Lycaon continues preparations for a monumental Thanksgiving feast, but requires a few upgrades to do his job properly- Victoria Housekeeping happily obliges. Enjoy, and check out the rest of the series right now at Big Stories!

Art by  silver-stag

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"Remember, it is essential that as the steward of a household, you leave nothing to chance. As you have been entrusted by the principal to care for their domicile, it falls to you to anticipate the needs of every guest welcomed into the principal's home. Be prepared for anything; as a representative of Victoria Housekeeping, you are expected to bear this weight with dignity and grace." -Victoria Housekeeping Employee Manual, Page 34

Lycaon grunted softly, trying not to let too much strain show as he shouldered an enormous flank of pork— prime Duroc boar, with the flank at four hundred pounds. He had also prepared and dressed six Bourbon Red turkeys for the feast, but by his most conservative estimates, the four hundred pounds would be the minimum he would need to accommodate the appetites of the likes of Ben Bigger. Preparing for this Thanksgiving Feast had been amongst the most challenging jobs of his career, but Victoria Housekeeping expected him to rise to the challenge, and rise he must. Lycaon submitted himself for necessary upgrades and augmentations; for the sake of his appearance, he had never asked for them before, but now they had become a necessity.

To manage the sheer tonnage of the ingredients he needed to prepare for this feast, his cybernetic legs were strengthened and reinforced, and the rest of his body was given something a little more potent. It was a quick jab of a needle, an application of a regulator on his spine, and then suddenly the wolf therian exploded in size. While a picture of health— as was appropriate for his profession— he was now growing the sort of Olympian physique that would shame most bodybuilders. He struggled to find well-pressed and tailored shirts that had sleeves sturdy enough to wrap around his bulging biceps, and he could not properly button up to cover his newly grown and widened chest— though he certainly appreciate the broad shoulders, the Duroc boar resting on one wide shoulder and a whole shopping cart over-full of ingredients tucked under his other arm; he was fairly certain his tensed, melon-thick bicep was pressing into the metal of the cart and warping it slightly, but he would make sure that was amended. Frankly, his mind was more focused on the dishes he had yet to prepare— and wondering if he ought to look into further augmentation to finish the meal. As one of his former clients was fond of saying, nothing succeeded like excess.