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Sam woke up to the screech of his alarm clock, down on his stomach amongst a rudely scattered comforter. Opening his eyes, he saw no sun but the opening hues of blue light as it came close to rising. Even at the full tilt of noon it would not have illuminated his room very much. The blinds were the thick kind used in hotels, perfect for keeping things dark so you could sleep in. He'd gotten them with Jenny, necessary given her night shifts. She was on one right now, leaving Sam to wake up alone.

Waking up sucked. Just squirming his way across the mattress over to the alarm was a chore. He clicked it off, left there to contemplate staying in and burning a minute or two. Discipline did the better of him, and he climbed out of bed with a groan to turn on the lamp. Sam sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his hand down his face, scratching his palm on the rough stubble of facial hair on his jaw. He would have to shave it this morning; his brown hair was thick enough that it would get him a reprimand. One small pain in the ass among many.

He got up from his bed and started his morning routine, first hitting the brew button on the coffee machine before shaving and taking a shower. There was enough Honey Nut Cheerios in the box for maybe one big bowl or two small ones. Too tired to think about it, he poured the rest out, making a mental note to go grocery shopping this weekend. With two slices of toast and a cup of joe to go with it, he had it all down in short order. Back in his bedroom he put on his ACU's and boots. The rank of specialist was velcroed to his chest and sewn on his upper arm. His duty as a weapons analyst afforded such a position, but little in the way of moving up a paygrade, at least not while he was in the army.

Out the door at 0548. Report at 0600. The average drive to the base was four to five minutes. Traffic was rare. Coming upon the facility through the New England conifers he saw the control tower silhouetted against the rapidly bluing sky and the reflective strips on the traffic bar glowing in his headlights. He slowed to a stop at the booth, recognizing the shape of the soldier waiting inside. Jenny was in her ACU's, smiling at him from beneath her patrol cap. Her soft, round face stood out in the glow of the fluorescent lamps. Her shift would be ending at the exact same time Sam's was starting, seven minutes from now.

“Hey, handsome," she said. “Got some ID for me?"

“Not that you need it," he said, smiling back as part of their morning routine. He flashed her his card which she took and scanned. “See you tonight," he said as he took the ID back.

“That's if I'm awake." She hit a button and the bar gate lifted. Sam zoomed into the base. If she didn't sleep too much today, then maybe she'd be more awake for their friend Marco's wedding in two days. Also important was tomorrow's dinner. He'd gotten reservations a whole week in advance. Things better not cock up when they were so close.

Sam parked his car outside the hangar where he came inside and reported for duty. The clock read 0558. Two minutes early. Coming into the main hangar he was greeted by a flock of helicopters, older attack vehicles and transports retired from the front lines and given to bases back in the states where they stood ready to defend the home front. Newer Super Cobras and King Stallions were all out abroad, leaving Sam to work with their predecessors: Chinooks, Super Stallions, Black hawks, and some first-generation Apaches. Fine machines in their own right, they weren't the glamorous pinnacles of modern war other guys liked to brag about working on or flying elsewhere.

Sam loved them regardless, each vehicle with its own personality and kinks, all the way down to the individual unit. His task that day was a special one, at least compared to the usual monotony of maintenance and cleaning. Old weapon systems from the frontlines were coming back stateside after being replaced by more modern ones. Unwilling to scrap such expensive equipment, Uncle Sam decided they could still find use at home while the systems Sam's vehicles already had would go bye-bye. He'd spend the day removing the older weapons, sending them off to be disarmed, and installing and troubleshooting the new ones to make sure they worked. [i]God forbid they ever need to,[/i] he thought.

Walking into the hangar control room he found one of the engineers, Marco Benelli, standing by a pot of coffee with his arms akimbo, waiting for the pot to fill. His back was to the door where Sam walked in. When he looked over his shoulder he smiled, lifting that thick caterpillar mustache of his. “Mornin' sunshine. Sleep good last night?"

“That obvious?" Sam walked over to the desk in front of the window where he could look over the whole of the hangar. There was an envelope with information on the helicopters he would be working on and who he'd be with.

“You look like a zombie. Coffee will be ready in a minute."

“I had some this morning," Sam said, running through the names. [i]All competent guys. I probably won't have to do anything but watch[/i], he thought, knowing damn well he would insert himself on the task like he usually did. Making people do things came with rank in the military, and he hated it. Specialist wasn't that high on the totem pole and yet he always felt the space beneath him keenly.

“Well, it looks like you need some more. You alright?"

Sam closed the envelope. “Yeah, I'm fine." He turned and smiled at Marco. “Excited for this Sunday?"

Marco lit a bright grin. “I can't fucking wait. I got the jitters like crazy, man. Haven't felt this way in… ever. I try to tell myself to relax like it's no big deal, but I can't."

“Oh, it's a big fucking deal, alright. How is Miranda?"

“As nervous as I am. Both our families are all over the damn place. Her mom wants to run the whole show. She's a real neat freak like that, not like Miranda."

“Well, it's good you got someone to get things rolling, at least. Sucks you gotta be here so soon before the wedding."

Marco waved it off. “Ah, it's like any other day. Tomorrow off, then Sunday, then right back at it before we can even have a honeymoon. It sucks, but I'll live."

“You could've scheduled another time, you know."

