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Arumbi'Aji belongs to applesandwich

All other characters are mine

"... you're telling me you used this as a cock ring?"

"It's more flexible than it looks."

"Uh-huh."

"You're pissing me off again, meat slinky. Don't make me regret letting you in here again." Rumbi crossed bulky arms across his chest as he looked down, once again, at the ermine peddler. For his part, Rumbi was a six-foot tall, sturdily built anthro dinosaur with a crocodilian face. His skin was a dark, charcoal gray slashed through with broad strokes of yellow. With thick, bony eye ridges that gave way to a short, but imposing set of horns across his brows and a single crown horn in the middle that shone in the dim light, he cut an imposing figure few would argue with.

The anthro ermine (who didn't have a memorable name), in contrast, was a wiry fellow with impish, violet eyes, a backpack too big for his frame, and an anxiously swishing tail behind him. The two had met before, when the ermine had tried selling "supplements" at Rumbi's gym. He'd been easily dissuaded at the time, but had wasted no time showing back up when Rumbi had found his number through a shared contact. The weasel responded with an irritated arch of an eyebrow. "You sell gains." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the active population of gym-goers outside the office where they sat. Rumbi was a nutritionist and personal trainer at a small gym he'd purchased several months ago. "And you made it clear last time you're the only one who does. I sell solutions." And here, the ermine emphasized the pun by swishing a dram vial of some colored tincture. Then, he went back to examining the item Rumbi had handed him. It was a tiger's eye thumb ring. At least, a thumb ring for someone with Rumbi's meaty hands.

"A client said you were the right kind of person to pawn off magical bullshit to," Rumbi said.

"This is a person," the ermine said casually, indicating the ring in his hands. "You - no, pardon me, sorry - someone," he drawled, "put a person in here. I know a guy who does stuff like that."

"The fucker was turning good business bad. From what I hear." Rumbi put half his bulk on the table between them. The ermine inched away despite his confidant tone.

"How bad?"

"Triple homicide bad."

"Seems like a great trophy for someone of your, ah, status." The ermine seemed to understand that Rumbi had supernatural powers. "So what do you want for it? I don't know exactly what you do, but I know it ain't philanthropy."

"No point in me squashing you like a bug. So I need you to tell me what every single one of those does, and leave me a sample of each." He pointed a thick, clawed finger at the backpack. Almost immediately, he felt the crown horn on his head psychically drooling with hunger. He could sense the value the ermine perceived in his secrecy and his craft. The taste of having that relinquished to him was exquisite. "Or I will eat you alive." He didn't want to, of course. Rumbi hadn't been sure for a long time whether that was for moral reasons or logistical ones: you can only eat someone once, but you can feed on them for years. Besides, rashes of disappearances tended to get the attention of people who could actually contend with him.

The weasel licked his lips nervously and jibed, "You can't handle my potions."

Rumbi licked his own lips and leaned until his toothy grin was a hair's breadth from the ermine's twitching, pink nose. "Can't I."

--

It took several hours. The array of potions was mostly semi-legal, harmless stuff. Aphrodisiacs, appetite suppressants, soporifics, stimulants, and blends of those for different occasions. But there were a few unique ones that changed the physical capacity of the body, mostly in kinky ways. Lastly, there was a cognition enhancer that, per its description, would one hundred percent of the time land someone caught with it in prison. As promised, Rumbi pocketed a sample of each and sent the weasel scurrying away to do whatever the hell it was he wanted with the ring. Probably jack off with it.

Slippery, secretive people like the ermine always left him with a demanding appetite. The big dinosaur - devilsaur, if you wanted to put a specific name on it - kept track of what had been sacrificed to him. Like some ancient god, the crown horn on his head allowed him to feed on the sensation of sacrifice and on acquiring the things that were sacrificed. It could be money, mass, time, skill, emotion, information, or really anything that was meaningful to the prey. He hungered constantly for more. Tiny nibbles were always available, living in a world of limited resources, but the real meals came from direct, sincere, significant losses, especially those given to him. The ring had been someone who had owed him a debt of gratitude and service that, frankly, given the insult the idiot had served Rumbi, could never be paid off. So now, the ex-client was suspended in limbo as a nothing but a marginally pretty hole that could be used and traded.

