Drinking Game

Kendall still couldn’t see anything, nothing but trees, but when she heard the music she put away her phone. Okay, maybe Nate hadn’t been bullshitting her.

The ringtail had come out here during daylight, two days ago, following a forest path as wide as a two-lane road, and found nothing. Literally, nothing. The road/path became progressively harder to follow, less cleared path than meadow, until merging with the forest, disappearing into almost impossibly tall trees. Yeah, Nate had said when she’d seen him later that day. You can’t find it when it’s not the full moon.

Come on, she’d replied, but he’d just shrugged. Look, that’s what I’ve heard. If you really want to find it, go back on the night of the full moon. She’d thought about asking him to go with her, but she could pick up the subtext in his phrasing: he wasn’t interested in finding it, seemed irked that she was. You get that it’s dangerous, right? Yeah, she got that.

She rounded a corner in the path, one she was pretty sure hadn’t been here during her daytime visit. The music grew louder. And was that—was that a giant?

No, that was two giants.

Picking up her pace, Kendall made it around another turn, then stopped at the path’s end as forcefully as if she’d hit a brick wall.

It wasn’t the madcap rave scene she’d pictured in her head. The clearing ran at least a couple football fields across in each direction, with maybe a hundred people scattered across it. But of those hundred people, there were at least a dozen genuine giants. Two dozen? She counted. Yeah, at least two dozen. Twenty stood around the scale of the first two she’d seen, two behind an impossibly massive outdoor bar. That made them—Three Lords, she had no idea. Tall enough that she’d be at best ankle high to any of them. A half-dozen others stood a “mere” four or five times her height.

Despite the music booming from arena-sized speakers, only a couple of dozen or so people danced—mostly her size, with a giant brown-furred rabbit girl dancing with them. Somehow. That looked absurdly dangerous for the normals, but she wasn’t hearing any screams. The others, from what she could see, were either talking or making out. Two giants on the opposite side of the field were very close to nude, and getting more…intense with one another as she watched. Wow.

A wolverine who looked at least twenty years older than she was stepped out of shadows, nearly making her jump. “You been here before?”

Oh. Security guard. “Uh, no.”

“Okay. We have to go over this, and we’ll go over it again any time you come back, because I need your acknowledgment for legal reasons. You go past that line,” he pointed at a literal chalk line marked out over the path, “and you are risking injury up to and including potential death.”

She blinked dumbly.

“You’re responsible for your own actions and your own safety. You want extra safety or just wanna get stupid with giants, get a wristband first.” He pointed at a tent near the entrance. “Giants won’t deliberately mess with you unless you got a wristband, but you’ve still got to literally watch their step. Do you understand?”

She nodded, projecting confidence she didn’t at all feel. Wristband? What? “Yeah.” He seemed to be waiting for more, continuing to just stare at her, so she added, “I understand.”

“Okay. Have fun, whatever ‘fun’ means to you.” He waved her on.

Biting her lip, she headed toward a group of people her size. A lanky tiger guy with an unmistakably twink vibe, nodded to her, then seemed to take her in. Kendall was no giant, but she stood six feet even, a height she usually felt more self-conscious about than took pride in. She’d had no idea how to dress for an outdoor dance slash party slash magic rave, so she’d picked a simple undecorated blue t-shirt to go with grey jeans and a wide white leather belt.

“—just dropped her into his cup and slammed it back. She didn’t even get out a shriek.” That was a raccoon woman, her build the opposite of the tiger’s.

“Or time to enjoy it,” a fox guy with rainbow-dyed hair replied, smirking. “That’s kind of a dick move.”

“It’s a power move,” the tiger said, turning back to them and holding up a finger.

“No, it’s a dick move,” the raccoon agreed.

Dropped her—slammed—were they talking about a giant eating somebody? Talking about it casually, as if it were no big deal? And it was a “dick” move not to give the woman who’d been eaten “time to enjoy it?”

Surely she was missing some vital context here, but she didn’t even know how to ask.

“—be your first time here.”

Kendall blinked, realizing the tiger was talking to her. The other two were grinning, studying her reaction.

“I, um.” She swallowed. “Yeah. Uh, you weren’t just—just talking about—”

“A little getting eaten by a giant? Yeah, we were. Stick around and you might see one of us get eaten.” The tiger laughed. “Well, one of us.” He gestured between himself and the fox. “Not her.”

“It’s the wristbands,” the fox said, holding out his arm to show a faintly glowing red wristband on it. The tiger showed off a matching band. “We have them, Nancy here doesn’t. So we’re okay for giants to mess with, and she isn’t.”

“I…” She closed her eyes to keep the clearing from starting to spin around her. “You’ve marked yourself as okay to kill? How—why—”

“Hey, hey.” Nancy the raccoon put a hand on her shoulder. “What they mean by ‘okay’ is that they won’t die. The band is magic.”

“Oh, no, we’ll absolutely die. But we’ll respawn like it’s a video game.” The tiger laughed again.

“That’s…” Kendall rubbed her forehead, her huge tail swishing curling around her legs protectively. “Wow. Nobody told me about that part of this place.”

“It’s new,” the fox said. “Well, new-ish. Something Ray came up with, I think.” He looked around at the other two for confirmation; the raccoon nodded.

“Ray?”

“The bartender there.” He pointed. “I’m pretty sure she runs the place.”

Kendall found herself staring over—and up—at one of the hottest coyote women she’d seen outside pages of pinup magazines. Well, staring up at her top half, at least, since the rest was behind the bar. Most of that upper torso was bare: a red button-down shirt left unbuttoned was tied just under her dismayingly perfect breasts. She tossed bottles the size of semis around with practiced flare, long purple and silver ponytail flipping from side to side. The ringtail watched from afar, entranced, as Ray finished making a cocktail, dropping a garnish into the plastic cup and grinning as she handed the cup to a handsome giant mouse guy. Some part of Kendall’s mind tugged at her consciousness with hey, you noticed that “garnish” was spluttering and clinging to the side of the cup, right?, but the rest of her was too busy wishing she was close enough to get lost in the coyote’s deep copper eyes.