Marco shrugged. “Miranda couldn't wait. Neither can I. Best go with the flow of things and not fight it. Can't avoid that shit in the army."

Sam chuckled. “No, you cannot."

The coffee maker gurgled out the last few drops into the pot. Marco grabbed it and filled a mug bearing the base's coat of arms. “Help yourself. You look like you need it."

“Yeah," agreed Sam as he took a Styrofoam cup from the stack. “I think I do too."

Once the crew was all reported in, he briefed them on the day's tasks and what they would be working on. Two Apaches would need their weapon systems replaced and shipped off. Once the new stuff was installed, he would run troubleshooting to make sure it was in sync with the vehicle. From there it was up to the pilots to make sure everything was up and running. If anything went wrong, it would be on his head. Not that it was any concern of his. He and the other guys knew what they were doing after having done it so many times. What sounded like tricky and possibly dangerous work would mostly constitute shooting the shit and cracking jokes. Sam wouldn't have had it any other way.

The weapons to be removed from the Apaches were the missile systems. It was somewhat an arduous process removing each individual unit and packing them up to be shipped away before the entire launch platform could be removed next. Watching each five-foot long missile of death being slid out of its tube had Sam marveling how such firepower was kept holed up not far away from where many middle-class civilians lived their lives. He didn't object to it being here, but he wondered how people would react to figuring out how close they were to that kind of weaponry. Years of working around the stuff made him blind to it. [i]Wonder how many kids out there would kill just to watch this boring shit. [/i]

A forklift was required to haul away the launch tubes, effectively rendering the Apaches toothless. That didn't last long before the new stuff was unboxed and hoisted out for the crew to admire. They looked disappointingly similar to the ones they had just removed, but Sam and the others had no doubt they were more lethal. To think what the guys had overseas was even more top of the line impressed Sam, though he felt no envy towards them with how far away from home they were.

The new gear was installed, returning the vehicles back to their menacing capabilities. Almost, at least. Next came the boring part. Sam had to run a troubleshooting program through the vehicle just to make sure the weapon systems were linked up properly. The only neat part about it was that he got to sit in the gunner's seat for a little bit, though all he did was plug in a tablet and run the program. From there, technology would do the rest, a process that lasted, at the quickest, three whole hours. Once that was set up, he and the guys would just have to wait, doing whatever the hell they could to burn time around the hangar.

Sam did so back in the control room, sitting back in the rolly chair with his boots kicked up on the counter. Marco's upcoming wedding was on his mind as well as the unspoken pressure of proposing to Jenny. [i]Four years, right? Yeah, four years. 50 months, if I wanna be exact. Is that long enough to wait? Not long enough? I've never asked. No one's ever told me. Is it rude to ask?[/i] He looked through the window that overlooked the hangar. The Apache was sitting towards the opposite wall, its blades folded back so that it could make room next to its brethren. Wondering how much longer he would have to wait for the troubleshooting to end helped distract him from marriage, but only for short bursts. The thought would wiggle back into his brain inevitably and remind him that tomorrow they had dinner. Maybe we'll talk about it then. [i]Maybe not. We'll see.[/i]

The door clicked open, startling him. In walked Marco holding a book in his hand. “Hey, I'm about to grab lunch at the cafeteria if you wanna come with me."

“Actually, I was going to chill out here until the systems were done booting. Not really hungry at the moment."

“So, you're just sitting there by yourself?"

“More or less."

Marco held the book up. It was a small, fat mass-print book with yellowed pages and a terribly worn paperback cover. “Want something to read?"

Sam pulled his boots off the table and sat upright. “Sure. What's it about?"

Marco looked at the book and grimaced. “Fantasy shit. Elves, monsters, and big animal creatures. Narnia type book. I don't know, I picked it up from the cart and thought it'd be good. I might've thought it was if that was my thing. It isn't though."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “So, you thought it'd be my thing?"

“I mean, yeah. You're all into that Warhammer shit."

“You're right, I am. I love high fantasy too." Sam held his hand out. “Gimme that shit."

Marco plopped the book down in his hands. “Have at it. Try not to fall asleep. I know I was about to."

Sam looked at the front cover. It was terribly wrinkled and worn with the corners bent so badly that they were peeling open. [i]Shenfield[/i] was the name of the book. Oddly, there wasn't an author name that he could see. The front illustration caught his attention. It featured a sun swept field with an immaculate castle standing on a hill in the background. The view was wreathed by forest trees, and standing next to one of them was an anthropomorphic fox woman, tall and robust, her nude backside covered only by long, brown hair. “Look at that," Sam said, eyes locked on the majestic vixen. “I see why you picked the book up."

Marco laughed. “Maybe. I plead the fifth. I see you giving her the eye, you pervert."

Indeed, Sam was. A bubbling curiosity demanded that he find out who the vixen was, what world she lived in, and what it was like to live in it. “Yeah," Sam responded flatly.

A little weirded out by his friend's sudden infatuation, Marco backed towards the door. “Alright, buddy. You enjoy that. I'll see you around."

