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Summer heat swelled through California, and Hiro swelled with it. Hiro had already pushed the limits of what a fox's body could be. Week after week, month after month, Hiro transformed into something beyond foxkind entirely. From one steroid, Tavoro put Hiro onto two, then three, stacking them together so their effects multiplied through Hiro's body. Hiro woke up hours before dawn to gulp down more pills than a nursing home patient, then guzzled a lemonade pitcher's worth of mass shake before hitting the gym.

Once there, Tavoro set to work on Hiro like a mad scientist on some world-ending creation. Hiro thought he knew what extreme workouts meant. Tavoro opened up an entirely new world to Hiro's eyes. Hiro delved into dark, predatory depths he never knew he'd possessed, and brought them roaring to the surface where there was no one to see but the bull. The roid stack sang a sweet, insane melody to Hiro's brain. Hiro found himself caring less and less about anything but the next time he could train. He devoured entire deli's worth of food in a day like some ravenous monster. Because that was exactly what Hiro was turning into.

Hiro's neck thickened, then vanished, sinking into his rising traps. The size of his powerful shoulders became the size of his middle deltoids by themselves, triple the mass. The rest of his arms followed - a set of forearms so heavy and bloated that his paws started to look strangely small by comparison. And biceps. Biceps and triceps so swollen and huge that they softly banged and ground constantly against his lats and outer pecs, to the point where Hiro could barely reach behind his own body. The size of his arms was nothing compared to his deepening pecs. From beautiful, round, heavy mounds of beef, they exploded into permanently striated freakish abominations with nipples that had all but vanished, casting vast shadows down over his eight pack and giving lewd heaves up and down whenever Hiro so much as breathed. Hiro's abs began to roil and twitch whenever he walked anywhere. His thighs followed suit. They pumped and pumped and pumped wider and wider, growing heavier and more powerful by the week until the entire locker room knew when Hiro was coming.

The more Tavoro pushed him, the more savage Hiro worked and the less he recognized the fox he'd used to be in the mirror. His muscles were devouring that weakling. The new Hiro couldn't even FIT in a full length posing mirror.

Hiro gave a webcam show exactly once, when Tavoro was out of town, for his old fans back home in the gym where it had all began. Eager mice and otters, weasels and deer lined up on their computers and logged in. Hiro sat down with a camera-vibrating thud and, without a word, ripped his muscle shirt to shreds. Every single man on the other end exploded. Hiro hadn't even flexed.

Hiro stared at the composite images of wailing, moaning, collapsing little furs and reached up to crush his webcam into trash. In half an hour, he was back in the gym again.

*

Jake slapped the latest issue of Muscle Today onto the table where Warra sat eating his lunch.

"Have you seen this?"

Jake gestured at the cover. Warra put his sandwich down and pulled the magazine toward him. It was Lawrence Tavoro. Warra hadn't seen HIM on the cover of Muscle Today since the magazine's twenty-fifth anniversary issue. And he wasn't alone. He had his arm around the back of a very familiar fox.. Both figures stared out at him from the page, their expressions firm, resolute, incredibly masculine. They looked like warriors facing down a charging horde.

The cover read: "Heir to the Throne: Bodybuilding's Greatest Legend Has a Successor!"

"This is Hiro MacCarther! That fox that beat out Guntur for the national title!" Warra said.

"Right!" Jake agreed with impatience. "And he's being trained by Lawrence bloody Tavoro! Hiro is coming for Guntur! Coming for the Mr. Colossus!"

A faint, twisted smile rose on Warra's mouth. "Poor fox. He has no idea what he's up against."

"Look, would you please pull yourself out of your sex fantasy for the big bloke long enough to recognize that the press isn't talking a word about us any more? I checked - Pecs and Guns, No Pain, Pose, Furry Fitness - they're wild over Lawrence and his underdog champion."

"The fox is nothing."

The voice shook the floor. Rattled the table. Jake gulped and turned around. Guntur's giant silhouette filled the doorway to the gym. At least this time he had on a thong, straining and sagging as it was.

"I thought I told you not to come back here," Guntur rumbled at Jake.

"Hiro's already beaten you on one stage, Guntur," Jake said. "You're not worried he might do it again?"

"I'm not worried about anything any more," Guntur declared.

Jake gulped and backed toward the table as Guntur tried his best to fit into the room. He growled in impatience and gripped the sides of the doorway. The solid steel frame warped under his power, shattering glass like falling snow.

"J...JESUS CHRIST!" Jake leapt behind Warra, mouth slack in awe.