The raccoon nudged her shoulder again. “Close your mouth before you start drooling.”

She felt her ears and cheeks grow warm, and she cleared her throat. “Uh, I think I should get a drink.”

As she walked away, she heard the tiger murmur, “So think she goes down a throat, or—”

As she approached Ray’s bar, she realized a second bar—one on her scale—sat under it. Startlingly, the bartender there was another attractive coyote woman, one Kendall would probably be tempted to flirt with if her heart wasn’t still skipping. The bar back, a strapping mouse guy, was damn cute, too.

The “small” coyote finished the drink she was making, handed it off to a customer, and looked at Kendall. “What’ll it be?”

“Can you do an espresso martini?”

She grinned, reaching for a bottle of coffee liqueur—not a brand Kendall knew—and a bottle of white rum instead of vodka. “The best you’ve ever had in a plastic cup.” She poured them into the shaker with a similar flare to Ray’s, then added something from a hand-labeled glass bottle—probably cold espresso.

A soft thump—not the music—shook the ground, drawing Kendall’s eyes to the space behind the bar. A huge digitigrade coyote paw was just lifting into the air. The ringtail watched what she could see of Ray’s athletic legs, realizing her muzzle had fallen open again. The phrase perfectly shaped toes had never crossed her mind in her life before.

The “little” coyote woman got out a plastic martini cup—cute—and poured the drink into it. “Eight bucks.”

“That’s a really good price.” Kendall fished a ten-dollar bill out of her purse, then glanced at a passing giant coyote paw again, this time noticing the pad texture. “Isn’t, uh, having the space open like this dangerous?”

“Not if you don’t walk back there.” She took the ten and slid two ones back in the same motion.

“Keep the change. Uh, yeah, I’m just surprised they didn’t put up a barrier rope or something.” She sipped the drink. “Wow, this is really good.”

“It’s Ray’s version.” The coyote took the tip and grinned. “So you know about the wristbands, right?”

“Um, a little.”

“Now you know why there’s no barrier rope.”

Kendall blinked rapidly. “You mean people—people want her to…” She trailed off, staring at one of the paws again as it pounded by once more. Beautiful claws. Goddammit, no, stop thinking that.

The coyote met Kendall’s eyes. “Enjoy your drink.”

The ringtail felt her ears and cheeks bloom again. “Thanks,” she mumbled, and hurried away.

After about ten seconds of purposeful walking, she slowed, ears splaying. Did she have a direction in mind? Did she have anything in mind? Why had she talked herself into doing this? To see it, yeah. And…then what?

Just to see it. That’s enough. That’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

She approached the dancers, staying a safe distance away. The giant rabbit girl still danced with the “littles,” now joined by an equally cute, equally tall androgynous red panda. They weren’t actually dancing with the littles, were they? More dancing around them. If they were focused on where they were placing their paws, though, they sure didn’t make it look that way.

After a few seconds, Kendall realized she’d been staring—hard—at the rabbit’s paws. The canine guy (a jackal?) who wasn’t as much dancing by them as zipping back and forth under them like a daredevil had drawn her attention, sure. But that didn’t explain her noticing the way the bunny’s claws had been painted shiny black, or wondering how big the beads were on the multicolored bracelet encircling her left ankle.

Kendall, couldn’t you have picked a safer time to discover you have a paw fetish? Ha ha. No. She did not have a—

The daredevil jackal had miscalculated, making a dash under the bunny’s right foot as she slammed it down on the back beat. The ringtail jumped, putting a hand over her muzzle to stifle a horrified shriek.

The rabbit dancer started, too, pausing in her dance and whipping her head downward to look at the ground. She lifted the paw that had surely flattened the jackal—the images flooding Kendall’s head all at once were straight out of gore-fest fright flicks—in time to see a flare of green light burst out. The light thankfully hid whatever state the jackal was in, illuminating the grass and the furred bottom of the bunny’s foot for a second before dying away. It left, as far as Kendall could see from her admittedly yards-distant viewpoint, absolutely nothing behind.

The giantess let out a breath, looking relieved, then smirked, shaking her head. Her wah dancing partner laughed.

Okay, maybe getting a wristband for safety reasons isn’t such a bad idea. Not that you’re going to deliberately do anything dangerous tonight, but, just in case.

Taking a big gulp of her drink, she headed toward the tent, daring to cross through the “dance floor” as she did so. After she ducked in—ducking reminded her that by most standards, yes, she was tall—she froze, trying to take it all in.

It was bigger than she thought it would be, divided into two sections: a small front area with a card table set up to sell the wrist bands, and a bigger section that looked for all the world like wartime infirmary tents she’d seen in movies. An attending nurse stood monitoring a row of military-looking cots, most empty. At least, she guessed the vixen was a nurse—she wore pale blue scrubs. A wheeled, metal chest of drawers, maybe a medicine cabinet or first aid station, sat nearby.

There were two “patients” on the cots: a punkish-looking rat woman who looked like she’d passed out, and a jackal guy woozily sitting up and holding his head. The nurse was handing him a glass of water and a couple of pills that looked like ibuprofen.

Wait, he was that jackal guy. The one the rabbit had just…stepped on.

Three Fucking Lords. It was real.

She turned back to the card table. A grizzled wolf who had to be in his fifties, if not older, stood behind it. A bandanna held his hair back, and several wooden bead necklaces hung down over his denim vest. “Hey,” he said when she looked at him.