But Sam didn't respond. He'd already scooted in his chair up to the desk so he could lean over it and dig into the world that had been given to him. [i]Shenfield[/i], as it turned out, was not a novel in the sense that it had a narrative. It was mainly a world-builder, establishing the history and mechanics of a world the author (still a mystery who that was) had created. Sam had encountered such books before. The one that came to mind was Tolkien's [i]The Silmarillion[/i], although this book was formatted more like an actual piece of non-fiction rather than a collection of myths.

Sam tore through the book from page one, starting with the formation of Salea, the planet where this world took place. Shenfield was one of the many kingdoms who staked claim there, one of the more powerful and influential. At a period in history Sam equated to the medieval times or early renaissance, Shenfield functioned like a kingdom one would find on Earth just a few centuries ago. The details of society and its functions read like something right out of the [i]Canterbury Tales[/i].

That's where the similarities to his world ended. This universe was fantasy, after all. It was not bound by the same rules, featuring laws of magic and sentient beasts that walked, talked, and lived as man did. The vixen Sam had seen on the front cover, though unnamed, was one such creature, or a “beastfolk" as they were referred to. They were mammals of the real world made to walk on two legs, their statures enormous by human standards with height rarely falling below seven feet when fully grown. They lived and bred with mankind as regularly as they did their own. Among them were even more fantastic beasts, the kind expected in such universes. Dragons and griffons flew the skies while orcs, goblins, elves, and dwarves all shared the land below.

That's where the conflicts usually lie. Between the other races lay an immense history of expansion, war, diplomacy, and catastrophe eerily alike to real world history. With different races sharing different parts of the world, wars and feuds were frequent. At the head of each movement or empire were grand figures, men and women who fit the grandeur of historical titans such as Caesar, Napolean, Alexander the Great, and Genghis Khan. None of them achieved glory without shedding rivers of blood, their legacy cemented by heroics in battle. Some were more appalling than others, earning the author's unbridled disdain. All these characters were shared between the races, none of them holding a monopoly on the more fantastic ones.

Sam had never been more invested in a fantasy world, and he wasn't even reading a story about it. What was it that had him so entranced? It wasn't particularly unique or original. This was the kind of stuff he expected out of the post-Tolkien era, that which borrowed heavily from the Hobbit universe with just a few minor tweaks to keep it distinct. Sitting there in the control room with the hangar full of helicopters just in front of him, he felt like he'd been dropped into a whole new world like had never been conceived.

It was a hunger pang that snapped him out of his trance. He patted his stomach and looked at the clock. 1240, it read, well past when he would usually get lunch. Marco's offer to go eat with him was over an hour ago. The troubleshooting in the Apaches was probably halfway done already. For the first time since he saw the front cover, Sam put the book down. [i]Damn. That was… really interesting.[/i] After stuffing an empty envelope in the page to keep his place, he got up from the rolly chair and made his way to the cafeteria.

Once he was there, he grabbed a tray and purchased a panini sandwich and some bottled sweet tea before having a seat with some of his crew. He greeted them but paid little attention to the conversation. His mind was off in Shenfield, mulling over the War of 89 Sieges which was the current subject he was reading about. The outcome was still up in the air, neither side able to claim victory over the other. Only in its third year, Sam predicted a long, destructive conflict. With a name like War of 89 Sieges you don't expect anything swift or easy.

Sam was cut out of his thoughts by one of his crewmates. “Hey, Wythe."

Sam snapped upright and looked over. The whole table was looking at him. “Yeah?"

“You alright? You look… out of it."

Sam blinked. He realized he'd been eating while staring ahead blankly the whole time. “Shit, my bad. Just a little zoned out today."

A few guys laughed. “Yeah, we can tell. That why you came to lunch late? We're all done eating and you just sat down."

“Ah, kinda. Benelli gave me a book and it's pretty fucking good. Can't stop thinking about it."

“What's it about?"

“Oh God. Where to start?" Sam proceeded to dump a very burdensome lore on their heads, reciting almost everything he'd read and encountered in that book from its laws of magic, races, and history. He left his crew in shock, each one sitting there silently while their crew leader shoved a fantasy sandwich down their throats. It was when he reached all the way to the War of 89 Sieges that he stopped, only because that was where he'd left off. Only then did he notice the weird looks he was getting and felt embarrassed. “Sorry. It was a really interesting book."

“I can tell," said one of his buddies. “But there's one thing I don't understand."

“What is it?"

“Some of the names you mentioned, the emperors and generals, they were real people."

Sam frowned. “What?"

“Yeah. I swear I heard those names in history class."

Astonishingly, the rest of the table seemed to agree. “Yeah, I did too."

“I thought it sounded familiar."

“Yeah, they were real. I had a teacher who thought Balrud the Conqueror was the shit."

Now Sam thought that was really strange. “Balrud the Conqueror is an Orc."

His friend nodded. “Yeah. I mean, he was. He's dead now. They gutted his ass at that one battle. My teacher had a picture of it on his wall. The battle, not the gutting."

“You're fucking with me."

“No, I swear. It was a print of a cool painting. I think you would've-“

“No, I mean you're saying that to fuck with me. Balrud… isn't real. It's from the book."

It was the rest of the table's turn to be concerned. “I'm preeeeeeetty sure he was."

“You're not a war crime denier, are you? My teacher was."

Sam came close to snapping. “No! I mean… I know he did that awful stuff." [i]But he didn't. None of this is real, right?[/i] “I mean it's made up. Like, none of that stuff happened. Orcs aren't real. None of that is real."

