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Big Love:

The Sheldon Story

by

Dissident Love

commissioned by

JamesFoxes

Official Disclaimer:

This is not the same "James" as seen in "James and the Giant Beach".

The commissioner's name is ALSO James, and his fursona is, of course,

also named James. Therefore, this is a fox named James, and not a

mink named James. I hope that cures any confusion you may have.

Part 1: The Big Secret

The key clicked in the lock and the door opened into the spacious but darkened apartment. James shuffled through, juggling several grocery bags in his arms and trying to pop the key back out without dropping anything. The slender fox managed to free his keychain from the door and kicked it shut behind him, wobbling unsteadily towards the kitchen.

"Hullo?" he called, navigating blindly through the living room. Experience had granted him the ability to make it from room to room without crashing his shins on an ottoman, and that was all that kept the weeks food from exploding all over the carpeting. "Sheldon?"

There was no reply, unsurprisingly. The big horse had been working long hours lately, usually coming home after James had finished supper. The cunning fox had started cooking dinners later and later, though, and more often than not now the roommates could at least enjoy a meal together before Sheldon retired to his room for the night.

James put the bags down on the counter, flicked on the lights, and started to restock the pantry again. It was incredible, he thought, not for the first time, just how much food the horse could pack away. Sure, he was pushing six and a half feet tall, but he was surprisingly slender for being so big; regardless, James' portion of the food bill was barely twenty percent. Sheldon had been more than happy to chip in for his share of the groceries, though, so James wasn't upset, merely impressed.

Seemingly endless boxes of pasta, bags of cereal and jars of every conceivable foodstuff filled every available shelf and cupboard, and he smiled when the final bag was emptied. He stuck the receipt to the fridge with a little magnet, crumpled the bags up neatly and dropped them into the recycling bin. And then... and then...

And then he was lonely and bored. He seemed to deflate, walking back into the living room and flicking on the TV. "Tum te tum tum tum," he hummed absently, scrolling through the available programming but not really noticing it. His new schedule, coming home from the office and killing time before making dinner, was enjoyable but at times it wore thin.

Of course, he liked hanging out with Sheldon, enjoyed trying to draw the big guy out of his shell. It was strange, living with someone so noticeable who spent so much time trying NOT to be noticed. He rarely spoke if James didn't speak first, spent most of his evenings alone in his room with his computer, and if he ever did go out of the apartment and it wasn't just going to work, he never told the fox where he was going. He always just said, "Out".

He was a mystery. A big, strong, handsome, big, sleek, well-filled, big... mystery.

James coughed and adjusted himself. No sense taking those thoughts any further!

He was pondering what to make for dinner, finally settling on lasagne, when he heard a familiar clomping outside the door and the rattle of keys. James sat up quickly, pinned his wagging tail with one hand and waved when Sheldon stepped through the door. "Howdy!" he called, trying to keep the obsessive, chipper notes out of his voice.

The big horse ducked to get through the doorway, and waved back absently. "Yoh," he said, closing the door behind him and clip-clopping through to the kitchen. "Good day?"

"Yeah, not bad," James replied. "Had another couple of angry phone calls with the bloody City Engineer, one of the projects still has a bunch of informational deficits, and... yeah, long, annoying story. Still not bad, I guess. You?" He enjoyed his job with the city, but lately it seemed as though every part of the job involved dealing with people who wanted nothing more than to make his life difficult.

"Pretty quiet," Sheldon said from the kitchen, with the accompanying sound of rustling and rattling. James couldn't hide a smile; the big fella was always eating. How did he stay so slim? It was unfair! "Bit of a lunch rush, trying out some new soup specials. No-one seems to understand how to prepcook chicken anymore."

"Sounds rough," he nodded. "I'm about start supper. How do you feel about lasagne?"

Sheldon came out carrying a bag of tortilla chips and a jar of salsa, munching merrily away. "Mmmm, sure, sounds good. Do you want me to help with-"

"Hey," James said with a grin, "you cook all day, I cook here. Remember? I don't want you thinking that I only like you because you can cook." Why did you tell him you liked him?! James thought madly, mentally backpedalling and trying to assess the damage.

Sheldon smiled weakly. "Well, thanks, I guess. Yeah, lasagne would be nice. Uhm... I'll be in my room for a bit, if that's ok?"

"Yeah, sure, no problem," the much smaller fox said, moving gallantly aside. "You know, you pay half the rent, you can logically use half the living room, too. Hell, I might just be magnanimous and let you use two thirds of it."

His roommate blushed, walnut brown tail swishing back and forth. "Thanks. I'll, uh, be out in a bit."

James watched, a little sadly, as the big guy clopped across the apartment and into his room, closing his door and locking it with a little click. "Yeah, no problem," he sighed, heading into the kitchen and getting out the biggest casserole dish. With any luck, he might get some leftovers out of this, if Sheldon didn't eat the entire thing.

---

It was pushing midnight, and James finally turned out the little lamp on his bedside table, dropping his room into blessed darkness. He had to get up early in the morning for work, and he was painfully realizing that, even at the age of twenty-five, he wasn't young anymore.

Even the year before he'd have more often than not ended the night stumbling out of a club with his arms around at least one new friend, giggling and hiccupping and wondering who's house to tell the cab driver to take them to. Slowly, though, almost imperceptibly, responsibility and authority had crept into his life, and now he reserved the hard partying for Friday nights in order to give him the entire weekend to recover.

"Recover," he chuckled. He NEVER used to worry about recovering! He'd slam a Red Bull, so to speak, and then show up Monday morning fresh as a daisy. It's funny how your life changes, he thought, and you don't even notice.

He heard the creaking of floorboards and bed springs from the next room over, and his heart skipped a beat. Sheldon, though, was a complete mystery! They'd been roommates for nearly a full year, and James couldn't recall ever meeting anyone so handsome being so introverted. It was a tragic shame, it really was.

He laced his fingers behind his head and listened to the sounds of Sheldon's bed groaning in protest front he next room. "He needs to buy a new bed," he mumbled to himself, "that one sounds like it's on the way out." Sheldon never brought girls home, which had originally gotten the fox's hopes up, but Sheldon never brought guys home, either, which was just downright confusing.

He pictured Sheldon in his mind. Not especially tall for a hoss, but more than a foot taller than James himself. His fur was a warm golden hue that seemed to catch the light, and contrasted nicely with his nearly-black mane, shaggy fetlocks and long, silky tail. He was long and lean, definitely trim and in shape. James' mind wandered pleasantly to the way Sheldon's rump moved under his pants, and then circled around to the zipper-straining bulges that even baggy slacks couldn't entirely conceal.

James didn't consider himself a size queen, but since there wasn't really a term for someone who liked size MORE than a size queen, it would have to do.

There were more creaks and squeals from the next room as Sheldon rolled over in his sleep, and James licked his lips. "Someday," he said quietly, sleepily plotting ways to expose his shy roomie to the wonders of the world. "Someday."

---

"What are you doing Friday night?"

Sheldon coughed a little bit, downing the huge mouthful of salad with a swig of water. "This Friday?" he said softly, as he said everything. "Uhm, probably staying in. Why?"

James reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a little index card, holding it up for the big horse to read. Sheldon squinted at it. "'Probably staying in'," he said slowly, and then blinked and blushed. "I guess I say that a lot, don't I?"

"Do you? I haven't noticed," James winked innocently. "And I ask because I think you need to come with me to the Red Light this Friday night. It's their one year anniversary so they've got this special where they lower the price on drinks every hour, and they've got a live DJ, and I think it's about time you got out and strutted your stuff."

Sheldon looked abashed and, James was a little surprised to notice, looked annoyed as well. "Thanks for offering," he said quietly, "but I don't think so. I don't like to go out that much."

James passed over another card, which Sheldon dutifully read. "'I don't like to go out'. How many of these cards do you have?"

"Enough," the little fox said evenly, resting his head on his paw. "How can you live like that? I know you don't mind the occasional drink, since you go through a bottle or two of wine a week, and I know you like music, since I can hear your speakers through the door."

"Sorry," Sheldon started to say, but another card landed on his plate. He picked it up. "'Stop saying sorry, too'," he read stiffly.

James wondered if he had gone too far; the big equine's jaw muscles worked rhythmically, teeth clenching, powerful neck muscles bunching. He could hear the long, bushy tail sweeping side to side behind him, and there was considerably more fire in Sheldon's eyes than the little fox was used to seeing. He meant all of this in goodwill, he really did, wanting nothing more than to see Sheldon smile, but the thundercloud expression on that long face made him doubt himself.

A moment later that thundercloud passed and Sheldon just chuckled resignedly. "I am a little predictable, aren't I?" he said, with a different quality to his voice. He seemed less... rigid. Shy, skittish Sheldon looked more relaxed than James had seen in a while. "I do like music," he went on, little plaintively, "and I do like to dance, but... it's been a while since I have, and I just don't like crowds that much. It's a little silly to drink and dance alone in your room, so I just usually try to, you know, get on with my life."

James reached across the table and patted Sheldon's heavy black fetlock, and the big horse flinched, actually flinched! "Hey, you don't need to go out on Friday," he said quickly, "I just thought... well, I wanted you to have fun. I know, I know, it's not my place to force you to do anything, as though I even could, you're twice my size, but I see you working hard all day, working the dinner and dessert shift on weekends, and I even do all your grocery shopping. There's a big crazy world out there, and you're making it very sad that it doesn't get to have you in it!"

He paused to catch his breath, and then wondered if, perhaps, that speech hadn't been just a little bit over the top. He pulled his hand back, his turn to be a little bashful, and munched a piece of garlic toast, trying to cover his uncertainty.

Sheldon took another bite of salad, chewing thoughtfully. "You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

The sudden shift in body language was throwing James off. Sheldon seemed to have taken the initiative for the conversation, was leaning forward in his seat with a faint air of anticipation. Well, well, well, the big horse does have a spine above that cute rump after all! "I've been thinking about it a little, ever since the first month anniversary of you moving in here," he said with a grin, "and I invited you out to the Boiler, and you said you didn't really like to go out to the clubs, you'd rather stay in. I thought, ok, cool, no problem, to each their own. But you spend more time in your room than out of it, and, yes, you pay half the rent and it's not my place to pry into your life, but... I like you, we're friends. I want to take you out for a good time." And in the back of James' mind, he hoped more than just a good time on the dance floor.

The statuesque hoss chuffed. "The Red Light?"

James nodded happily. "Yeah, doors open at eight."

"Friday's a big night, I'll probably be on shift until eight. Meet you there around nine? That'll give me time to change."

"Yeah, definitely! Whatever you say." James tilted his head. "Do you have anything club-worthy? I always see you in the same three outfits."

"I've got... one or two things," Sheldon said with a grin, reaching for more salad. "I just don't get much occasion to wear them."

"Now you do," the little fox said, sticking his tongue out and pushing his chair back from the table."So eat your salad, I made dessert."

---

That Friday, though, leaning against the huge oak-and-brass countertop that punctuated the dance floor of the Red Light and sipping a Mexican beer he wasn't particularly fond of, James was having second thoughts about the whole thing.

Not that he regretted inviting Sheldon out, far from it. That had still been a terrific idea, a sound idea full of promise and excitement, or perhaps the promise of excitement. There was a wild streak to the big horse, he'd seen evidence of it, as much as Sheldon tried to pretend he was just a humble certified Master Chef who spent all of his spare time reading e-books and listening to music.

No, what James regretted was thinking that Sheldon would go through with it this time, when he had declined every other night. James had pushed him beyond what simple polite refusals could handle. His little cue card trick had upped the ante, to the point where Sheldon had been compelled to say yes, or risk hurting the little fox's feelings. He supposed that it was a kind gesture at that, wanting to spare James the discomfort, but leaning against the bar, watching the clock tick past eleven, he was feeling something far worse, particularly when its backed up by its friends Beer and Loneliness: Rejection.

A svelte minkette leaned against the bar next to him, bumping him gently and rhythmically with her hips. "Hey," she said in a rich, throaty voice, though she had to hold her head close to his to be heard over the pounding music, tilting over slightly as she was still an inch or two taller than he was. "Why the long face, cutie?"

James smiled half-heartedly, but before he could answer the pale silver minkette turned away and shouted her drink order to the bartender, something called a Screaming Orgasm. She was wearing a little black dress that had probably been sprayed on, and he had to admit it looked pretty good on her. On another night he'd have had no qualms about cutting up the floor with her, after making it clear that she wasn't about to get lucky, but tonight his heart just wasn't in it. She looked back and grinned expectantly. "Well?"

The fox just sighed. "Got stood up."

"Bitch," she said easily. "You can do better, am I right?"

