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_ Amber's 69 First Dates _

_ Midnight Rendezvous _

by Dissident Love

All Rights Reserved

September 2011

People Who Plagiarize

This Earn My Pity

Dear Diary

I nailed a teacher.

I thought that would be a lot harder to write, but it was a lot easier

than I thought it was going to be. Nailed, railed, fucked, whatever.

Mr Carmichael. Royston to his friends. Roy to me. 'Sweetie' by

the end of it when I was trying to reassure him that he wasn't

going to explode.

I wish I'd had someone to reassure me!

Diary, you would not FUCKING BELIEVE how big he got. I thought

the Art Room was going to be the achievement to beat for me,

but Roy had struck some conjunction of teenage hormones,

teenage insecurity, hyper rage and magical ley line energy on

our date, and when I saw the effort he went through to be

careful and give me every possible opportunity to say no,

I just couldn't resist. He was just... so... NICE. Not like Luis,

who was nice and sweet and innocent, but the sort of tired,

cynical nice of someone who had given up hope of having

his dreams fulfilled and then they all come true. It might have

even been the most romantic night of my life. The fact that he

blocked three of the five exits in the gymnasium was just sort of

icing on the cake.

His wife sent me a thank-you card.

It's getting pretty surreal to be me right now, Diary. The same

people that were a-hootin' and a-hollerin' me at the Fall Bazaar

were pretty quiet at school this morning. Conversations hushed

when I walked by. I was careful to blow off some steam this

morning and I had my supports cinched up as tight as I could

get it, so I was probably the smallest I've been all year, but I

guess what happened to Royston got out, and everyone

realized just how _ much _of a hyper I am.

The dating pool might be closed for the season again.

---

"Mr Carmichael is off sick for a few days," the stern, stork-like woman said, writing her name on the board. "I will be substituting for him. My name is Ms. Peevish."

The temporary teacher, who close observation would reveal to be a rather gangly-looking hawk, spun around on a clawed heel and glared at the class. It was obvious to the students that the great substitute teacher roulette wheel had been spun, and luck had not been on their side. There were muffled groans from the back, and Amber knew a few people were probably blaming her for this.

She just sighed and put her head down, trying to focus on the lesson that was being drilled into them with diamond-like intensity. Those same people had thought it the absolute height of hilarity just the Friday before, and more than a few of them had even asked her out themselves! It hardly seemed fair. Not for the first time that day she growled under her breath and cursed her physical nature.

Her physical nature growled back, Kevlar-reinforced restraints creaking, and she winced. This was going to be a long year.

Algebra ended after an interminable rehash of ring and field axioms, and everyone gratefully filed out in the hallways, ready for cafeteria therapy. Amber scanned around for Cindy, but the boundlessly buxom vixen was nowhere to be seen. She hissed softly under her breath, remembering that Mondays was cheerleading practice, and her best friend would be on the back field trying to somehow balance on top of a pyramid. Really, Amber couldn't believe she could balance on flat ground; her center of gravity had to be floating in open space about a foot in front of her hips! It defied all logic.

She flashed back to the sight of Mr Carmichael swelling like a circus tent, and she supposed that maybe defying logic was a staple of their friendship.

Amber exchanged stilted pleasantries with a couple of her friends on the way into the cafeteria, but they shuffled off after the standard complaining-about-the-last-class smalltalk and she was left alone, or at least as alone as she could be in a gigantic room full of people her own age. She grabbed a tray as soon as the stack got close and held it tilted low against her burgeoning skirts, knowing full well it was useless to try and hide what she was but feeling an unaccustomed pang of guilt.

Why the guilt, she thought to herself. Her whole date with Royston, right up until the 'gym incident', had been a huge lesson in why she should be proud of herself, her ancestry and her capabilities. She had spent several hours on Sunday recovering from the strain of her growth, resting her nethers in a small tub of warm water and Epsom salts, sifting through what the internet had to say about the evolutionary incidence of hyper-herms, and confirmed that what the sweet polar bear had said was true.

She glanced down at her arm and flexed, and was not surprised to see no visible change. Well, she thought, I'm definitely not the sword-wielding warrior-herm type, and she was grateful for that. She already stuck out like a sore thumb, being two feet taller and jacked up on aggression didn't seem like the key to high school popularity!

Amber shuffled forwards and started picking out her lunch, piling her tray high with fish sticks and chicken fingers. She knew chickens didn't have fingers and fish didn't have any sticks that she had ever seen, but there seemed to be some rule that school food had to be processed to a degree that precluded positively identifying which body part of which animal it had come from. She ignored the salad bar, her feline tail rising archly in protest against the barbaric practice of eating plants, and paid for her stack of meat.

A short time later, Cindy found Amber sitting in the corner, dipping her sorrows in honey mustard dressing.

"Boom, girl! There you are!" The statuesque foxgirl dropped down like a ton of bricks onto the bench next to Amber, the recoil from her bouncing bosom causing her lunch tray to rattle. "Sorry, practice ran late. SOME people seem to think that pirouetting is something you can do in slow motion. What's up, girl?"

"Nuffin."

Cindy stared, brows knit. "You ok?"

Amber munched some sort of miscellaneous meat appendage. "Yuh."

Cindy opened her maw to say something, but closed it again, realizing that Amber had already noticed. "People being weird today?"

The feline nodded glumly.

"Is that chicken or fish?"

Amber chewed. "Maybe."

"Look, a lot of people asked me today about what happened to you and Mr Carmichael, and I guess a lot of people were here on Sunday when the gym was cordoned off, and... rumors are flying, girl. You railed a few kids and had some fun..."

"Cindy!!"

"But this was a teacher, and I think deep down no-one thought you'd go through with it. You SLAUGHTERED the Date Auction record, babe, we've got so much extra cash from the bazaar we have to start thinking up more things to buy!"

Amber goggled. "Are you trying to reassure me, or just brag about how much cash you got from using me?"