“Sam, dude," said one friend, concerned enough to use a first name. “Are you OK? You sure you didn't take anything?"

“I'm fine. It's you guys that are acting fucking weird." He picked up his mutton sandwich and cider. “I'm gonna eat in the control room. The troubleshooting should be done on those griffons in two hours. I expect you to report there in time."

“Yes Specialist," said his crew in a low drone.

Sam spun away from the table and took a swig from his ale. [i]It's not real. It's just a book. No Balrud, no griffons.[/i] It did not occur to him that nobody had said anything about any griffons besides him. He didn't care either way. He just wanted to get back to his book.

The troubleshooting was complete in a little less than three hours after it had started. Sam had spent the time in the control room still poring over [i]Shenfield[/i]. Over 600 pages and he was already two thirds of the way in. It was his job to keep an eye out for the signal when the troubleshooting was complete. Normally there was a light in the control room that would blink, but the light was gone. So was the glass window looking into the hangar. Sam noticed none of that until Marco came into the control room. “Hey, bookworm. Everything's done with the troubleshooting."

Sam looked up from the pages finally to see his friend in the doorway. His ACU's were gone, replaced by a simple wool tunic with sandals and puttees around his feet. The thick mustache that rode his lip was even more enormous now, far outside military regulations. In fact, so was the rest of his hair. His jaw was invisible under a dense carpet of black hair while curls of it exploded out of his scalp thicker than Sam had ever seen it.

It looked strange and unfamiliar, but for some reason it didn't feel wrong. “Oh, OK. I'll… take care of that now."

“Cool. You OK? Some of the guys said you were acting weird in the mess. Something about history."

Sam blinked. “Um… Yeah. No… not history. Fantasy." He brandished the book. “This book you gave me. We were talking about it."

“Oh yeah? How are you liking it?" Marco's eyes lit up. “Goddamn. Don't tell me you're that deep already. I just gave it to you."

Sam grinned. “Yeah man. I'm loving it."

“Damn, I see that." Marco nodded towards the door. “Come on. Let's take care of those birds."

“Yeah, I'm coming. But real quick, uh…"

“What's up?"

“You uh… You might wanna shave."

Marco frowned. “Shave? Shave what?"

“Your face. It's way out of line."

Marco snorted. “My face? How is it out of line?" He raised his hand to touch his face. Sam expected him to be surprised that there was a beard there, but instead he stroked it normally. “Why would a man ever shave his beard? I'm not a woman. Any soldier who gives me shit for it better be ready to fight."

Sam was silent for a moment. [i]Why does that make sense? Why am I agreeing?[/i] “Yeah, you're right. I was just fucking with you."

“Nice. Anyway, if I ever had to shave my beard, I'd make sure you shaved yours first." He turned towards the door and left the control room.

Mine? Sam put his hand to his face. Apparently, he didn't have to shave that morning, because what tickled his fingers as he clenched and pulled at it was a dense, wholesome beard. He pulled it up to look down at it, seeing how it came all the way down to the middle of his neck. Beyond it was a similar wool tunic to what Marco wore. Sandals and puttees he didn't ever remember putting spiraled up his ankle. [i]What the fuck is going on? Why am I not alarmed?[/i]

He left the control room for the hangar. It was, for the most part, the same. The helicopters were all there as well as the sweeping, arched roof above. The vehicles, however, were markedly different. They were smaller and without weapons. The black chassis were now a bizarre brown and gold color with a texture like they'd been heavily buffed. The troubleshooting device was in the cockpit, now only for a single pilot. The cushioned seats were gone, replaced by heavy leather like he would see on a horse saddle. The joystick had been replaced by a pair of reins. None of that was what he ever expected to see in a helicopter, so why did he act like nothing was wrong? Why weren't the bearded faces of his crew bothering him? Why did nobody notice how one of them was now a foot taller than he had been at lunch with muscles fit to tear someone in half? What was so alien and bizarre was also familiar and uninteresting. Eventually he stopped questioning it. There probably never would be an answer.

The day came to an end when he sent the alert to the pilots that their griffons- not helicopters -were ready for flight testing. Normally sent via email, he wrote it on a note with a pen and gave it to a messenger, something he'd never done before. His car was still in the parking lot, though the asphalt had been replaced by a dirt lot. The drive home was short, as if the space between all the houses had been removed, cramming them together. His still looked normal, but finding a place to park was impossible. He decided to leave it in the middle of the yard. He had a feeling it wouldn't be there tomorrow morning.

Coming inside he wasn't greeted by Jenny whom he correctly assumed was asleep. Tiptoeing across the hardwood ([i]Since when did we have wood floors?[/i]) he peeked into the bedroom and saw her splayed across the mattress, her massive body rising and falling with her breath. The bed looked small beneath her like she'd become a giant. [i]Is that even Jenny?[/i] Sam snuck into the room for a closer look. Her cherubic face came into view, her eyes closed, and her mouth hung open. Of course, it was her. She was always this big, wasn't she? Sam had planned on laying down and reading the rest of [i]Shenfield[/i] but didn't want to wake her. He put the book on the nightstand next to the kerosene lamp and tiptoed back out of the bedroom.