“Hi.” She cleared her throat and walked over. “So, uh, you give out the wristbands?”

He laughed. “I mean, yeah, if you pay for one.”

Her ears splayed slightly. “Oh. Of course.”

He spread his hands. “This is some serious magic, you know? There’s a lot of work that goes into it and real expenses for every respawn.” He waved toward the jackal. “I’d say the prices are pretty reasonable compared to other places that do this, but as far as I know there aren’t any other places that do this.”

She nodded, sighing inwardly. “So what’s it cost?”

“It’s fifteen bucks to get the wristband, and we run your credit card then. Any time the band gets, you know, triggered, it’s forty-five dollars.”

Hmm. Given what “triggering” entailed, she supposed that was extremely reasonable, if the word reasonable could ever apply to paying sixty dollars to literally get yourself killed by a giant. “Is the fifteen bucks a deposit?”

He shook his head. “Nope, it’s a service charge.”

“Right.” She hesitated, then steeled herself, pulling out her credit card. “Okay, I’ll get one.”

“Great. I have to give you the speech, though, okay? It’ll be quick.” He held up a wristband; it looked like normal, non-glowing plastic. “When you’re wearing one of these, you’re giving implicit consent to giants to, you know…be bad with you. But remember consent can always be withdrawn, right? You can say no, you can negotiate safe-words, you can just take off the band. Having said all that, all the disclaimers the bouncer should have given you still apply, even with the band. This is all at your own risk.”

“Yeah.” She chewed on her lip. “What makes giants respect the band?”

He grinned. “They’re usually pretty nice people, just huge. I have seen giants cross the line a couple of times, and…” He lifted his brows. “Let’s just say they were made examples of.”

“That’s ominous.” She handed over her card. He swiped it, then handed it back along with the wristband.

It looked—mundane. Boring. A piece of rubber. She slid it on; it tingled faintly, constricting itself around her wrist just to the point where it was almost uncomfortable, and began to glow.

He laughed. “Okay, you’re all set. Remember to hand the wristband back as you leave. If you try and sneak one out, the manager will come looking for you, and she’ll be angry.” He met her eyes. “You don’t want that.”

“That is…also ominous.”

She stepped back out of the tent, moving more hesitantly than she had before. The band’s glow hadn’t seemed that bright, but she realized it was a beacon to any and all giants, a flashing sign reading new toy or free snack. “Consent can always be withdrawn,” she muttered under her breath, envisioning a giant thundering up and pounding her into two dimensions with a single step before she could get out a word of protest.

Okay, sightseer. What is it you want to see?

She strolled back toward the bar, looking for the group she’d seen before, the tiger and fox and raccoon. If they were still here, they must be on the other side of the clearing. Who else looked safe to talk to?

Her gaze kept drifting back toward the giant bar. No, the giant bartender.

Did Ray qualify as “safe to talk to?”

“Goddammit,” she said aloud. Finishing her martini, she tossed the plastic glass into a trash bin and headed back to the double bar. Was there any way to get up to the top bar short of trying to get a giant’s attention and hoping they gave you a lift rather than popping you in their mouth?

No staircases or elevators that she saw, at least on this side. Hmm. She walked to the other side, looked up, looked behind the bar, got momentarily trapped staring at Ray’s paws again, goddammit, looked around some more—

“The only way up is the ladder.”

“Huh?” She turned quickly. The hunky bar back mouse was flashing a knowing grin at her. “I…uh.” She felt her ears flush.

He pointed at one of the support posts. Or table legs, depending on how you looked at it. Sure enough, there was a wooden ladder built into the outward-facing side.

She gaped. “How tall is that?”

“A bit over fifty feet.”

“And if I fall…”

“Well, since you have a band, it’ll be forty-five dollars.” He grinned. “Unless you live, but we can wave a giant over to stomp you. Way cheaper and less painful.”

She walked slowly to the ladder. “That is so fucked up.”

The mouse laughed. “So which one are you crushing on? Ray the coyote, or Barry the capybara?”

“I haven’t seen Barry, so…well.” She shrugged, flashing a lopsided smile.

“Barry is so cute I think he’s tilted my orientation just a little, but being a mostly straight guy, I absolutely get it. Just don’t be disappointed if she politely brushes you off.”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?”

He laughed again. “That’s the spirit.”

“Mmm.” She stared up the ladder. It looked more like a thousand feet, give or take. All right. Deep breath. Grab with both hands, and just pull. Then don’t look down.

She climbed up in fits and starts, moving a few feet with each burst, until she got about halfway up and just kept going. Okay. Almost there. Just, like ten feet, maybe? Almost…

“Hey, Barry, there’s a bug climbing up the bar,” a voice boomed overhead, with exaggerated disgust. “Let me flick it off.”

Kendall’s ears flattened, and she hung on to the ladder with a death grip. “No!” she screamed. “No no no!”

A giant pink finger poised to flick stopped, and after a moment a face loomed down close. A possum. She felt her eyes go cartoonishly wide. Oh gods oh gods those teeth are bigger than my arm I could fit entirely inside his mouth he really fucking could swallow me whole oh gods oh gods—

“Like, ‘no’ for real, or ‘no’ for play-acting?” the possum whispered.

She blinked rapidly, looking back and forth over the impossible-to-take-in-at-once profile. “N-no for real,” she murmured. “S-sorry, this is my first time here, and…sorry.”

He grinned, which maybe was meant to be reassuring but absolutely was not. “No apologies. I shouldn’t have played jerk.” A massive eye winked. “I don’t get to be a giant asshole at the college, so it’s a way to blow off steam.”

She nodded shakily, and made her way up the rest of the ladder, feeling the possum watch her intently. This must be what the damsel in distress kidnapped by the giant monster felt like. If the giant monster was a kinda cute college student.

