealed nervously, to more cheap laughter.

"We're gonna dub in much BETTER cheap laughter in editing," Jack explained under hir breath. "This is just to get the vibe right, y'know?"

Carmine paused to primp and preen in the mirror, his black perm gleaming under the bright lights. He adjusted his dress and hefted his non-existent breasts, to more laughter and some recorded whistling. When he was finally satisfied, he scampered to the door and flung it open, revealing... a wall of dark blue, trimmed in red.

Carmine frowned, leaned forward, and poked a curious finger into the material. Two lithe camerafurs with headsets approached from opposite sides; Jack focused on their feeds, whispering instructions to them through a tiny microphone.

When the blue material twitched, Carmile yelped and took two mock-terrified steps backwards. Giorgio, wearing a dark blue tank top and matching shorts, bent and squeezed himself through the front door. If anything, he'd become even more imposingly powerful during his time backstage.

"Had him powerlifting and chugging electrolytes for twenty minutes," Jack said to Jet. "The boy can put on thirty pounds of beef before a shoot like it's nothing! He's gonna be big."

"Like... famous?"

"Sure, that, too."

"Good afternoon, miss! You are woman of the house?" Giorgio said, somehow managing to boom softly. His tail wagged, his grin was huge and genuine, and he absolutely towered over Carmine.

"Actually, I'm-" Carmine said, then a devilish grin spread across his muzzle. "Yes! Yes, I am the woman of the house!"

Giorgio lowered an enormous old-fashioned suitcase, with ACME MAIDS stenciled on the side. "I am Giorgio! I have come to clean!"

"Thank goodness for that," Carmine breathed, canned laughter rising. "I've been feeling so dirty lately!"

Giorgio opened up the case, revealing all manner of cleaning implement. For another twenty minutes, Giorgio attempted to clean, only to discover that Carmine's unnamed housewife had already cleaned everything. There was a great deal of squinting, innocent shrugging, and polite laughter as the huge Shiba tried and failed to tidy up the spotless home.

Throughout this coverage scene, Jet was slowly bumping up various numbers on Carmine's augmentations. As the fox stood a little bit too close to Giorgio while the huge canine was bending over, Jet would cause Carmine's shaft to twitch and fill out a little more. Whenever Giorgio would touch Carmine, moving his paw out of the way or carefully guiding him away from an appliance, Carmine would purr and Jet would send a few dozen gallons flowing into his sac. By the time the coverage was over, the little fox was sporting a three foot long semi and his seedtanks had bloated out to the point that he had as much trouble fitting through doors as Giorgio.

Up next was Giorgio's chance to show off. Perturbed by his inability to clean, he started picking up all the furniture, with one arm, in order to dust and vacuum under it. He posed artfully with the couch raised over his head, Carmine swooning and fanning himself. He picked up the four-poster bed, holding it like it weighed no more than a serving tray while he worked. At this, Carmine gripped his own tail and chewed on it, while Jet pumped more blood into his shaft. In defiance of all logic, Giorgio bent at one end of the kitchen counter and lifted them all up at an angle, sink and dishwasher included, to raucous recorded laughter and applause. This did cause the faucet to spray Carmine with water, and some hidden special effect caused steam to billow from under his housedress.

"Perfect, perfect!" Jack muttered, high praise despite the frown on hir stubby muzzle. Shi flicked though all the camera feeds, scrolling back on some timelines in order to compare angles. "OK, everyone, transition to Stage Three! You too, ace attorney!"

Stage Three was Giorgio bursting into tears, which he did with gusto. He stood in the middle of the living room, arms slumped, head thrown back, bawling to the heavens, or at least the overhead lights.

"Oh no!" Carmine cried, chewing his nails dramatically. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"Am going to lose job!" Giorgio moaned. "Am here to clean, and I can't! I am failure on my first day!"

"What? No, no no no! No, I'll call the company! I'll tell them you did a good job!" Carmine crept closer, reaching out to pat the Shiba's enormous arm.

"That is lying!" Giorgio wailed. "Mother told me not to lie when I come to this country! And now, first day on job!"

Carmine looked around, eyes wide, for something, anything to soothe the gentle giant. "Yes, well... we certainly don't want to you to be a liar... but... I mean... there has to be something..."