"I dunno," he said hesitantly. "I... I have turned down a couple other dates, I suppose, trying to get this to work. Looking back on it, it seems kind of silly."

She leaned in closer, her forehead almost bumping his and giving him an excellent view down the nearly-nonexistent front of her dress. He fancied that if he really tried he could see her toes. "Wanna know the best way to forget about it?"

He just chuckled knowingly. "Sure."

"Buying me a drink," she winked.

"But you've got-" he started, but as soon as the bartender put down the frilly pink tumbler, the minkette threw her head back and downed it in one go. She hooted hoarsely and shook herself from head to toe, smiling wildly. "Uhm! Never mind."

"That was just to get the motor running," she said, pressing considerably more hip against him.

Ok, it's a little mean to drag this out anymore, he thought, unable to hide his amusement. "Look, I wasn't stood up by a lady," he said.

"Hah! I knew it! No-one would stand up a cutie like you. What's the prob, then?" She was swaying slightly, and James fancied he knew the type. A few more drinks and she likely would be found on the centre of the dance floor, wriggling and writhing and probably having more than a few indecent cel-phone pictures snapped of her. Oh, how recently that would have been him...

"I was stood up by a guy," he said, straightening up and trying to look her honestly in the eye.

The minkette blinked, smiled, frowned, cocked her head to the side, and then half-spun to lean back against the bar, arching herself impressively. "I've gotta have, like, stealth gaydar, or something," she said, equal parts amusement and dejection. "It's so good, even I don't know it's working. You sure about this?"

"I'm sure."

The hand not currently holding a drink slid up her body, blunt little nails caressing and highlighting the swells of her well-filled dress. "This doesn't do anything for you?"

James laughed. "I have to admit, it's been a while since someone's tried to de-convert me," he said, slouching against the bar and winking at her. "But no, I'm sorry. I'll buy you that drink, though, if you want."

A small but powerful hand gripped his shirt and he found himself dragged upright by the capricious minkette. "Drink after. Dance first. You still need cheering up and I need someone with some moves."

His feet tried to keep up with her as she hauled him bodily onto the dance floor "But I... what makes you think I have moves?" he asked a little desperately.

"Gay fox wearing pants that tight? You've got some moves," she shouted, to the amusement of everyone within earshot.

Eventually James relented, as he always did. The strange inverse to the minkette's issue, he seemed to attract throngs of thoroughly desirable and thoroughly heterosexual women. Oddly, when they found out they weren't about to get lucky, they were even more interested than before, and he was rarely wanting for a free drink or a dance partner.

As the bouncing, swaying crowds closed in around them, he smiled and tried to enjoy the night, losing himself in the pounding music. Sheldon might have shot him down, but he wasn't about to let that ruin his evening!

---

"Bum bum da dum dum," he hummed unsteadily to himself, managing to unlock the door on the third try and stumble into the darkened apartment. He tried to support himself with the door, but it kept swaying from side to side, very unhelpfully. He yanked his keys free and slammed the door shut with his knee.

"Hmm hmmm da dum dum," he continued, dancing drunkenly through the minefield of furniture and eventually fetching up against the kitchen counter. He flicked on the lights (seriously, who put the light switch nearest to the door in the kitchen?) and started to rummage around in the pantry for a snack, something to settle his stomach. It was amazing how Mexican beer started to taste better, the more you had.

He manage to produce a box of Cheese Nips and tore the top off with his teeth. He was munching happily away when he noticed the note pinned to the fridge, just below the week's food bills.

"'James, sorry about tonight, didn't get off work until ten and didn't feel like dancing, I'll make it up to you, Sheldon'," he read slowly, pausing now and then to let the words swim back into focus. His jaw clenched, his eyes hardened, and it was testament to the frustration filling his little body that he managed to stand straight up as well. "Yeah, right."

The box of Cheese Nips fell to the floor, but he stepped over the mess and marched through the apartment. It was close to one in the morning, but he didn't care. A little black-furred fist pounded on Sheldon's bedroom door, rattling it in it's frame. "Sheldon!" he shouted, wincing at the noise. "Sheldon," he tried again, a little bit quieter this time, "are you awake?"

There was silence. James tried the handle, but it refused to move. "Door's locked, Sheldon, I know you're in there, and now you're just faking sleep so you don't have to see me."

Bed springs creaked in protest, a symphony of tortured metal. "Hi, James," the horse said softly, though he could still be heard through the door. "Look, I'm sorry, but I had to work late."

James bonked his forehead against the door. "What do you have against going out?"

"Nothing! Nothing, honest," Sheldon said, and he truly did seem to be a little sad about it. "I just... I don't really like crowds, and tonight was a crazy dessert night, we had so many people coming in. I think it's because the first showing of Avengers let out around nine, and-"

"I didn't mind before," James interrupted, "when I'd ask you out and you'd say no. You had lots of good reasons, I guess. You didn't like dancing, you didn't like crowds, you didn't feel like it, your ankle hurt... you had good reasons. Tonight, you didn't have a good reason, but you still didn't come. You could have just said no."

"I didn't want to say no! I wanted to-"

"You're lying!" James shouted again, voice hitching.

Sheldon paused. "No, I'm not."

"I called the restaurant at nine-thirty," James said tiredly. "They said you went home right when your shift was over."

The big horse was silent so long James feared he'd fallen asleep again, or maybe climbed out his window. At length there was a sigh, a long and deeply frustrated sigh. "I'm sorry," Sheldon said wretchedly. "Again."

"You could have just said no," James repeated, all the anger gone from his body. "You didn't need to jerk me around."

"You kept asking, and you looked so determined, I didn't want to say no again!"

"It's my fault, I guess," James continued, as though the hoss hadn't spoken. He sagged against the door, eyes half-lidded. "I wouldn't take no for an answer, and I really should have. You don't want to hang out with me, and that's cool. I can come on a little strong, and you can do better."

So many bed springs screeched it was like a chorus of trains skidding to a stop, and there was a thump that seemed to rattle the windows. "No! James, don't say that!" Sheldon said, a hint of panic entering his voice. "That's not it at all! I just..."

"You just what?" the fox said numbly, wanting nothing more than to feel his bed.

"I didn't lie about crowds," Sheldon said anxiously. "But it's more than that. I'm a little afraid of... new people. Crowds make me nervous, but when it's a person I... I like, when it's someone who likes me back, then it's not easy for me to control myself. Out, at a club, with you... it's a lot for me to handle."

James had nearly fallen asleep standing up, but his ears perked at those last words. "With me?" he echoed. "You'd feel afraid, around me?"

"Kind of," Sheldon said, and James recognized that bashful note again.

"Because... you like me?"

"Kind of," he said again through the door, and James felt a little tingle pass through his body. "Look, there's... I have a couple issues."

"We've lived together for almost a year, and you're telling me this now?"

"I didn't mean to lead you along! I tried not to, I really tried to just sort of keep to myself and not give off any signals, and... are you drunk?"

"Not in the slightest!" James said indignantly. "I was drunk a couple hours ago! Now I am simply sociably inebriated."

"Were you drinking alone?" Sheldon said worriedly.

"No, a lovely girl named... named... named Ascot bought me most of them. Excellent dancer. Tiny dress." He'd seen a lot of what lay under that dress, after a few more drinks had apparently raised her body temperature to the point where she was too uncomfortable to remain fully clothed.

"Are you ok?"

"Never better! My roommate likes me but won't come out of his room, spend time with me or look at me, and the only types I attract at the bar are nubile young ladies who seem to think they can turn me to the Dark Side with boob jobs and Schnapps. What's not to be ok about?"

"James, I'm really sorry, please don't be upset-"

The fox thumped his fist against the door, and it was pure luck that he heard a faint click from the handle. He looked down incredulously, licked his lips, and reached for the handle, half expecting it to bite or explode. "I'm not upset," he said slowly. "I'm just... confused."

"I didn't mean to-" Sheldon started, but he was cut off by James twisting the handle and throwing the door into the horse's room open. Well, he tried to throw it open; he'd certainly given it a hard enough push. It only swung in about halfway before it thumped into something dense but yielding and rattled slowly shut again.

It was open long enough for James to catch quite an eyeful, though.

There was a panicked whinny and the door was slammed shut again. Sheldon fumbled with the lock, sounding like someone slamming feather pillows against the far side of the door. Another click signified that the door was secured, and the entire frame creaked as the horse's bulk coming to rest against it told James that it wasn't going to get opened again that night, no matter what.

But he didn't care about that. His mind spun with the brief vision of Sheldon's room, scale and proportion falling by the wayside. The only light behind him was coming from the kitchen, and Sheldon's little lamp had almost been completely hidden, but there had been enough contrast to make out what little space remained in there.

"Sh-Sheldon?" James quavered.

The door creaked. "Yes?" Sheldon said, now not just nervous; he was terrified.

"What... what the hell was that?"

"Nothing! I tripped!"

"Tripped nothing! That was... you!"

"No, it wasn't!"

"Well, then what was it?!"

James's little body shook, and he wasn't sure why. Excitement? Fear? Some strange third option that his mind had never experienced before, or even heretofore considered? It was like waking up one morning and discovering that you could fly. Only better.

He cleared his throat, clarity rushing back, forcing aside the fog of alcohol. "Does that happen to you... a lot?"

The enormous weight on the other side of the door shifted again, and another thump rattled the glasses in the cupboards. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sheldon, we're past that now," James chided, gently, through the door. "I saw it. I saw... I saw you. Does that happen often?"

Sheldon sighed hugely. "More than I want, yes," he confessed.

James nearly pulled a muscle, he was grinning so hard. "You look fine in the mornings!" A moment later, he mentally added, Very, very fine indeed. "You go back to normal?"

"Yup."

James couldn't resist. "Sort of like the Inc-"

"The Incredible Hulk, yes," Sheldon replied, and the little fox could hear his eyes rolling. "Haven't heard that one for a while."

James's face fell. "Awww, Shel, you know I didn't mean it like that. How come you never told me about this before?"

But even as he spoke, he knew the reason. Chronic instigative macrophysiopathy was a rare condition, not technically a disease but more of a disorder. James had only ever heard of one person within his area, a raccoon a couple years older than he, growing up ever having it, and after several unfortunate incidents during puberty he'd ended up getting it 'cured', through a complicated series of procedures involving half a dozen glands and hormone therapy. By all accounts he was doing fine and was living happily in the big city, but privately James had always thought it a shame.

Of course, growing up, it hadn't been so easy for the coonboy. James had heard a dozen stories about his awkward teenaged years, and had read about dozens more that other furs had endured. Mockery from the other boys, people trying to initiate a clothes-ruining growth spurt to humiliate the unlucky victim, romantic dates being ruined by sudden rushes of excitement, and of course the accidental injuries so often incurred in close spaces. There was never any requirement for anyone to cure, or even treat the condition, but there were countless insurance problems that they would likely have for their entire lives, not to mention the constant threat of things getting out of hand.

Most, as James understood it, lived in fear and, above all, privacy.

"Experience," Sheldon said softly, although given his current size, it was still quite loud.

During his brief glimpse into the room, James had seen Sheldon sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall and hunched over his laptop computer. Normally this would be fairly unremarkable, except where, even seated, Sheldon's ears were brushing the ceiling and his long, muscular and thoroughly sexy legs stretched nearly the full width of the room. The laptop had looked like nothing more than a cel phone, balanced carefully on one thigh, with Sheldon tapping at the keyboard with a long, slender wand.

Don't think about his shorts, don't think about his shorts, don't think about his shorts...

"I understand," James said, "and I can't say that I blame you. It's... it's not an easy to thing to live with, from what I've heard, and you've probably had more than enough problems in your life. Still, I can't help but feel that I want to give you a good hard slap upside the head for keeping this from me."

Sheldon's surprise was palpable in his voice. "You what?"

"You heard me!" James said brightly with the sort of ear-to-ear grin that takes a fox to truly pull off. "Fucking hell, I'd have dragged you out to the clubs MONTHS ago if I'd known about this!"

Several seconds went by, and then, "You what?"

"Can you open the door again?" James crooned, resting his paw on the handle.

"Uhm... no," Sheldon said, though he seemed conflicted. "It's... it's probably for the best if I don't. It's late and you're drunk, and... and this isn't a big enough room."

"It's bigger than my room."

"Even so," the horse replied, though there was, at long last, a chuckle. "How do I know this isn't just the booze talking? That's happened to me before, you know... it didn't end well."

"Because... because... well, because you've known me for a year, and I've known you for a year, and this is probably the first time we've talked about anything other than bills, dinner, and what to watch on Netflix. Hey, is this why you wouldn't watch anything with Brad Pitt in it?"

Sheldon chuffed. "No! It... well, sort of..."

"HAH! I knew it! You like him!"

"No! I mean... kind of..."