The vixen was taken aback. "Using...? I... you thanked me...," she said weakly.

Amber prepared to unleash on her taller, sexier and more popular when she realized just what she had been saying, and just what she had been about to do. She exhaled, and seemed to deflate. She closed her eyes and leaned against Cindy, though due to the narrowness of the bench she was doing little more than snuggling up to her colossal right breast.

"I'm sorry, hun," Amber said softly, patting the overstuffed sweater. "It's been a day."

Cindy smiled and stroked Amber's creamy white hair. "It's ok. They'll get over it, right? Seriously. Tomorrow, Wednesday at the outside, there's gonna be invitations in your locker again. TRUST me. I know people. Heck, a couple people this morning asked me if you and Mr Carmichael were an item, or if you were still free."

The calico smiled. "Well... maybe you're right."

"Hell yes, I'm right! When I am I wrong? Never, that's when. Now get off my boobs, you're getting mustard on me."

Amber gave her best friend a squeeze around the midsection and sat back up to a distant chorus of dismayed boys. Her head snapped over and she saw that a good portion of the cafeteria had been watching them with considerable interest, and there were a few nervous smiles in her direction.

Feeling her bad mood flip like a fried egg, she grinned like a fool and waved an oversized paw. She was reminded of Royston's speech about hyper-herms, puberty, hormones and her emotional state, and she had to suppress a frustrated growl. If every Monday was going to be like this, she might have to look into homeschooling.

"It's been a day," she said again, pleased that she had the perpetually bubbly and upbeat Cindy in her corner. "I'll give it time. Maybe write myself a little note that says 'relax'. I could pin it to your shirt, then I'd always be staring at it."

Cindy's jaw dropped again, and Amber turned smugly away, not willing to let the cheerleader know if she was kidding or not. She stomped on the little voice in her head that asked 'ARE you kidding?'

---

The afternoon was considerably easier on the confused pubescent calico, despite the subject matter being studied. She wasn't entirely certain what good Ancient Non-Anthropomorphic Social Studies would do her in her adult life, but she also knew that anything less than a B was going to earn her a long and boring lecture on how important these formative years of her life were, and her dad was way less forgiving than good old Mr Maughner.

Mind whirling with facts, figures, and strange diagrams involving eight legs splayed out like cactus quills, she quickly cleaned out her locker and made a dash for the nearest exit, wanting to make as quiet and unobtrusive of an escape as she could. She had decided somewhere in the previous hour to cultivate an air of mystery, and see where that took her. She also had many circled notes in the margins of her notebooks, including 'try being goth?', 'refer to all boys as honey' and ' start playing bouncy sports in short skirts'.

"Nothing like a little social studying of my own," she had reasoned. Maybe she could write an award-winning PhD thesis when she got to college: How My Junk Lowers The IQ's Of Those Around Me By Fifty Points. Did PhD thesises win awards? Thesis's? Theseese?

She was still trying to work out how to pluralize 'moose' when Cindy trotted up next to her. "Almost escaped, girl!"

Amber looked back at the school, at the far end of the football fields. "Yeah, almost," she agreed ruefully. "What's up?"

The vixen hitched up the bottom of her sweater, fished around in the dark, forbidden depths of her bra, and produced a small, crumpled square of paper. "Voila! Exhibit A!"

"Congratulations, you've got the perfect place to hide cigarettes."

"Not only that, but YOU, my dear, have a secret admirer!"

They passed the small copse of droopy willows and fell into stride on the sidewalk, heading away from Circe High and into the surrounding neighborhood. Amber blinked her huge eyes, and snatched at the piece of paper. "An invitation for me? How did YOU get it?"

"You cleaned out your stuff so quickly, you actually beat him to it. I saw it sticking out of your locker door, and it was already gathering a crowd, so I figured I better get it before someone else did."

Amber unfolded the paper but didn't look down just yet. "Beat who to it? Who was it?"

The cheerleader shrugged, an action that had been known to cause heart palpitations in the elderly. "Dunno, they beat ME to it. Looks pretty adorable, though!"

Amber raised the square and saw that it was a small envelope, the sort normally used to send thank-you cards to relatives you never really saw. It was ripped along one edge. "Did it come pre-ripped, or..."

"I didn't have a kettle."

"Figures."

She opened it up, and at first her attention was focused entirely on the fact that it seemed to have been made from ripped-up letters from magazines glued onto the heavy white paper, but since no-one she knew had been kidnapped recently, she decided to actually read what it says.

"'My Ever-Growing Angel'," she read with a touch of incredulity.

"You should see what he calls you near the bottom of the page!"

"The fact that you know what he calls me before I do is sort of why I'm ignoring you right now."

"Keep reading!"

"Shut up!"

"'Delicate blooming flower'," she mumbled, scanning down the page. "'Puissant pussycat', 'magnificent mammal', 'loins throbbing with desire'?!?! Oh, wait, that's him talking about himself. Wow. The fact that he doesn't think the ransom-note motif isn't creepy is actually even creepier."

"But it's so SWEET!"

"'My luminous lava-flow of love'?"

"Well... dirty and sweet. Sort of like a bad chocolate bar. The kind you really, really like in spite of the fact you know it's terrible."

Amber nibbled her lip, reading the note again and again. Circe was far behind, and now they were walking amongst jagged outcroppings of townhomes and subdivisions named after the trees that had been cut down. "Who do you think sent it?"

A car whizzed past, two bovine heads leaning out of the side hooting and hollering. Amber was at least mollified by the fact that they seemed to be genuinely smiling, while Cindy just preened and arched her back.

"You're shameless."

"You're a prude."

"Prude!" Amber sputtered like a cat that had gotten wet. "You call me a-"

"It's short for prudent, you know."

"Yeah, well... it's still wrong. Do you know who sent it or not?"

"No idea. If he leaves you a severed head in your locker tomorrow, though, I bet we could narrow it down."