It wasn't the worst fate he'd doled out.

His fingers slipped into his pocket where the cognition enhancer had gone. While the cursed crown wasn't a lie detector, it had had him practically snapping at this one, which led him to believe the ermine sincerely found it powerful and effective. It was a green-blue, syrupy liquid kept in a glass bottle with a rubber stopper. He shrugged, popped the lid, and gulped down the stuff.

It was sour enough to pucker his mouth. The effects were immediate. The sclera of Rumbi's eyes, usually a pale gray surrounding yellow-gold irises, clouded to the same color as his skin. His mind raced. There was a sudden, stark, beautiful clarity, as though he'd peeled back a layer of plastic on his own mind. Every contract he currently had ongoing, every hunger he had, every person he'd met, was suddenly being sorted into orderly, discrete categories. He wasn't a sloppy person, but greed and gluttony didn't lend themselves easily to fastidious bookkeeping. Suddenly, like a lens finding a focus, he remembered a delicious, lean jaguar man named Ray.

The ex-athlete had come to Rumbi's gym about a week and a half ago with a sullen cast to his entire demeanor. When Rumbi had pulled him into the office, sensing a potential client for his particular abilities, the jaguar had rapidly spilled the beans. Weird, recurring dreams of having his body drained and weakened by an indistinct figure. Insisted he used to be stronger, bigger, buffer. Wanted to feel what it was like to be big in his body again, walk confidently. So, in exchange for some old college track and field trophies, Rumbi had lent the man an extra twenty pounds of muscle and even the option to, at will, pack on another twenty, with the understanding that the majority of it would come back to Rumbi and Ray would join the gym to work back towards his former glory without the aid of magical contracts. That was what Rumbi offered the world, to tempt it into giving itself over to him: the ability to modify a body to the owner's specifications. Such a service, naturally, came at cost to Rumbi, which was antithetical to the crown's unending, yawning hunger. Stealing from him was an unforgivable offense.

So far, though, Ray hadn't shown. Not once. So, Rumbi made a house call. With the potion onboard, he quickly recalled where the jaguar had said he lived. Ray's condo was in a cute, secluded complex that was conveniently close to the gym, right off the side of the highway several miles away. Rumbi pulled into the shared parking lot for about a dozen homes and tried to piece together which one was his client's.

He got out and adjusted the clean, dark red vest that strained to contain his bulky chest. With the row of thick horns that ran down his spine, it had to be cleverly tailored, but it was worth it to look this good. It was unconventional to pair it with loose sweatpants, sure, but not much about Rumbi was conventional to start with. He scanned the row of homes, hoping for something to stick out that would spark his heightened awareness. It was a pleasant evening and not so late that a visitor was out of the ordinary, so he didn't attract any attention. He noticed briefly through a front window a lop-eared rabbit from his gym who was entertaining several guests. Seemed like the fellow was putting on quite the party, with three half-nude gentleman callers. Rumbi didn't want to make a scene so he didn't stare for long, but a hare and two pine martens were relatively easy to make out making out between sips of wine. What an unexpected little player. Rumbi smirked to himself. Good for him.

Back to the hunt.

Step by step, he started stalking along a concrete walking path that ran parallel to the houses and hemmed in their tiny yards. He looked for anything out of the ordinary. He caught movements with his peripheral vision, some through well-lit windows, others reflections behind closed curtains. At last, he heard the rhythmic, whirring, pounding sound of someone on a treadmill. As he got closer, he opened his sense of hearing. There it was: the chuffing sound of a big cat's exertion. Well, even if he was wrong, it was easy enough to say he'd gotten the wrong address. But his hunger and his crystal clear thoughts alike told him this was it. He knocked.

An eye appeared in the peephole. There was a sound of someone stumbling, and then Ray was running as fast as he could out a back door and into the unlit woods beyond the little neighborhood. Arumbi'Aji was unconcerned, though. He didn't need the experimental potion anymore. Having identified his recalcitrant client, he could feel him from a distance. His crown lusted for its prey. He didn't need line of sight. He didn't need proximity, to feed. It was just more fun to do it up close and personal. So, from this distance, he mentally grasped the terms of the agreement and his knowledge of Ray's desires.