James was leaning against the door for support now, not because the drink had affected his balance, but because he was laughing too hard to worry about it. "That's it, tomorrow night we're watching Fight Club and The Mexican."

"What? No!"

"It's either that, or we hit the Red Light."

"No!" Sheldon said, sounding panicked again.

"Or the third option... I tell the rest of the crew at your restaurant."

The door bulged outwards as Sheldon exhaled in disbelief. "You wouldn't."

"Foxes never bluff."

James counted thirty ticks from the cuckoo clock in the living room before Sheldon answered. "One drink at the Red Light, and then I get to come home."

James's entire world seemed to turn a warm, fuzzy pink. "Goodnight, Sheldon," he said softly, stroking the door as though the big horse could feel it through the particle board. "And just so you know, because I think you need to know this right now... I'm glad I found out, though I'm sorry it had be like this."

Sheldon, who still couldn't believe that this was really happening and half-expected to wake up at any moment, just said, "Yeah. Goodnight."

James patted the door fondly, cleaned up the mess of crackers, got himself a glass of water and crawled into his own bed. Normally he clutched the blankets tightly, wrapping himself in a little cocoon of warm security, but tonight he had to kick them off after a few seconds. His body was flushed, he was practically perspiring despite the cool night air, and his foxhood ached with arousal.

One fleeting second, one single glance at Sheldon's incredibly grown physique, and James had been two strokes away from completion for the rest of the night. It had taken an act of supreme willpower not to take that final step, to keep his hands safely at his sides, and his worried at being too anxious to sleep were definitely unfounded. Within minutes he was snoring softly, lulled into dreamland by the rhythmic creaking of the springs and floorboards coming from the next room.

"I'm never going to get tired of hearing that now," he murmured woozily to himself before his eyes closed and sleep claimed him.

Part 2: The Big Night

Saturday morning, James was roused from from incredibly vague and nonspecific but undeniably erotic dreams by the sound of the front door closing. He sat bolt upright in bed, completely naked and devoid of any blankets, and opened his mouth to call out for Sheldon before realizing it was pointless.

He shivered slightly, dragged the blankets back onto the bed, and curled up, now thoroughly awake but still in need of some early morning cuddle time. Ok, it made sense, he thought, Sheldon probably wouldn't take everything I said at face value, and I don't blame him for sneaking out. After a night like that, would I want to face my roomie, sober, first thing the next morning?

Well, yes, he answered, but I didn't grow up with a condition like that.

His desire to be patient and understanding warred with his desire to wrap his arms around Sheldon's neck and show the big hoss just what a little foxie could do in the right frame of mind. It was too early for his hormones to be anything but sluggish, so the patience won out.

"You win this one, Shel," he whispered to himself, tugging the blankets higher, "but there's no need to be afraid. You'll see."

It was a good twenty minutes later before he ventured out, robe tied tightly around his waist, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He started taking a mental checklist of everything that his body was complaining about, and after the initial overwhelming response he was forced to deal with them all one by one. The back of his head was throbbing, his neck was cricked, his throat was parched, his tongue felt like Astro-Turf, and he was pretty sure he'd pulled a muscle in his hip dancing with... with... what was her name again?

"Ascot," he chided himself, going about the calming ceremony of prepping the coffee machine. "Oh, what a... wait..."

He glanced at his palm, and sure enough, there was a phone number written in what looked like permanent ink, along with the hastily-scrawled words 'if u chng ur mind!' "Ah," he said flatly, already preparing to go out and buy some Fast Orange to scrub the ink away. It was some sort of gay cloaking device, that had to be it.

James flicked on the coffee machine and went to add the item to the shopping list on the fridge when he saw another note, this one written in Sheldon's careful all-caps print.

James,

Sorry about last night.

That was a little unexpected.

I need a little time to think.

But I haven't forgotten.

The Red Light at Nine.

Thank you for being you.

Sheldon

James nearly pulled another muscle in his muzzle, his grin was so huge. His tongue lolled as he re-read the note two or three more times. Sheldon might be shy, introverted, skittish and downright adorably cautious, but he'd never stand him up twice. Not now that James knew what he knew...

Sheldon actually was working Saturday, though only the afternoon shift, so James could only hazard guesses as to what he'd be doing the rest of the day. The horse spent so much time either straight-up working or alone in his room, he wondered if Sheldon even knew what to do to kill time. Library? Movie in the late afternoon? Clothes shopping? Where did a horse buy clothes when he might suddenly outgrow them? They must go through a lot of Velcro.

A sidelong glance at Sheldon's bedroom door distracted him right until the coffee percolator started to burble. Oh, to see beyond that door, he thought, even if he's not home. Were there hoofmarks in the walls? Head-bumps on the ceiling? Did he have lots of different sizes of clothes? The shorts he was wearing the night before still seemed to be fitting, although the big fella had swollen so much larger than normal, and not just height-wise.

He became aware he was licking his lips, and blushed. "Don't get too far ahead," he scolded himself, pouring a small hot-tub's worth of coffee and wandering over to his computer. He had Saturday off, and his only plans had been to relax for a couple hours, go for a jog, maybe go for a swim in the apartment building's pool, and of course prep dinner for him and his roomie. That last item was scratched, though, so he had several more hours than expected. What to do, what to do?

James looked over at his computer, gulped a hot mouthful of coffee and flexed his paws. "Research," he grinned wickedly, already thinking up exciting search topics.

---

"I didn't expect to see you so soon!" Ascot shouted into his ear.

James sipped his drink, having selected a much more palatable cocktail tonight. Although he was leaning with both elbows against the bar, his hips were swaying in time with the music, tail twitching back and forth. "Me either!" he yelled back. "How're you?"

"Good!" she hooted, gyrating lewdly against him, having determined he was 'safe'. "Gotten over that guy, I take it? Out for some fun?"

"Nope!"

Ascot's face fell slightly. The minkette had obviously had more than one drink before spotting the petite fox, and when she put her hand on his arm it was more for balance than commiseration. "Well, I guess never giving up is a virtue..."

"We talked. A lot, last night," James explained loudly, blinking away the potent cloud of her perfume. "I was a little drunk, and I said some things that I probably wouldn't have said when I was straight... er, you know, sober. And... he's coming here tonight."

"Wow," she said, smiling brightly. "Good for you! Making a complete drunken fool of yourself has solved more problems than the A-bomb, I swear. What did he have to say? Did you confess over the phone, or go over to his place?"

James blinked and grinned. "I guess I didn't mention that yesterday, eh?" he asked. Ascot blinked, moving her face right up close to his, so when he replied his nose bumped against hers. "We're roommates"

The minkette blinked again, her lips slowly parting. She exhaled suddenly, her head drooping forward until she was resting against his shoulder. "Oh, honey, honey, honey," she said, sounding almost sad, "why? Why, why, why? Roommates? That's a recipe for disaster! You don't date teachers, you don't date students, you don't date co-workers. You can fuck them, sure, but you don't DATE them!"

"That's as well as may be," he chuckled into her ear, giving her a fleeting hug, "but I'm still trying. He's special. He's... different."

Ascot clucked her tongue, shaking her head back and forth. "You're so young," she murmured, tapping his muzzle with one finger. "But I can't stop you."

James was about to reply but the minkette straightened her back, squared her shoulders and smiled determinedly. "What I CAN do, however, is buy you a celebration drink! I don't want him escaping because you're not goofy enough to tell him how you feel and make some highly inappropriate groping on the dance floor." She put her thumb and forefinger between her lips and wolf-whistled so loudly the fox thought he might have gone deaf on the right side. "Bartender! Down here, bucko!"

The pair had clinked their glasses together and were taking sips when James' finely-tuned Sheldon-sense picked up some motion from the far corner of the bar, a shadowy zone occupied by bathrooms and coat-checks. He peeked over the bouncing crowd, making out a shaggy ear here, a hint of nubian mane there. Sheldon had indeed reverted back to his 'normal size', if such a term could be used to describe him, but he still had a couple inches on most people around him, and the slowly navigating shape was easy to track.

"What is it?" Ascot asked, trying to follow his line of sight. "You see him?"

"I think so," James said, twisting in his seat, trying to follow. "That looks like his hair... he's got really dark hair, considering his furtone, but... hold on, I can't quite..."

And that was when Sheldon seemed to materialize beyond the far edge of the bar, slipping between a cluster of wolves waiting to refill their pitchers of beer. The big hoss was scanning side to side, back and forth, eyes hard and intent like laserbeams, and James had to stifle a smile. He looks about as comfortable in a bar as I would look driving a bulldozer, he thought. The golden-furred equine seemed to pass over the little fox, but then he snapped around, blinked, and smiled nervously, making a little wave.

"Wow," a sultry voice said against his ear, "I think I see why you're after him."

Sheldon clip-clopped over, but paused, blinking curiously. James cocked his head, wondering what could be throwing the sexy beast off when he realized that Ascot was whispering into his ear, her arms were slung around his neck and her impressively full breasts were pressing quite obviously against the back of his head. He stood up with a jerk, forcing her back with a gleeful squeak, and raked his fingers through his hair nervously. "Er... hi," he said slowly. "This, uh... this is Ascot. Ascot, Sheldon."

"Hi," she said brightly, shaking his hand vigorously. "Pleased to meet you! James has told me so much about you."

Sheldon's expression froze with panic, and James patted his hand reassuringly. "Just good stuff! Good stuff, honest." It had been a lot to take in all at once, but the little fox was realizing that the Sheldon standing before him was unlike any he'd seen before, although still far different than the one he had met the previous night. Normally his roomie could only be seen in dark slacks and a white shirt, sometimes a t-shirt if he was feeling casual, and if it was cold a heavy jacket. Outside of a few color variations, that was it.

But this version of Sheldon was wearing a tight black t-shirt that seemed at least one size too small, a stripe of golden fur visible around his waist, and James hadn't noticed just how well defined the horse's musculature was. He was more powerfully built than James had expected, something he was surprised he hadn't noticed the night before, but there had been a lot of other stuff to distract him. James' eyes flickered down, admiring the way the equally tight blue jeans showed off the horse's legs and trying desperately, and failing spectacularly, not to ogle the enormously full bulge straining at the zipper.

"Good stuff?" Sheldon asked archly, but his lips were twisted in a wry grin. "You can blink, if you want. I told you, I have a couple other things beyond just what I wear to work."

"Yow," James said, tongue lolling. "You should wear this more often! It's... gosh, you know when you see someone on the street, a lawyer or a cop or something, you know they have to unwind and cut loose on the weekends, grab a drink and hit the dance floor and get funky, but you just can't picture it? It's like that."

"Funky? Hmmm, not sure I can do funky..."

James swatted the big horse on the arm playfully. "I'll teach you. Can I get you a drink?"

Sheldon shook his head, mane flying, and James recognized the look on his face again. It was a look he'd seen before, many times, although considerably more in recent weeks. It was the flash of panic, the flash of fear, and perhaps for the first time the cunning fox realized the source of that emotion. His eyes widened in sympathy, and he placed his hand on Sheldon's shoulder. "Look, I know you're not used to... being out. I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do, but I also want you to know that I want to you to have fun and enjoy yourself, whatever form that takes."

Ascot cocked her head and Sheldon just stared at his hooves, or at the very least tried to see them beyond the curve of his straining jeans. "Yeah, I know," he said shyly, incongruous considering his height and attire. All around them James could see appraising and appreciative stares aimed at the statuesque equine, but Sheldon seemed completely oblivious. "I just don't drink, usually."

"You have wine at home!"

"Yeah, I guess, but... then I go to my room."

Ascot stared back and forth between James and Sheldon, head tilting up and down like a rollercoaster. "You two are starting out with more issues than most people have after a year together, you know that? Hey, whatever. Good luck, you guys," she said, patting James' paw, "and I'll even float you a freebie." She put her fingers between her lips and blasted another wolf whistle, drawing the bartender's attentions again.

"She seems... nice," Sheldon said once a drink had been forced between his fingers and the sultry minkette had sauntered off. "Met her last night, you say?"

"Yeah. She kinda makes friends by brute force." James clinked his glass against Sheldon's, pink blended drinks sloshing. "You don't have to drink that, I guess, but I do hope you think about loosening up."

"I don't loosen up that well," the big hoss started to say, but James reached up, way up, and clamped his fuzzy fingers around that muzzle.

"No," James said simply while the music thundered around them, bodies bouncing and gyrating and grinding to the beat. The little fox's voice was thick with worry, his brows together pleadingly. "Don't say that, don't make excuses. I've known you for a year, and anytime I try to reach out and get close to you, you pull back. I can understand pulling away from your... condition, but don't pull away from friendship."