"You're not helping."

"And you're not going the right way."

The pair paused halfway through the intersection, and Amber realized that she should have turned south two blocks ago. "Yeah, well... I felt like going to the Hub. I could use a drink."

The Hub was a neighborhood corner store, roughly halfway between Cindy's large home and Amber's modest little bungalow, and had long served as the rendezvous point for the misbegotten youth of the area. The Slushee machine was always working, the Nacho-Cheez dispenser was never clogged, and the coolers were always stocked with the latest in over-caffeinated ginseng-enhanced 'energy drinks'.

Amber tucked the deeply-disturbing but somehow-flattering note into her backpack, and walked with her head held high and her skirts swishing back and forth angrily. She had managed to cram herself into her supports that morning before she had a chance to grow, and although the pressure had built monstrously she felt pleased that she had managed to ignore most of her baser urges. "All I want right now is a Jolt, and maybe some nachos." And some KY jelly, she thought to herself. God, this is chafing the SHIT out of my thighs. How does my dad do this everyday? AUGH BRAIN BLEACH!

The door jangled when they walked in, with all eyes swiveling to take in Cindy, and then not swiveling anywhere else for several seconds. She just smiled and waved, knowing the regulars well enough to know they were just being polite, and knowing the bulky boy behind the counter enough to be a shameless tease. "Afternoon, Roofie!"

Roofie, a shaggy broad-shouldered Labrador youth wearing a red-and-green-striped Hub shirt that looked large enough to go around the hood of Cindy's car, just waved, keeping his eyes firmly on his skateboarding magazine.

Amber had known Rufus for years, before she had started to develop down below and before he had seemed to double in height. He was in college, or at least claimed to be, but no-one had ever seen him anywhere else than behind the counter of the Hub Tuesdays through Saturdays, fixed between the lottery tickets below the glass countertop and the overhead pull-down cabinet of cigarettes. Rumor had it he slept on top of the nacho machine.

Cindy headed for the magazine racks, always eager to see which models she was bustier than, while the far smaller feline headed for the back. The Jolt was where she had left it. "Faithful and reliable," she chuckled, grabbing one of the enormous cans that was nearly the size of her relaxed sheath and heading for the snack machine.

A few moments later she trundled up to the counter and dumped her purchases on the countertop. "Hey, Roofie," she said, reaching for her purse.

"Hey, Amber." He chewed a pepperoni stick, still checking out his magazine.

She peered at the cover. "Jason Ellis? I thought he died."

"Almost."

She nodded. "Five-ninety-five?"

"Ayup."

She dropped a crumbled bill and a small mound of change, grabbed the cheap paper basket-thing, and headed for the door. "See ya. Yo, Cin, you coming?"

Cindy was leaning against the magazine racks and talking to two very strapping mustelids, and from the way one of her hands was playing oh-so-casually along the side of her impossible bosom, Amber could tell that she was going to be at it for quite a while. "Well, I'm the HEAD cheerleader, sure," she could hear the vixen saying coquettishly, "but we're a team. We all have to work together. We even shower together."

Sighing and rolling her eyes, she pushed the door open with a jangle of bells. "Nevermind. See ya, Roofie."

"I hope so."

The door had closed behind her before that sank in. Nacho-Cheez dribbled onto her thumb while she scanned it for subtext. Could he have just...?

"Nah," she decided, leaning down and snagging a nacho with her pointy little teeth, and taking a sip from the enormous can to wash it down. "No way. Not a chance. Nope."

She had almost convinced herself of that by the time she and her raging heartburn arrived home.

---

Amber was curled up on the couch, cradling her support-free nethers against her lower belly and muttering unspeakable things to the manufacturers of oil-based artificially-hydrogenated cheez-products later that night, idly flicking through the channels. Prime time had come and gone, and her parents had likewise come and gone. It hadn't been to difficult for them to work out why she hadn't had much dinner, and why she was talking so fast.

"I thought you agreed to cut back on the nachos," her mother had said in between mouthfuls.

"I agreed to cut back on the jalapenos. Urk. And I did. Really."

"What about the chili?"

"I thought I'd earned some chili," she said forlornly, sipping at her water and wishing she felt hungrier.

A bowl of ice cream and half a pack of Rolaids later, she found herself watching aged celebrities dancing to aged music while legions of young people who barely knew what had happened the previous year cheered like morons. She glanced down, beyond the ample swell of her bosom, taking in the expanse of her overfilled purple sweatpants. Removing her supports generally resulted in a lot of catch-up growth, and she was now sporting a pair of balls each somewhat larger than her midsection and a taut sheath that felt for all the world like a tightly rolled-up sweater.

A liquid grumbling somewhere in her stomach was echoed by a liquid grumbling from farther down, and she sighed.

"Lame." The remote control clicked, and some sort of tiny kung-fu squirrels were beating the stuffing out of each other. Another click, and some family drama that involved a lot of staring and counterpoint cellos filled the screen. "Double lame."

She took a deep breath and sat up, having to pull herself the last few inches to overcome the weight on her legs. She had endured a few disapproving glances from her parents earlier, but they HAD agreed to be supportive. Not that she needed MORE support, Amber thought, rubbing some feeling back into her hips. The Kevlar was doing a bang-up job all by itself.

She knew she had to either take care of this 'issue' before going to bed, or in the morning before school. Either option represented a good half-hour in the shower, which her parents had also gotten used to. A second hot water tank had been ordered so they could actually get themselves clean before work, too.

Amber grunted and hoisted herself to her feet, swaying in the absent breeze. The weight was incredible, but whatever hormones were responsible for her growth had made sure that her connective tissue was tough enough to handle it. She clicked off the TV and tossed the remote behind her, heading for the stairs.

"We gotta install one of those Chair-Master things," she grumbled, moving slowly up the stairs. She wasn't sure exactly how much she was carrying, but she could feel it in her knees. "I feel like a freakin' grandma here."