Nearly half a mile off, Ray stumbled as weakness overtook him.

Rumbi's body wasn't made for running. It could, of course, but it wasn't as dignified as the slow, inevitable, plodding walk with which he approached Ray. He took his time. In ten, maybe fifteen minutes, his senses had led him to the poor jungle cat, who was panting and leaning against a tree.

"Ray, my man," Rumbi greeted him, "Where you going?"

"Hey, Rumbi," the cat gasped. His eyes were riveted on Rumbi's horn, which glowed a sullen, hungry yellow-gold on the unlit path through the trees. A few noises of night creatures broke the tense silence between them, but it only served to accentuate how very alone Ray was in this moment. "I was, uh. I was just headed to the gym. To pay you back."

"Yeah?" Arumbi'Aji, the devilsaur who fed on sacrifice, loomed in front of the jaguar. The cat was built. His hard, lean body pressed out against blue running shorts that had been bought before he'd started wearing Rumbi's blessing of heft and breadth of body. Second by second, though, they and the tight, black shirt he was wearing sagged. "Long detour, isn't it?" Rumbi rumbled.

"Had to. Meet with someone. Come on, man. Come on. I just. I just like it." His claws dug into a tree behind him to hold himself up. "I told you. I dunno what happened. My dreams... someone took it from me. Someone... stole..."

"Yeah, yeah." Rumbi stepped forward. He could feel himself feeding, growing, as Ray started giving up his grasp on concepts he held dear: safety... secrets... dignity... but Rumbi was hungry. He wanted more. He wanted self. "I know. Bad dreams. Not, y'know. Cigarettes and coke. I know how big dudes get skinny, Ray. It ain't bad dreams." He fairly punched a heavy hand onto the tree over Ray's head. Ray was a tall man. 6'3" even before he'd consulted with Arumbi'Aji. Ray flinched.Courage tasted... mmm, like a fine, rare steak.

"L-look, just take it back. I-I'll pay."

"Mhmm? How much will you pay, kitten?"

Muscle drained out of Ray. Height drained out of him, and as it did, it went into Rumbi. He surged upward, outward, forward. His vest shredded itself in its effort to contain him. His loose sweatpants became skin-tight. His snout leered and his golden eyes flashed down at the shrinking cat, who mewled out, "D-double. That's good, right? That's interest? It'll do?"

"No. I want time, Ray. You took time from me."

"What... do you mean..." he gasped. While he stared, unblinking, at Rumbi's expanding form, he felt pounds of flesh and bone leeching from his body. He was powerless. He begged, "Please! Please, stop; just tell me what you want!"

Ah, there it was. That last scrap of self-worth before the begging began. Rumbi gulped as though he'd actually swallowed it and pulsed six inches taller. His gut thickened visibly as he fed on the cat's spirit. "You took three days from me. So I'm taking a week from you. Money is nothing. What's money? Stuff? Things you can buy, food you can eat? I've eaten harvests, Ray." He rolled out his tongue to drag along the cat's sallow cheek, tasting him. "Somewhere, there are feast days named after me." He was big enough now that one hand could pick up Ray with his thumb under one armpit and his fingers under the other. The sweatpants strained, then tore where Rumbi's enormous, muscular tail was spilling further and further out of it by inches at a second. "I want more. You can figure out later what to tell everyone else." He yawned wide, while Ray struggled uselessly, and lifted the cat into his jaws. He tilted his head back, a massive shadow against the trees, and snapped his jaws forward. The wide, crocodilian maw easily enveloped its prey. Chest, waist, thighs, gulped down in jerking motions, until he snapped his teeth shut behind Ray's feet like the closing of a jail cell and swallowed one final time.

"Aaahhhh..." Arumbi'Aji groaned in pleasure. He could feel the man squirming inside his gut. He wouldn't die there - oh no. He'd just... sit. Static. Aware. Knowing that he was paying back what he owed and more.