Guntur stood tall, filling the room, head shoved up against the ceiling and punching a dent in the plaster. His size was indescribable.

"Don't you understand that I am a god, Jake?" Guntur demanded.

He idly rolled pectorals so huge that Jake could almost hear the muscle. "Gods don't lose."

Guntur turned and stomped back into the gym, heading for the squat rack with booming steps. Jake trembled in his shoes. "How many roids is he taking, Warra?"

"Twelve, last time I checked his room," Warra said.

"He's insane!" Jake whispered. "He's going to kill himself!"

"Maybe," Warra agreed. "But not before he sets the bodybuilding records so high no one will ever beat him again."

*

"GRRAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

"Keep going! Keep going! Up! UP!"

Hiro shook his head feverishly. His massive arms strained until striations stood out against the fur of his bloated biceps and veins snaked along his neck. His whole body shook.

"Don't give me that, fox!" Tavoro yelled. "You wanna win this thing? LIFT IT!"

Hiro let out a groan of defeat and the loaded barbell crashed to the floor. Hiro staggered against the wall, holding onto it to keep from collapsing.

Tavoro shook his head. "You're going to have to do better."

"I'm doing everything I can, god damn it!" Hiro panted.

"You lifted-"

"I know I lifted more last week than that! Don't you think I know that?" Hiro snapped. He sighed. "I'm sorry."

"What's going on with you, Hiro?" Tavoro asked.

"I don't know." Hiro said.

"Are you sleeping okay?"

"It's three weeks out from the fucking Mr. Colossus, Lawrence. Of course I'm not sleeping okay."

"Fair enough," Tavoro conceded. "Hm. Let's hold off on the weights for a bit. Come on over to the mirrors and let's practice your routine."

Hiro clenched his teeth. He felt a burning sense of failure like it was a hot candy stuck in his mouth. Tavoro guided Hiro forward.

"Front double bicep, whenever you're ready."

Hiro tried to clear and focus his mind. He let his arms rise upward, picturing them like mighty eagle's wings, slow and majestic. He was about to complete the flex when Tavoro's voice cut in.

"Stop. Stop. Hiro, you're acting like you expect someone to punch you in the stomach. Open out."

Hiro huffed and tried again. Tavoro still wasn't satisfied. Frustration mounted in the bull's tone. It fed back on Hiro's own roiling emotions. Hiro failed pose after pose. Tavoro gave up. Not in so many words, but Tavoro told Hiro to go and get himself a protein shake while he thought of what to do next.

The dark storm inside Hiro flashed and rumbled. Hiro headed for the cafe, shoving anyone who got in his way. He ignored their bawls of protest. They didn't matter.

The cafe at Platinum Gym hosted its own chef - a fatherly bluff of a panda named Guang. He knew every lifter by name and could tell exactly what one of them needed by gauging their mood when they came to his counter. Hiro crashed his mighty rump down on the bench and rested his immense arms on the tiled countertop. It felt good to let them rest. They were so full of muscle it was a constant effort to carry them around. Hiro felt like a sausage skin stuffed with too much meat.

"Hiro! Mi bello gigante!" Manz slid along the long padded communal dining bench and touched the side of his ass cheek to Hiro's leg. "You look ready to rip someone's head off," he joked. "Is the bull riding you too hard?"

Hiro's muzzle crumpled into an ugly growl. "Get out of my fucking face, Manz."

Manz gulped. "Want to be alone, ah? No problem, senore. No problem."

Hiro closed his eyes with relief when Manz was gone. Goddamn fucking horse. All he cared about was sexing up other guys. What the hell did he know about what it took to take the world stage? A black and white arm almost as thick as his own rested on the other side of the counter. Hiro looked up. Guang raised his bushy eyebrows in a silent question.

"Just a shake, Guang," Hiro sighed. He rubbed at his forehead. He had to calm down. Desperately had to calm down. Refocus. His thoughts were like angry sparks, whizzing so fast and hot and ANGRY Hiro couldn't catch them. A fluted glass cup slid itself into Hiro's big paw. The shake was so chilled that faint wisps of condensed vapour rose from the creamy lime green slush it contained.

"The fuck is this?" Hiro demanded.

"Try it," Guang urged, unfazed at Hiro's outburst.

Hiro reined back his tongue and took a sip. He was nine years old, on his family's visit to Japan. Standing on a green mountain slope with his face lifted up to feel the cool spring mist falling in lazy curtains from a silver sky. Hiro floated in the flavour - the mix of coconut, lime, fresh cucumber and a hint of cilantro. He almost slept walked away from the bench before the sensation passed. He was back in the gym again, with the weight of the universe crushing him to the floor.