Purple sweats shifting and sliding around her bulk, she eventually made it to the top of the stairs. To the left was her parents room, and to the right was hers, with the bathroom in the middle. She decided to find her bathrobe first so she didn't freeze between the shower and the warm, comforting safety of her blankets, and headed through her pink-on-pink room to her closet.

Amber's paw paused, however, resting on the fluffy pink terrycloth robe. Her enormous blue eyes took in the full expanse of her wardrobe, blouses and skirts and dresses and pants (the latter of which were mostly there as fond reminders). Bras in steadily increasing sizes hung to the left, and there was a little shelf full of tiny pairs of panties, and a much larger shelf full of boy-cut boxer shorts.

She swallowed.

"Fuck it."

Several minutes later, a shadowy figure crept gingerly through her darkened home, moving slowly both out of a desire to be as quiet as possible, and because moving with any great speed was nearly impossible. She grunted when she reached the main floor, and grumbled while trying to find her shoes in the dark when she could barely see the ground in front of her for a distance of several feet. Eventually through persistence and toe-braille, she managed to slip into her Sketchers, and vanished out the front door.

---

The Hub near 11pm on a school night was pretty barren. Rufus hadn't seen a customer since just after ten, when a few of the local Circe students had stumbled in, trying very badly to appear as though they hadn't just snuck something out of their parent's liquor cabinet. They had purchased a large amount of coffee and porn and beat a hasty retreat after Rufus mentioned knowing their home phone numbers.

He glanced at the clock. Closing time soon, he thought. Then tidying, stock-taking, re-stocking, and heading out until the next morning. Attrition over the summer had reduced the staff at the Hub, and the towering Newf now had nine of the fourteen shifts. He didn't mind working back-to-back on the weekends, since he got to spend all eighteen hours with people he had known for years, and he didn't really have much to spend his considerable paychecks on, so with each deposit his dreams for how to blow it all grew.

He dropped the Men's Health magazine he was reading, unable to absorb another 'trick to drive her wild in bed', and reached for the keychain. Locking up time, he thought.

He had only gone one step, though, when the door bell jangled.

Curious, he thought. No car had pulled up, so it was someone on foot. Late-night smoke run, no doubt. He put the keychain back and looked over.

And down.

"Hello," Amber said, waving her fluffy fingers at him. She was not tall, and only the upper portion of her quite-ample breasts peeked above the countertop, straining at the snug crimson t-shirt.

Rufus, tall as he was and standing on the raised dais behind the counter, was almost looking straight down at her with mild surprise. "Evening. Late evening, actually."

She nodded. "Yeah. Nacho craving." Her stomach grumbled, and she winced. "Well, mostly a post-nacho craving. I'm thinking chocolate milk and Funyuns."

"You better hurry, we're closing up in a second."

She nodded and turned away from the counter, heading for the coolers.

Rufus watched her go, and had almost turned back to the stack of magazines he kept behind the counter when he caught sight of Amber's rear, or rather what seemed to be framing her rear. Her cream-and-gold tail swished back and forth, raised high over a very form-fitting pair of black, silky pants that hugged her rump with almost obscene detail. Swaying back and forth beyond those pleasing curves, though, those pants struggled to contain twin orbs that nearly touched the displays of candy bars on one side and potato chips on the other.

His breath caught, his jaw dropped, and one of his legs started to twitch reflexively.

He had known she was a herm, of course. Everyone knew. He'd had an excellent viewpoint over the last several months to observe her development, her skirts being stretched a little bit tighter each time she came in, and he had mused that maybe an overindulgence of nachos might be responsible, but this... this was just shocking.

The cooler opened and closed in the distance, and she started up another aisle.

Unable to control his curiosity, he looked up at the security cameras and studied her slow, careful movements. The tiny black-and-white screens did not show much detail, but it gave him an idea of just how big she had become since that afternoon. He peered closer, trying to make out... yes, there it was.

"Wow," he said under his breath, perhaps the single most understated statement ever made about Amber. Her sheath was clearly visible, standing out in stark relief and resting comfortably in the warm valley between her balls, bigger around than one of his legs. And he had very big legs.

Cellophane crinkled when she picked a bag off the rack, and then she delicately hove into view, nethers visible a few seconds before the rest of her. It was an effort to drag his eyes up, but he managed before she could see him.

"Is that everything?" he asked when she placed her purchases on the counter.

"Why, did you expect more?"

"I definitely... nope," he said, scratching the back of his head.

Amber smiled. "My dear Roofie, are you blushing? I can't tell, you're as shaggy as a mammoth up there."

"Not blushing, exactly. Just... impressed you got here on foot, that's all."

It was Amber's turn to look bashful, the tips of her ears turning pink. "It wasn't easy."

"All this for Funyuns?"

She poked the bottle of chocolate milk. "And this. I need my calcium."

"Of course."

She pulled a pawful of change out of her purse and started poking through it with one claw. "How much do I owe you? This is the first time I've gotten something different."

Rufus was still looking at her and trying hard not to smile, but he reluctantly started punching the numbers in to the register. "Sorry, I was distracted by something. Can't imagine what."

"Me either," she said, nibbling on a claw.

"Five sixty-two."

She handed the pile of coins over, and he dutifully dropped them into register, pushing the two items towards her. "There you go."

"Thanks."

She clawed the bag open with a single flicked finger, and started to munch on the little squeaky rings. Rufus blinked when Amber turned to lean casually against the counter, taking in the whole little convenience store. She tilted the bag slightly towards him. "Funyun?"

He glanced at the bag. "Big day?"

"Eh, 'bout average."

"Same." He grabbed a ring and chewed thoughtfully. "Don't have anywhere to be?"

"My parents think I'm in bed."

"Sensible."

Amber unscrewed the chocolate milk and took a swig.

Rufus cleared this throat. "There's something on your mind, isn't there?"

"No more than usual," she said.