Rumbi indulged a while in his size. The meal pulsed through him in waves, though the addition to his real size was millimeters. It was just one person, after all. That said, it was always good to hide less of himself. He could encompass the landscape if he chose. The temptation never stopped. He knew he could go back to that neighborhood, eat everyone there and everything they were worth, and it would barely dent his hunger. He thought of it. Thought of eating it, then the next one down the road, then emptying out the city an office building at a time, growing to use the polis as little more than a nest of concrete and steel.

But for now... this was enough. His horns brushed the tops of the trees. His tail had curled itself around a few. For fun, just to feel it, he uprooted one with it before setting it back in place. Always compromising. Always holding back, so he didn't get hunted down like some common colossus. He finally shrank back down to a reasonable size and made his way back to the little complex. Maybe he'd make another stop... That cat had his stomach rumbling for more.

--

Back in the parking lot, Rumbi happened to espy the rabbit from before having a stretch just outside his door, clearly taking a moment to enjoy the cool evening wind. He was wearing nothing but boxer briefs and seemed very much inside himself, just relishing something personal. He looked... substantially different, though. Taller, even. The fading sensations of the cognition potion told him 5'9", but stuttered as he tried to calculate weight. He looked bulky, sure, but... Rumbi's mind told him the rabbit now weighed five to six hundred pounds.

Rumbi called out to him, "Hey, Xander! Bulking up?"

The rabbit startled and focused on him and his tattered vest. He stumbled briefly over a response. "Oh, trying out some new supplements, is all."

The saur flicked his eyes to the now-unlit living room. Didn't seem to be anyone else home, anymore. He widened his eyes slightly and planted his gaze firmly back on Xander. "Yeah? Which ones?"

Xander tracked his gaze, then realized Rumbi had discerned his evening appetite. He visibly made a decision, smirked openly, gulped, and licked his lips. "Single-batch stuff."

Rumbi returned the expression, amused. So the little guy had some voracious tendencies of his own. He idly wondered whether the three woodland critters Xander had swallowed were ever coming back out again. No concern of his, though. "Cute. Well, they look good on you." And then, to Rumbi's great surprise, he found the diminutive rabbit's hungry gaze locked on him. The little predator had spunk. "Don't get any ideas, now," he chuckled as he got in his car. Ray was still twitching in his chest. Rumbi badly wanted to drain the lop-ear, but it was never any fun to take advantage of prey that weren't his, and Xander had already done the capturing for the three inside him. He needed someone he could watch turn all their possessions into his. And ideally, someone whose temporary absence wouldn't get investigated - Ray would already be problem enough. He leaned his head out the window. "Hey Xander, where do the sketchy rich folk go around here?"

The pint-sized beefcake considered Rumbi anew with his head tilted. He seemed lost in his thoughts for a bit. "Let me check something." For all the world, it was the sort of gaze and neutral tone used by Assistants, the little butler-golems that had been getting popular recently*. The last effects of the potion even suggested Rumbi himself had had an expression like that while he had mentally perused his menu options earlier in the evening. Huh.

Xander pulled out a cell phone and tapped into it a few times. While he did, Rumbi saw the immensely pronounced bulge in Xander's boxers twitch as though something inside was moving. Kinky little guy. "There's a piano bar under another piano bar on Main Street downtown. Ask the bouncer where the harpsichord bar is and palm them a twenty."

"Thanks... hey, how do you know that?" He leaned heavily on the side of the car from the driver's seat. He looked Xander up and down in a new light. Every second with the guy intrigued him further. "Aren't you a code jockey?"

"How did Ray taste?" Xander shot back coldly, his tone having shifted gears yet again. "You know I'm gonna have to put up with Bullet if you've done something permanent?"

"Bullet?"

"His brother, jackass. Do your homework."

Now that was disrespectful. Arumbi'Aji was ready to open the car door when Xander's demeanor shifted immediately back to being a friendly neighbor and he called across the street at someone walking their dog. The enormous bulge had shrunk away into full modesty. Who was this guy?

He called out, "Hey! Nice night, isn't it? Oh! I got that gross cheese you like - wanna come in for a bit?"

"Skies above, Xander," called back an older greyhoud (who was, amusingly, walking a grayhound). "I am so pleased you've opened up. Let me call Cheryl and bring her over."