Hiro glanced at himself in the nearest mirror. The storm of rage and shame, fear and despair coursing through him on the demon wings of the steroids chittered. Hiro's fist shattered the mirror and the shake's glass at the same time. The sting of tiny cuts on his palms mixed with the slushy's ice.

Guang yelled something at him. Hiro wasn't listening. He was on his way out. He shoved open the doors to Platinum Gym and strode across the baking hot parking lot toward his car. Home. He just wanted to go home. Hiro fumbled with the door to the car that he couldn't seem to figure out how to unlock. With a snarl, he bashed in the glass and tore the lock from its mooring. The car set up a shrill, pulsing alarm. Ignoring it, Hiro yanked the door open, slamming it behind him. He stabbed the key into the ignition when Tavoro's face appeared in the broken window. He was out of breath.

"Where do you think you're going?" Tavoro said.

"Home. Fuck you. Fuck Platinum Gym. And fuck this fucking contest." Hiro answered. His voice was dead and flat.

Tavoro let him go. Shaking his horned head, he returned to Platinum to run damage control.

*

Hiro didn't go home at first. He parked in the lot overlooking the beach.

Stepping out, Hiro made his way down to the nearest picnic bench and sat watching the waves. His big paws were in fists that wouldn't stop shaking. Hiro shuddered and held his head between them. He felt insane. His head buzzed. His heart kept racing. Weird needles of pain sent torturous jabs through his arms and legs. Hiro closed his eyes and let the surf lull him. A cool breeze played with his bushy red and white tail. His phone buzzed. Hiro ignored it until it buzzed for the fifth time.

Hiro sighed. He pulled it from his pocket as if it weighed four hundred pounds. There was a single text message from Tavoro, repeated over and over:

You're ODing on the roid stack. Wherever you are, get to a hospital and CALL ME!!!

Hiro shot to his feet. The world swayed for a moment. Hiro couldn't drive. Not like this. Hiro let out a whine. He tried to focus his blurred vision long enough to dial.

"Hiro? Is that you?"

Hiro looked up and tried to focus on the little figure jogging toward him.

"Oh. Hey..um..."

"James Thealand! Remember?"

James paused and frowned. "Hiro, you don't look so good."

Hiro put a big paw out. "Need to get to the hospital."

James put his body under one of Hiro's massive arms and led him to his car. Half an hour later, Hiro was lying back on an ER bed while a doctor spoke outside with Tavoro. Tavoro could tell the hospital exactly what Hiro'd been taking. They kept Hiro overnight to observe him while the worst of the symptoms wracked him. At first, James and Tavoro stayed by his side. Later on, Mark himself came down to check up on him. Then came sleep. Sweet, blessed sleep for hours.

When Hiro woke up, it was late afternoon. Tavoro stood looking out the windows at the ocean, a mug of coffee in his hand. Four other empty cups sat stacked in the trash beside the bed.

"Did you stay up all night?" Hiro asked.

Tavoro turned his head to look at him. "I had to," he said. "I'm responsible for what happened."

Hiro winced a little as he sat up. Tavoro turned away again. Hiro got to his feet. Everything remained stable. His mind was his own again.

"What did the doctors say?" Hiro asked.

"The roids have passed out of your system, for the most part. As soon as you feel up to it, you can leave," Tavoro said.

Hiro put a paw on Tavoro's back. "Lawrence, you didn't know."

"You trusted me and I let you down. I could have killed you."

"I knew the risks when I started shooting up," Hiro said.

Tavoro finally faced him. "Maybe so. But I don't deserve to keep coaching you after this." He shook his head. "I should have retired years ago. I'm out of touch. I've let too many things slip by with you. Little things that I knew better but..they just slipped my mind. Now this."

"Hey," Hiro said, squeezing the bull's burly shoulders. "You can retire after I win."

Tavoro kissed him. "You're a sweet kid."

"I learn from the best, Lawrence. And the best is you." Hiro smacked his shoulder. "So when do we go back to Platinum?"

"It's not that simple, Hiro. The docs here would kill me if I let you anywhere near weights for at least a week."

"A WEEK?" Hiro cried.

"For once, I'm going to agree with them," Tavoro said. "I've been pushing you to the red line and more. Your whole body's rebelling against the treatment. If we go back too soon, this sort of thing will just happen again. We might not be so lucky next time."

Hiro paced. "What am I supposed to do for a week, then? I'll go crazy!"

Tavoro smiled gently. "Kid, I've done everything I can for you. There's only one person who can help you through what comes next. And he's waiting for you in the family room off the lobby."