When she scrambled off onto the bar top, she took another deep breath and straightened up, looking around. Nice view. Maybe, what, three or four stories up?

And, on the other end of the bar—maybe a half a football field’s length away—was the coyote, currently shaking a drink over her head, back arched enough to put some strain on her shirt. Gmf.

“Here you go,” a voice behind her—and, naturally, above her—said.

She jumped, whirling around just in time to see a massive plastic cup coming down toward her. With a startled chirp! she backed away, looking up at—Barry, it must be. Yeah, okay, the mouse was right. The capybara had movie star features, halfway between handsome and beautiful. He focused deep brown eyes on her with an amused expression. “You’re pretty cute for a bug.”

“She is, isn’t she?” the possum said, taking the drink. It smelled like a couple hundred gallons of margarita on the rocks.

Barry said, “So, what’ll it be for you?”

“I…” She stared up at him, ears skewing. “You can make me a drink?”

“Mmm, no, but you made the effort to climb up here for a reason.” He grinned. “Are you going to tell me you had absolutely no idea that being on a giant bar counter wearing a glowing magic wristband would make people wonder what kind of drink you’d be best garnishing?”

“Um, I admit I hadn’t…thought about it from that angle. I was just thinking about getting to know the place, just talking for now, with, uh, someone who knows the place well.”

Barry leaned over the bar, resting his elbow on it and resting his head on his hand, looking down at her. “Do I count, or by chance are you looking for a specific coyote who knows the place well?”

Wow, that was a million dollar smile. “You are, I mean, whoa. You count. But I was w-wondering if I could chat with Ray. A little.”

“I’m sure you can. Want a tip?”

Her ears lifted. “Um, yes?”

“Tell her that Barry says you’ll pair well with Rittenhouse.”

Her eyes widened again.

Barry straightened up and made a shoo motion toward the other side of the bar. “Go on, little girl, before I test my theory myself. And good luck.”

“Ah… h-heh.” She backed away slowly, then turned and started jogging toward the far end of the counter.

“I don’t usually eat people,” the possum said to Barry, “but man, she looks appetizing.”

Thank you that’s terrifying. She picked up speed.

As she approached Ray, though, she couldn’t help slow down, and couldn’t help stare. She was so—so—Three Lords, how was she not having to bat away suitors of all gender, all day? If the coyote was on her own scale, behind a normal-sized bar the ringtail was ordering at, she’d still probably have been a little intimidated. Oh, who was she kidding—she’d have to find a third party to introduce them to get out anything more than a stammered drink request.

Yeah, but that’s because you’re usually way too self-conscious about your height. Not a problem in this context, “little girl.” No, the problem in this context was that she was only as high as one of the gorgeous coyote’s fingers.

Actually, maybe she was having to bat away suitors. She was making drinks for three giants—two fox guys and one tigress—and even though one of the guys and the girl had their arms around one another’s waists, they all had their eyes locked on Ray as she did her showy shaking.

Truthfully, Kendall didn’t know much about drinks; whatever Ray was making looked like some kind of…sour? Maybe two different kinds of sours, since one was darker than the others.

The coyote finished off the two lighter ones with drizzles of blackberry liqueur. “Two brambles,” she added garnishes of giant-sized blackberries, “and one special whiskey sour.” She reached into a bowl, grabbed a normal-sized vixen, and dropped her in the other drink.

The ringtail gaped.

“Hey!” the vixen squealed. “No! Please—”

Ray pushed her down under the drink with a plastic straw, then stuck it in the glass and pushed it over with the rest.

One of the guys grabbed the vixen-spiked cocktail, grinning evilly. The other two took their brambles, the tigress shaking her head in amusement.

After they paid and wandered off, Ray started wiping down the counter, without looking over. Kendall wasn’t sure she’d even been noticed, until the coyote spoke. “What can I do you for, cacomistle girl?”

“I, uh…” She swallowed, staring after the giants. “I thought there was kind of a ‘no means no’ rule for abusing normal-sized guests…”

“You got the implicit consent spiel, right? For a lot of littles playing around here, part of the thrill is knowing we’ll ignore a ‘no’. They’re going to signal a real no by setting a safe-word, or taking off the band.” Ray started chopping up a lime, an activity that wouldn’t have been on Kendall’s list of frightening sights until seeing it at this scale, a few yards away. “If you’re up here and let me drop you into the garnish bowl, that’s consent.”

“Oh.”

“Also,” Ray pointed at her with the paring knife, “I’m normal-sized. You’re little.”

Kendall shifted on her paws nervously. “Well, I guess that’s a matter of perspective.”

That got Ray to look directly at her, huge copper-colored eyes focusing on her tiny form. She felt her heart stop, but kept silent, meeting Ray’s eyes. What are you doing she’s going to take that as some kind of challenge and squish—

The coyote grinned broadly, and Kendall’s heart went from frozen to melted in a nanosecond. “Yeah, but we stick to ‘little’ and ‘giant’ here. What’s your name?”

“I’m Kendall.”

“I’m Ray.” She set down the knife and held out a finger to Kendall.

The ringtail forced herself not to gape at the perfectly manicured dark grey claw, about the size of her head, and awkwardly wrapped her hand around it as if to shake it. Ray looked amused as she withdrew her finger, so maybe that was the right response.

“First time here, Kendall?”

“That obvious?”

The coyote waggled her hand in a sort of gesture. “On the one hand, you’re looking at everything wide-eyed and clearly haven’t figured out the unspoken rules. On the other, you’re bold enough to climb up here for some reason that isn’t just getting yourself in trouble.”