Exploring the rest of the house he saw a similar regression in time like the floors had gone through. Dingey cupboards, crudely hewn windows and shelves. There was no longer a toilet in the bathroom but a chamber pot. He wanted to see what was on TV, but there wasn't one anymore. Why would there be? He spent his time reading books from his shelf, ones he'd already read, but without the magical flare they possessed now. Each line rang a bell but was nothing like anything he could remember. It was like experiencing something for the first time for a second time.

He heard a loud yawn from the bedroom. He came over and looked inside to see Jenny sitting up in bed, reading [i]Shenfield.[/i] It proved that she was indeed a giant, her gargantuan frame filling most the mattress's width with just her hips and ass. The book looked tiny in her hands as she cradled it. Judging by where she had it open, Sam estimated she was about 100 pages in already.

“Good morning," he said to her. “Sleep well?"

“Yeah, I did," she said, not looking up at him. “Where did you get this book?"

“Marco gave it to me. It's good, right?"

“It's incredible. I've never been so wrapped up in a book like this, and I don't even like fantasy." Her gaze snapped up at him. She seemed to notice his beard and tunic but didn't say anything about them. “Did you read it?"

“I did. Almost all of it. Spent most of the workday reading it."

“I think I'm going to spend the rest of the day reading it too. How was your day, anyway?"

“Good, uneventful. Changed the gear on our griffons." He frowned and looked out in the distance. “Our helicopters too."

“Helicopters," she repeated. “Yeah, those. We fly griffons too, right?"

He nodded. “Yeah, we do. It's my job to keep their armor buffed and straight. Hey, do you know who Baldrud is?"

“Yeah, he's that orc general, right?"

“Yeah. You're gonna read up on him soon. It's got a lot of history in there." History, not fantasy or lore. History.

“I bet. I can't stop reading it."

“Yeah, we'll talk about it on the way to Ruth Chris."

“Ruth Chris?"

“Yeah, the restaurant. Remember? I got us reservations for tomorrow."

She was silent for a moment, thinking. “I thought we were just going to spend our evening at the tavern."

She said it out loud and it became reality, just as it always had been. “Yeah, you're right. That's what we're doing."

“Yeah, OK. You look good with a beard, by the way."

“Thanks. You look great." He fumbled for a reason. “I think you've lost weight."

“Really?" She looked down at herself and patted her tummy. “Funny, I think I'm getting bigger."

Sam and Jenny spent the evening together discussing the book. Like all the other variations in his reality Sam saw little of her giant size. Sometimes when she stood up he braced for her to knock her head into the ceiling or bump into a table as she walked past it. She did nothing of the sort, maneuvering the home like she was accustomed to it. Much of the furniture was enlarged to hold her frame; it was easy to tell which chairs belonged to her.

Sam retired with the sunset. After a long day of buffing armor and restocking quarrels he needed to rest. At least he had a day with his beloved to look forward to tomorrow and a wedding the day after. He fell asleep on his mattress of hay and woke to the screech of the cock, the sun creeping its way over the horizon and through the window. He did not dally, rising from the bed and getting out of it within the same moment he woke.

After putting on a loose wool tunic he came into the living room to find Jenny reading a book, her enormous hands cradling the leather-bound book and turning the pages with ease. She was dressed in nothing but a skirt, her terrific bosom on display as she laid back on the couch. Sam had never seen her topless outside of the bedroom or the bathroom. She looked beautiful.

“Good morning," she said, looking up at him with wild amber eyes. The way her irises were shadowed at their tops and bottoms made it appear as though she had slit pupils. Her hair was long and dark brown, spilling over the couch's armrest and almost touching the floor.

“Good morning," he said back. “Did you finish Shenfield while I was asleep?"

“I did. These other books don't compare."

“No, they don't. You can always reread it."

“I know, but I feel I've memorized the lot of it." She scratched the side of her head. “Strange because I've never been a big reader. Everything just kind of stuck with me."

“Aye, same." He walked past her to the kitchen and through some wood into the cast iron stove to cook some breakfast. Slices of salted pork were in the pantry along with eggs kept in a bowl with hay. He cracked two of them into a pan and laid three slices of bacon. “Do you want anything?" he called to Jenny. “Or are you about to go to bed?"

“No, I'm fine, thank you." A long pause. “Actually, if I could get some eggs and bacon too, I would love that."

“You're not going to bed yet?"

“I'm not. In fact… I don't feel tired at all. I don't think I will."

“Oh, alright. How many eggs do you want? Bacon?"

“Six of each, please," she said without hesitation. That was more than double what Sam was making for himself and way more than what she usually asked for. Then again, she was usually at work when he woke up. Regardless, he was going to need more than one pan. Breakfast was prepared for the two of them with Jenny's plate much heavier than his. He did not waste a drop of grease, pouring all of it on their bacon. They had a pleasant chat over their meal, something they hadn't done in a long time, at least not over breakfast. Sam was mesmerized by how delicately she would break a stick of bacon in half and carve off a piece of egg. Though her body was stout, her fingers were long and dainty, pointed by sharp claws like an animal's. What he didn't notice, or at least not as much, was that she was still totally nude from the waist up, those gigantic jugs hanging over the table precipitously. Whenever she would put a particularly yummy clump of food into her mouth, her tail would wag, and Sam would notice. [i]Tail. Tail, tail, tail.[/i]

The hours and the couple left for the tavern at the heart of town. There wasn't a car on their lawn anymore, leaving them to walk. Through dirt roads and cobblestone streets they met other folk in similar dress, including those that were big and tall like Jenny, scantily dressed too. They saw those with slanted ears, green skin, blackened eyes, and bulbous arms. Hardly a second glance was given, their seemingly absurd features uninteresting compared to the woman Sam walked with. His eyes were on her for more than half their trip there, her immensity a beacon brighter than everything else.