*

Burt slowly stood when Hiro lumbered into the family room.

"My god."

Burt did a slow once-over. "What's he done to you, Hiro?"

Hiro's ears lowered a little. "Don't you like it?"

"I'm not sure what to think!"

Hiro couldn't fit in any of the seats, so he filled the couch. Burt looked like a child beside him.

"I'd ask how you've been, but I guess I already know," Burt said.

Hiro shrugged, traps burying what remained of his neck. "It was a mistake, Burt."

"A mistake that almost cost you your life."

"Maybe. But look at me!" Hiro burst into a laugh, flexing his towering biceps. "I'm incredible!"

Burt put his paw on Hiro's thigh. "Hiro, I'm worried about you. You've come so far so fast. I'm not sure you even know why you're doing this."

"I'm doing this to win the Mr. Colossus."

"That's an easy bullshit answer, and you know it," Burt said. "Why are you really doing this? Why risk your life?" Hiro fidgeted his fingers together. He lay back against the soft lavender cushions. "What else am I supposed to do, Burt?"

"Look at me, Hiro," Burt said. "You don't have to win this."

"Yes I do," Hiro insisted. "If only to show Guntur and the rest of the world that I can!"

"You've already done that, Hiro. The moment you step onto that stage, you make history. The moment you start flexing and posing is a moment no one will forget. I'm not telling you to drop out. All I'm saying is you don't have to WIN."

"I don't get you, Burt," Hiro said. "Why else would I be competing?"

"You've never asked me what I did before I became a high school coach."

"Didn't you get that straight out of college?" Hiro asked.

Burt nodded. "I was the only rodent on the football team. It was just me and a squad of rhinos and bovines twice my size." Hiro chuckled at that idea. "I bet you showed them a thing or two, huh? What were you, team captain?"

"No, Hiro. I was the bench warmer."

Hiro blinked.

"First year on the team, I suffered a concussion so bad during fall practice that it laid me out for the rest of the season. Second year, I broke two ribs at the homecoming game. Every time I took the field, you could hear the laughter from the stands. Coach only ever used me if he had no other players left."

"Why did you stay, then?" Hiro asked.

"Because I loved it. Sure, it was humiliating being the joke of the locker rooms. It was frustrating knowing I'd only see action if it meant an alternative to a forfeit. I didn't care. I wasn't in it for the glory. I was in it for the experience."

"So what happened?"

Burt smiled. "Last game of my last season, I managed to score a single touchdown. It wasn't the game winner. Didn't even make that big of a difference, considering how badly the other guys thrashed us. But by then, I'd earned the respect of the team and the coach. They treated me like a hero for making that touchdown. It was everything I could have wanted. And it taught me what I wanted to do with my coaching career."

Burt rested his arms across his knees. "I wanted to be there for all those kids like me. The small frys. The wimps. The weaklings. The ones always picked last on team rosters. The ones no one would ever cheer from the stands or who would ever see statistics beside their names. The guys who had no illusions about defying the odds or becoming famous. I wanted to be there for all the amateurs who went into their sports knowing they would never amount to anything noteworthy to anyone else but themselves."

Hiro shook his head. "I'm not sure what you're trying to tell me, Burt."

Burt smiled. "I think you do, Hiro. In a way. Big species can always ride on their natural athleticism. They don't need anyone's help to succeed. They've got that competitive instinct, that natural drive urging them to achieve. You're the fox who's been right there with them. You've seen the looks they give you. You're treading on their turf. You don't belong. You've had to prove yourself again and again."

Burt took Hiro's paw. "Don't you get it, Hiro? You're living the dream for every fox who's longed for that sort of life. You're the champion of every mouse shoved aside by a horse who wanted the water fountain, of every raccoon that's been sneered at by a tiger on the basketball court or, hell, even for the wolves forced to the sidelines at the gym when the bears come to lift. You want to win this for something bigger than yourself? Win it for them."

Burt handed Hiro a photograph. A real photograph, not a digital print, resting in a simple black metal frame. Hiro recognized the faces. They were all the guys who used to tag along behind him to and from gym practice day after day. There were the otter twins, standing to either side of a grinning Burt, blowing kisses to the camera. Hiro knew them all. He swallowed a lump in his throat and clutched the photo to his enormous chest.

"Thanks, coach."

Burt smiled and rubbed Hiro's shoulder. "I'm staying with you to the end, champ. Until you stand on that podium with the trophy, it's you and me 24/7."

*

Since its inception in 1965, the Mr. Colossus was always held in New York City. In fifty years, the event had outgrown its original humble venue three times over. Fans and competitors flew in from every state and from twenty countries around the world.