He spun, growing as agitated as Giorgio, and his bouncing stocking-clad endowment swept the neat stack of magazines and decorative potpourris from the coffee table and onto the floor.

Giorgio's ears shot up, along with his tail. Carmine froze, lips pulled back in embarrassment. Moving cautiously, as though suspecting a trap, the huge house cleaner knelt and tidied up the magazines. He pulled a dainty dust broom and pan out of his shorts and swept up the potpourri. In a minute, the space was immaculate once again, to gentle applause and 'ooohs!' of appreciation.

With a mischievous twinkle, Carmine backed up until his achingly overfilled sac thumped up against the coffee service. Cups and plates tumbled to the ground, along with the sugarbowl and all manner of bric-a-brac. Smiling nervously, Giorgio crept over and cleaned this up, too.

Mess by mess, the pair worked their way through the living room and into the bedroom. They laughed bashfully together, openly letting their gazes linger. Carmine rubbed Giorgio's immense shoulders as he worked, trying to reassure and motivate him.

"We need tension," Jack rumbled, staring so intently at the screens that shi looked as though shi were about to take a bite out of them. "Up the tension!"

"Tension?"

The roo's paws made furiously orb-shaped motions in the air. "Tension! DRAMATIC.... BUILD-UP!"

"Oh!" Jet smacked himself with Carmine's phone. "Right, right!"

As Giorgio rose from the latest mess, the sudden tumbling of an old-fashioned laundry hamper, he held up a black lace undergarment that was clearly designed to hold someone of Carmine's vast proportions. The Shiba's face reddened in dawning comprehension, and the fox snatched it out of his paws. "That's for... special occasions!" he stammered, bundling it up into a black mass that was still the size of a basketball.

For the first time that day, Jet could hear the results of Carmine's augmentations. With an audible gurgle of overproduction and creak of reinforced tissues being strained, Carmine's sac expanded in one long, slow surge. They firmed up, too, weighing heavily against the backs of the fox's legs and even rising several inches higher as the delicate, velvety fluff stretched tighter.

Giorgio clearly heard it, too. His jaw dropped open and, with an artful subtlety that Jet appreciated, the Shiba shifted one muscular thigh to display his own extremely prominent arousal tenting his snug blue shorts. "A-am sorry," he stammered. "Laundry is... not part of services..."

Carmine, now given full permission to be the naughty housewife he always wanted to be, sashayed closer. Jet had seen that patented sashay on any number of S&B feature films, and the fox had even won the Bedroom Eyes award for it two years previously at an industry gala. "That's all right, big fella," he purred, tossing the hyper-sized lingerie over his shoulder. "I'm sure it's nothing you haven't seen before, hmmm?"

The Shiba looked around nervously, but the still-growing Carmine was blocking the only way out of the bedroom. "Well!" he said, clapping his huge mitts together. "Home is clean! No more mess! I should... get going... to next job..."

"Awww, leaving so soon?" Carmine whined, batting his teased eyelashes. He continued to advance, walking two fingers up and down the base of his semi-arousal. "I thought we were really making some progress around here!"

"Is no more mess!" Giorgio declared, backing up. "Thank you for choosing Immaculate Collection Cleaning Services! I am Giorgio! Please fill out survey for chance to win... uh... "

Jet didn't plan this, and isn't sure he COULD have planned it, but Carmine's stockings chose that moment to surrender. With the sound of several garters snapping, the lacy sleeve trying to contain his maleness shot forwards and slapped against Giorgio's muscular tummy, ending up in a little pile at his feet. Carmine's sac sagged a few inches when no longer supported, but so taut were his orbs that they still seemed to hug his cute backside.

"What do you say," Carmine huffed, while Jet slowly allowed him to become fully hard, "we make a real mess?"

Stage Four, the final scene and what the fans were REALLY paying for, started with all of the camera mustelids converging on the bedroom. The little weasels and stoats climbed the walls for the high angles, careful to keep out of each other's fields of view, while the sturdier badgers and otters with the larger, more expensive cameras positioned themselves in closets, behind dressers, and even outside the fake windows for those 'What will the neighbors think?' shots.

Carmine shuddered in exquisite and genuine pleasure as he rose to full attention, veins as thick as Giorgio's thumbs twitching excitedly. The oversized maid reached out reverently, his mitts cradling just behind the tip of Carmine's cock. The fox flexed potent internal muscles, causing it to jump, rising nearly up to the Shiba's muzzle.