“I guess I’m, well…” She looked around, then back at Ray. “I’ve seen giants from the college in town a few times and talked to one outside a coffee shop for a bit. Then I heard about this monthly ‘dance party’ that’s been going on for a few years that’s all about mixing sizes and really mingling, and they say it’s kind of dangerous but not that dangerous except maybe way more dangerous. And it was hard to separate fact from fiction, so…”

“So you thought that sounded like something you wanted to check out.”

“I guess,” she started to say, but another giant customer had approached, a ferret wearing at least a half-dozen beaded necklaces and, at least on his top half, nothing else.

“Hi! I’d like something with gin,” the ferret said.

“Spirit-forward or more gentle?”

“Gentle.”

“Sweet? Herbal?”

He tapped his chin. “Herbal.” He noticed Kendall, and leaned over. “What’s your favorite gin drink, cutie?”

“I, u-uh, don’t know much more than martinis and gin and tonics, sorry.”

Ray was already in motion making a drink. Both Kendall and the ferret looked up at her as she arched her back, shaking the drink over her head. That was—was—quite a view of her breasts.

The ferret leaned closer to her. “Are you free for kidnapping?” he murmured.

“I…not right now.”

“That’s too bad.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding, studying his face. Damn, did everyone become hotter when they were giant, or was it just her? If it was just her, what did that say about her?

He took his drink. “Maybe I’ll catch you later.” He winked down at Kendall and headed off.

“So, you were saying you wanted to check out giants,” Ray said.

“I mean…that sounds weird when you put it that way.” She laughed self-consciously.

“You had some reason to come here. And some reason to come up here and talk to me. So far without hitting on me.”

She flushed. “That would be, uh, do people who don’t know you do that often?”

Ray laughed, straightening up and crossing her arms, which had the fantastic and unfortunate effect of drawing even more attention to her chest. “What do you think?”

Kendall stayed silent, putting all her effort into meeting the coyote’s eyes. Beautiful copper eyes. Dammit, Kendall, focus on her as a person.

The coyote regarded her coolly for several long silent seconds. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s play a drinking game, Kendall.”

“Uh, like what?” Most drinking games she’d heard of were really stupid.

“I call it ‘Bullshit.’ It’s a kind of truth or dare game. We ask each other questions. If the questionee doesn’t answer within five seconds, or lies and the other person calls bullshit on it, they take a drink. If you call bullshit on a truth, you take a drink.”

Kendall ran a hand through her hair. On the one hand, that sounded dangerous on several levels. On the other, it meant having a real conversation with Ray. “Okay. But can you make a drink on my scale?”

“I’m going to make one of my favorite drinks, a Final Ward. A whiskey version of a Last Word, which is a classic gin drink.” She started pouring things into a shaker—starting with a huge bottle labeled “Rittenhouse Rye.”

She stared. “Did you overhear Barry?”

“Overhear him say what?”

Kendall cleared her throat.

Ray grinned. “Are you going to ’fess up, or does that have to be my first question?”

She looked away. “He said I’d pair well with Rittenhouse.”

The coyote laughed. “Excellent.” She poured the drink, an attractive, slightly translucent lemon-colored liquid, into an actual glass, one of those rounded old-fashioned martini glasses. Then, abruptly her free hand closed around Kendall.

"What? Hey! No no no eeee!" For an instant, Kendall fell. Then she was sinking into an ice-cold cocktail, spluttering and trying to get to the surface.

After she stopped flailing, she realized she could stand in the drink with her head above—er—liquor, as long as she stood close to the stem. She stared up at Ray, already soaked. “What the hell! My clothes!” Also, her nipples, which now stood standing at shivering attention. Good thing her T-shirt wasn’t sopping and plastered to her form, ha ha.

“They’ll be fine. So I’ll ask you the first question, which is the question I already asked. Why’d you come out here tonight?”

Kendall stared, blinking up. That was such a complicated question. Was it? Well, there was why she was here at the party, or here in the field, or here on the bar, or here in Ray’s drink. She didn’t come here for Ray, since she didn’t know Ray existed before an hour or so ago, but did she come for giants? Maybe, but what did that mean? Maybe—

“That’s five seconds. Drink.”

Kendall blinked rapidly. “Drink what?”

Ray gave her a clear don’t be stupid look.

“I…” She swallowed, then dipped her muzzle in the cocktail, taking a drink. The rye was sweet and sharp, and the rest of the drink was…complex. Citrusy and herbal and a sort of almondy-cherry dryness under it all. “Oh. That’s really good.”

“Thanks. Now ask me a question.”

“Why do you run this event?”

“Because as great an example as Mensura College is in how giants and littles can get along well, there’s…” She waved a hand in a circular motion. “There wasn’t a place for giants and littles being naughty with one another in ways the college wouldn’t approve of.”

“Huh.” She nodded. Not a complete answer, but not a bad one, either.

“Next question. Why do you want to come check out giants?”

“That’s basically the same question you just asked. Isn’t that cheating?”

“Do you want to play rules lawyer with the giant coyote, or answer her question?”

“I…don’t know if I have a better answer than curiosity.”

Ray focused those dreamy copper eyes on her again. “Try.”

“It might not look like it to you, but I’m really tall for a woman and that’s been a problem for me. The other day, I was complaining about that to a friend, a guy that I’m taller than. He told me about your parties and we joked about me coming here to really feel short, and…” She looked around. “Well, I sure do.”

The coyote laughed. “All right.” She saw another customer approaching, and held out a finger. “Just a minute.”

The goth sheep girl coming up to the bar asked for an amaretto sour and “that flip trick.” As she asked for that, she held out her hand, which had a very tipsy-looking cougar in it. His wristband glowed prominently.

“Flip trick?” Kendall said aloud.

The sheep looked down at her and smirked. “Watch. You’ll either be terrified or be jealous.”