"I would love to see Cheryl; let me put on some clothes." Xander turned a faux-apologetic eye to Rumbi. The gaze made it clear there was unfinished business. Both of them exchanged predatory glares before Rumbi grinned, delighted.

"See you at the gym, my man Xan. Thanks for the tip." This was completely different from how Xander acted in his gym. Usually, the man was quiet, solitary, even awkward. Laser-focused on his sets. Turned out the little lop-ear had some fire to him.

The hunger opened a pit inside him as he imagined engulfing Xander and anyone the guy contained at the moment. He'd just have to find another way to sate himself, for now.

*A/N: check out some of my other stories for context!

--

The piano bar under the other piano bar was, appropriately, a dive bar. Glitzy neon dominated walls papered with full-page ads for different brands of booze. An undulating core of twenty-ish patrons gyrated to a dance beat that pounded out of a one-man stage where a wolf wearing earrings, what had to be body-mod horns, and not much else punched out tunes from a fortress of keyboards and a turntable. Rumbi's colors fit in perfectly, but this wasn't where he wanted to be. These were small fry.

Exactly as Xander had told him, a lemur happily accepted a twenty-dollar bill in exchange for discreet entry through a cleverly hidden curtain to another set of stairs going down. Rumbi's broad body hardly fit down them, but the senses given him by his crown told him this was the place to be. Upstairs, people were giving up inhibitions they'd never valued, pennies that didn't matter, virginities they didn't want. Down here? Fortunes and lives were being won and lost. He met an anthro rat who was trying to come up the stairs.

Ah, he thought. A prop.

A series of thick curtains sonically insulated this lower collection of rooms from the tumult above. Rumbi made his way through them, then slammed open a heavy wooden door with one hand. Live harpsichord music came to a halt as the rat halfway down his throat shouted for help, for mercy, for- gulp.

"Gentlefolk," he greeted them. His eyes roved over the room before him as though it were a smorgasbord. A dangerous-looking rhino surrounded by Siamese cats. An elderly, lady Afghan hound coated in beaded shawls with a long cigarette holder who was using a fully nude mink as a footrest. A small, golden-furred fennec fox with his own coterie of various flavors of lizards, all dressed in ropes and leather designed to technically cover them, but as such leave them seeming even more exposed. Everyone on couches, over low tables, with hookahs and lines of coke and sex objects on flagrant display.

Oh, skies above, this was heaven.

"The fuck are you?" shot the gold-furred fennec into the silence.

The dinosaur enunciated each syllable with a rattling growl that reverberated through the room. "Arumbi'Aji."

"And whadja do to Terrence?"

"Borrowed him." Specifically, handed him a thousand dollars in exchange for putting on a performance. Rumbi just hadn't specified when and what kind. Greedy people were easy, that way.

"Terrence owes me a board room."

"Then I guess you and I need to become business partners." Rumbi decided this was definitely the person to talk to. He nodded politely to the various other patrons of the bar below the bar below the bar, the Afghan hound barked imperiously at the musicians, and things went back to this place's version of normal.

The lizards, it turned out, were perfectly independent lovers - the fennec, whose name was Karat, was just intensely charismatic and had such a thing for lizard men that he'd convinced seven of them to be servants and slaves to his erotic desires. A round of drinks, some smarmy conversation, and a few games of dominoes, and Terrence was all but forgotten. The Afghan and her foot stool joined the table once it was clear relations were being established and bought in for a few rounds of poker. Those, Rumbi reveled in - gambling always revealed what mattered to people. Nights of debauchery with the lizard men were bet against Rumbi's properties across the nation, but only a few of them really mattered to Karat. The Afghan bet the shawls she wore, but while her nudity meant nothing to her - impossibly gorgeous, perky, and tantalizing though it was despite her age - it was the clothes themselves that she valued. Rumbi feasted while they played, no matter whether he won the hand or simply watched someone else lose. He grew subtly at first, though as the evening wore on, he let each little loss or gain tighten his chest against the remains of his vest, thicken his thighs to take up more of the couch he was on, broaden his shoulders as muscle layered on muscle. This was where he lived.