Sheldon seemed to sag in defeat, and James released his mouth. "And you thought Ascot made friends by brute force," he said with a small smile. "But... thank you. Really. This is... it's nice to get out."

"See? I told you. I'm always right," the little fox said casually. "The sooner you realize that, the better." He hopped back up onto his barstool, putting him a few inches closer to Sheldon's head. "Come on, have a seat. You'll need to save your strength for when I drag you out onto the dance floor"

The panic-face surfaced again, but slowly faded. Sheldon looked pensive, worried, and then, at long last... relaxed. "You had all day to think about last night," the big horse said, easing onto the adjacent barstool, "and you're still here with me. I take it to mean that you're not exactly scared off?"

"Scared? I thought we covered this last night! I don't know whether to smack the stupid out of you or kiss you."

Sheldon thought about it. "Do I get a vote?"

"No."

"Oh. In that case, I hope you pick-"

The rest of the horse's comment was cut off by James, standing with remarkable speed on his barstool and gripping those broad shoulders, kissing him full on the mouth. It was powerful, passionate, but brief, and Sheldon was left blinking dazedly while James settled his rump back down at the bar and ordered another drink.

"-the first one," Sheldon finished lamely. "Huh."

"I just wanted to get that out of the way," James said, taking a sip from his refilled glass. "You know, in those romantic movies they always spend the first three-quarters of the damn movie each wondering if the other one likes him, if they're good enough for the other one, if they're fooling themselves, then they have the big moment at the end where they discover that all their fears were unfounded? I hate that bullshit. I like you. ALL of you. And now you know."

Sheldon had to laugh. "Have you felt this way for the whole year we've lived together?"

"Meh, I was fooling myself for the first six months. Then I was wondering if you liked me, if I was good enough for you," he said wryly. "Maybe that was the first three-quarters of OUR movie."

"You've got hidden cameras, don't you?"

"No-o-o-o-o," James said with feigned innocence.

They smiled at eachother, and for perhaps the first time James felt as though he was meeting the real Sheldon. He said as much, and Sheldon just nodded. "It's not easy. Most of us spend so much of our lives just trying to keep a low profile."

"When did you, you know, start acting up? I know most of the time it hits in late puberty, but there's different tells and triggers for different varieties of CIM."

Sheldon blinked. "You know an awful lot about this," he said. "but yeah, I was sixteen the first time it happened. Small blessing I wasn't out in public!"

"Can I ask what happened?"

Sheldon had been asked this several times during his life, and he'd developed several quick responses to deflect these lines of questioning, but in the face of James's earnest interest, that genuine affection and not just the brief flashes of sick curiosity, he couldn't bring himself to use them. Instead he said, "Not much happened, actually. Not much that I remember. I was asleep, and I was having a... good dream."

"Ooooo," James purred. "And?"

"And... I woke up when the bed broke. Woke up my parents, too. And then it woke up the neighbours when the firemen got there and cut a hole in my wall. It wasn't a very good night after that."

James' jaw dropped, and Sheldon just nodded. The big horse recounted the feelings of shame, the whole neighbourhood gathered outside on the sidewalk, pointing and giggling and laughing as the much, much, much bigger teen unfolded himself from the second floor of the house and sat, naked and terrified, on the lawn. The firemen tried to force the crowds back, and a boat tarp was found in the garage and dragged out to cover his body, but the damage had been done.

The song segued from a thumping dubstep mix into a much more laid-back and slow-building house track, but James hardly noticed. He kept picturing the scene in his mind, Sheldon leaning against the chainsawed side of his house as though it were an armchair, folks in their bathrobes gathered around, flashing lights...

When the laughter started, he tried to stifle it and failed spectacularly. Bubbling giggles became full-on guffaws, and Sheldon's eyes hardened when the little fox was forced to grip his stomach to keep his balance.

"It wasn't funny," the big hoss pouted, which only caused James to laugh even harder.

"I... I know," he wheezed, trying to get ahold of himself. "It's... it's terrible... but..." His voice rose as high as a soprano's and he collapsed against the bar in another fit of laughter. He tried to stop, he really did, but another look at Sheldon and imagining the huge tarp covering him only from ankle to chest set him off all over again.

Sheldon stood up, placing his drink on the bar with elaborate care. "This probably wasn't a good idea," he said quietly.

He had only taken one step when James' practically wrapped himself around the horse's midsection. The fox pressed his head against Sheldon's broad back, still laughing but managing to override it enough to speak. "Don't go! Please, don't go, I'm trying not to laugh, it's really not funny what happened but... but the tarp..." And then he was giggling uncontrollably again, snorting into Sheldon's shirt.

The equine tried to pry James' fingers from around his waist, but after a few seconds he gave up. "It's not that nice to laugh at my problems," he said.

"Laugh or cry, big fella, laugh or cry," James said when he had gotten his breath back.

Sheldon inhaled, forcing James' arms apart, and gripped the edge of the bar. "People have told me that before, you know. It's nothing new."

"Did they think you were the most gorgeous creature in the world and want to pin you down and do naughty, naughty things to you?"

A reply took so long to come that James was worried that Sheldon had fallen asleep standing up. "I don't think so," he said at last, patting the foxy hand that was still held against his belly button.

"Liar. I know I can't have been the first," James chided, giving a final squeeze before releasing the bigger man. "I'm still sorry for laughing, though. Still friends? Not going anywhere?"

Sheldon let go of the bar and slowly turned to face James. "Still friends," he said gently, patting the fox's hair, "and not going anywhere. It's weird, all these years, when I tell people that story, and I've told it more times than I wanted to, no-one ever laughed. Deep down, I thought a couple wanted to, but they always just looked concerned and apologetic, as though they could make up for the actions of a bunch of looky-loos and my own whacky genes. But you? You laughed your ass off."

"I said sorry-" James started to reply.

"And I think I want to laugh at it, too," Sheldon said softly, settling back into his seat and grabbing the pink layered drink once again. "Why suffer, right?"

"What? Right! Exactly!" James pounded the bar with his palm, hopping back up on his own stool. "You've been given a heck of a gift! I know it's a pretty inconvenient gift, from the sounds of it, but it's incredible and amazing and sexy..." His voice faded near the end and he tried to cover it up with a cough.

Sheldon stared sidelong at the blushing fox, his lips curling up at the corners. "It's not often I hear people say that, at least offline."

"I knew it! You're on some sort of macro dating site, aren't you? Which one? BigLove? SizeMatters?" James' tail was wagging powerfully, swatting away a feline who had been trying to get a refill on her martini.

"And you know those names how exactly?"

"I, uh, did some reading up. Today! Not, like, before. Well, that's not entirely true, I tried it before, couple years ago, but I wussed out on the one person who actually seemed interested and then I never went back because I always figured I was afraid of them and they were afraid of me and I'm babbling now, aren't I?"

Sheldon was nodding, eyes sparkling. "Only a little bit. But that's ok. It's actually kind of sweet. And... it was SizeMatters. They don't have many people in the area, and even though I'm marked down as gay I still get four or five women a week wanting to meet me."

"Is that why you actually DO go out now and then? I knew it! You seem all furtive and... secrety."

"Is secrety a word?"

"I don't know!"

Sheldon sighed and sipped his drink, downing half of it in one go. "Yeah, it is, sometimes. Mostly it's just coffee, you know. Getting to meet people, seeing if something will develop. But they're... they're never right for me."

"Why not?"

The big horse started to answer, paused and seemed to revise what he had been about to say. "Because they're all drooling sex maniacs," he said at last. "We're drinking our coffee, we're eating our donuts, we're talking about books or music or movies, and I can see that they're only thinking about one thing. They're always trying to steer the conversation back to my condition, to what it was like as a teenager, to other lovers I've had, to... to other stuff, and, yeah, that's fun, for a while, but I want more than that. And they never, ever laugh at my cutting-a-hole-in-the-wall story."

"I keep saying sorry!"

Sheldon laughed. "Relax, James, relax. It was... kind of funny. Who knows, maybe if I'd been in the audience I'd have laughed, too."

Both men leaned against the bar, staring out at the crowds, and Sheldon finally seemed to be noticing that he was getting more than his fair share of return glances. James tried to keep his eyes above waist level, which was certainly pleasant enough considering how trim but broad Sheldon was. It was a strange proportion for a horse, who were normally either stocky and broad or lean and slender. The little fox found it very fetching. When he caught himself licking his lips again he glanced down bashfully and found his gaze coming to rest very comfortably on the horse's overstuffed jeans.

"Grr," he growled gently to himself, chastely looking back up to the dancers.

"You say something?"

"Nope!"

"Oh." Sheldon's tail swished back and forth like a mahogany palm frond, bumping into James' bushy own. "Thought I heard something."

"Just a cough."

"Ah." He took another sip of his drink. "Not bad. What is this?"

James leaned over and sniffed. "Cranberry juice, vodka and... uhm, Drambuie, I think? And crushed ice." He looked up into two huge, dark, staring eyes. "What?"

"You got all that from smell?"

"I... like to try different cocktails from time to time." Sheldon was grinning hugely. "What?!"

"Nothing! It's just... you get out so much more than me. You live life, so much more than me. I can't go out without living in constant fear that the wrong look or the wrong touch or the wrong thought is going to set something off."

"You can set it off with a thought?" James gasped.

"Yea-... no! Well, sometimes. You know how some thoughts trigger OTHER thoughts, and then you can't NOT think about them, kinda like thinking about elephants?"

James followed the logic to it's inevitable conclusion. "So you're thinking about it now?"

"No!"

"Your eyes say something different," he teased, patting Sheldon's hand. He was staring intently, though, trying to detect any perceptible changes in the big horse's... size.

But he just smiled. "You're trying to set me off, aren't you?"

"No!"

"Your eyes say something different," he fired back.

James started to protest, but in the end he just had to laugh and hang his head. "I'm not doing a very good job of this, am I? Here I am, trying to prove that I'm not like all those other guys, trying to prove that I like you for more than just your, ah, dimensions, and then I go and act like a hormonal teenager. S-"

"If you apologize again, I'm leaving."

"S-s-s-s.... so do you want to dance?" James finished lamely.

"More than anything," Sheldon smiled, standing up and taking James' hand.

Part 3: The Big Moment

It was shortly after 2am, shortly after last call, and shortly after James and Sheldon had been very nearly forcibly removed from the Red Light. The bouncers had been incredibly nice about it, smiling and joking and being so light with their grip that it was hardly like being gripped at all, while inexorably escorting the tipsy and jovial couple towards the front of the bar. Most of the patrons had already slipped away, and there were only a few lingering couples on the huge broad sidewalk, standing close together under the streetlights and passing a smoke back and forth.

Sheldon took a few long, staggering steps, hooves clattering on the concrete, but he managed to get himself upright. James wasn't so lucky and nearly overshot, grabbing frantically at the big horse's waist. "Ack! Sidewalk... slanty... hold on..."

Sheldon just laughed, grabbing the fox's shoulder. "Easy there, big fella. You're in no condition to... stand, I guess."

"I'm fine! I totally danced off any system in my alcohol! Er, alcohol in my whatever. Stop laughing at me!"

"But you're so cute!"

James leaned against the big, strong horse, wrapped his arms around that trim midsection and sighed. "Thanks," he purred. "You too. How are you not dr-" he started to say, but then he looked up.

The little fox blinked, tilted his head, looked down, then looked back up. He leaned back, fluffy paws against Sheldon's belly. "Are you taller?"

Sheldon was looking up at the clouds as though he hadn't heard. "Wow, the stars really look amazing at this hour, did you ever notice that? I see them out my window, sure, but... it's just not the same. Even the streetlights don't seem to be taking away from it."

"Don't you try and change the subject! This is your bellybutton," James said, poking at the exposed strip of golden fur. "It was down HERE when that Aphex Twin song was playing!"

"Er... where?"

James looked down and realized that his finger was resting quite unsubtly against the straining zipper of Sheldon's jeans. The little fox gasped and pulled his hand away as though burnt. "Ack! Sorry! I sort of can't feel my hands right now!"

"What did I tell you about saying sorry?" the bigger fellow chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "And it's a pity you can't feel your hands, that looked like a good spot."

James was having a hard time keeping track of the multiple directions the conversation was taking. "Sorr... er, nothing. And, I don't mean my hands were NUMB, I'm just not that... co-ordinated right now, and... are you taller?"

"What do you think?"

James straightened and found himself staring at the straight crease of Sheldon's chest. "Yup."

Sheldon squeezed the fox's shoulder, smiled, and then turned to walk away down the sidewalk, tail swishing, rump swaying. James staggered, his support now gone, and he had to compose himself in a hurry or find himself laid out on the concrete. "Hey! You come back here, darn you... well, one of you come back here." He started walking, weaving gently from side to side. "On second thought, maybe both of you should come back here, that sounds like it could be fun!"