"I think it likes you," Carmine tittered, swaying his hips back and forth. His balls easily outmassed the rest of his body, maybe several times over, but he still managed to move with ease and grace, tail swishing and skirt bouncing.

"Do... not want to get in trouble with... your husband..." Giorgio stammered, his resolve clearly crumbling.

Carmine waved a paw dismissively. "He's chasing secretaries at work. I need to find my own... dalliances. Surely you wouldn't leave a lonely femboy in such a dire situation, would you?" He took another step forwards, the tip of his shaft thumping against Giorgio's chest and sliding up until it bumped against his neck.

The Shiba swallowed, ears fluttering like butterfly wings. "N-no, ma'am-"

Moving with a speed that even Jet found impressive, Carmine darted forwards and seemed to climb Giorgio. Giorgio staggered under the extra weight, arms flailing as he found himself being passionately kissed by the wildly horny fox. Carmine's shaft rose up between them, brushing against both their cheeks. When Carmine began to slide back down, blunted claws unable to get a good enough grip, Giorgio gripped his backside and hoisted him back up.

The diegetic music swelled as the couple staggered around the bedroom, very deliberately accidentally smashing the breakway furniture in their passion. A low oak dresser was reduced to splinters, a makeup desk toppled in a cloud of talcum powder and tiny perfume bottles, several potted plants were flattened under either Giorgio's feet or Carmine's sac. Eventually they tumbled onto the super-king-size bed, all four posts immediately snapping and dropping the frame to the ground.

Jet nudged Jack as the adult stars moved rapidly from first base to third base. "Anything?" he mouthed, wiggling Carmine's phone at the director.

Jack shook hir head. "Wait till they're locked in," shi mumbled out the corner of hir mouth. Jet nodded, not surprised. Even without any interference from the app's controls, though, he watched as various numbers continued to rise, particularly production and back-pressure. The fox clearly wasn't faking his arousal!

When their immediate lust tapered off, they recreated their mutual striptease in the wreckage of the bedroom. It was much faster this time, since they each only wore two items of clothing. Before they moved onto the climax of the movie, there were some resets as they attempted various different poses on the pile of sheets and pillows. Jet was rather fond of when Giorgio was stretched out flat on his back, Carmine straddling his belly and facing away from him. This allowed for some excellent closeups of the fox's hyper cock completely overshadowing the Shiba's comparatively tiny one, while Giorgio's arms struggled to embrace the vast balls that threatened to engulf his head.

Eventually they were both sprawled out with their heads resting on the Carmine's dick, noses touching, panting heavily, when Carmine raised a single paw and made a twirling motion with one finger. Giorgio's eyes widened, his ears flattening to his skull. He gestured vaguely downward with his muzzle. Carmine nodded, his grin spreading to expose all of his gleaming teeth. Giorgio whined, triggering the laugh track, and rose to his knees.

The pitch of the old-fashioned chamber music changed, becoming lower and more intense as Carmine positioned himself behind Giorgio. Even on all fours, the Shiba was a golden mountain of muscle, his powerful backside twitching. Carmine might have been petite and dainty, but there was no denying the confidence and power with which he guided himself up against Giorgio's rump. The camerafolk orbited the room, catching every moment from every possible angle.

"I think you've earned more than just a good tip," Carmine giggled, the laugh track now decidedly more raucous. Giorgio's knuckles tightened on the ruined bed as he braced himself, thighs and shoulders flexing. Carmine took a deep breath, gripping the base of his foot-thick shaft, and drove himself forwards.

Giorgio threw his head back, keening and moaning, tongue lolling out. His slender hips creaked and strained, his taut lower belly bulging out as Carmine plowed further and further. The Shiba's tail wagged furiously, but soon Carmine was close enough to grab it and use it to help pull himself forwards, inexorably deeper. His knot was just starting to become visible when the fox reached out, grabbed Giorgio around the waist, and slammed himself to the hilt. They cried out together, Giorgio leaning back against Carmine's chest, his toasted-marshmallow tummy clearly outlining the fox's four-foot long cock.

"Lock him in!" Jack stage-whispered, and Jet was only too happy to oblige by tapping the blinking red button on the TruU app.