The Newf sighed. "I know what you're thinking. There's always the wise, magical minimum-wage schmuck in the movie who dispenses tried-and-true platitudes just when the plucky heroine is having an existential crisis, right? The aged janitor, the spacey motorcycle mechanic, the surly Quik-Stop clerk with a heart of gold."

Amber shifted uncomfortably, softly sloshing sac thumping against the counter hard enough to make the penny tray rattle. "You're half-right," she said, eying him critically. "Go on."

"You're at the wrong place, Amber. You're sweet, and I know you've got some awkward issues. I've heard some of the talk. I hear a lot of stuff here, but if you're looking for advice, you're out of luck. I'm just a guy in an ugly shirt."

She smiled a little, and sipped her chocolate milk. "Getting warmer," she giggled.

Rufus cocked his head. "And if you're thinking what I think you're thinking, you can forget it. You're gorgeous... really and truly I mean that, but nothing's going to happen."

"YES!" she cried, slamming her hands down on the lottery display case. "EXACTLY!"

Rufus jerked as if he had been shocked. "Pardon?!"

"I knew it! I just knew it! Roofie, I've known your forever. You sold me my first Slushee, you sold me my first day-old rotating hot dog, you sold me my first Playkitten." The towering canine just shrugged helplessly at that last item. "But I don't see you in that way, and you don't see ME in that way. And I just.... I just wanted to be around someone who didn't have this on their minds." She stepped back, gesturing expansively at her groin.

He leaned forward and waved his hand absently at her wildly distended pants. "So you decided to come here looking like this because..."

She giggled again. "Because I had to be sure." She rest one paw comfortably on the nearly-horizontal outline of her sheath, larger than a two-liter bottle of pop. "I was on my way to bed, but I figured I needed company more than I need sleep."

Rufus chewed a Funyun. "You're an odd girl."

"You have no idea."

Chewing.

"So did you really do it with a teacher?"

"Oh yeah."

"Wow."

She popped another artificial ring into her mouth and grinned. "Do you mind if I hang out for a bit? I can help you clean up, if you want. I've always wondered what happens to this place at the witching hour."

"I... guess."

A golden eyebrow arched meaningfully. "What is it, Rufus?" she asked knowingly, trying hard not to wiggle her hips. It was proving surprisingly difficult to keep her hands off of herself, she noticed!

"Oh, nothing," he said nervously, glancing around. "It... look, I prefer to clean up when no-one's around. It's easier and I can get out of here on time."

"But I won't get in the way! Most of me won't, at least. What's wrong, Roofie? Something you don't want people knowing?"

He cocked his shaggy head, ears flopping. "What? No. What?"

"Have you ever been out from behind that counter?"

He seemed to be on firmer ground there. "Of course. I have to sweep, mop sometimes, restock coolers, lock up when I'm done. Mr. Nguyen trusts me to open and close when it's my shift."

"So you come out of there all the time."

"Absolutely."

"So come on out now."

She couldn't tell because of the sheer voluminous drapery of his fur, but she was pretty sure he was blushing. "I..." he started, but she cut him off.

"You won't, will you? I was sitting at home tonight, and I thought, you know, Roofie's probably the one guy who hasn't looked at me like a starving man looks at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Roofie's heard all the rumors, both the stuff I did do and the stuff I didn't do, and he's never asked me about it. And then I realized I've never seen you out from behind that counter. So I called a few people, and they can't say they've seen you out, either."

She leaned on the counter, no easy feat given her height, and grinned up at him with a predatory smile. "So you wanna know what I think?"

"No," he said weakly.

"I think you're a hyper, too."

The silence stretched out until Rufus couldn't take it anymore, and he reached for a Funyun with a crinkle of cellophane. "That's some pretty weak logic," he said. "Do you have any evidence?"

"You could prove me wrong by walking that ass out here," she invited calmly, licking chocolate milk off of her muzzle.

He sighed, looked down at her, and shook his head. "You're a strange girl, you know that?"

She pat her sac, oversized paws still miniscule compared to the black-clad orbs. "Trust me, I'm well aware of that."

Rufus typed a few things into the cash register, and started it's self-check printing program. White paper began to spool noisily out of the top. "Fine. You can stay and help me clean, on one condition," he said, moving around behind the counter, vanishing briefly behind the enormous pepperoni display and heading for the far end of the store.

"What condition?"

The distant latch clicked, and Rufus emerged from behind the newspaper racks. "You actually have to help clean, and not just stare."

Amber was briefly disappointed and embarrassed to see that below the shirt, the big Newf's front was quite flat, just shaggy hips and sturdy legs. But Rufus kept walking, and more and more chestnut fur appeared, and she realized where she had gone wrong. "Oh my," she said softly.

The hefty taur nodded, his hindlegs eventually appearing from behind the stacks of Globe & Mail. "There's a reason I hang out back there," he said. "It's a hell of a lot easier than trying to navigate this place when there's customers."

He was naked except for the shirt, but there was so much glossy, wavy hair that she could barely see the floor between forepaws and hind. "I... guess I kinda made a moron out of myself there," she mumbled, suddenly wishing she were wearing a big trench coat. Eyes downcast, she heaved a sigh, shirt straining. "I should probably go."

"You're not going anywhere."

She had begun to turn towards the door, but she stopped at his words. Well, most of her stopped; her nethers kept going for a few seconds before swaying back to the counter, dragging her hips along with them. "What?"

"I gave you one condition. You have to help me clean." Hindlegs moving in a complicated waltz, he rotated in place and pulled a broom out from behind the shielded counter. "So what do you want, broom duty or sponge duty?"

"Uhm... I think all things considered, I should be... whatever the second thing you said is," she chuckled, gesturing helplessly at her pants. "I can't even see the floor like this."

He smiled. "Just wipe down all the hardware. Nacho machine, cheese machine, Slurpee machine... do you know where they are?" he asked with a wink.