The tavern was a rowdy spot, the gathering of the town's workforce and soldiers on leave. At each table was a gang of friends already on their third or fourth drink, the floor around them wet with spilt mead and ale. Servers kept the spirits flowing, their hands full with flasks frothing at their lips with quality drink. Sam couldn't find an empty table, not that he thought he would. His and Jenny's company was welcome at any table, them being soldiers.

They ended up taking up where some of Sam's crew were. These were the same guys he'd talked with about [i]Shenfield[/i], the ones who'd shown concern for his apparent break with reality. Nobody brought it up, not when everyone was enjoying the company of friends big, small, and of a different kind altogether. Marco was there with his fiancé, a status that had less than 24 hours remaining before they would be husband and wife. They were wished a long and fruitful union over the collective clink of their flagons.

Sam and Jenny staggered home with nothing short of a heavy buzz. Jenny jokingly asked if she wanted her to carry him to which Sam less than jokingly responded, “Yeah, so I can be closer to them big tits of yours."

She smirked at him. “Come here, then, big boy." Before Sam knew it was being swept off his feet and hoisted into her arms, directly in front of her bosom which sat on him like a pair of soft, fleshy pillows. He kept his blushing face buried in the side while his arms hugged it tightly. “How's that?" she asked. A happy, muffled murr buzzed into her boob. She giggled. Her floofy, orange fox tail was wagging. “I thought so."

They slept in their bed together much the way she carried him home: with him latched to her chest. He woke up buried in tit, that mountain of a woman laying beneath him so soft and warm. He did not move out of bed immediately like he did yesterday morning, if only because he did not dare pry himself from her heavenly comfort.

Alas, the wedding was that day, and the two of them rose to prepare. Sam wore a long, flowing tunic that had been dyed a flamboyant red. Jenny put on an elaborately designed dress of red and gold colors. Furry tassels hung about her shins and swung when she walked. Nothing covered her wonderfully round torso, though a pair of gold earrings dangled from her ears. Walking to the venue they encountered much of the town, friends of both families come to celebrate new ties. There were folk Sam recognized, others he did not. His crew were all there to celebrate their buddy's best moment. Soldiers from camp outside of their team were there too.

The wedding was outside. Those gathered to witness the ceremony all stood on both sides of the aisle where the bride's father would walk her. Marco was there at the altar with the priest, wearing his own special clothes to commemorate such a happy event. Sam and Jenny stood next to each other within the crowd, crammed together like everyone else was, eager for the ceremony to begin.

It did when the bride made her journey down the aisle alongside her father. They were both enormously tall like Jenny was. A snowy veil covered the bride's face while her father was smiling from ear-to-ear, much like Marco was. Tears were shed among the more sensitive. Sam heard Jenny sniffle beside him while he had to fight back tears of his own. The bride stood in front of Marco. He lifted her veil to reveal her smile, her glassy eyes, and the long badger snout with its two black stripes.

Sam frowned. [i]Wait. That's not Miranda. Miranda's not a badger.[/i] Nor was she eight feet tall and wide enough to fit two men between her hips. Her dad wasn't a badger either. How had Sam not noticed that? How did he not notice any of this? He looked around the congregation, spotting a couple more beastfolk. It was easy given their extreme heights. There was one right next to him, a vixen with long, dark brown hair and a slender vulpine snout. She had multiple rows of breasts shrinking in size from top to bottom. Sam hadn't noticed her at all, or rather he hadn't noticed she was a fox. This was the woman he'd come to the wedding with.

“Jenny?" he whispered.

The vixen looked at him. “Yeah?"

He looked her up and down. “You're a fox," he said simply, like pointing out someone had a stain on their shirt. [i]She's been like this all day. All of the beastfolk have. That's what they are, beastfolk, from the history book.[/i]

“I know," she said, unalarmed. “We'll talk about it after the ceremony."

“I know, but-“ She hushed him, and he fell quiet. He looked back at the altar just in time to listen to their vows. Not a while after Marco kissed the bride, making such a beautiful and titanic badger lady his wife. Sam chuckled to himself, comparing the sight to when Marco first proposed to Miranda. It was at Cape Cod. Marco was in his full dress uniform while Miranda was in nothing but shorts, a T-shirt, and flipflops. The contrast wasn't much different now that Marco was in a tunic kissing a giant badger in a dress. The congregation cheered and clapped. Sam did too.

The real celebration began with the strum of lyres, the tweet of flutes, and the rattle of tambourines. Folk danced in their flowery garbs, all colors fluttering about the venue. Wishes for a long, fruitful marriage were given by all, most heartedly by Sam and Jenny. As he kissed the back of the bride's paw, he did not know why he thought she was never a badger, not when he'd known her almost as long as Marco had.