Giorgio's voice rose from a reverberating baritone to an almost feminine alto when Carmine's knot bloomed inside him. His hips were forced wider still, far beyond what should have been possible, his lower belly ballooning and forcing his own maleness down. His great paws explored his changing body in disbelief, tracing the outline of the fox's throbbing veins. "S-so b-big," he gasped, wriggling and rocking back and forth.

"Big? Moi?" Carmine asked, somehow managing to sound calm and coquettish. "Oh, honey, you must be new here. Keep... ooooh, keep touching me like that, and you're going to find out what 'big' means!"

Giorgio's mitts paused, and then resumed stroking the outline of Carmine's shaft with more energy. Now it was Carmine's turn to squeal in delight as with each stroke (and a little help from Jet) his cock throbbed and grew just a little bit bigger. Inch by inch it surged forwards, becoming more sharply defined as Giorgio's tummy was stretched thinner. "G-goodness me," the Shiba whimpered, now starting to feel small compared to what the fox was doing to his insides. His mighty shoulders bunched and flexed as he wrapped his arms around Carmine's shaft, kissing it through his belly fluff. "Wh-why would husband ever want a-anyone else?"

"He was missing too much work," Carmine snickered, leaning back against his balls, which were now rumbling and expanding in anticipation. "He doesn't do well under... pressure."

"P-pressure?" Giorgio squeaked, just before his entire body jerked in surprise. With a fluid gurgle that even Jet could easily hear beyond the safety perimeter, the tip of Carmine's Shiba-wrapped cock fwoomped outwards, a dozen gallons of pre lubricating his insides.

"Mmmmm, now we're getting somewhere," Carmine purred, stretching languidly. Again and again his hips twitched, the outline of his cock growing rounded and muted as the canine slowly inflated. "I hope you're more... resilient than my hubby. Sometimes he could barely even handle foreplay like this!"

"F-f-f-f-f-f-fore-f-f-f-f-"

"Hush, sweetie, you sound like steam escaping," Carmine grinned, kneading the Shiba's rump affectionately. "I hope you didn't have any more appointments today!"

Giorgio's paws sank into the jiggling ovoid his belly was becoming. He could still touch the fox's iron-hard spire, but it was getting more difficult as he continued to very slowly expand. He stretched his arms forwards to caress the tip of Carmine's shaft, but sure enough the fox was still growing, longer as well as thicker, and soon it was beyond his reach.

"Good boy," Jack breathed. "You're gonna be a star!"

"Good boy," Carmine echoed, his hips rocking faster now. Giorgio swayed and sloshed helplessly back and forth, fully at the mercy of the hyper fox showing his true colors. "We might need to make this... oooh... a weekly appointment!"

Jet scrolled through the app's options. So far he'd only messed with the standard settings, and most of those just acted as inhibitors or mild stimulation for Carmine's natural gifts. The fox was a hyper and quite an impressive one, and didn't need much help in the size or productivity departments; his augmentations were more about control than anything else. Indeed, that was how these enhancements were primarily going to be marketed to hypers. The pre-orders were already, ironically, backed up for months.

He also didn't want to use up ALL of the fox's tricks in the first film. This was the start of a new stage in his career, after all. There would be ample time to explore the fun combinations and permutations of restrictions and amplifications.

On the other hand...

"One minute?" he whispered to Jack.

Shi glanced down at him, glanced at the app, consulted a few numbers on hir screens and nodded. "One minute. One minute, everyone!"

Jet tapped the button, and a rather ominous countdown began with large red numbers.

On set, Carmine's back arched and his long legs splayed outwards in surprise. "Oooohhhhhhh," he breathed, writhing as his balls started to creak alarmingly. They continued to grow, but in fits and starts, as though struggling to overcome some obstacle. "Th-that's... getting... tight..."

From behind a potted plant, a nervous-looking parabolic operator reached out and attached a small sticky-backed microphone to the far side of Carmine's sac. On Jack's screens, another graphic equalizer popped up, registering the many bass-heavy gurgles and rumbles and the more indefinable sounds of a hyper's biology at war with itself. The fox's lusty production would not be denied, but at the same time his poor TruU-boosted anatomy could only stretch so much.

"Is that safe?" Jack whispered, always worried about hir talent.

"It says it will only get into the first part of 'Use Caution'," Jet answered, showing hir the app. "Uhm... that's the yellow part? It's got all sorts of failsafes, so-"

"Yes or no, law boy."