"I think I can find them," she laughed.

Rufus padded through the front of the store, tugging down all of the roller-shades. She followed him over to the far corner where all the various junk-dispensing machines were located, and listened to a brief lecture on proper nozzle-cleaning etiquette. She had started to make a fairly lewd joke, but managed to derail herself.

"You're being awfully nice about this," she said, cleaning dried cheez-product off of the glistening chrome. "I owe you an apology."

He just waved dismissively from the next aisle over, sweeping industriously. "Nah, it's ok. You're a teenager, and from what I hear you don't exactly have a lot of role models you can get advice from."

"No shit," she grumbled, scrubbing vigorously. "My mom says there's other big herms in town, but I don't think any of them have my sorts of growing pains."

"Is that painful? I mean, you look pretty... er... heavy."

"Not really. It's way more painful to have my restraints on."

"'Restraints'?" he asked hollowly.

"Yeah, they're like Kevlar safety pants, though I dunno if it's for my safety, or everyone around me. I guess it has kept me from doing anything stupid a few times, in spite of the charley horses they keep giving me."

"That doesn't sound very fun."

Amber sponged with one paw, her other gently stroking a slowly-growing kitmaker. "Meh, it's not so bad. I get to take it off when I get home, and I guess my parents are pretty cool about it. This is the first time I've been out without it in weeks."

"I'm honored," he said, rump slowly swinging into view while he swept, walking backwards. "I guess not many people have seen you in this state?"

"Four or five. I don't know if Luis was looking... does that count?" she purred.

"Better count it," he laughed, bending down and sweeping up the pile of crud. She figured him to be easily six-foot-six, maybe even a little more, with a barrel that was close to eight feet long, and a shaggy tail that looked as big as she was. "So what exactly were you thinking when you came here tonight? It seems the only people who see you like this end up a little... startled."

The kitteh moved onto the Slurpee machines, focusing with laser-like intensity on the fruit-flavored dispensers. "I... honestly, I figured if you were a hyper like me, we could just chat and it wouldn't be weird, and I wouldn't be thinking about fucking your brains out the entire time."

He paused. "What ARE you thinking about, then?"

"Nachos."

"Ah."

"You sound relieved."

"Just my brains."

She giggled, leaning forwards, her beachball-sized testes resting against the low cabinets that held the machines. "But seriously, I... well, ok, I never thought about Royston in that way up until we went out. Uh, he was the teacher. But the circumstances of our date sort of... ok, his wife and some of her friends bought me at the Fall bazaar Date Auction, and we got closer the more we hung out, but I'm cool around you."

"You sound surprised."

She snorted. "I guess I am, a little bit. I'm staring at your butt, and I'm staying the same size."

"The fact that's unusual is more than a little worrying. This isn't a very big store." He passed behind her, and swept back to the cash register. "So what do you think?"

She looked over, squeezing out her sponge into the little sink by the coffee machines. "About what?"

"My butt."

Amber giggled. "It's wonderful."

"That's good," he said with relief. "I try to stay in shape."

"Oh, it shows."

---

Midnight came and went. The pair cleaned the Hub, neither willing to call it a night, and both Rufus and Amber learned a lot more than they expected.

"So your parents are both anthro?"

Rufus shrugged, curled up on the floor with his back against the warmth of the enormous popcorn machine. "Yeah, the doctor said it was one in fifty thousand, me being a taur. They had a better odd at triplets."

"That's crazy! But cool, though," she said from her position just behind his forelegs, leaning against his barrel. Every time he took a breath, her entire body was pushed upright. "There's a bunch of taurs at school. Mindy's an absolute peach! I told you about her, she was the skunkette that bought a date at the bazaar, she's the size of a pickup truck. My parents knew they'd probably end up with a hyper, though. Doctor said it was a one-in-ten chance, but my mom says she could tell as soon as they found out she was knocked up."

"That's a lot more than I ever thought I'd know about your parent's sex lives."

"Hey, count yourself lucky. I've had some AMAZING talks with them over the last few weeks. One of them involved dolls, balloons and a bicycle pump." Rufus whistled, and she laughed. "Sorry, I probably could have spared you that. Brain bleach?" she asked, offering him her second bottle of chocolate milk.

"Please," he said graciously, enjoying a sip. "Mmm. You're gonna pay for this one, right?"

"Yeah, I got a little more money in my purse. But it's way over there."

"So?"

She gestured down at her lap. Her sac now pinned her legs so completely that only her shins and feet stuck out beyond their faintly-sloshing slopes. "So I don't think I'm really in a position to get up and get it at the moment," she said, swatting one of his forelegs.

Rufus chortled, his enormous lungs causing her entire body to shake. "Hyper-herms these days," he said, "it's nothing but excuses, excuses, excuses."

She swatted his underbelly, but he just laughed harder. She bared her fangs, but her eyes sparkled. "You know, it seems to me the CLASSY thing to do would be to help me up!"

"But I'm so comfortable! And besides, I can't imagine many boys get to be this close to you very often without having to worry about their health."

"I can bite, you know."

"I'm protected by my Impenetrable Armor Of Shagginess."

She dragged her fingers through the dense undergrowth of his belly. "You should really consider trimming this sometime, you look like a sasquatch. Not in a bad way, just... seriously, you could be like three feet tall under all this and no-one would ever know."

His body curled a little more, bringing his torso around to see her better. "I find my life is a lot easier the less people know about me," he said meaningfully, gesturing to her trapped legs. "I thought you of all people would identify with that."

Amber leaned back, ears almost vanishing into the fluff of his flanks. "Well, more hair isn't going to hide the fact that you're a taur, is it? And why hide the fact you're a taur? Taurs are awesome! Can I ride you sometime? Er... not like that. I mean, actually... sitting on your back, not... uh... I should shut up now."

Rufus watched with some amusement as her pants, already stretched beyond madness, creaked and groaned as they struggled to contain her still-swelling testes. "You've got a hell of a hair trigger on those things, don't you?"