Eventually, the Afghan flicked her eyes one more time between Rumbi and Karat before returning to where she'd been seated, to plant one of the lizard men she'd won between her thighs and indulge in their tongue and a pint of port. She sneered at the fennec, whose plays had gotten looser and who'd been meeting with Rumbi's bright eyes with increasingly smoldering gazes. He had a thing for lizard men, after all. With each round, he'd sidled closer and closer until his tiny body was fairly pressed up against Rumbi's.

"Well," he declared in his smooth tenor, with a paw roving freely over Rumbi's thigh, which swelled further at his touch, "You seem to have won an evening with each of my men; what do you plan on doing with them?"

Rumbi didn't need to be particularly observant to recognize the opportunity he had, here. He picked up Karat by his waist and set the small man on his lap, which was readily bulging in response. "I'm going to take them from you, for much longer than a night. In front of you. While I fuck you senseless. And there's nothing you can do." Rumbi had never enjoyed playing hard-to-get. He was direct, he was hungry, and for him, hungry meant horny.

The fennec gulped audibly. "N-now that wasn't on the table..." he said breathlessly. He squirmed, feigning discomfort while his paws found their way down to Rumbi's lap. "Holy shit," he breathed as he felt Rumbi's arousal. The girth nearly surpassed both hands held together. The sultry demeanor faltered. "Look, teasing aside, that's not going in me."

"That's a you problem," Rumbi said in a guttural tone while he peeled off his clothes beneath the fox. It didn't matter who was watching. As the night wore on, fewer clothes were on bodies and fewer bodies weren't entangled with others. He knew where he was. He knew what would and wouldn't make it into tomorrow's gossip. And so, he pushed all four fingers of one hand into the waistband of Karat's slacks and dragged them off his hips, thighs, and legs, leaving the little fox completely bare from the waist down. Then, he retrieved one of the brews he'd strong-armed off the ermine. It glowed purple in the dim light. "A problem I can fix, though."

Karat clearly recognized it. He snatched at it at the same time Rumbi tipped it into his throat and gulped greedily. He pawed at Rumbi's thick chest through the reptile's tattered vest. In turn, Rumbi yanked the rest of his own clothes off to release his rapidly erecting cock so the fox could sit on it. The fox's band of lovers murmured in heated surprise as the massive shaft came into view. One raised his hands up, palms-out. "Nope!"

Rumbi grumbled sourly. The crown knew it was being denied food, but he could only be handed these men as though they were property if they agreed to play the part of property. Like with Xander's prey, this was one he knew he had to let go or he'd end up ruminating on it. Karat growled irritably at the interruption, but didn't argue, and waved the lizard on.

Four remained, all moving with nervous excitement. Rumbi's stomach growled audibly. He refused to put off dinner any longer. In an unstoppable motion, Rumbi snagged the arm of a nearby iguana anthro and snapped his jaws closed around the entire arm. He was ravenous. Teased with the ermine's chicanery, teased with Ray's paltry sustenance, teased by Xander's predation and enmity. The hand and forearm - still attached, of course - were down his throat almost before he knew it. The other man tugged, but there was no escaping once Rumbi had decided on a meal, and his head rapidly vanished into the saur's jaws.

More than that, Karat quivered. The fox clearly saw these men as his. And now, Rumbi was taking them. But Karat loved it. "Th-that's mine," he breathed. While his pet iguana man was pulled, swallowed, and shoved down Rumbi's gullet, the fennec climbed his way up the devilsaur's charcoal-and-sulfur chest so seat his rump over Rumbi's increasingly turgid cock. "Y-you... you let him go..." he moaned.

Rumbi feasted on the small man's sudden and genuine devotion. This was what worshippers had been like in the old days. Karat wanted this newcomer, this massive, ancient dinosaur, to have everything. The first writhing, protesting servant vanished down Rumbi's gullet to bulge against his chest at the same time the fennec slid his ass over the first few inches of pulsating cock. Karat's body, made able to take a cock this size by the potion he'd drunk, spread with obvious experience and skill, to accommodate Rumbi's girth. Two, five, nine inches, and Rumbi's shaft was rapidly visible against the little fox's abs.

