Lycaon has always managed to satisfy his employers, and if this means further upgrades, that may just be the burden the wolf must bear- but he could always bear perhaps a little more. Enjoy, and see his final course at Big Stories here!


Art by  Silver-Stag

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"It is important to remember that all staff of Victoria Housekeeping stick to a maxim useful to any industry— the customer is always right in matters of taste. If asked for advice, you should be honest and forthright, while still maintaining all proper degrees of respectability, and feel free to offer constructive criticism only if asked for it. In all other regards, your job is to fulfill the desires of your principal. Unless it contradicts your safety, dignity, or the safety of your principal, the word 'no' simply does not exist to you in the professional realm."

-Victoria Housekeeping Employee Manual, Page 89

"Yes, Alexandrina, I'm certain that the balance for our internal revenue is a bit alarming at the moment, but I must ask that you trust my instincts on this— Well, naturally the expenses went to further augmentation, what else would it go to?" Lycaon rolled his eyes as he shouldered his comm device. "Alexandrina, when we see each other off this job, you can judge yourself how necessary these upgrades for yourself— in the meantime, I ask you to merely appropriate the funds required for future augmentation— Yes it is necessary, Alexandrina! We will discuss this later— when I'm not cooking pork shoulders the size of a small car over a spit."

The wolf huffed slightly, but even this small action made his chest billow out like the bellows of a furnace. He returned to the task at hand, preparing the main course. He had been moving literal tons of meat, and with the holiday's deadline fast approaching, Lycaon was not about to let his standards slip now. If he was not able to fulfill the wishes of the attendees of this Thanksgiving Feast, he would simply need to find aid— and oh, how he had found it. Dipping into the funds all employees drew from in cases of emergency, Lycaon had further upgraded himself— at this point, he was fairly certain he was more muscle fiber than wolf.

His cybernetic legs had also been upgraded to a model that, he understood, was capable of towing freight cars in trainyards. And by the way his now enormous arms jostled against his pecs, huge, meaty swells of brawn rippling and bulging with his swift movements as he sharpened a knife, that was a bare minimum. On all sides, he was surrounded by the enormous slabs of meat he was to prepare to feed the vast array of attendees— he was starting to think that they were trying to push his limits deliberately, but even so, he would rise to the occasion.

He admitted a small thrill whenever he realized just how strong his upgrades had made him, as he was able to lift refrigerated trucks to better unload them into the kitchens. The aesthetic quality of his new physique was not to be understated, either; he had long been a proponent of professional appearance, after all. To look proper and elegant was one of his many duties, but now? He would look very impressive indeed for his clients, and their esteem would grow with him. His head was like the crowning peak of a vast, snowy mountain, his enormous chest straining the largest apron he could find, the leather straps he adorned himself with creaking over the immense musculature of his swollen arms and wall-like back. It was all for the job, he told himself— but he was fairly certain he could find excuses for one more upgrade, before the preparations were done.