Ray took the cougar and set him down on her nose. The cougar wobbled a little, then held on more tightly, blinking. “Hey.” Suddenly he looked more sober. “Oh, no. Miss, you are not going to—”

Yes, she was. The coyote jerked her muzzle up to point at the sky, sending the cougar straight up in the air, head over heels. His arc slowed after a second; he spent the next second tumbling down into Ray’s now wide-open jaws. They snapped shut, and she swallowed audibly.

“Holy shit,” Kendall breathed.

The sheep clapped, then took her drink.

Ray grinned at the ringtail’s expression. “He’ll be fine. Next question.”

Kendall cleared her throat. “What’s ‘Ray’ short for?”

The coyote raised her brows, and remained silent.

“That’s five seconds,” the ringtail said after closer to ten had passed.

“So it is.” Ray wrapped a hand around the glass stem and lifted it into the air. Kendall immediately lost her balance, falling forward into the drink with a splash and a shriek.

The world become a dizzying, alcoholic blur. She broke surface again, paddling in the drink, to oh Three Lords the glass is against her lips she’s going to

Ray took a drink.

The world shifted again, now a rush of liquid over sofa-wide soft black lips, through fearsome, gleaming white teeth. Kendall braced her hands against Ray’s lower lip, which felt unacceptably intimate, but it was all she could to do to keep from following the “sip” right past those lips. She’d probably be stopped by the teeth.

Probably.

Another shift and slosh, and back under the drink’s surface. When she was able to stand again, breaking the surface and panting hard, the glass was back on the counter and Ray was licking her lips, seeming to pay close attention to the places Kendall had touched.

“Not fair,” the ringtail gasped.

“Hey, you can just not answer a question and take a drink yourself if you want to get tipsy faster. I bet I have a higher alcohol tolerance than you do, though.”

Kendall let out a soft whine.

“Okay, next question. Hmm.” The coyote drummed her fingers on the countertop. “Why did you get a wristband?”

“Because this place seems potentially dangerous without one.”

Ray shook her head. “Bullshit. It’s almost never dangerous to littles without one. Wearing one is literally asking for someone my size to be dangerous to you, which you know, don’t you?”

Ears splaying, the ringtail nodded self-consciously. “Yeah, but that was still mostly true. I got the wristband after seeing someone be accidentally stepped on, although they were almost literally asking for it.”

“Better, but you didn’t give me that answer first. Take a drink.”

She ducked her muzzle under the surface and took a sip. Woo. That was more than a sip. That was a gulp, and she felt it.

“All right.” Kendall focused on the giant coyote’s face. Cute nose. How wide was it compared to her body? Man, this drink was cold. “Tell me something about where you’re from, how you ended up in Mensura.”

“That’s not a question.”

“It implies a question. I just don’t want to let you wriggle away with some short unhelpful answer that technically answers a question like ‘how did you get from where you grew up to Mensura’ with ‘walking on my beautiful paws’.”

“Mmm. Well—hang on.” Another giant couple had walked up. Ray made the same drink for both of them—a daiquiri, Kendall guessed, with her incredibly limited knowledge of alcohol. Neither of them even looked over at her, which she somehow felt vaguely offended by. Come on, she knew she was at least kind of cute, and with her clothes molded to her fur like this she was almost nude. Were her nipples still standing up? Come on, cute tiny easily eroticizable girl standing in a drink glass, right here!

Shit, how much of this drink had she had? Was breathing it in getting her drunk? Was it soaking in through her skin?

“Okay,” Ray said when she returned. “That’s…a question I don’t think I’ve been asked since I applied to the college.” She fell silent a couple of seconds, then crouched to bring her eyes to Kendall’s level. “I’m from a very small town. That’s not a size joke; Mensura has a higher population than our biggest city. My hometown was barely a hundred people.

“We all knew about the chasm that separates giants from littles, and I knew there was supposed to be some kind of magic spell that makes littles forget about it. I didn’t know how effective it was until I used magic to cross over. Now, I think what you’re really asking is why I came over, aren’t you?”

“If…you consider that part of the same question.” Ray looked a few years older than traditional college age. Fabulous years, by all appearances, but mentioning the college—and saying applied rather than attended—just raised more questions.

“I needed to leave where I was. I don’t want to get into details, but things had gone from bad to worse for me after a move to a bigger town. So I looked for where to go next.” She grinned. “And I realized that, unlike you, I really liked the idea of being a tall woman.”

Kendall blinked slowly, then started giggling.

“Now.” Ray straightened up. “I took more than five seconds to answer, so…”

“Oh, crap, let me hold onto the back of the glass!” The ringtail frantically lurch-paddled to the glass’s rim on the opposite side of the coyote, managing to hook an arm around it just as the drink was lifted up to Ray’s lips.

Kendall turned around, watching gallons of liquid drain into the coyote’s muzzle with the next sip. Was that somehow erotic, or was she just drunk?

Ray set the glass down, this time carefully enough to keep Kendall from going under yet again. She put both hands on the bar, to either side of the glass, and leaned over so her head was directly over the glass. “What makes my paws beautiful?”

Kendall’s muzzle fell open and her ears colored. “B-because they’re pretty?”

“Try harder, or take a big drink, little ringtail. My paws are big and they crush people your size. I’m about to step on someone right now.”

“You are not—”

Ray rolled her hips, quickly, and Kendall heard the start of a scream followed by a firm thump from below. She put her hand to her mouth.

“He’ll be fine. You were saying?”