The Rockefeller Emporium was decorated like Christmas for the occasion. Enormous banners five stories tall framed the stone columned entrance with the beaming figures of past winners. There were fleets of news crews and magazine reporters, a bazaar of supplements and merchandise. Hotels booked up months in advance.

Hiro arrived at the rear of the emporium in a black stretch limousine. With him were Burt, Tavoro, Mark Theland and his son, James. Hiro had entertained James with war stories from the gym during the four hour flight. Now the young otter looked out the tinted windows, eyes wide. Hiro felt about the same.

Tavoro flashed Hiro a smile. "Welcome to the big leagues, kid."

"That's Bruno Starknacht over there!" Burt cried.

Hiro craned his neck to get a glimpse of the giant Swiss cougar - the officially strongest bodybuilder in the world.

"We'll have enough to handle with Guntur, trust me," Tavoro said.

Mark nodded. "I read the feature that Muscle Today ran on him a few months ago. I'm no judge of physiques, but you and he seem about evenly matched in size, Hiro."

Burt smiled. "You've been a real quick study, Mark."

The limo slowed to a stop. The doors opened. A pair of stern jackals in sunglasses and impeccable blue suits stood to either side of the red carpet that led to the staff entrance.

"Mr. MacCarther, I presume?" Said the jackal on the left. He offered Hiro his paw. "Welcome to New York. If you and your assistants will follow us, please?"

One jackal strode ahead of them, the other at the back. Screaming, roaring, barking fans of every species waved and strained out their paws at Hiro's party from beyond the velvet ropes. Hiro winced away from a continuous barrage of camera flashes.

They burst in through the doors. The inside of the emporium was dark after the bright sun, but no less chaotic. A constant stream of aides, agents, coaches, and contestants moved back and forth between the doors on either wall.

The lead jackal consulted a digital pad. "Mr. MacCarther, you've been assigned section J1. You'll find a copy of the weekend's itinerary waiting for you in your locker room, along with a few complimentary gifts, courtesy of the mayor. Questions?"

Overwhelmed, Hiro's mind was blank. He shook his head. The jackals returned outside to fetch the next contestant.

"Holy shit," Hiro said. "Lawrence, I can't believe you did this twelve times."

"I never got to do it in the Emporium," Tavoro said. "Let's check in."

Tavoro left Hiro in his private locker room with Burt while Mark and James went back out to find their hotel rooms. It was a square room of light grey with red trim, the lockers matching the benches and the tiled floor.

Burt gave a whistle. "So. Here we are, huh?"

"Yeah," Hiro said.

"How are you feeling, champ?"

"I hate it when you ask me that," Hiro said with a nervous laugh.

They looked over the itinerary together. The actual competition wouldn't start until that night. The Mr. Colossus happened over a two day period with pre-judging and first round on one day, and final rounds of posing on the other. The rest of the time was spent making appearances, signing autographs, and making any last minute preparations. Not to mention whatever rest the contestants could snatch amid all the excitement. The gifts mentioned by their jackal escort included a letter from the mayor and a $500 voucher redeemable at any major outlet in the city. Hiro unpacked without saying much.

There was a knock at the door. Turning, Hiro saw Manz, looking radiant and enormous in a sleeveless formal vest and skin tight dark blue pants.

"Manz! You made it in!" Hiro went over to him and shook hands. "Where's Vito?"

Manz gave a sad shrug. "Ah, he didn't make the cut. So it's up to me to win for Italia!"

Hiro sobered. "Manz, I'm sorry I snarled at you back at Platinum. You didn't deserve it."

Manz looked puzzled for a moment. "What, five months ago?" He let out a booming, hearty laugh and slapped Hiro in his enormous shoulder. "Oh, bello! Vito and I have treated each other a fuck of a lot worse than that! I could never stay mad at someone as lovely as you."

They shared a tender, lingering kiss for a moment. Manz held Hiro's cheeks in his palms. "I don't envy you having to pose against me," he whickered seductively. "In bocca al lupo, my friend."

Hiro didn't speak Italian, but he could guess what it meant. "Good luck to you, too, sexy."

The Mr. Colossus was Tavoro's element. Burt let him take over when the big bull came back from registration. He clapped Hiro on the back.

"Well that caused a stir," Tavoro chuckled. "I'd watch where you walk, Hiro. Fans and reporters are going to be looking for you!"

"People are talking?" Burt said.

"Mhm. I'm still recognized by quite a few of the younger generation. Then there was that feature article on Hiro and me. So between the two of them, we've got a buzz that I hope will run through the whole contest."