Before they started to dance Jenny pulled Sam aside to speak with him alone. “So, you remember it too," she said.

“Remember what?" he asked.

“The world we used to live in. The world where I wasn't…" She gestured to all of herself. “…this."

Sam did in fact recall dating a human woman. That same woman was talking to him, but she was anything but human. “Yeah, you're right. We were at an army base. We lived together. You were a guard and I was a weapons technician. Do you remember how we met?"

Jenny scoffed. “How could I forget? I found your drunk ass at a bar with a fake license. You begged me not to report you. God, you were pathetic."

“Yeah, but I made up for it like I said I would, didn't I?"

She couldn't help but smile. “Yeah."

He rubbed his chin. “I didn't have a beard back then, either."

“I think the beard is the least of your changes, but you're lucky I love it."

He looked her up and down, drowning in the snowy white of her underbelly, the fluffy orange of her back, and the charcoal black that covered her forearms and shins like long gloves. “I love what you are too. I mean, I always loved you, but… I love this just as much."

She let loose a sigh of relief and put a paw over her chest. “Oh, thank God. I was so worried you'd think I was a freak."

He took her paw and held it in his comparatively small hand. “I would never. I love you. None of this changes anything. I just… don't know if staying here is the right thing to do. Everything feels normal but I [i]know[/i] it's different."

She squeezed his hand. “I feel the same way. I start thinking of ways to make it back, but then I look at scenes like this." She looked over at the many people dancing and frolicking. “I think this world is something much better, or at least just as good. We can be happy here."

“Were we not in the old world?"

Jenny didn't answer. Hey eyes drifted as she thought for a moment. “I don't know. Can we just enjoy the rest of the wedding? I want to dance."

Sam smiled and squeezed her paw back. Maybe he didn't need an answer. “After you, my love." And the two of them wandered into the merriment where they danced, danced, and danced, the world they'd come from already forgotten.

Celebrations carried on until nightfall when the party goers all retired for the coming workday. Sam and Jenny could spend the night sleeping together, their shifts at the army camp coinciding. Back atop her he lay, torso-to-torso with that gossamer tower of plush mammary he'd fallen in love with since he'd met her.

The cock wailed at sunrise, and the two lovers split to begin their duties at camp. It was outside the town, out in an open stretch of field where they could see the castle turrets on the horizon, faded over by the atmosphere between them. Amidst the hundreds of cloth tents that made up the camp was a wooden fort staked into the ground from sharpened tree trunks. Seeing Shenfield's banner whip from the fort's parapets was a nice boost to Sam's morale.

Jenny was not a measly security guard here, but an irregular equipped with armor and a weapon. Sam had the pleasure of seeing her making rounds with her squad mates, all of whom were dwarfed next to her Wadlowian fox frame. This was while Sam reported to the griffon portion of the camp. No helicopters, but a field of extra-large tents made to hold the skies' most majestic creature, at least according to them. Heads and wings of eagles, the bodies and strength of lions, griffons wandered the camp like men at work. They chatted, joked, gossiped, and cussed with each other as regularly as Sam's crew did. Their feather patterns were varied like the stripes of a zebra. Next to one that looked like a bald eagle was a golden eagle, and beside them was a harpy eagle. Regarding whom they were in the old world, Sam realized they were the pilots who flew the helicopters. This army didn't have any helicopters, but it did have something much cooler: fucking griffons that flew around and shit.

They wore armor and saddles for riders who would shoot arrows from their backs. Unsurprisingly, it was Sam and his crew's job to maintain their equipment and armor. Troubleshooting the new weapon systems meant loading up surplus arrowheads the frontline units had given them. Given their higher quality than what this camp was using, the griffons and riders had to test them out and get used to them. The riders (gunners as they were back on Earth) saddled their griffons up and strapped in, bows at their side. The griffon would unfurl their wings and after a few preparatory flaps would launch off their hind legs into the air with a mighty whooooosh! Sam and the crew watched them glide through the air and swoop down on targets that had been laid out for them. The rider would land a hit every time, never coming outside of a foot from the bullseye. The griffons landed, happy to report that the arrows worked. Sam pictured what it would be like if they had rocket launchers instead. [i]That'd be fucking cool.

[/i]

All the while he wondered what Jenny was doing, where she was and if she was having as much fun as he was. He'd seen her making rounds with her comrades. She looked bored, though this had to beat the hell out of rotting inside a toll booth all day. [i]Will she be able to come home at the end of her post? Or does she live in the camp until her next leave?[/i] Sam asked himself, even though he knew the answer. As a dedicated sentry Jenny would have to spend her nights in camp, only allowed to come home when leave allowed it. Sam would not have time alone with her again until the end of the week.

He didn't want to wait that long. After telling his crew and the griffons that he had business elsewhere Sam bolted from his post to go look for Jenny. He found her at the sentry quarters inside the fort where she and some of her mates were on break. They sat outside at tables playing cards and rolling dice, still in their clunky breastplates while their long spears leaned on the wall nearby. Jenny was at one table by herself, reading a book. She looked up when she heard Sam stomping after her. The wild look in his eyes startled her.

“Sam?"