“Fucking hell. They’re…you’re…well…” Easier and less embarrassing to just dive under right now. “Okay, first, I wouldn’t have said that out loud if I wasn’t already kind of drunk. But here’s…here’s the thing.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t think I have a paw fetish. I never thought about anything like that until tonight. Seriously. I saw you from the waist up and I admit I was like, wow, she’s gorgeous. But I was also seriously…serious when I said I came up here to learn more about you, not hit on you. Even if hitting on someone I’m ankle high to didn’t sound insane.”

“Seriously serious, huh?”

“Yes! No! Shut up. Look, you apparently have enough actual goddamn magic to do this. Not just this,” she pointed at her wristband, “but this.” She pointed at the drink. “You’re enlarging liquor bottles, glasses, Three Lords know what else. And I think you’re casting some kind of protection spell on the place so people can’t find it when it’s not a full moon. This is some…some…arch-wizard shit, isn’t it? High wizard? Grand poobah?”

Ray was starting to grin again. “You are really drunk. Not all the magic is as sophisticated as you probably think it is, and I have help for some of the parts that are.”

“Whatever. What—what I’m trying to get at is that I didn’t want to focus on your body, even though you’re sooooo pretty and let’s face it your body takes up a whole lot of my field of view, because the more I heard about you down there”—she pointed behind her, toward the ground—“the more mysterious and cool you sounded. And now that I’m getting to know you just a little”—she held her thumb and forefinger out, a few inches apart, for emphasis—“it’s just adding to that. If you were my size I’d be asking you out on a date. Except beautiful people intimidate me. Apparently unless I had enough to drink. Although you still intimidate me.”

Ray fell silent, watching her with those incredible copper eyes, smiling curiously. Finally, the coyote laughed. “I love that you told me all of that, but you know you didn’t actually answer the question, right?”

“I…crap.” Kendall ran a hand through her sopping hair, then let herself sink into the drink, gulping down more of it. She surfaced, gasping for air. “They’re pretty, okay? They’re huge and beautifully proportioned and just make me feel…uh.” She cleared her throat. “Hey. What do you actually think of, uh, littles?”

“Is that your next question?”

“Yeah.”

Ray let out a slow breath through pursed lips. “Since you’ll sass me if I give you a short answer like ‘they’re interesting,’ I think they’re…” She trailed off, then laughed. “Interesting, with asterisks. Easily scared but often way more confident than makes sense, not quite as fragile as they look but still pretty fragile. And your world is just so—so much. All you’ve done without any open magic like we have. The technology. The sprawl of the cities. All these crazy competing political systems and religions and philosophies.

“On a personal level…hmm. Littles are sometimes fun to get to know, sometimes fun to bully, sometimes fun to tease, sometimes asking to be stomped into paste. In other words, I think you’re people.” She grinned. “Tiny people, but still people.”

“If one did ask you on a date, what would you say?”

“That’s another question.”

“Yes, it is.” Kendall did her best to stare up at the coyote challengingly.

“Most littles? I’d say no. I mean, I’d be polite, but the truth is, you guys kind of objectify us just like we kind of objectify you. That’s a lot of the fun here, but I know it’s shallow. We’re sexy monsters, you’re cute little victims.”

Kendall squirmed reflexively.

“But if hypothetically,” Ray continued, “I found myself spending an evening having a real conversation with a fascinatingly bold little ringtail I’d teasingly dropped in my cocktail, who’s been treating me as a person, too, I think I’d tell her we’re already on a date if she wants it to be.”

“She so, so wants it to be,” Kendall breathed, eyes wide.

“Last question.”

“Mmm-hmm?”

Ray leaned forward and down, until her muzzle was close enough for Kendall to touch. “You’re really turned on right now, aren’t you?”

Kendall’s voice came out in a shaky squeak. “Oh, gods, yes.”

“Do you want me to make you need that wristband?”

“Th-that’s another question.”

“Yes, it is.”

Kendall swallowed nervously. “I don’t…I don’t know if I want it, but…” She held up her arm with the glowing band. “Implicit consent, right?”

Another grin, this time from very up close. “Do you want me to politely ask you to strip now, or be a mean sexy monster and command you to?”

Oh Three Lords why is she giving me that choice and why is it so difficult to answer. When she tried, she got the shaky squeak voice again. “I-is it objectifying you too much to ask for the mean sexy monster?”

“Not when I invite it, cute little victim. Strip, and put your clothes in my hand.”

Kendall pulled her T-shirt off over her head. The coyote’s hand, palm up, was just to the side of the glass. She tossed the shirt over, then unzipped her jeans, struggling to get out of the liquor-logged denim. “Mmf. This is—ack!” She toppled over into the drink, still fighting with the jeans, finally surfacing with them in hand. She swam to the side of the glass, not tossing them over as much as heaving them over the rim. They were heavy.

Taking a breath, she reached back to unclasp her bra.

“No,” Ray commanded. “Let me get the rest.”

Kendall made a soft glurk noise and nodded.

The coyote picked up the glass, tipping it just enough to send Kendall sprawling into the delicious mix again. “Guh!”

“Barry,” Ray called. “I’m taking a break.” She started walking, Kendall could feel the movement, but she couldn’t see what was happening. Break? Where were they going?

Ray tilted the glass back, and tilted her head back, too. This time, as the ringtail slid against the coyote’s lips, they closed around her shoulders—and the giantess slurped her in like a noodle. Kendall didn’t even have time to scream. It was like a sauna-temperature waterslide, but the water was whiskey cocktail and the slide was a hot soft tongue oh gods it’s pitch black but I’m on her tongue I’m past her lips I’m completely in her

She heard, distantly, the glass being set back down, but mostly just heard the hammering of her own heart. She could hear the wetness around her, too, every mouth noise that would have been soft, barely perceptible, now playing at eighty decibel surround sound.