"Mark did his best to promote my rivalry with Guntur," Hiro said. "Nothing draws a crowd like a clash of titans."

"You certainly qualify as a titan now, Hiro," Burt replied.

Hiro smirked and flexed one gigantic arm. "I can't wait for Guntur to get a load of these guns!"

"That's my boy," Tavoro said. "But we've got a busy day ahead before you do. You've got an hour to rest and freshen up in your private suite. Then you'll need to hit the convention floor and sit at the Tavoroware booth for promotional work until this afternoon."

"You're letting me model your clothing line?" Hiro said in delight.

"Side by side with me, kid," Tavoro confirmed. "Now pay attention. You've got a break for lunch and some gym time in the afternoon. Nothing too hard. Just enough to get your juices flowing. Then we'll need you to get showered and groomed up so we can get back here and start prep work for the stage."

Burt whistled. "I had no idea the pros worked so hard at these things! I thought it was sort of like the Oscars or something - they show up, get oiled up, and go flex."

"Which reminds me, Burt," Tavoro handed Burt a manilla folder. "Those are your responsibilities for the weekend. It's not glamorous, but it's important to make sure the administration and record keeping work for Hiro is done correctly. You should be back here in time to help prep Hiro for the stage tonight."

Burt nodded, flipping through the dossier and schedule. "I was never one for crowds and bright lights, anyway."

Burt and Hiro exchanged an embrace before Burt strode off.

"Get dressed, kid," Tavoro said. "We've got work to do."

*

Hiro focused on Burt's words of wisdom as he sat behind the promo booth in his snug Tavoroware muscle shirt. He was here for the fans. The little guys no one else cared about. During his morning break time, Tavoro and he had done a heart to heart about it. Tavoro gave Burt's philosophy his blessing.

"That rat is worth his weight in gold, Hiro," Tavoro said. "Believe me, coaches like him are as rare as diamonds in this business. I think we've got a brand image for you."

"I didn't know I needed a 'brand image'," Hiro said testily.

"Sorry, kid. But that's the way the game is played. You want the kind of money you need to be a bodybuilder full time, you need to do your share of kissing ass to sponsors and advertisers. Those guys love a man with a clear image they can work with. The most you can do is invent one that you enjoy playing."

Hiro's ears lowered. "Are you saying that the Lawrence Tavoro I grew up worshiping was a lie? Just some marketing gimmick you played to get funding?"

"We've worked together for five months, Hiro. You tell me."

Hiro thought about it. "I guess yes AND no. I mean, your personality is the same. But you're a lot less....polished?" Tavoro snapped his fingers. "Bingo. People loved me because I was the extreme manly man who wasn't afraid to flaunt his huge muscles or be open and proud about being a bodybuilder. It gave other guys who felt the same way someone to look up to at a time when this sport was still seen as some sort of weird obsession. Now bodybuilding is big business."

Hiro thought he understood. So when he sat with Tavoro at the convention booth and a shy skunk strolled up with his paws in his pockets to ask if they had anything in an extra small, it was Hiro who told him they absolutely did.

"How long you been lifting, dude?" Hiro asked the skunk.

"Erm...three months?"

"No kidding!" Hiro beamed. "Well, welcome to the brotherhood of iron, man! What's your name?" Hiro offered the skunk a paw to shake as he signed the back of the tiny muscle shirt.

"Percy," the skunk almost whispered. His bushy striped tail shook like an aspen.

"Well, Percy," Hiro handed the skunk his signed shirt, "You've got a long and hard road ahead of you at the gym. But it's a rewarding one, too. You never know what you're capable of until you really go for it. Remember that whenever you wear this. Can you do that?"

Percy's bright blue eyes glittered in gratitude. "I sure will, Mr. MacCarther! Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Hiro sat back with a contented sigh. Tavoro leaned toward him.

"That was great stuff, kid. Keep that up. You're a real Robin Hood figure to these small fries."

"Hm. I could get used to that," Hiro mused.

So it went. Tavoro handled the big boys who came to shows like the Mr. Colossus to feel like they were one of the elite. Hiro took care of the amateurs and the little guys, as well as anyone who looked out of their depth, lost by all the glitz and hype. It was over before Hiro realized he was hungry.

Burt managed to hook up with the two of them over lunch.

"How'd it go, champ?" Burt asked, sitting down beside Hiro with his steaming rack of ribs.

"It's weird," Hiro said between bites of salad. He was having a double portion and three glasses of water. It would be the last food and drink he would get that day to keep his water weight down.