"Oh. Yes. Uhm... forty seconds."

Carmine and Giorgio were pawing madly at one another now, as much as they could given their position. The fox seemed to be trying to climb up the Shiba's enormously broad and muscular back, claws and teeth leaving visible furrows in the dense fur. Giorgio couldn't turn his thick neck very well, but he reached back blindly to grip Carmine's thighs, as though somehow trying to draw him even deeper.

They writhed together as one, Carmine's shaft growing wider, ever thicker, as though attempting to prepare for what would surely be the fox's most impressive filmed climax to date. The camera operators were inching backwards, even as Jack gave orders for some of them to zoom in.

Jet's eyes widened as his foxy love's body continued to respond, continued to grow. This might not be setting a personal record for him (Jet was still pretty sure THAT was during the filming of Edge Of Beyond: Foxes Forever... what a crazy month that had been!) but it was definitely in his top five. Considering this was the first scene after his enhancements from TruU, and they weren't even using any of the higher-level augments, this was definitely doing what Carmine had hoped.

Giorgio stiffened, shuddered, strained and sighed as, somewhere hidden by his hyper-filled body, he reached his own climax. Two camera operators working at floor level seemed to be trying to capture it, but in all honesty it was B-roll For this particular vignette, Carmine was the main event. Giorgio was new talent, coming in with a number of indie fans, but in industry parlance he was the stunt tummy.

"Ten... nine... eight..." Jack said softly.

The Shiba's head lolled, drunk off his aftershocks, but he'd have to be in a coma not to realize Carmine was still growing, both without and within. The fox's balls were rounder, firmer, clearly under tremendous internal pressure, and combined with his fearsome girth neither of their footpaws were touching the ground anymore. The enormous bedroom set didn't seem quite so big anymore, especially since the rounded tip of Carmine's shaft, wrapped in Giorgio's tawny fluff, was reaching higher than the cheap walls.

"...four... three... two..."

Jet hugged his bust, no longer paying attention to the phone, paying attention to anything except his beloved Carmine. All those years watching him perform on cam, all those years helping him arrange for photoshoots, and then the years of him performing for Sluggo and Boyce, he'd never seen anything quite like this in person. It was so much more vibrant, more intimate, more immediate, more LOUD than he imagined.

"One," he breathed.

"One," Jack said.

"One!" yipped a terrified camera operator.

The artificial seals keeping Carmine's body in a state of perpetual denial relaxed. Giorgio's voice rose in a startled yowl as the fox's urethral bulge distended calamitously, forcing his poor tailhole quite a bit wider. The world seemed to pause, one perfect frozen moment, before Giorgio's stretched belly fwoomped nearly spherical in a single surge of seed.

It was Carmine's turn to slump backwards against his balls, nearly insensate as he experienced the most singularly intense orgasm of his life, of a life filled with countless performatively amazing orgasms. His toes curled tight like fists, but his legs flopped bonelessly as his cock spasmed and geysered again and again and again. Giorgio's golden pelt ballooned every couple seconds, bumping up against the bedroom door and shoving furniture out of the way. The wall started to flex almost immediately, cheap construction built to be destroyed.

Giorgio pawed at his belly, arms and legs pushed slowly backwards until he seemed to be spread-eagled against a nearly vertical wall of taut, sloshing fur. The wall between the bedroom and living room collapsed, more or less as it was designed to do, but neither of them showed any signs of stopping.

"Are you doing this?" Jack whispered.

"No," Jet mumbled, awestruck. "This is all him now."

"Ok, so we're... probably safe here?"

On set, Giorgio's upper tummy was nearing the studio lights and the living room furniture was being crushed flat. Camera operators scrambled to capture all the destruction, and particularly to film all the ways the fourth wall was being broken. By this point it was impossible for the camerafolk to film the two men and not eachother.

"Probably," Jet smiled.

Carmine's sac rumbled and shifted, but seemed to not shrink in the slightest with each eruption. If anything, the fox's shaft seemed to still be thickening, trying to cope with increasingly larger volumes of seed. Giorgio turned his head, tongue lolling out, arms and legs sinking slightly into his voluminous belly. His eyes rolled white as waves of pleasure wracked him. The rear wall of the bedroom collapsed next, while the prow of his vast form advanced steadily on the kitchen.