He didn't respond until he'd already grabbed her by the wrist of her gauntlet. “Hey, Jenny. Can we talk?" Jenny looked around at the faces of her comrades all turned towards her. They knew she and Sam were lovers, thus left them to their business.

“About what? I'm on duty. Is it urgent?"

“I know you are, and yes, it is." He pulled on her arm, forcing her to stand up. He urged her away from the table with a curt yank. “Come on. Let's talk somewhere private."

“Sam!" He was so much smaller than her and yet she was skidding on her iron boots just to stay in place. She looked around at her fellow sentries and saw them snickering. “People are watching," she said, embarrassed.

“They won't watch if you come with me. Come on." He wasn't giving up. With no other choice, she gave up and followed him.

“Alright, but this better be important. Dereliction of duty is punishable by flogging, you know." Luckily, she had her squad mates to trust not to rat on her. They knew what was going on and wouldn't ruin it for her. She had an idea too but wouldn't say it out loud.

“I know. I'll make it worth it, I swear." Sam let go of her and led her all the way out of the fort and across camp to where it bordered the surrounding forest. If anyone saw them, they would think Sam was showing her something the sentries needed to know about. At least, anyone who didn't know they were lovers.

Deep in the shadow of the woods where they couldn't see the tents or the fort they finally came to a stop. With only the conifers to keep them company, Sam stood holding both her paws. He needed to look up to see her, and yet he felt perfectly equal with her. “I wanna stay here," he said.

“What?"

“I wanna stay here. This world, this town, the camp, all of it. I wanna stay here and live the rest of my life with you."

Her sharp, amber eyes went round as a deep blush beset her snowy white cheek tufts. “That's what you dragged me out her to tell me?"

“Yes. I love it here, and I wanted to know if you loved it too."

“Well, of course I do. I mean, as much as anywhere else. I-“

“As much as our life on Earth?"

She paused. “I'm sorry?"

“I said do you love it here as much as our old world?"

Another pause. She answered, “No. I love it here much better too."

Sunny joy bloomed in Sam's chest, making him smile. “Really?"

“Yes. I feel comfortable here, like everything's what it's supposed to be, like I'm what I'm supposed to be. I thought this transformation should have terrified me, but it didn't. It's something I can be proud of. I feel beautiful." She squeezed his hands. “[i]You[/i] make me feel beautiful, even more than you already did." Tears rose in her eyes along with a smile on her lips.

Sam felt himself do the same. “Jenny…" He pulled her arms and leaned into her. She came down onto him, and the two of them kissed. Her maw was so soft and warm. The nip of her cold canine nose was a delight he didn't know he needed. Once they broke lips they sighed and looked at each other. Hardly a whole second passed before they kissed again much, much more sloppily.

Between haughty breaths and pants they began mauling each other's faces. Jenny's breath beat across his bearded face, pouncing down his throat and making his lungs and heart swell. He clawed as her armor, blindly groping for the ties that held her breastplate up. She had to find them for him so she could pull them loose and shrug out of the burdensome armor. Out were her breasts, all eight of them raining down her trunk from the huge pair on top to the smaller, perter duo just above her hips. Staring at him was an octet of nipples looking perfectly rosy within her snowy white underbelly. Sam dove his face straight into her cleavage, drowning his entire head in her tits with his nose digging into her sternum.

Jenny gasped. Her womanhood was thrown into a heat while her tail started to wag furiously. She held the back of Sam's head and enjoyed the deep whiffs he pulled on her aroma. Her other paw untied her faulds, sending them to the ground where they clattered among the tree root. It exposed her chalice, a hot, steamy crease of girlflesh wreathed in black cunny lips. Jenny pulled him closer by the hips, the jut of his erection falling into her needy flower so that she could hump against it.

Sam was in a flux, huffing and gasping away at that luxurious fox smell she'd kept trapped in her fur after a whole shift of marching. His penis raged within his tunic, brought free when he lifted it and peeled his undergarment down. Out swung his pillar, hard and heavy, close enough to her cunt so that he could feel its heat. His face was on fire. He brought his arms around her torso, hands grabbing at her ass and kneading it. Erratic humps jabbed his cock at her chalice and made their bodies bounce off one another.

Jenny grabbed him by the trunk and lifted him off the ground. She squatted and sat down against the tree with him between her legs, still latched to her tightly. Her enormous paws reached underneath him and took a ginger hold of his penis. She aimed it at her weeping cunt, and with one needy heave he was inside her. Strained grunts from within her bosom. Needy whimpers and dramatic swoons. Sam pawed at her breasts as he began to breed her at full force, his pale, round buttocks clenching madly.

The forest was rife with their love making, flesh impacting flesh, loud moans, grunts, and curses. Sam locked his mouth to one of her teats, and her voice soared into a caterwaul. He felt a mighty quake roll through her and grab at his cock, the approach of her orgasm. His was upon him soon enough, and with one final Wagnerian thrust he bestowed her his seed, the two of them howling loudly so that their new world would know they had both cum.

With passion dying Sam lay atop her panting hard and doused in sweat. He went limp inside her, letting loose a thickish slug of ivory from her quivering wound. She was able to lap at his bearded face, letting him know between breaths that she loved him. He hugged her tightly and told her that he loved her too, ready to spend his life with her 'til death.

[center][b]THE END[/b][/center]