"What is?" Burt asked.

"I feel sort of let down," Hiro said. "Almost like I'd rather keep working the booth than compete."

Tavoro perked his bovine ears. "Fox, you'd better chuck that line of thought right fucking now. Those boys will eat you alive if you're not laser focused on winning."

That was the end of introspection for Hiro. The afternoon marked the start of the prep for the stage. Hiro felt like a spaceship being pulled closer and closer to a black hole. Each hour that passed brought him closer to the final confrontation with Guntur.

Spending some time lifting weights did miracles for Hiro's nerves. He could relax and concentrate on the simple acts of lifting and pumping for an hour or so before Tavoro and Burt sat side by side to drill Hiro on his posing. Tavoro demanded perfection. Hiro's showing would need to be flawless if he hoped to win.

As Tavoro put it, "I'm not a trained judge. If I can see something wrong, you can bet they will."

Then there was no more time. It was back to the locker rooms, where Hiro stripped naked and slid into his posing thong. He'd chosen a bright violet version that offset his red and white fur. Professional regulation posing thongs were a different cut than those used in amateur contests. Hiro's left little to the imagination.

"Not much we can do about that," Burt smirked. He swatted Hiro's rump. "You might as well show it off."

"Burt, I'm nervous enough as it is!" Hiro complained.

"Just trying to loosen you up, champ. If you go out there all tense and serious, your routine is going to suffer."

Hiro let out a frustrated gruff and sat down on the locker room bench, muzzle in his paws. "It's so much to remember! So much to keep track of! What if I forget something?"

Tavoro shrugged. "Improvise."

Hiro rolled his eyes and lay on his huge back, staring at the ceiling. "Thanks, Lawrence. That helps a lot."

Tavoro smiled with sympathy. "Burt has the right idea, Hiro. Believe me when I say that it doesn't get any easier even if you do this year after year. You're still just as nervous and hyped up on adrenaline every time."

"Up, big guy. It's going to take both of us to get you oiled," said Burt.

He grunted at Hiro's weight even with Hiro doing most of the work to sit back up, then stand. The thong gave a little heavy bob and Hiro blushed at the rumble Tavoro tried to hide. The oil was not meant for skin, like those used by horses or bulls. It was more like a special conditioner - a glossing agent that would change Hiro's red and white fur to a blazing dark copper and mother of pearl. Tavoro started on the rolling mountains of meat across Hiro's shoulder blades while Burt knelt to massage oil into his right leg.

Hiro closed his eyes. The sensation of being oiled, especially by two guys at once, was hypnotic. Arousing. It almost felt like they were worshiping him. Hiro refocused his thoughts on the contest ahead. He couldn't afford to get a stiffy now. Fingers glided along his rippling inner thighs up to the strap of his thong and down his lower back. Hiro felt like a knight being screwed into his armor before a joust. Burt stood up and lathered more oil into his paws. He glanced into Hiro's eyes while he massaged the oil over the rock hard ridges of his abs.

"Enjoying yourself?" Burt teased.

"Trying not to," Hiro gushed with a grin.

Hiro bit his lip to stifle a whimper of pleasure while Tavoro's masculine hands squeezed and rubbed oil about his ass. "Feeling a little more confident now?" Tavoro said.

"I suppose that's one way of putting it," Hiro said.

Tavoro tilted his head to speak to Burt over one bulging shoulder.

"Burt? This fox needs an ego pump." Burt grabbed hold of Hiro's titanic pectorals in a firm squeeze that had nothing to do with oiling him.

"Burt, what are you-" Hiro said, but Burt cut him short.

"You wanted to know what I thought of the new you, Hiro? I think you're the most magnificent masterpiece of a man I've ever imagined. I've never seen anyone so massive in my life." Burt rolled oil over the pecs in slow circles. "I'm honored to be your coach. And if I wasn't straight, I'd probably be begging you to stuff that big beautiful fox knot as deep into me as you could."

Hiro's chest swelled. "Do you mean that, coach? Or are you just saying that because it's what I need to hear?"

"You do need to hear it, champ. And I mean every word."

Tavoro squeezed oil into the heavy hams of Hiro's triceps. "You took everything I could throw at you and came back every day hungry for more. I'm proud of you, Hiro."

Hiro gave a little moan. Even after all this time, he still looked up to Tavoro as his idol. Hearing that made his heart flutter. Both men stepped back. Hiro did a slow turn in place while Tavoro inspected the evenness of the oil's coat. He opened one hand. Burt handed over the last of the oil. Tavoro smeared a few more patches to Hiro's traps, biceps, forearms.