"Distance to the safety perimeter?" Jack hissed into hir mic, hir gaze frantically bouncing from screen to screen.

"Four feet!" came a tinny reply.

"Two feet over here? Nope, less than that," came another.

"He's outside it backstage! Still five feet to the bearing walls, I think-... awww, nuts, my lunch was back there..."

Giorgio hiccuped, his helpless wriggling growing more frantic. He no longer seemed to be sinking into his bloating belly, but rather stuck to the side of it as his pelt tightened. His fur thinned further as he inflated, gaining the pinkish hue of the skin beneath.

"Hversu miklu stærri get ég orðið?" the huge Shiba gurgled, his immensely muscled back seeming like little more than a dainty hood ornament adorning the rest of his body.

The camera workers were backed up to craft services by this point. Some of them were climbing ladders into the rigging or scampering along the catwalks. One of them bumped into Jack's ricketty command center, apologized with a nervous squeak, and continued backpedalling.

"Uhm, now, I did say 'probably'," Jet said, plucking nervously at the buttons on his shirt. "Because, uhm, he didn't seem to be particularly big. But he, uhm... doesn't seem to be stopping quite like he usually does."

"Mmmm hmmmm, it's lovely, splendid, spectacular!" Jack agreed. "Look at them go! The new boy's got a lot of give, hmm?"

"Oh yes, lovely boy, bright future, but I was more concerned about the, ah, parameters of the, ah, situation." Jet squinted at Carmine's phone, sorting through the various readouts. There were a number of impressive-looking numbers next to symbols that looked like water towers and fire hydrants, but there didn't seem to be much to DO about it. There was supposed to be a way to reduce production and release during an overly-intense climax, but the flustered bun couldn't seem to locate it. Honestly, that was probably the one section of the app he hadn't properly familiarized himself with.

Some of the numbers DID seem to be going down, which was reassuring, but it was hard to take much immediate comfort when the remaining vertical parts of the 50's sitcom set were now officially scrap. Carmine and Giorgio looked comically small compared to the Shiba's tightening spherical body, sloshing and jiggling, pawing wearily at one another and giggling. Jet couldn't hear them, but knew he could look forward to the DVD release to get all the properly-mixed audio.

Jack's monitors rattled as Giorgio's flanks thumped against the soundboard, well outside the safety perimeter now. The towering gazelle was breathing hard, chewing hir dainty pink tongue as shi took in a dozen audio and video feeds.

"I'm just... going to wait... over... there..." Jet managed, slipping out of his fancy director's chair and following the camera operators.

Jack made some vague, non-committal sound and flapped a paw absently. "Camera Three, the zoom is throwing off the backlighting. Camera Seven, can you circle stage left? Towards where the kitchen used to be. Ca-... no, left. Left!"

Another thud, crunch, and a strangely drawn-out crash echoed through the makeshift soundstage as Jet made his way towards the exit. Most of the crew had gathered by the far walls, chuckling and openly swapping money back and forth. A breach of containment like this, Jet knew, was nothing particularly strange for a Sluggo & Boyce production, though this was the first time he'd seen it in person.

"Hey there, Legal Beagle," grinned a burly ursine woman wearing a high-vis vest, giving Jet a platonic chuck on the shoulder. "Your man's showing off for you today, hmm?"

"I doubt he knows I'm here right now," Jet demurred, turning away to hide his blush but also to enjoy the thunderous finale to the day's shoot. Giorgio was looking like ten gallons of love in a five gallon hat, and Jack was still shouting commands into hir mic even as shi dragged hir monitor setup away from the danger zone. "He's, uhm... probably got his hands full."

An owl loaded down with a dizzying array of tapes and pliers scoffed in the way only avians could. "You're Jet? Carmine never shuts up about you. He has pictures of YOU in Wardrobe when he's going through makeup, not Giorgio."

"Well... that's... nice..." the bun stammered, unsure of how to respond. "Uhm... we never talked about this before the shoot, but... do I just leave him here? I have a meeting at four, and-"

The assembled crew laughed. "Oh yeah, definitely. You go. We've got a long night of cleanup and aftercare ahead of us."

Jet nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. I was just hoping I could... you know, say goodbye, but honestly, I don't know how much more he has in him. Uhm, so to speak."