He caught up to Sheldon before the end of the block, gripping the horse's strong tawny arm. "So you are taller," he chuckled triumphantly and more than a little woozily, nuzzling the elbow. "What set you off? Please say it was me."

Sheldon laughed. "Kind of. It's sort of everything." He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. "Let's just say when I'm in a good enough mood, things start happening."

James once again couldn't keep his eyes from flickering briefly to the horse's jeans. "I know the feeling," he purred, no easy feat for a fox. "But you're... what, you're controlling it? Or are you just not in a good enough mood yet?"

"I'm controlling it for now. Years of practice, you know," he said airily, crossing the street and pulling James along with him. "I wouldn't be any good in the real world if I couldn't at least control myself a little!"

"But you work in a kitchen! A hot, loud, noisy kitchen!"

"And, strange as it may sound, that's perfect for me," Sheldon said. "It's so crazy there, I don't have time to 'feel' anything. Haven't you ever been so busy that you forgot to, I dunno, eat?"

James nodded, having had many of those nights in college, and when the spring building rush happened every year he often pulled fifteen hour days that seemed to pass in a flash. "Makes sense, I guess," he agreed. "So that's your trick? Panicky day-job, lonely nights?"

"Not always lonely," Sheldon said softly.

James squeezed the horse's hand. "You've never brought anyone home, and you've never gone out more than, I dunno, twice a month? Three times? That's not healthy, you know. You're in the prime of your life, you deserve someone who thinks you're the greatest."

"That's just the booze talking again," the horse chuckled from high above James' head. "You're far enough gone to have hooked up with Ascot."

Sheldon was more than a little surprised to find himself jerked to a halt by the comparatively miniscule fox. He looked down at his hand and the fuzzy iron grip that squeezed his fingers together, then at the flat-footed James, and then back a little further to where James' other hand was clinging desperately to a parking meter.

"What-?"

"You still don't believe me, do you? Not seriously, you don't." The slur was all but gone from his voice, his eyes hard and level. "What is this? What are you doing? What's your plan for tonight?"

"Plan? I-"

James squeezed again, although it was more of a token effort than actually painful; as strong as he was, Sheldon was so much larger it didn't even matter. "You agreed to go out with me last night, but then you backed out. I can sort of understand that one. But then I found out about you, and you agreed to go out with me again TONIGHT, and you showed up, dressed like that, knowing that I like you, knowing that I really like you, but you're still planning to ditch me and go home alone again, aren't you? You're just humoring me until the night is over so you can say in the morning that it wouldn't work."

"I'm not-"

"Don't lie."

Sheldon's jaw dropped. His mind whirled with possible responses, pleas for patience and understanding, apologies for wasting James' time, reasons a physical relationship could never work, but he withered like a dandelion under the blowtorch of the fox's glare. He tugged once at his arm, but James' grip was unrelenting. His shoulders sagged, and he just whispered, "Sort of."

"You don't think a physical relationship would work."

Sheldon blinked. "Are you reading my mind?" he said, shaking his head. "No, I... well, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't work, it never really works out the way anyone wants."

"Do you want one?"

"Yes!" the big horse cried sadly. "Of course I do! Dating sites, fetish sites, coffee dates, of course I want it! But I don't want to... to hurt you!"

James' ears swivelled forwards, and his fierce scowl softened into a roguish grin. "Don't you think I'm old enough to make my own decisions, then?"

Despite the size difference, Sheldon felt overpowered. "Of course you are, but-"

"No more buts!" James growled, his grin never slipping. "You don't want me to keep saying sorry, that's fine, but you need to stop with the excuses. You like me, I like you, we're out on a date, and now we're going home, together, do I make myself clear?"

Sheldon couldn't remember anyone ever taking that tone of voice with him, certainly not anyone who knew just what his body could do under the right conditions. People tiptoed around him, constantly second-guessing themselves and worrying that they might upset him too much, or amuse him too much, or even just raise his suspicions. It was like living inside a cold, lonely, sterile bubble, with people constantly looking in at him with pity but knowing they could never get too close.

And then there was James.

The little fox, in spite of his brave and grandiose speech, wagged his tail and swallowed nervously when Sheldon smiled back at him. A faint groaning noise, as of tortured wood or leather, filled the mostly deserted street, and it didn't take him long to realize that the horse's shaggy ears were inching closer and closer to the globular street lights above them. Thick golden fingers swelled in his paw, and those skintight clothes stretched marvellously around Sheldon's gorgeous proportions, almost but not quite keeping up with the pace of his expansion. Five-foot-six James soon found himself holding hands with a nine-foot Sheldon, little arm raised above him as though he were a toddler holding a parent's hand.

"Now," Sheldon winked, growth fading after a few long, tense seconds, "it's because of you."

"Yip," James squeaked.

They started walking again, James having to step quite a bit faster to keep up with Sheldon's long, graceful strides. "You're special, did you know that?," the big horse asked. "Not just because you like me, I mean. That's still weird in and of itself, but lots of people like me, or claim to like me, or like the idea of me. No, you're... you're one in a million."

"You've been with that many?"

Sheldon tried to playfully swat at James, but the little fox was too nimble, dodging easily. Unfortunately he had forgotten that he'd still consumed the better part of too much alcohol and he dodged right into a decorative elm tree and after the impact he found himself laying on his back, staring up at a night filled with stars.

"I meant for that to go... SO much better," he grumbled, trying to get his paws under him. He had managed to flop over onto one side when he felt two huge but gentle hands slip beneath him, lifting him high into the air. He flailed for a moment, but soon, cradled against Sheldon's slender (or at least formerly slender) torso, hearing that powerful heartbeat, he settled down again.

He started to bounce, the clip-clop of hooves seeming to come from far away. "You know," James said, tail whirring like a dervish, trying to keep from pulling a muscle as his arousal fought the constraints of his pants, "I can actually walk, by myself. Sort of."

"Should I put you down?"

"No!"

Sheldon's huge, grinning head filled his view. "Then shut up," he whispered, planting a heavenly kiss on James' muzzle. James reached up, twining his fingers into that mahogany mane, trying to tug himself higher, trying to keep Sheldon from pulling away and breaking the kiss, but the big horse just tsk'd and pulled away anyways. "Ah ah ah, patience."

"It's hard to be patient," James said throatily, adjusting his lap rather awkwardly. "You've been so close, for so long... I don't want to lose you now!"

"Do I look like I'm trying to escape?"

"I don't know," James giggled, "my eyes are still crossed from that kiss."

"Mmmm, I'll take that as a compliment, then!" Sheldon laughed, picking up his pace slightly. "You don't know how happy I am that you're so... committed to this. I've grown a lot, and you're still here!"

James stroked that broad chest, feeling the fabric of Sheldon's black shirt stretched almost so thin he could make out golden fur beneath. "This is a lot? You were bigger than this last night!" he said, tracing his blunted claws back and forth. "Do you still get as big as... you know, when you were a teenager? Or was that just crazy puberty hormones?"

"No, I can definitely get that big still," Sheldon rumbled. "Not many times I let myself get that... out of hand."

"Is there any way I can convince you to try?" James said, craning his neck and nipping at Sheldon's neck.

The big horse shivered, his hooves speeding up once more. James felt the long, lean muscles surrounding him bunch and swell ever so slightly. "I'd say you've definitely convinced me to try," he said in a somewhat strained voice, "or, to put it another way, it's definitely going to happen and you've convinced me not to run away."

"If you're not running away," James continued, nibbling at his collarbone, "then where are you going in such a hurry?"

"Somewhere safe!"

"Safe for who?"

There was no answer, and James didn't press the issue. He was comforted, rocking back and forth in that cradling embrace, that Sheldon wouldn't abandon him, not again. He was a little concerned that he had gotten in a little bit over his head, since he was reasonably sure that those long, lean arms were getting longer still, and the horse hadn't even experienced a tiny fraction of what James was intending to do to him!

"Do I get a hint?" James continued, trying to feel around with his tail, all those exciting and well-filled bits that he couldn't see. "You're moving pretty quick, and we totally passed my car a block or two ago."

Clip-clop, clip-clop. "Just a place I know."

"Ooooh, mysterious," he chuckled, heart fluttering. "You must make good time with those long legs."

"Not good enough," came the muttered reply.

"Sheldon?" James asked, sitting up or at least folding himself slightly at the waist. "Are you ok?"

The horse's chest was heaving faster now, and there was a vaguely desperate tinge to his voice. "Yeah, I'm ok, I think," he said, turning another corner. James had lost track of which street they were even on. "It's just... I'm trying to hold back, and you're not making it easy!"

"I didn't know I was put here to make your life easy!" James said, licking delicately at the horse's well-defined chest. "Interesting and exciting, definitely, but not easy. Easy is boring."

A shudder passed through Sheldon's body, shaking James and rattling his teeth. "Stop! Stop.... just, stop for a minute, ok? Trust me, I'm going to let you start up again, but right now I need you to... to keep all that to yourself." The horse's muzzle dipped down low and nuzzled at James' chest. "Just for now, all right?"

"Fi-i-i-ine," James giggled, hugging that huge equine head. Holy hell, he's huge!

A minute or two later, Sheldon arrived at his mysterious destination. James looked around, but the street was mostly dark, a few flickering lights casting indistinct orange shadows. Brownstones lined one side, while generic steel-sided boxy buildings lined the other. "What is this, Cedar Street? There's a mechanic on this street, isn't there? I never really looked at the other buildings, they all seemed sort of... dull."

"It's a nice, dull, quiet street," Sheldon agreed, walking up to a roll-up garage door that only came up to his chin. He hunched over and jabbed his fingers against a strangely-oversized keypad, illuminated and far more modern-looking than the shabby building it was set into. "We like our privacy."

"We?"

Exterior lights popped on and the door rolled smoothly and quietly upwards. Sheldon looked left and right, nervously, then swept in through an opening big enough for an RV. The door was rolling back down as silently as it had risen when James found himself deposited on a large and comfortable couch.

The door closed with a faint 'whump', and the room was plunged into darkness.

"Hello?" James said, trying to make out shapes in the gloom. There was light coming through high narrow windows, but not enough to make out anything tangible. "Did you just bring me to a warehouse?"

There was a click, and the room flooded with warm light. James had thought he was beyond surprise for the night, but he was once again pleased to be proven wrong. "Wow," he said, jaw hanging open. "This is... this is... what is this?"

It was a single room, though far larger than their apartment, larger than the house he'd grown up in. It had obviously been a warehouse, or some other form of vague industrial building; open-web steel trusses criss-crossed the ceiling between heavy wood beams, and despite the fancy treatments it was obvious the walls were concrete and metal. It had been furnished and decorated, though, and with considerable panache, considering the location. There were a couple big couches, some of them so big James was pretty sure he'd need a chair to hop up, and in the back, in fact taking up most of the back, was a bed built on a scale the little fox had scarcely imagined.

"SizeMatters gold members," Sheldon said softly, placing James delicately on one of the biggest cushions and sitting down on the other end of the couch, already making it seem small, "get to use these... rooms. For special occasions."

"Wow," the little fox said, suddenly feeling very insignificant. "Do you take many dates here?"

Sheldon frowned briefly. "No," he whispered.

Even though it was only a two-cushion loveseat, James still had to lean way over to rest his hand reassuringly on Sheldon's leg. "Sorry," he said.

The big horse looked down at James. "What did I tell you about apologizing?"

"Sorr-" James started, caught himself, and started to giggle. "Ok, that needs to stop, doesn't it?"

"I can think of one or two ways to make that happen," Sheldon said slowly, and James marvelled that someone so big, so massive, could move with such grace and silence. That long, chiseled countenance fairly glowed in the faint light, filling James' view, filling his world.

They kissed, a real kiss this time, and despite the size difference it wasn't nearly as difficult as James had feared, and oh how he had feared it. Over and over he'd mulled over the possibilities and potentialities in his mind, how everything could go wrong, how even a simple kiss could fail, let alone... well, other things. Bigger things. Surely someone like Sheldon had been through all this before, but from the sounds of his past they hadn't gone particularly well, while this was all new ground for the little fox!

And what exciting ground to explore...

Sheldon's muzzle nudged against him and sent the much smaller man sprawling against the cushion, but the kiss never broke. James could feel the pressure against his lips, his cheeks, most of his jaw, in fact, and rather than muting the sensations, rather than being too much of a good thing, it sent an electric thrill through his body. He wrapped his arms around that equine head, his toes curling against Sheldon's chest as the big horse snuggled up closer.

When James managed to surface for air, gasping and giggling, Sheldon scooted a little bit closer, effortlessly lifting the fox up and sliding him in between the horse's body and the cushions. "Comfortable?" he asked with a wink.