"Yeah," she muttered. "I start thinking about boys, or hell, I start trying to NOT think about boys and... whoosh." Her hands came to rest on her sheath, which was nearly the size of her own slender torso, and given her position resting nearly vertically against the slopes of her sac. It twitched, but behaved. "Getting home is going to be fun."

"Well, I can give you a lift if you need. My van is pretty spacious."

She glanced at him sidelong. "Now I'm getting into strange vans at night? You're a terrible influence."

"I try."

"And I'm good at remembering things. What don't you want people to know about YOU?"

Rufus rolled his eyes. "Not gonna let that slide, eh?"

"Not even. You started it."

"Technically, YOU started it. Of all the corner stores, in all the neighborhoods in all the towns in all the world, and you had to jiggle into mine."

"Cute."

Rufus sat up slightly, hindlegs scrabbling against the linoleum for support. "Well, let's just say that you weren't entirely far off with your first guess."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Which guess? I've made a lot of stupid guesses tonight."

"Look to your left."

She looked to her left, taking the expanse of his shaggy lower belly, hindlegs, hips, and of course quilt-like mounds of fur. "You sure you want me looking at your rump again?"

His tail wagged and he chuckled. "Close. Think farther forward."

Amber leaned forwards a little bit. Rufus's body was bigger than her couch at home, and she couldn't reach his hindlegs if she tried, but she focused. His flanked heaved slowly, in and out, up and down, with each breath, except... except...

"No way," she breathed.

One of Rufus's hind legs came up and pressed against his lower belly. Slowly, he slid it down his body, flattening the fur against his flesh, and revealing the hidden contours beneath. "Yup," he sighed.

"Bloody hell, you're bigger than me! Well, almost... at least you would have been five minutes ago. Jiminy Christ, are you that big ALL the time?"

His hindpaw continued to roam, outlining a sheath that had to have been a good two feet thick, and stretched for nearly half of his barrel's length. "Yup. Hypers are big, far larger than normal, but the males and females generally stay the same size. It's the herms that have the... growing issues."

There was a hiss of sliding fabric as Amber's sac swelled anew, black Lycra stretched so thin that it was fading to a greyish pink of the fur beneath. Each gravid orb was now so large she was having trouble seeing over them. She bit down hard on her lip, though, and they stopped. "You're taking an awful risk, showing me something like THAT, if you know about my tendency to fwoomp people who look at me cock-eyed."

"Good term for it. And it might be a risk, but... do you still feel that way about me?"

She leaned back against him, watching as his hindleg retreated, and the fur floofed itself back up, obscuring his enormous endowments. "Actually... no. Well, sort of, but you're well below baseline."

"I choose to take that as a compliment," he said, patting her on the shoulder.

"They look great on you, though. I mean, you're bi-i-ig, but you can hide it, and they sort of keep in scale with the rest of your body, not like ME."

"Scale with my body, yeah, but... well, you've gotta know the problems you've got fitting in."

"I fit in ok. I'm kinda popular at school in my own way."

"That's not the kind of 'fitting in' I meant..."

"Oh. Well. Yeah. Good point. There's a lot of... pushing. And groaning. And usually someone telling me to stop, for the love of God, just stop..."

He nodded. "Been there, done that, ripped the t-shirt."

Amber was grinning, though, and stroking the fluff of his forelegs. "Though that just helps me overcome any... resistance."

His other forepaw came up and pat the back of her paw. "Lucky you."

"You... what do you mean?"

"You're designed to mate. Mate with anyone, anywhere, successfully. Me, I'm just a hyper male, and I get half the deal: all the size, none of the advantages."

Her eyes widened. "You mean... you haven't..."

"Nope. And I tried. WE tried. We tried a lot. She tried everything. Lubes, positions, this book called Hyper Love..."

"I love that book!"

He laughed. "So did she. Gave her all sorts of ideas. And... nothing worked. I mean, we had a lot of fun, and there was a lot of other things we could do with each other, but there was something missing, and pawing off into condoms just lacks that... romantic panache."

"Ohhh," she said softly, hugging his foreleg. "I'm sorry. Was she... was she big? Like a taur, or a panda or something?"

"Coongirl. Big hips. Sexy. Green eyes. Her name was Mona." He was almost whispering by the end.

Amber was silent for a long time. "She tried."

"She did."

Amber breathed deep, shifting her legs under the colossal weight of her sac. "If it's any consolation, I... sort of know how that goes. I've succeeded, you know... spectacularly, but it's not enough. I've been bigger than this, WAY bigger, and I've managed to go all the way, but that doesn't make for a good relationship, either. They all ended up in the hospital. True, most of them said they enjoyed it, but what sort of boyfriend am I going to keep if we only see each other between trips to intensive care?"

Rufus slumped sideways, sprawling out on the floor. "I guess it's the same coin, then. I'm unable to have sex, and you're too damn GOOD at it." There was a wry mirth in his voice, though, and Amber smiled a little.

"You won't be unable for long. Come on, I've been doing a lot of reading, there's loads of babes that like hypers, and some of them can handle you, for sure! There's this porn guy, Marko something... he's married, and he's a taur like you. His wife has a blog all about being married to a hyper, everything from laundry tips to bedroom tips. I can send you the link sometime!"

He looked over at her, eyes wide. "I... don't have a computer. I live in my van. Really? A blog?"

"Yeah! Marko's not a grower like me. He looks a little bit like you, actually, except he's a boartaur. Hee hee, that's fun to say. Boartaur!"

"Do you refer to every porn star by their first name?"

She blushed and shrugged. "I... identify with them, I guess. Hyper herms these days have a little subculture I haven't cracked, they mostly keep to themselves. Porn stars are all I have."