"That'll probably be fine, you just need to wait for Jack to yell 'cut', and-" The ursine lady blinked and froze. "Oh my glob. OH MY GLOB, you guys, I just had the BEST idea! Diego, find Cass in Wardrobe! Love Bun, you're with me! We have to get to Jack before shi knocks hirself out!"

"What-"

But it was too late. Jet was being steered back towards the love scene, bust bouncing, tongue tied, wondering what he'd gotten himself into and why it had taken him so long to get there.

5. Premiere

Jet dropped his briefcase as soon as he stepped through the door, his long ears drooping forwards across his stubby muzzle. "I'm home and stuff," he called out, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it towards the wall hooks. It missed, falling in a pile. "Happy... what is it... Smarch?"

"That's not a day, sweetie," came Carmine's low, husky voice from the kitchen. "Long day?"

"I've had longer."

"Phrasing...?"

"Oh honey, you know that's always literal when YOU'RE around."

Carmine appeared, wearing a pair of wine red bike shorts and a tiny tight white t-shirt. It would have been tight on a normal fox, but Carmine had taken to the fashion of stuffing his sheathless endowment up into his shirts lately, and today that overstuffed bulge was practically up to his chin. The bike shorts were custom fit and were within throwing distance of modest, somehow managing to keep his melon-sized sac decent. He sipped a strawberry wine cooler and posed coquettishly against the end of the corridor. "Careful what you say, hun. I've had a long day of DOING NOTHING." Those last two words came out in a manner that a passerby might consider threatening.

Jet grinned, knowing full well Carm was filming some extended scenes on the weekend, and he was currently in the 'pent-up and edging' portion of pre-production. "I have something for you that might make your evening unbearable. Maybe I should keep it to myself-"

"Oh no you don't!" the fox growled, tucking the bottle into the neck of his shirt and lunging for the well-dressed bunny. "I know what day it is!"

"Smarch?" Jet asked innocently.

They collided, one overly-horny hyper pinning the much larger and much curvier bun up against the wall. Jet had also taken to keeping his bust in the larger sizes lately; his business casual attire was currently drawing from the largest and stretchiest of his initial clothing purchases, and he had a feeling he'd need to upsize by the end of the month. Carmine sank into Jet's bosom, paws everywhere, and soon withdrew his prize from the bun's cleavage. "Ah hah! Victory!"

Carmine and Jet stared at the plastic DVD case.

Fwoompy Follies Volume 1: I Love Tighty, feat. Carmine!

"Featuring... me..." Carmine smiled and sniffled, dabbing away a tear with the fabric of Jet's freshly-unbuttoned blouse. "Oh my glob, look how CUTE I am in the dress!"

The cover art featured Carmine prominently, in all of his black-and-white 1950's glory, superimposed on a dramatically-lit landscape that just seemed to be Giorgio's muscular back mid-flex. "You know, technically, there's more Giorgio on the cover than you-OW!"

"My foot slipped," the fox blinked innocently. "BE HAPPY FOR MEEEEEEEE! I'm a Featuring!"

"I couldn't be happier, babe," Jet purred, bending forwards to plant a proud smooch on Carmine's muzzle. "Come on, let's watch! Beer me, wife! OW!"

"My foot slipped again."

Five minutes later they were cuddled up on the couch, watching Carmine's first top-billed performance for S&B. The production team really had made every bit of it look just like the original program: the black and white aesthetic, the canned laughter, the closeups on everyone's expressions, even the old TV aspect ratio. Carmine giggled throughout, not having seen things from quite the same perspective as Jet.

"Oh my gosh, look how CUTE he is," the fox gushed when Giorgio made his big entrance, his first moment on film here in the 'big leagues'. "Oh, he's got such PRESENCE combined with this lost puppy vibe! I'm so jealous I want to bite him."

"You do a lot of biting in a couple scenes..."

"Quiet, you."

Carmine's body on the couch responded to the sight of him in action on the screen. He tapped a few controls on his app to keep things muted, but Jet could hear that poor white t-shirt straining as the fox plumped up, even over the sounds of his sac rumbling. "Man, those camera peeps don't get paid enough. Also, I need to do more upskirt stuff. Look at my ASS in that shot!"

"I'm looking, I'm looking!"

Jet tightened his arms around Carmine as the couple on-screen found themselves in the bedroom, with the clearly-aroused fox blocking the only door out. "The writers were considering having Giorgio hide in the closet, or try to climb out the window and get stuck, but we thought that was a little bit too much," Carmine narrated softly.