"Never... better..."

James glanced down at the endless expanse of Sheldon's body, and blinked when those long legs seemed to swell, stretch and crawl another couple inches down the length of the couch. His foxy footpads were barely at Sheldon's navel now. How big was he? Thirteen feet tall? Fourteen? James wriggled down a little bit, arching his back and straining his legs until his toes came to rest against the tightly-packed mound of Sheldon's pants.

Sheldon gasped, and there was no denying it this time: the big horse just grew. James wasn't sure how the shirt was still in one piece, and he could hear the creaking from those tortured jeans. He pressed himself against the wondrous horse, toes once again waving at air, feeling that heavenly body swelling against him. "Gods, you're incredible! Can we get one of these couches for our place?"

Sheldon laughed, gripping James around the waist and pulling him higher into another kiss. "I don't think they'd be able to get it through the door."

"A couple chainsaws can fix that right up! Or maybe it's time to start looking for a place that's... bigger..."

"Don't you think you're getting a little ahead of yourself?"

James leaned up, planting a kiss on Sheldon's lower lip and murmured, "I'm trying to." Before the big hoss could react, James skittered down the couch, admiring every muscle and luscious curve but wasting no time. He didn't know just what Sheldon would allow him to do, or if he'd try to stop the amorous little fox; he had to work quickly.

"What are-"

"This," James said, gripping the hyper-tensioned zipper with his teeth and tugging down. For a second he was worried he wouldn't be strong enough, neck muscles straining, but then he overcame Sheldon's swelling resistance all at once. The shiny purple bulge surged forward, and it took him a moment to realize that the horse's boxers were stretchy, as well. It took him another moment to realize that he'd stopped breathing, so captivated was he by the sheer size of Sheldon's nethers.

The silky mound continued to fill out, the shapes of his sac and sheath becoming more and more defined as they seemed to inflate from within. With a faint ripping thwip, the still-fastened button of his jeans popped free, flying off into the shadowy depths of the room. Sheldon chuckled, leaning up on his elbows and looking down at his little friend. "Second thoughts?"

James placed a palm against one full boxer-clad teste, which was already as large as a watermelon and still expanding. He traced his blunt claws along the straining fabric to Sheldon's twitching sheath, a long thick shape as big as his own thigh. "Not in a million years," he said hoarsely, gripping a little harder and eliciting a gasp from the macro horse.

The fox reached up, gripped Sheldon's belt loops and hauled back. Sheldon just laughed, shifting slightly to free up his legs but otherwise not making any motions to help. "You look like you've done this before!"

"Call it a... longtime dream," James swooned, managing to pull them all the way down to Sheldon's hooves, marvelling at the way they snapped back their original size so quickly. Those pants had to be expensive! It took a couple steps to get back up to Sheldon's waist, walking between those long golden legs, glancing between the equine's amused expression and those ridiculously overfilled shorts.

When he was barely a foot away, though, he stopped, eyes huge and admiring and more than a little nervous. His paws moved to either side, softly stroking those golden thighs, hesitating to touch anywhere more sensitive. "You're so big," he breathed.

Sheldon laughed. "You have a casual gift of stating the obvious, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Sort of," the little fox chuckled. "I guess it was kind of a dumb thing to say. Might as well say night is dark." The little circles his paws were making slowly adjusted their orbits until his claws were all but touching the glossy-tight trunks. Sheldon shivered, and James became surrounded with the enticing sounds of the big horse swelling bigger still. "Does that set you off, when I touch... here?"

"That's... one thing that sets me off," Sheldon agreed through clenched teeth, trying not to moan. "Your claws are tickling!"

"Should I stop?"

"No," he replied, settling down onto the couch. "Harder."

James' grin slowly became a leer. He flexed his fingers and happily obliged, sliding his blunted claws up over those gravid, distantly-sloshing orbs. "Oh wow," he squeaked in awe when each mound suddenly expanded under his ministrations, Sheldon's heavy sheath thickening incredibly. "You... you..."

Sheldon reached down, rubbing at James' back with three fingers. "Yeah," he said softly. "I grow there, too."

James' eyes rolled back and his body went limp, sagging against Sheldon's colossal nethers, feeling like a pair of painfully overstuffed beanbag chairs. He nuzzled the twitching sheath, breathing in time with the throbbing member. "You might be too much of a good thing," he managed to say before the constricting purple silk reached its admittedly impressive limits and was whipped out from beneath him like a magician's tablecloth, and his cheek was pressed up against slick, black and increasingly-thinning flesh.

"You're about to find out," Sheldon said coyly, still reclining and not making any overt gestures yet. "You might want to... ooohhh, move back a little bit."

"Why?"

"Trust me."

"But-" the little fox managed to get out before Sheldon, ever the picture of equine maleness, dropped. James was no stranger to horses, having taken more than a few of them home before and having earned a healthy respect for them, but Sheldon was re-writing the book. The trembling sheath, more than a foot wide and so full it was nearly rising up into the air from sheer internal pressure, disgorged a soft black shaft as big around as James' thin chest, and far more massive than he, which nearly bowled him over. He danced aside, eyes so wide he wondered if he could see the back of his own head.

"I did warn you," Sheldon purred.

"I should be mad at you for not doing this sooner," he moaned, "but I'm probably madder at myself for not asking you out sooner. Good god, Shel, it's as big as me!"

"I get that a lot. Well, not that much..."

In a flash James was practically wrapped around Sheldon's immense yet still flaccid endowment, kissing and nibbling at the black flesh, licking the penumbral borders of it's cute pink splotches. "Trust me, you're going to get it a lot more from now on," he gasped, squeezing it lovingly, lifting one padded hindpaw to caress the gently flared tip.

Sheldon gasped and shuddered again, and there was a sudden snapping sound and a gust of wind that briefly flattened the fox's ears. "There goes my shirt," the big horse said, a little sadly. "I liked that one, too."

"Sorry. I'll buy you a new one?"

James was lost in a world of musky, slowly expanding wonder. With each beat of Sheldon's powerful heart, veins as big around as his thumb pulsed and strained against the hardening tendons and thinning skin. His arms were slowly being forced apart as the big horse filled out, and he could feel his leg being pushed aside as though it were as light as a feather as his length began to multiply. He closed his eyes and licked, slowly, up as much of the stretching tissue as he could reach, inhaling the myriad odors of his plus-sized lover.

He yipped in surprise when powerful fingers the size of his upper arm wrapped around his body and hoisted him effortlessly into the air. James found himself staring into two huge black eyes, and his brows knit with confusion. "Uhm... did I do something wrong?"

"What did you just say?" Sheldon asked pleasantly.

"Uhm... I asked if I did something wrong."

"Before that."

"I said I'd buy you a new shirt."

"Ju-u-ust before that."

"I said... oh. Uhm... oh."

"You promised," Sheldon grinned wickedly.

"That doesn't count!" James wriggled helplessly. "You sounded to sad! You tricked me!"

Sheldon shrugged. "You'll never know, and it'll bug you forever," he grinned wickedly, stretching out languidly on the couch beneath the fox's wiggling toes. "I have to say, you really have taken to this whole macro thing really well."

James was overwhelmed with sensory input: listening to Sheldon's slightly worrying words, trying to free himself from that velvety grip, twisting his head around to try and get back to staring at that hardening stallionhood. It was too much for him. "You're too gorgeous," he gushed, wondering what was going on behind him. "Who in their right mind wouldn't want you?"

The air was split by a sharp, piercing bullet-crack, and Sheldon slammed onto the floor amidst the spreading wreckage of the couch. James, still clutched carefully, bounced up and down but was otherwise unbothered. "Well, most people in their right mind," the big horse said, shoving some cloth-wrapped timbers out of the way and rolling onto his side, "would be running for the exits right now."

"I can't run."

"The point still stands," Sheldon chuckled, poking at James' dangling footpaws with one finger. "If I put you down, would you flee for dear life?"

James looked at the room around them, the flattened couch, feeling that big hand growing bigger by the moment, and guessed Sheldon to be somewhere beyond thirty feet. Forty feet now? Ye gods, how big was he getting down below? Why won't he let me see? Ack! "Not on your life," he breathed, nuzzling Sheldon's hand.

"That's good," the big horse continued, sitting up and lowering James carefully to the floor. "It's been so long since anyone's ever gotten this far."

"They don't know what they're missing," James said honestly when he was released, wagging his tail and knuckling his lower back. "You look so... so... so..."

The fox's jaw continued to work, but no sound came out. Sheldon looked as casual as could be, leaning back on one arm and draping his other arm over his raised knee, but from where James was standing it was like looking at a pinup billboard. The room was big, but Sheldon was occupying it more and more completely, and James could swear he could hear little rubbery stretching sounds coming from the horse's body.

On top of all that, though, James was faced with the sight of the horse's fully unsheathed and almost painfully aroused maleness, extending far beyond Sheldon's bent knee and twitching with every throb of his engorged veins. Glossy black and balloon-tight balls forced his other leg out far to the side, contrasting marvellously with his golden fur, though James was more concerned by the fact that each one was nearly as big as the little fox was tall, and they were most definitely still filling up. Sheldon traced one finger from the tip of his flaring shaft, down the smooth black and pink flesh to where his medial ring suddenly caused his girth to dramatically increase, and all the way to the base.

"I think I gave you enough chances," Sheldon said with a wink, his stallionhood swelling another foot in length, twitching and jumping as though excited to see the little fox.

"Yip," James yelped nervously.

"Can you help me with something?" the horse continued, as though nothing strange were out of the ordinary. "You see that blue drum behind you? The one with the little pump on the top of it?"

When James remembered that he had to breathe in order to stay conscious, he nodded and looked behind him. Sure enough, there was a huge 55-gallon oil drum, although it had a very small and strangely familiar label on it. "Uh huh," he said weakly, trying to keep from giggling. You can't be serious!

"Could you help me with that? My hands are so big now, I don't want to break it."

James walked over to the drum, and when the label did indeed remind him of the personal items aisle at the pharmacy, the giggles came anyways. "You want me... to help you with this?"

"If it's not too much trouble," Sheldon laughed. "I promise to make it worth your while."

The fox pushed down on the pump handle and completely filled one paw with a quivering mound of MacroGlide. "Are you sure one drum is enough?"

"There's more in the back."

"Oh," James said. "That... doesn't reassure me." When he turned around he found Sheldon laying on his back, fingers laced behind his head, a pose that the lusty young fox had always enjoyed seeing. Rising high, so high that it might soon be in danger of knocking a light fixture loose, the stallion's shaft wobbled back and forth.

"I promise to be gentle?"

"You promise a lot of things," James said, getting some of his gumption back. He rubbed his hands together, as much as he could while trying to balance nearly a quart of gelatinous lubricant. "I want to... to believe you... but..."

Sheldon rolled slightly onto his side, and for a moment James felt like a lumberjack about to be crushed by a felled redwood. "If it's ever too much, you really can tell me to stop," the big hoss said, squeezing the base of his colossal shaft, the wondrous crown flaring above the fox's head. "If you want a safety word, or something..."

"No no! I trust you!" James licked his lips, reached up and placed his slick palms against that impossibly massive column of flesh. His insides felt as though they had been replaced with butterflies. Sugar-addled butterflies. He can't grow much more, he just can't! "I... you don't know how much I want to do to you!"

"Or want me to do to you?"

James blushed so hard he was worried his ears would smoke. "That's... certainly... on my mind..."

Sheldon shivered from hoof to ear, and the entire building seemed to creak in sympathy. "Ooohh, your little hands feel so good," he breathed, stretching his arms high above his head. James' paws moved across the overly-taut flesh, thin skin straining so hard against the ever-growing erectile tissue that every little fibrous detail stood out in stark relief. Veins like garden hoses pumped endless gallons of blood, and sure enough, as he spread the glossy goo across more and more black shaft, there was no doubt that Sheldon's condition was not slowing down.

"My hands aren't that little," the fox fired back, reaching up as high as he could but still only getting one side of that immense stallionhood.

"Oh hoh, really? Look who's getting into a size contest."

James eventually reached the base, his arms spread out so wide above his head he could easily have been posing for a picture of Atlas Holding The World. "It's a contest I might lose," he conceded, sliding one hand over to a sloshing black sphere that was now definitely larger than he was. "Maybe."

Sheldon stroked himself with long, slow pumps of his arm, coating the unreached portions of his shaft with the industrial-strength lube. James was breathing hard, one eye twitching, kissing the golden fur where it slowly thinned to creaking, turgid flesh. "Mmmmmmmm," the horse whinnied, shaking his head in a distinctly and adorably equine manner. "I haven't been this big in... in so long. I can't remember the last time I was this big, with someone to help me..."