"Look at me, kid."

Hiro looked deep into the bull's eyes. Tavoro got right into his face. Hiro could smell his warm breath. Their chests pushed together.

"You are a phenomenon. You are something the WORLD has never seen, you hear me? You're the biggest, strongest, manliest fucking fox on the planet. Now get out on that stage and show those puny weaklings the GOD you've become!"

If Hiro had been a wolf he would have howled. All his doubts were gone. Fears swept into the corners of his mind. He gave Tavoro a cocky smile and nodded. It was show time. Hiro made his way out of the locker room, down the hall toward the pump room. He had about twenty minutes before curtain. Other contestants joined him. It was like a slow moving herd of massive beefy men.

One gigantic rhino touched Hiro on the shoulder to get his attention and then offered him a handshake for good luck. His admiration sounded sincere. Both of them slowed to a stop outside the pump room. A crowd of oiled men stood around the entrance, but no one seemed eager to go in. Hiro craned his neck, trying to see past the wall of muscles. "What's going on?" Hiro asked.

Bruno Starknacht shook his head. "Bad business."

"Well, who's in there?"

"Some sun bear. And he's got a horse trapped in there with him."

Manz. Alone with Guntur. Hiro set his jaw.

"Let me through."

Bruno raised an eyebrow at Hiro but nodded. His mighty arms parted the crowd for Hiro like a snowplow. Hiro muttered his thanks and ducked into the pump room. It stank of fear. Hiro looked for Manz. He didn't have to look very hard. His eyes widened to saucers when he spotted Guntur.

The monstrous sun bear didn't look mortal any more. Even from the doorway, Guntur's backside eclipsed most of the far wall. The Y taper of his lats down to that heavy powerful waist seemed straight out of a cartoon. Every muscle stood out in obscene relief, making Guntur's skin seem ready to tear open.

"Don't give me that, horse," Guntur was saying, his voice the same deep bass Hiro remembered from the Nationals. It sounded weird. Slurred and primal. "You're the Platinum Gym slut. Why the fuck wouldn't you want to be wrecked by the greatest man in the world?" He let out a nasty laugh.

Guntur reached out with a huge paw. Hiro saw the paw jerked violently away. Guntur snarled. "Stop playing hard to get, you little pony! I go on stage in fifteen minutes and I NEED this!"

Cloth tore. Manz's voice neighed out, high and shrill. "SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

Hiro grabbed a thirty pound dumbbell and hurled it like a tomahawk directly at Guntur's head. It struck with a soft ringing of metal. Guntur barely noticed. His brutish head twisted on a nearly non-existent neck, sending a spray of drool into the air.

"You." Pure hate oozed from the word.

"Manz, go on. I'll handle Guntur."

Sniffling and nude, Manz galloped for the exit.

"I heard you were back in the game," Guntur boomed. "I've been looking forward to this!"

Guntur stomped toward Hiro. Every footstep rattled the weights and set mirrors to vibrating like speakers. Guntur blinked in disbelief as he got closer.

"You...you're as big as me! HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU SO BIG?"

Hiro grabbed onto the only thing he could - the top of Guntur's straining thong. He yanked Guntur nose to nose with him, vulpine fangs out.

"Now you listen to me, and you listen good, you son of a bitch! There are twenty guys out there, all of them witnesses. I make one phone call, and you're out of this contest. And you're not going to be able to intimidate or seduce your way out of it this time. The World Bodybuilding League doesn't take too kindly to rape."

"You won't do that," Guntur sneered.

"Give me one good reason why!"

"Because you want to beat me."

Hiro let Guntur's thong go. "Go ahead, fox," Guntur egged him. "Call security. Disqualify me. Win the Mr. Colossus on a technicality."

Hiro struggled. Guntur was manipulating him. Just like he manipulated everyone to get what he wanted. A faint call came from outside the pump room. It was fifteen minutes to curtain. The other men at the entrance to the pump room stirred with impatience. Hiro was out of time.

"I'm going to beat you, you bastard. For Manz."

Guntur smiled. "Good boy."

There was nothing left to do but work the weights, forcing blood into muscle to add a few more precious inches. Any tiny thing might make the difference between first and second place. The pump room was silent except for the panting of working men and the soft clank of weights.

The call came to line up. Hiro stood right behind Guntur, with Bruno Starknacht behind him. "That was a brave thing you did," Bruno murmured to Hiro's back.

"I'm still reporting him," Hiro said. "Even if he wins, he won't have the trophy for long."

"Good luck, Herr MacCarther."

"Good luck to you, Bruno."