There was a clank, a rattle, and then a long drawn-out whine from the opposite corner of the store. Amber jerked upright, but Rufus was unconcerned. "The Slushee machines just went on standby. They'll turn back on automatically in six hours, which, I should point out, is when I start work."

Amber frowned. "I'm sorry, I kept you here for way too long with my bullshit, didn't I?"

"Yes, and no. Too long yes, bullshit no." With a dextrous twist of his trunk, he managed to nearly double over and give the slender kitteh a hug, although one arm was rubbing quite firmly against her bloated sheath. "You had problems, you needed to talk. What sort of friend would I be if I turned you away?"

He nuzzled her muzzle once, and then retreated out of her reach. "Besides, it was nice for me to talk to someone, too. We've got a lot in common."

She nodded. "Nacho cheez."

"Exactly."

A few minutes later, after a considerable amount of grunting and groaning, the front bell jingled and the double doors swung open. Rufus padded out into the cool night, thoroughly immune to any frigid temperatures, while Amber clung to his back for dear life, gripping his flanks with her knees as hard as she could. The titanic swells of her balls took up all the space between her chest and the back of the Newf's broad anthro-body, and they bobbed slightly with every step he took.

"This is really nice of you," she giggled, leaning back a little bit and gripping his fur for balance.

"Well, it's sort of my fault you're this big, and no offense, but I don't think you'd fit in my van."

"None taken," she said with pride. "And your secret is safe with me."

Once he fell into stride, cruising comfortably at a pace far faster than Amber could ever have managed at her current size, she found herself yawning. "Wow, this is traveling in style. Sure I'm not too heavy for you?"

"Not at all," he said, trying to keep his voice level. Ye gods,_he thought to himself, _how much do those things WEIGH?!

Houses cruised by, lit only by the occasional porch lantern and street light. "I hope this won't make it weird next time I come in for Funyuns."

"This isn't that weird for me," he said, despite all the evidence to the contrary. "I walk around every day thinking about my own size, and I've seen you come in all summer and, yeah, heard all the talk from the other students, I already knew most of this." He twisted and smiled supportively at her, although he could really only see the barely-covered mounds of her kitmakers. "Will it be weird for you?"

"After my last date? Nothing will be weird for me ever again."

Rufus had to laugh. "It's a big, crazy world, Amber. Don't make a challenge like that."

"Why not? I want it to prove me wrong!" She shook her tiny, fluffy fist in mock fury. "Rawr!"

"Fearsome."

"Bite me. Turn left here."

Rufus obliged, body tilting slightly to keep her perched on top. After a few more blocks of silence, she directed him to her front door, and with an awkward squeak of terror, dropped rather indelicately to the ground.

"Are you ok back there?" he asked, feeling the impact tremor through his padded feet.

"Yes," came the strained reply, "fortunately I landed on my balls. Ow."

"I told you I could help you down..."

"Nah, I gotta learn to do this by myself."

The Newf stepped back and eyed her with concern, but did not make any further attempts to help her. Her twin orbs rest comfortably on the ground, spectacularly full and each larger than a plush beanbag chair. She was sprawled out on top, arms and legs akimbo, but with a bit of wriggling she managed to roll backwards slightly, feet gaining purchase on the cement walkway.

"Here goes nothing," she said, leaning back further, arms pinwheeling, legs flexing. Rufus's eyes widened when he saw her sac shifting, pants making tortured crackles of fibres surrendering, but then those great spheres lifted slightly. She swayed unsteadily, but managed to stay upright.

"Wow," he breathed.

She turned, slowly, a big smile on her face. "Victory!"

Rufus felt his own considerable assets reacting to the sight of the little kitteh, sheath bulging beneath his barrel, but he only smiled back at her. "Way to go," he said proudly.

They stared at each other wordlessly. Rufus scratched the back of his head. Amber fiddled with the strap on her purse.

"I guess I better go."

"Yeah, me too."

"See you tomorrow?"

"You betcha."

Amber turned with aching slowness towards the door, while Rufus backed slowly down the driveway. He was almost at the curb when he heard the slender feline call, "Rufus?"

"Yes?" he asked quickly.

"Could you... do me a favor?"

He jogged back, tail wagging and trying to keep his tongue in his mouth. "Yes?"

"Could you..."

"Yes?"

"... open the door for me?"

Rufus blinked, and looked again. She was standing in front of the door, but due to the diameter of her balls, even pressing them against the doorframe and leaning forwards, her paw could not reach the handle. He started to chuckle, and then devolved into gales of laughter. Amber was giggling nervously, one hand held against her mouth, the other waving uselessly a few inches away from the brass knob.

"Anything for you," he said with a grin, leaning over her and easily turning the handle.

"Thanks," she said, bashfully. When he started to withdraw, she craned her neck and planted a tiny kiss on his chin. "For everything."

Rufus rubbed his jaw wonderingly, watching as Amber slowly turned sideways, squeezed her way through the wide door, and then kicked it shut behind her with a final wave and a wink.

And then he was alone. A breeze came up, ruffling his bellyfur and outlining his partially unsheathed maleness.

"Goodnight," he said to no-one in particular.

---

Bump.

"Honey, do you hear that?"

"Grrmmmmm."

Bump.

"I think it's Amber."

"Mmrrgfbbr?"

"It's after midnight! I want to see if she's ok, all I hear is a bump every few seconds coming from the stairs. Listen, there it is again!"

Bump.

"Rrrrghgghh. It's her, all right. She's just a little backed up."

"What was she doing out at this hour?"

"If she's as big as she sounds, she probably wasn't doing anything inappropriate."

Bump.

"I guess you're right."

"Ok, she's heading into the bathroom now."

_ Bump. _

"What was THAT bump for?"

"I think she just knocked over the bookshelf."

"Oh, wow."

Squeak.

"Ok, she's getting into the shower. Can I go back to bed now?"

"I guess so. Was it like this for you, when you were a kid?"

Silence.

"Honey?"

"Sometimes. Go to bed."

"All right. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."