"Hopefully I can make you forget all your other times, too," James said, climbing up Sheldon's belly and moving around to straddle his cock as though he were riding a feral horse. He tugged his shirt up and was wriggling it over his head when he felt that powerful but careful grip clamp down on both of his legs. He turned this way and that, stuck inside his shirt, arms tangled over his head, and made a questioning yelp. He was frantically trying to free himself when he felt himself being slid up Sheldon's glossy frictionless shaft, awestruck at the seemingly endless length.

"I'm hoping," Sheldon said with a throaty growl, right next to his ear, "that I can make you forget everything else, too."

Two huge fingers plucked James' shirt away and he found himself spread-legged just behind Sheldon's luscious flare. He whimpered, wanting to make great and flowery and poetic declarations of love and affection for his supersized beau while completely beyond the capacity to put simple sentences together. He leaned forwards and wrapped his arms partway around the tapered tip just behind the twitching crown, but yowled in frustration when Sheldon plucked him up and held him in the air.

"Tsk tsk tsk," Sheldon clucked reproachfully. "Forgetting something?"

James stared down lustily at Sheldon's lithe body, with special attention paid to his quivering arousal. Equine musk was filling the small space (did it really seem so big earlier? Sheldon barely fit now!), making it hard to concentrate. His footpaws waggled again, but then he finally realized what was wrong. "Uhm, if you let go of my hands, I can take care of that."

Sheldon's face filled his view, and the big hoss winked. "I know a way that's more fun," he growled.

James blinked, but was soon grateful for his lover's powerful grip. Thick but nimble fingers gripped his ankles, tugged at the fox's legs, and when he was fairly confident that he wasn't going to yank off a limb he quite forcefully removed his pants. James yipped at the brief sensation of rugburn, but that became a long drawn-out sigh of exquisite pleasure when he was returned to his slick perch, so much flesh pressed against his. "Yeah, that works," he breathed.

While he had been airborne, James had tried to guess at Sheldon's current size. The room had definitely seemed big, probably a lot-depth and double-wide frontage commercial space; his work with the city was, sometimes, quite educational. That made it forty wide and sixty deep. So the pile of chairs Sheldon's hooves were making by the huge sliding front door and the brushing sounds of his ears by the back door meant that, in all likelihood, James was in deep trouble.

His insides twirled and capered in nervous excitement again, and he grinned. It's a pity he seems to have stopped!

He rubbed his entire amorous little body against Sheldon's drum-tight erection, not minding in the slightest how his fur seemed to be picking up the vanilla-scented lube. The little fox then started to scoot backwards, groaning each time his own more modestly-sized shaft stroked the immense bulk beneath him, arching his back and flexing his hips as much as he could, as much as he dared. He was biting his tongue to keep from finishing early, knowing how much farther the big boy had to go!

"Mmmmm," Sheldon purred, rolling as much onto his back as he dared without turning James' horizontal mambo into a vertical drop, "you're definitely making a good case for actually liking macros."

"A good case?" James said incredulously, trying to slow his descent with his thighs. "You're a tough sell, you know that?"

"Lots of experience, little fella," he chuckled. "Sadly, not this precise sort of... mmmmmmm, experience." James passed the medial ring, scrabbling for purchase and rotating slightly to the side as his perch suddenly increased in diameter. Sheldon gasped, and the tortured-rubber creaking of his developing stallionhood filled the room, slowly being replaced by the churning expansion of his immense foalmakers. "Ffffffff," he wheezed, "you're going to be in for it soon, I can't... urf, can't stop..."

"Don't stop!" James cried, passionately kissing and licking at Sheldon's shaft, giggling when his rump came to rest against the horse's lap once again. "I thought you might have been done growing."

"I don't know... the meaning... of the words..." the golden equine said, bucking his hips and nearly throwing James clear.

"Promise?"

"As far as I know," Sheldon nodded vigorously, his mane flying. "I've gotten... big before, on my own. We go on... retreats, sometimes, in the mountains. It's good to be around... others, with the same problems, but I never felt about them the way I feel about, you know... normal people. And most of them could never get... as big as I could..."

"Are we safe in here?"

Sheldon bucked again, and there was a tremendous thud from above them as he drove his several-ton phallus into the aged wooden roof. "I... think so?" he said, trying to sound casual but obviously struggling to keep the nervousness out of his own voice. "I can usually stop it... before it gets... crazy..."

The little fox manoeuvred around the oak-like base of the shaft, spreading his affection and a glossy kiss-shaped pattern of polka-dots to those still-filling balls. "Go crazy for me?" he said, nuzzling at a black-clad vein as big as his wrist.

"I can't... not here... not now..."

"Then where? When?

As unbelievable as the entire scene seemed to the fox, the strangest part was that the colossal horse seemed to be at James' mercy. Sprawled out beneath him and writhing in a frustrated but blissful delirium, Sheldon wished he'd thought this out a little better. The room had seemed big enough before, but James was just so fucking perfect and his little paws and little lips knew just where to go and just what to do, and breath control was only helping so much. His hooves banged against the far wall and his head was pressed awkwardly against his shoulder.

James had wedged himself against the broad, throbbing underside of Sheldon's shaft and the rising mountain of his sac, and was merrily smooching away, grinding his hips with wild abandon. "I can't think of a better time than now, Shel," he crooned. "Dancing the night away in your arms, I wondered what it must be like to live the way you do. I promised myself I wouldn't run away, wouldn't turn you away, no matter what happened. I want you to be happy."

There was a renewed sound of groaning timbers from overhead, Sheldon's shaft now stuck quite firmly between two heavy beams and starting to bow slightly. He gasped, far too large now to feel much discomfort from that position, but of two minds about how to proceed. Run away! No, tell James how you feel! No, get away before it's too late! No, grab him before it's too late! He opened his mouth to try and admit his confusion to the little fox, but all that came out was a choked sob.

James' heart plummeted at that sound. All he'd wanted to do was make Sheldon's dreams come true, show him that he didn't need to hide in his bedroom all the time, show him that there were regular folk out there who thought macros were the greatest thing ever. Was he just making things worse now? Had HE become the problem?

He tried to sidle out from his musky perch, but the MacroGlide was making it very difficult, and enjoyable. "We can stop, if you want," he called carefully. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go too fast."

Sheldon froze. His knees were bent now due to the lack of space, and his neck was twisted at an uncomfortable angle. He was starting to get an ache in his hugely distended stallionhood from the roof, and his still-filling testes were starting to force his thighs apart. All this, and he was still only barely approaching his own climax.

He sat up, as much as he could with his shoulders rubbing against the cinderblock walls, his muzzle rubbing his awkwardly-pinned shaft. "I warned you, didn't I?"

"What? Oh... come on, I'm trying to help!"

Sheldon grinned, taking a deep breath that rattled the windows. "I don't like it when people feel sorry for me," he said, shifting his weight and reducing a table to sawdust. "There's nothing to feel sorry for. Everyone has problems, a lot of them far worse than mine."

"I'm not giving you pity, I'm trying to support you! Well, metaphorically speaking," James said, feeling the bulk behind him pressing him weightily against the bulging column before him. He took as deep a breath as he could manage, already feeling a twinge in his ribs. Big boy!

"Do you want me to show you how I feel?" the horse asked, voice gravid with meaning.

James swallowed, analyzing the potential meanings of those few simple words. "Er... yes?"

The next minute or so passed in a very strange, loud, stomach-flipping blur. James was aware of the crash of heavy wooden beams, the unmistakable crack of a cinderblock wall surrendering to lateral forces it was never meant to withstand, and a few tinkles of shattered glass. Somewhere in the distance a siren was going off. Ultimately, he was ware of all this in spite of being cradled within Sheldon's cupped hands, protecting him from the devastation even while the big horse was shifting position and rattling the little fox around like a pinball in a well-padded arcade game.

When the upper hand was removed and James could once again see streetlights, it took him a second to regain his equilibrium. They were outside, that much was clear, or at the very least there was no longer an 'inside' to speak of. The space they had been using, which Sheldon seemed to have reserved for the night, had been reduced to one wall standing rather abashedly at the rear of the property, while the spray of debris that surrounded the pair had spilled out onto the road. James could see a black sedan that had acquired a rather impromptu moon-roof, courtesy of a former roof beam.

"I'm insured," Sheldon said before James could protest.

"Insured? For THIS?!"

"This is going to play merry hob with my premiums, that's for sure."

"I'm s... you don't want me to say that anymore, do you?"

Sheldon grinned. "You're catching on. And trust me, you are worth every penny."

James looked around in astonishment. Sheldon was kneeling now, but it was obvious to him that the big horse was still growing, very slowly, in little hitches and throbs that he could feel in his paws. The sound of wildly overtensioned flesh protesting beneath him reminded James that all of him was still growing, too.

Sheldon brought his other hand up, cupping them for his little lover. "Are you ready?"

"F-for what?"

"Mmmm, I think you know," the enormous horse purred. Even kneeling and hunched over he was slightly taller than the four-storey brownstones around them.

James gasped and looked over the edge at the incredibly erotic and overwhelming sight of the equine's shaft. "You can't be serious!"

"You didn't do enough research then," Sheldon smiled, moving his fingers carefully to grip the nude, slicked-up fox. "MacroGlide has some very, ah, special ingredients."

His little legs wiggled back and forth as Sheldon hunched forward further, bending low over his raging stallionhood. The giant's knees were very nearly resting on either sidewalk, two narrow lanes of traffic passing between his thighs. "Unless it's got magical pixie dust, I think you're SERIOUSY overestimating me!"

"No pixies, but trust me, they've done... rigorous testing."

"H-have you?"

Sheldon winked. "Maybe," he replied.

James ended up straddling Sheldon's girth once again, his legs spread far wider than before. "You've got to be kidding!" he protested again, though weakly. Part of him wanted to believe, dearly wanted to believe, that it could happen.

His body still cradled gently in Sheldon's huge but loving hands, James was slid backwards, feeling every little ridge, ripple, bump and blood vessel against his acutely aroused bottom. He shivered, nearly pushed over the brink of climax by that strange ride, but sheer manic anxiety was holding him back. He crested the wall of his twitching flare and was held, briefly and tenderly, against his broad crown. James held his arms and legs out wide, managing to caress the outer portions and give that musky opening a lick.

He shouldn't have been surprised, really, when that magnificent tip flared dramatically and the little fox found himself gouted with potent stallion seed. He was lost in a fog of pungent pheromones, lapping eagerly at that oh-so-sensitive urethra, revelling in the stilted, gasping sounds of Sheldon's enjoyment. "I guess size doesn't matter as much as I thought," James murmured, feeling the liquid heat dripping down his torso.

"Oh, it matters," Sheldon said, his voice strained. "I have to warn you. This is going to feel... a little weird"

"Wha-" James barely gulped before his whole world was rearranged.

Later on, he would try to reconstruct exactly what had happened. Sheldon helped, as his point of view was undoubtedly superior, but even his recollection was insufficient to really describe how the little fox had felt.

He spun around as though he were nothing but a rag doll (and, in a manner of speaking, he was), one huge hand gripping his body, and the other pressing his legs against Sheldon's intimate anatomy. Not gonna happen, this isn't going to happen, this can't possibly happen, his cock is like a fucking subway train, there's no way oh my god-

MacroGlide had conquered the over-sized personal lubricant market years before with a conscientious combination of respectful, classy advertising and a secret formula that virtually guaranteed that rare medical conditions would not be a barrier to companionship.

James' rump pressed up against Sheldon's flare, and it should have ended there. The fox's footpads were squeezed against the underside of that colossal shaft with enough force to have shattered his bones, but all he felt was pressure. It was intense, it was improbable, but it wasn't actually unpleasant. Sheldon's other hand, wrapped around his torso, was pulling back harder than James could believe, but still his slicked-up body withstood the horse's ardor.

And then, and then...

And then words completely failed him as he felt his legs slip up around the side of that magnificent flare, straddling something that should have been far, far too large to straddle. His tail was pinned against Sheldon's pinkie, his insides pulled and flexed extremely oddly, and then the horse's fist, with fox tucked safely inside, slid backwards.

"Hhhhhhhnnnnnnnngggggggg," he groaned, somehow managing to draw breath. He remembered Sex Ed class from years before, Mrs. Heffley sliding a condom down over a banana. Then over a cucumber. Finally, to properly educate the minks, equines, herms and other students of unusual size, she'd slid that condom over the fire extinguisher, the full-sized one normally kept behind the 'Break In Case Of Emergency' glass.

He suddenly had a better appreciation for that little condom.

"Sssshhhhhh," Sheldon soothed, as though James was in any position to relax. The big boy was hunched over, still dragging James back at the body and ankles, his glossy pink-and-black shaft starting to acquire a fuzzy brownish sheath. "It's ok, it's ok...."