"My little Director's Commentary," Jet chuckled, nuzzling the top of the fox's head.

Carmine's breathing grew more rapid as the love scene unfolded. His bulk continued to swell, on screen and in real life, but he currently had his app set to 'Soft Only'. Jet casually stroked Carm through his shirt as the petite fox expanded, reasonably sure things wouldn't get TOO out of hand before the weekend.

"What did this part look like from where you were sitting?" Carmine asked as Giorgio's moans filled the room.

"I've seen you, uhm... 'work' before, but it was always in private. This was... exciting."

"Mmmm," the fox grinned, wriggling against his love's lap, his head resting against Jet's bust. "Is this an awakening?"

"No, not like that, you fiend. But... your director gave me hir card."

"Oh, Jack's always trying to recruit. We were at this awards show last year, and I swear shi was either hitting on or offering jobs to the entire serving staff." Jet and Giorgio cried out on screen as the action shifted into high gear. "Wait, don't tell me you're CONSIDERING it?!"

"Shi made a compelling case. I was looking up some of the titles from your Cuddlepile Media branch, and-"

"NO."

Carmine frowned. "Is that a 'no' of disbelief, or a 'no' of forbidding?"

"I... you... I mean, the first, I guess? I'm not gonna tell a big city lawyer what to do-OW!"

"My paw slipped."

"I just... I never imagined you'd go for it!"

Jet chuckled, patting the pregnant-sized cock bulge in Carmine's shirt. "Let's just say the idea is growing on me. Now hush, we're getting to the good part!"

It was time for both fox and bunny's breathing to accelerate as Giorgio began his journey into Fwoompy Follies fame. It was also the first time either of them had seen the cut and finished footage of the destruction of the set. Walls creaking and tumbling, the overhead studio lights clearly visible, the added sounds of a nonexistent studio audience laughing hysterically.

"I don't even REMEMBER someone getting THAT shot," Carmine gasped as the screen showed footage that seemed to have been taken from just beneath Giorgio's tail, a close-up landscape of tight, shiny black fox-skin filling a tawny-furred and powerfully-muscled rump.

"You were a little woozy at that particular moment, sweetie."

"Apparently!"

The shots pulled back further and further, fading into one another with old-style film wipes. The sounds of the audience grew more raucous and lewd, punctuated by squeals of delight whenever Giorgio's belly crushed something else. The sitcom set was soon a memory as the mighty Shiba expanded into craft services, adjacent filming sets, a rolling wardrobe rack, and finally just the unlit and unused portions of the sound stage.

"What a day," Carmine huffed, rolling partially onto his side to give his steadily-filling assets a little more room. "What's ne-"

"Shhh, it's not over yet."

"It's just a few closeups and ADR of me and Big G mumbling to eachother-"

"Shhh!"

Sure enough, on screen, the scene seemed to be continuing. As black and white credits rolled, the point of view followed around the far side of Giorgio's belly to the rear of the sound stage, where there still seemed to be a little bit of room. Damaged setpieces and furniture debris were strewn everywhere. The sound of royalty-free sitcom music was faded and distant. From either side of the camera came a pair of burly stagehands, hands on hips and shaking their heads.

Wordlessly, they shoved chunks of cheap carpentry out of the way, until they revealed a large piece of what seemed to be the 'front' of the erstwhile apartment. They stood it up and leaned it against the black-painted wall of the sound stage.

"Needs a door."

"Yeah, one sec, it's around here somewhere..."

One stagehand wandered off to find a door, while the other set up lamps behind the piece of wall, giving the painted windows the illusion of a world beyond. As the sitcom music wrapped up and the final production credits passed by, they awkwardly set up the door in the frame. Slowly, slowly, the camera pulled back, centering the door in frame-

And then suddenly the door burst open, revealing Jet. He wore an old-fashioned suit jacket that absolutely did nothing to hide his immense bustline, and a rumpled fedora. The camera crash-zoomed on his shocked face, his eyes bulging as he stared at all the loving devastation.

"Carmine!" he cried, throwing his hat to the floor. "Not again!"

The audience exploded with laughter as, with a final wipe in the shape of a heart and a triumphant blast of canned theme music, the screen proudly announced the words

THE END