"Is this little underground lair yours?" Rumbi growled under his breath while Karat fished around on one of the couch cushions for a leash and yanked a salamander within Rumbi's reach. Almost lazily, Arumbi'Aji accepted the sacrifice with a yawn and a turn of his head. The shivering supplicant was engulfed all the way to his hips before Rumbi leaned back and let gravity and the peristalsis of his insatiable throat do the rest. Karat worked his hips in time with the steady, rhythmic sinking of his man-pet into Rumbi's gullet. Fox paws spread over dinosaur gut in fawning adoration as it swelled with new occupants.

"Yyyyyeah," he whined, while he worked his body over Rumbi's shaft.

"Give it to me." He grew as he consumed, rapidly outgrowing the couch. He pulled over another of Karat's men by his tail, pushed the tail into his throat, and began swallowing half a foot of him at a time. The prey's whole body thrilled with adrenaline, but he seemed to intuit this wasn't the end.

Probably, anyway.

Karat whimpered as he watched and as Rumbi's cock swelled inside him to push against his ribs. "The... just the bar," he tried to compromise, trying to hang on past the haze of lust. Rumbi almost daintily popped open one of the weasel's aphrodisiacs and pushed it against Karat's lips. The fox willingly tilted his head back and drank.

Rumbi rolled his eyes in pleasure. He was in bliss. The third offering went down when Rumbi wrapped his tongue around the lizard's snout and eyes to yank him the rest of the way down and join his two fellows. He watched with gleaming golden irises set in jet-black eyes as Karat writhed in increasing lust. Rumbi grabbed each of the final two servants one in each hand, having grown to nine, ten feet tall. He rasped low, "All of it."

The fox watched with rapt attention, gaze unwavering as Rumbi grew, and grew, and grew, until his cock was pushing into Karat's throat, making the golden fur there swell and stretch, and his head was touching the ceiling of the establishment. His broad, crocodilian maw opened wide so he could cram his other two snacks into his gaping gullet. The other patrons had given up on their own preoccupations minutes ago, just to watch the gluttony unfold in terror and awe.

"Half?" Karat stuttered as his body snapped into orgasm unbidden, firing streaks of white over Rumbi's stretched gut. Finally, the fourth and fifth of Karat's small horde of reptiles vanished behind Rumbi's snapping teeth. The mass of sacrifices writhed inside his enormous gut, maintained by his magic, but his possessions, utterly and completely, to do with what he wanted, and thus making him enormous.

"All," Rumbi insisted as he took the fox's waist in one hand with regal, lazy confidence, and begin jacking himself off through other man. His hips jerked with each motion_._ The feast, the taking, the growth, poured through Rumbi's body. The fox had already put so much effort into pleasing him while he glutted on servitude and servants. This was how it should be. This was how it would be.

He came in an explosion that ballooned out Karat's belly cartoonishly in the first few seconds alone. His climactic roar overtook the entire soundscape. The music stopped again. Everyone had their entire attention on the flagrant erotic display. The third shot of dinosaur gyzym forced its way up and out of Karat's maw to shoot over Rumbi's chest. The fourth, fifth, sixth, and tenth did, as well, and then Arumbi'Aji leaned down to meet Karat's hazy, sex-glazed eyes. The fox whimpered, desperate, subservient, servile, "All." The dinosaur opened his maw wide. His snout reached down to his own hips. His body jerked once more in climactic bliss, and then his head came up again, and Karat was nowhere to be seen. He gulped hard and let out a sigh that rattled the walls.

One lazy, satisfied eye opened. "You can all go home," he said, "unless you're ready to pay dues?"

One by one, the other patrons decided they didn't need conflict. Not right now. They filed out, eyeing his enormity the entire time, until Rumbi had the place to himself.

This. This was right. This was good. He rubbed his belly sleepily. It had taken too long, here, to get proper servants again. He swung his gaze around the room, well adorned now with the essence he'd shot through Karat's willing body. He licked his lips as he thought of how to expand his reach from here, and his stomach growled, and the golden crown horn glowed with wicked light.

He was hungry.