Who are you trying to reassure?! James thought manically. He tried to say, "Have you done this before?" but all that came out was guttural, "Hnnnkkk!"

In spite of the near-magical effects of the MacroGlide, in spite of the building-flatting strength Sheldon possessed, and in spite of James willing his body to stretch more, to take more, he reached his limits barely a third of the way down that impressive stallionhood. It was strange, seeing the surrounding neighbourhood from his new vantage point, bobbing up and down between the second and third storeys. Very little foxy outline remained; two arms, two legs, a tail and a head seemed to adorn the top of a fuzzy brown-and-white cock-warmer.

When Sheldon finally released him with a gasp of satisfaction, knowing he wasn't going to get any further, James tried to guess just how big his lover was now. Seventy feet tall? Eighty? A hundred? He didn't know, and he didn't particularly care. He felt filled to bursting with Sheldon's white-hot hardon, stroking his own paper-thin flanks and the rigid flesh beneath.

He rose swiftly when Sheldon leaned back, shaft standing straight and proud like a cannon. "How are you doing?" he asked, concern clear in his voice, petting the fox infinitely more tenderly than he had been moments before.

James shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. "Still... alive..." he giggled, wondering what he must look like.

"It doesn't hurt?"

"I think... I ate... too much..."

Sheldon just stared, and then started to laugh, shaking James around like a rattle. "I told you it was good stuff."

"Buy more... for our place..."

The giant leaned forwards and nuzzled James' head lovingly. "Anything for you."

James started being rocked back and forth, Sheldon stroking from the root of his mighty trunk to just behind the fox's unfathomably stretched tailhole. He was flaring regularly now, and with each pounding throb James' head was forced slightly backwards, blocking his view of the street.

With each powerful bloom, though, James felt that strange, omnipresent pressure increasing within him, throughout him. The third storey was looking closer and closer, while the street was farther and farther. "Wasn't... that car... in front?" he wheezed, his tiny paws pounding against Sheldon's bulk, knowing even that was likely going unnoticed.

"I didn't say I was done growing, did I?"

James' eyes bugged out. "How... how much...?"

"I don't know," Sheldon chuckled, angling his shaft upwards, James' hyperstretched body brushing against the equine's cheek. "Some of us never really find our limits. Some of us... oooohhhhh, some of us never try."

"Are you...?"

"Gods, not tonight! I'm terrified about what's going to happen to you as it is," Sheldon said, eyes wide. He nibbled and nuzzled at James' distended bellyfur, pleasing himself through his plush foxy condom. His arms pumped smoothly, slowly picking up speed. "Are you still doing ok?"

James didn't know how many times he had climaxed. At least once, while Sheldon had been... was there even an appropriate word for that? Impaling him? Again, when that first powerful stroke had bunched up steel-taut flesh against his rump. For all he knew, he had been coming constantly since they had become joined. He was overwhelmed with stimuli.

"Yes," he croaked, eyes rolling back far enough to show the whites to his towering beau. He reached out and stroked that immense muzzle whenever it came close, every now and then eliciting a little yelp when he felt Sheldon grow.

It was like a roller coaster, rising and falling, tensing and relaxing within him. His whole world consisted of Sheldon, and his one regret was he couldn't make himself felt more, his tiny paws almost laughably miniscule next to his bloated body. He snuggled his head against the broad expanse of his overfilled belly, giggling drunkenly.

He caught the flash out of the corner of his eye. He turned his neck, not really able to turn anything else, blearily scanning for where it had come from, when he realized that, gathered at several windows along the street were wide-eyed, curious and thoroughly entertained faces. One of them was aiming his camera again.

James didn't think it was possible, but he started to blush. "Sheldon, there's... there's people..."

"Shhhh, I know," Sheldon panted, chest heaving, arms working like train pistons. "We'll go camping next time."

"Next... time?"

Huge lips pressed against the back of his head as Sheldon kissed him. "If you want to, I mean," he murmured. "I don't know if this is just a fling, for you..."

"Camping! Camping!"

Sheldon laughed as another camera flashed from down the street. "Don't worry about the pictures, SizeMatters is really good at keeping their members out of the media."

"Don't care... anymore..." James giggled, the bouncing ride clipping his words.

He was aware that there seemed to be more insistent and building pressure behind him. He glanced back but couldn't see much beyond the ruddy red landscape of his back. How can I stretch like this?! His tail waggled back and forth more than ten feet away, and beyond he saw Sheldon's hands sliding back and forth, up and down...

... and then he saw that Sheldon's shaft was still swelling, taking on thicker, larger, heavier proportions behind the fox's overfilled rump. The veins were throbbing hard enough that he could actually feel where they passed into his sheath-like body. "Shel," he whimpered a little worriedly, even as the sights and sensations triggered another distant orgasm.

"I'm close," Sheldon was gasping, over and over. "I'm close."

James felt some of the pressure behind him yield, but nowhere near all of it. A moment later, though, Sheldon flared enormously, larger than he had at any other time that night, and the fox's body began to stretch and fill out anew as hot preseed began to flow into him at a shocking rate. He shouldn't have been shocked, considering the sheer size Sheldon had attained and was continuing to reach. Foxy fur began to plump out against his hands and feet as he inflated, and soon was starting to bump wetly against his muzzle.

Sheldon cradled James' steadily-expanding body with one hand, his other pounding vigorously. The huge horse had to shift his weight periodically to make room for his filling sac, which was currently working to flatten a poorly-parked sportscar. He kissed James' tail, his back, his neck, and the other regions which were no longer properly identifiable as anything other than a fox-colored balloon. "How does it feel?" he murmured tenderly.

James rocked slightly, feeling as though he were body-surfing on the world's biggest heated waterbed. Countless gallons of stallion spunk continued to pump into him, the tightness of his tailhole keeping every last drop safely within. His body was still quite sloshy and springy, and he couldn't keep the silly grin off of his face. "Is that all... you've got?"

With those words, Sheldon's last traces of worry vanished and his body swelled one final time, a great surge of mass that bumped his legs up against the buildings on either side of the street. James howled, a long, lustful keening wail as Sheldon's cock expanded likewise, lifting him to the level of the nearby rooftops. The pressure behind him increased enormously, only a small portion of it overcoming the resistance of his body, but Sheldon's river of preseed carried on.

"You shouldn't... have said that..." Sheldon grunted, his eyes clenched shut, pressing James' bloating and increasingly spherical body to his face.

"I... regret... nothing..." James bayed. He couldn't feel his extremities, not specifically; his entire body hummed with sexual energy, every unsurpassable plateau crested without end as Sheldon filled him.

Sheldon hardened like steel, flaring so gigantically that even with his seed-filled form surrounding the stallion's shaft it was clearly visible, pressing him outwards. James braced himself, knowing this was quite literally the make-or-break moment for their relationship. He trusted the huge, shy horse implicitly, and had to trust in the makers of that wonderful lube.

For several long, tense moments they hung together on the precipice, Sheldon's body rigid and sweating, every golden-furred muscle standing out in stark relief.

"Do it," James pleaded, arms and legs wiggling uselessly. "Do it."

Sheldon couldn't have stopped it if he'd tried. So full had his sac become, so aroused had he become, that his first geysering eruption jetted against James' insides hard enough to stretch him out like a football before springing back. James wailed joyfully as his body doubled in size just with that first spurt, completely filling Sheldon's hand. Again and again the macrohorse came, each time making the formerly tiny fox's arms and legs vanish a little bit more.

Soon Sheldon was holding the bloating fox with both arms, James' tailhole sliding further and further down that stallionhood as he was pumped up. The huge horse bucked his hips, throwing his head back and whinnying with wild abandon.

James felt his seed-filled form stretch far, far larger than he had ever imagined, even in his naughtiest fantasies. His flesh rose up in jiggling hills around his head, pressing against his muzzle, his ears. He couldn't see much beyond, barely even the night sky, but he didn't care.

The towering macro was still thrusting furiously when James felt the consistency of his body change slightly. The springiness was fading, his skin feeling truly tight for the first time. He wiggled his distant hands and feet and could only feel that they were fully and completely pinned. Bellyfur pressed harder against his muzzle as his colossally rounded body firmed up like a waterballoon nearing it's limits.

He opened his mouth to ask Sheldon if this was normal, but all that came out was a short, sharp flood of seed. He clamped his jaw shut, overwhelmed by the pressure within and the intoxicating musk without. I can't take much more, not much more...

That was what he thought, but Sheldon still wasn't slowing. More and more horse cum filled him, even as his body reached it's limits. The huge horse could barely get his arms around the fox now, looking for all the world as though he were cradling a red-and-white beachball, but with each shuddering outpouring James grew tighter, not bigger.

"Glurk," he managed, the pleasure building to levels he didn't think he could survive. Countless orgasms in his life and they all seemed like a feather falling against his skin compared to this. For the rest of his life, he could only see himself with Sheldon, if this was what it could be like!

There was a window-rattling thump as his body, finally too heavy for Sheldon to support, slumped to the ground. The huge horse was still pumping, still grunting, but they were interspersed with woozy giggled. "Holy... holy.... one sec..." he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "I... good gods, you're big!"

"Bluk," he gurgled, ears twitching.

"Where are you?" James felt Sheldon's body shifting slightly, hands questing. A moment later his huge equine head hove into view above James' own, nearly lost in the valley of his hyperfull belly. "There you are!"

James winked, tried to profess his love and only succeeded in releasing an infinitesimal portion of Sheldon's load. Sheldon laughed, shaking James like the world's biggest bowlful of jelly.

"I hope that was supposed to be something good?" he asked weakly, hugging James' tight body.

James nodded, as much as he could. Ye gods, what do I look like?

"You've got a bit of a crowd," Sheldon crooned, shifting again, his shaft swishing wetly around inside James' body.

James cocked his head, sort of, wondering what the big horse meant, when he finally noticed that there was a distant noise. He had thought it was just the sound of endless gallons of seed swirling around within him, but now it was unmistakably the ocean-like sound of cheering. Cheering and clapping.

"Don't worry," Sheldon whispered, shifting his weight and slowly, with great effort, picking up the world's biggest fox. "I'll take care of everything."

James nodded sleepily, pushed beyond exhaustion by the night's exertions. He sloshed rhythmically as Sheldon began to walk. He didn't know where they were going, but he trusted the big horse. His lover. Maybe even his boyfriend. The afterglow fuzzied his mind, and every breath caused a little trickle of white to leak from the corner of his mouth.

When he drifted off asleep, it was to the distant words, "Definitely camping."

Epilogue

The key clicked in the lock and the door opened into the spacious apartment. James shuffled through, juggling several grocery bags in his arms and trying to pop the key back out without dropping anything. The slender fox managed to free his keychain from the door and kicked it shut behind him, wobbling unsteadily towards the kitchen.

"I'm ho-o-ome," he called, dropping the bags onto the counter and pulling a stack of mail out of his coat pocket.

"Hey, sexy," Sheldon replied from his bedroom. James looked over and saw lamplight streaming out, and smiled. Ever since that fateful night the week before, Sheldon's door had never been closed. It made him feel very... pleased. The big horse, though now normal-sized, clopped out and gave James a squeeze and a smooch before helping to put the groceries away.

"Good day?" James asked, one claw ripping open the first letter. "Ahhh, gas bill."

"Yeah, not bad. Salad specials at work, so I was a chopping and dicing fiend. You?"

"Dealing with the zoning dispute fallout after that water main exploded over on Chapman," he said evenly.

Sheldon paused, and then burst out laughing. "That, I suppose, is as good a description as any. It beats being called a 'gas explosion'!"

James whipped open another letter. "Internet bill."

"Thank heaven for unlimited bandwidth!"

"Is that a metaphor for something?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

They stared at eachother for several seconds, grinning knowingly. Sheldon broke off first, clearing his throat. "Ok, enough of that indoors. You know the rules."

"Right, right," James chuckled, opening another letter. He pulled out an official looking form. "Hey, did you get a speeding ticket?"

"What? Me? No. I always go five under."

"Oh, you're one of those. Well, this says you got a speeding ticket on... on... on... uh oh."

Sheldon heard James trail off, and turned to see the little fox staring wide-eyed at the sheet. "What's the matter?"

Numbly, James handed the sheet over. Tagged to one corner with a paperclip was the red-light camera image of the traffic violation: Sheldon carrying a circus-tent-sized James down the street. In the corner of the picture, superimposed on the image, was a bright red '63 MPH IN A 35 ZONE'.

He sighed. "How do they keep getting my address?"

James blinked, and started laughing so hard he had to grip the counter to keep from falling over. Sheldon joined in, wrapping his arms around his roommate, his boyfriend, his lover, and refusing to let go.