Lycaon finally puts on an excellent Thanksgiving feast that rested on his mighty shoulders, and some of his guests are beginning to show their appreciation for his new vigor. Enjoy, and check out our latest growth sequence at Big Stories here!

Art by  Silver-Stag

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"Every position in a household requires a certain set of skills, and within Victoria Housekeeping, for our professional reputation and for your own sake, all employees and agents are expected to play to their strengths, to render themselves a useful yet humble member of the domestic circle. Decide what your strengths are, and then do what you can to develop them to a razor's edge— a servant good at a few things is good to have. A servant who excels at a few things is indispensable."

-Victoria Housekeeping Employee Manual, Page 127

Lycaon had to try not to breathe in too deeply; every time he breathed in too much and his enormous chest would surge out like an oncoming avalanche, threatening the integrity of his apron, even as it covered little of his sprawling, expansive flanks, and was practically painted on to his huge, brick-sized abs. To ensure that his Thanksgiving was a success, and could sate every appetite of his voracious guests, Lycaon had grabbed every augmentation he could find, and had turned himself into a house servant now bigger than some of the houses he had served in.

What little remained of his uniform, it was primarily the leather straps he had used to hold his old clothes in place, strained pieces of black leather and warped buckles that creaked whenever he bended his mammoth swells of arm muscles, his biceps so large that there was more beef packed into them than on some of the platters. Every part of him had grown to such excess, he had to upgrade his bionic legs into the sort of heavy industrial machinery that could tow trucks, his thigh muscles just as impressive in their sheer, solid girth and bulging strength, forming the sort of foundation to hold up the rest of his monumental body.

For all of his newly augmented gigantic brawn, however, it hardly mattered in the grace with which he performed his services. Lycaon catered to every one of his guests, moving literal mountains of meat platters, dozens of turkeys and roast hams, amidst other dishes. He ensured that all of his guests received their fill— though some of the guests were clearly nursing appetites that he had inadvertently been encouraging.

After a few of the guests had clearly been deep into their cups, an oversight on Lycaon's part, admittedly, the wolf thiren's hard, meaty glutes were smacked by Hugo Vlad, one of Lycaon's associates— one the wolf was keeping a very sharp eye on. The blond haired thief waggled his brow as Lycaon loomed over him, casting Hugo in his mountain-sized shadow.

"Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Vlad?" he said stiffly.

"Well there's a few things I can think of…" Hugo mused, eyes roving over every bulging swell of muscle in his field of view. "Though it may be strictly off the menu."

Lycaon fought the urge to roll his eyes, maintaining his professionalism to the very end. "Special requests may be fulfilled, Mr. Vlad, but only on a case by case basis."

"Oh, come on…" Hugo almost purred. "Look at you! You're like a mountain I just want to climb to see the peak— just because it's there. I could also show some appreciation for everything you've done. Do that thing to your ears you like…"

Lycaon's only betrayal of emotion was a slight twitch of his ear, and the quick flex of his gigantic pecs. "I take my break in two hours, and then begin a vigorous workout. If you think you can keep up, then by all means, Mr. Vlad. A Happy Thanksgiving to you, all the same." Perhaps he should start exploring how else this new body might expand his capabilities…