Ray flattened her against the roof of her mouth, holding her in place as she swallowed down the cocktail. Then Kendall got pushed back, hard, pinned awkwardly against the coyote’s teeth by the tongue, one single muscle much bigger than all of her body. There was just enough light seeping in past the coyote’s lips for her eyes to start adjusting—

More movement, the tongue pressing against her, probing, sliding back and forth, sliding her back and forth. She felt each tooth, felt the flesh against her front, legs and thighs and oooh mmf. She pressed against it with her hands reflexively. Would Ray even hear her if she started shouting protests? Would she listen?

She—she wasn’t going to protest.

The teeth moved behind her, parting just enough that the tongue’s pressure pushed her between them. The point of one tooth was against the small of her back. She whined, not sure whether to kick and push or go very, very still. Not that her choice mattered; her movement was all entirely driven by the coyote. She couldn’t help but tense up as the pressure built, her body tugged along the fang tip—

The clasp on the back of her bra snapped open against the tooth. The coyote’s tongue swept up her front, pulling the fabric away, dragging across her breasts. She let out a breathy moan before she could catch herself.

Ray tilted her head back, then swallowed. The force pulled Kendall against her tongue-tip, but wait did she just eat my bra?

The tongue thrust between her legs at the same time the coyote parted her jaws, and all at once her bare top half was outside Ray’s mouth, vast lips sealed around her waist. She was looking up at night sky, tree branches. Side to side glance. Ray was sitting down against a giant tree.

“Hang on,” Ray ordered, voice muffled around her date’s body. “As tight as you can.”

Hang on? Hang on to what? She extended her arms, wrapping them awkwardly around Ray’s upper muzzle, pressing her face against the coyote’s nose. “L-like this?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Ray sucked backward, hard.

Kendall squeaked, feeling herself losing her grip. She clung desperately, kicking. Actually, she suspected the seal of the coyote’s lips held her in place more tightly than her own arms (even her lips are stronger than you ha ha oh three lords), but she felt—

She’s—she’s—sucking my panties off my body.

The squeak became a squeal and then a shivery moan, eyes rolling back in her head as she felt the cloth slide down her legs, bit by bit then all at once. When she felt and heard Ray swallow the panties, too, it took effort not to climax right then.

Grasping her with her thumb and forefinger, Ray pulled the ringtail back out of her mouth. The coyote looked smug, but…maybe…a little flushed?

Kendall found herself quickly lowered to the ground, stretched out on her back, head toward the giantess, the air bracingly cool against her soaked form after the heat of the coyote’s mouth. The sights passed in a near blur: the night sky. The cool grass she’d been set down in. Ray’s disheveled shirt, now untied, wow those were amazing breasts, wait had she unsnapped her shorts—

The coyote didn’t wait, swinging one of those Kendall-proclaimed beautiful paws Kendall overhead, wiping it quickly with a bar towel to leave it clean, and then oh Three Lords I’m being stepped on!

No, not exactly, but decisively pinned: a single toe covered the upper half of the ringtail’s so tiny-feeling body, spreading her legs. The toe was heavy, hot, soft, and right between her legs and curling and—

“Kiss,” Ray’s voice came, an urgent, huskily-breathed command.

She did, with all her body, wrapping her legs and arms around the toe and nuzzling. This is insane this is incredible just hang—just hang on—

Kendall managed to hold back until she heard Ray let out a shuddering whine, and the image of the coyote with her hand thrust down her pants came to her and wouldn’t let go. She came so hard she thought her heart was going to burst.

Ray’s panting grew more frenzied, then quickly softer, all her toes curling, driving the ringtail into the earth. She could smell the grass, but most of the scent in Kendall’s nose, the taste in her mouth, was coyote.

They both caught their breath. Kendall couldn’t get out from under the paw even if she wanted to. She didn’t think she did.

She could hear the coyote readjust her clothing, snap her jeans back up. Then the paw slid over her, pressing down more, and Kendall’s eyes flew open. Oh, shit, if she stands up, I’m—

Pressure built up so fast from every direction she barely had time to register it as pressure before everything went black.

Kendall sat up with a cry, the monstrous crunching noise she’d just heard ringing in her ears.

“Easy,” someone said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She jumped, looking around frantically. Where—she was on a cot? Back in the tent. The person speaking to her was the vixen nurse, handing her a glass of water. “You’re okay.”

“Th-thanks.” She gulped down half the glass, taking stock of the situation. She was no longer sopping wet, but her fur was matted and disheveled, and she had nothing on but the cot’s thin blanket.

“We have your clothes.” She pointed to the foot of the cot, where her jeans and T-shirt sat, neatly folded. No underwear. Welp.

“Thanks. How long was I, uh…out?”

“About fifteen minutes. That’s usual.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath, then looked at her glowing wristband. “C-can I turn this in now? I think one…use is enough for the night for me.”

The vixen smiled. “Sure.”

She pulled it off and handed it over, then pulled on her clothes. Then she walked straight back to the bar and climbed up the ladder again.

Barry wasn’t around this time, maybe on his own break. (With who? Ahem.) Ray was just finishing up two whiskey-looking drinks for customers as Kendall marched over to her. “You stepped on me!”

“Lucky,” the zebra giant said to her, giving her a wink as he took his plastic cup and headed away with his partner.

“I did,” Ray said, making a show of cleaning up without looking over. She still looked a little disheveled, and had a distinctly satisfied glow to her. “Should I say I’m sorry, or you’re welcome?”

“What you should do, dammit,” she thrust out a finger, “is give me your number.”

That got the coyote to look over at her, grinning. “Aren’t you worried you’ll finish another date with me by going down my throat?”

“I won’t if I tell you no.”

She leaned down close. “But you won’t, will you?”

“No,” Kendall admitted weakly. “I won’t.”

Ray gave her a soft, electric kiss. “Get out your phone.”