title: 'Mizella: The Love Counselor' aliases: [] tags: [FA] author: [BeckyCascane] id: [49216905] date: 星期二, 十月 11日 2022, 4:27:37 下午 modified: 星期二, 十月 11日 2022, 4:31:17 下午

[TOC]

Mizella: The Love Counselor

Author: BeckyCascane Source: Mizella: The Love Counselor

“Ugh, damn it!” Yvette shouted, toppling over as the heel of her shoe wedged itself between two errant roots, coming apart with a snap. She tore off what remained of her footwear, tossing it into the distance with a shrill scream.

“Stop being so dramatic.”

The serval’s head whipped around, staring knives into the face of her boyfriend—a red wolf in the prime of his life, and with the physique and the attire of a hiker who knew the woods like the back of his hand.

“I’m being dramatic?” the woman cried out, her choice of attire far less suitable for the forest—a white blouse and black slacks, paired with matching high heel sandals, one of which now lay thirty feet away. She chucked her other shoe away in frustration, watching it smack against the side of a tree.

“You’re tossing your shoes around like a little kid, so, yes. I told you to wear sneakers.”

“And I told you, sneakers hurt my feet.” The serval managed to stand back up, trying not to make a face as her bare soles pressed against the moist ground. “Just admit it. We’re lost.”

“We’re not lost,” the wolf said defiantly, working to get his bearings. They’d broken off the beaten path ages ago, but if the rumors were true, all he had to do was keep heading north, past the numerous oaks, and they’d find the tent. He reached inside his backpack for his compass, and—

“Wait. Where’s my compass?” The red wolf looked at Yvette expectantly. “Do you have it?”

The feline shot him a sour look, crossing her arms over her perky chest. “Why would I have it?”

“Because I told you to hold onto it, that’s why.”

“No, you didn’t. You just shoved a bag into my hands and told me to lug it around.” She hoisted up a small knapsack slung over her shoulder.

“Then check it and see if there’s a compass in it.”

She rolled her eyes, fiddling with the zipper and fumbling through its contents. She shook the bag about for emphasis. “No compass. Like I told you.”

“Oh, for the love of—” the wolf jammed his palms against his eyes, fighting the urge to scream. “Well, where else would it be?”

“Probably still in the car,” she remarked. “Which we won’t find now. Because we’re lost.”

“Yvette, I—” the wolf let out a long, exasperated sigh. They were lost, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to admit it. “I know where we’re going. We’re almost there, I’m…I’m sure of it.”

Yvette stamped her foot against the ground, for all the good it did. She was tired, her legs were sore, and she was sick of eating granola bars and drinking stale water out of a plastic canteen. All she wanted to do was go home, curl up into a blanket and catch up on her reading—without him interrupting her every ten minutes.

Instead, they were in the middle of the forest, looking for, of all things, a giant tent that housed a crazy witch woman that could magically solve any problem asked of her. The serval only agreed to the idea because her boyfriend insisted the trip would be good for the both of them. As if a crystal ball and a few silly-sounding words would make all their issues go away.

“This is stupid, Henrik,” Yvette said in annoyance. “Let’s just go home.”

“No! We’re right on top of it!” Henrik’s eyes darted around, looking for any signs that he was on the right track. “My friend told me all about her, and he knows these woods like the back of his hand.”

“Oh, sure. Which friend are we talking about this time? The one that swore he found a magic well? Or was it the one that got drunk and thought the moon was talking to him?”

Henrik let out a short growl. “Look, just because I like going out once in a while and you don’t—”

“I like going out!” Yvette exclaimed. “But not when it’s a loud and smelly sports bar! And sure as hell not the middle of the friggin’ woods!”

The red wolf’s anger began to boil over, shooting Yvette an accusatory stare. “I’m getting sick and tired of you laying into me all the damn time, you know that?”

“And I’m tired of getting dragged around on all of your little escapades!” The spotted feline approached Henrik, ire written all over her face. “Maybe I just want a quiet night at home, did you ever think of that?”

“And maybe I think that’s boring.” Henrik’s body language now mirrored that of his frustrated girlfriend. “Hell, if I wasn’t in such a great mood, I might think you’re boring.”

“Well, why wait? Go ahead. Say it. You think I’m boring, like I think you’re a reckless, selfish jerk!”

“Takes a jerk to know one!”

“Oh, you dick—”

A crunching of leaves caused the duo’s head to turn as a short skunk woman crossed their path on sandaled feet, several gold rings adorned on her toes. She looked straight out of time, wearing a grey blouse paired with a long blue skirt and a small red sash tied around her waist, all of which served to accentuate her supple curves. Both ears were adorned with several hoop earrings, along with a crystal that dangled off a simple gold chain around her neck, and her black hair tied in a simple ponytail, a bright white streak dividing her ebon locks.

Her accent, however, destroyed any notion that she had wandered right out of the Middle Ages.

“I get the feeling I’m interrupting something,” the skunk exclaimed.

Henrik hmphed. “Damn right you did.”

Yvette sighed. “Don’t take it out on her, Henrik.”

“There you go again, telling me what to do—”

A sudden realization hit the red wolf. He recalled his friend’s words: about the purple tent in the middle of the deepest parts of the woods; the very same the witch woman called home. He couldn’t recall her description, but randomly stumbling upon anyone this deep in the woods, let alone someone dressed as she was? It was too much of a coincidence.

“Hold on. Are you that witch that everyone talks about?” Henrik said, pointing at the strange woman.

“Do you call every woman you meet that? No wonder you’re having it out with your girlfriend.” The skunk shot him a wry smirk.

Henrik let out a sudden yelp. “N-no, that’s…not what I—”

“Relax. I’m messing with you.” The skunk approached Henrik, offering her paw. “Can’t say I’m really that famous, nor do I want to be, but if you’re looking for a ‘witch’...here I am.”

Yvette exchanged glances between Henrik and the strange woman in bewilderment. “Holy shit. She’s real.”

“Real as I can be. I’m Mizella,” the skunk continued, paw still extended. Henrik took it first, shaking it briefly. Yvette did the same, after recovering from her shock. Mizella gave Yvette’s attire a quick glance, noticing her bare paws. “It’s not safe to be walking barefoot, y’know.”

“I…lost my shoes,” Yvette fibbed. Mizella’s eyes squinted slightly, as if scanning those words.

“Right. Well, I suppose if you’ve come all this way, it wouldn’t be right to leave you hanging. Come along.” Wiggling a beckoning finger, the skunk lady turned around, heading back in the opposite direction, her voluminous striped tail bouncing with her every stride. The couple followed behind at a fair distance, both to avoid appearing overly clingy, and—well, she was a skunk. Mizella peered over her shoulder at the distanced pair, wearing a wearisome glare.

Despite leaving with plenty of sunlight to work with, the night crept up around them in the blink of an eye. Mizella, however, didn’t miss a single beat, navigating every step, bump and jump as if it were second nature. She remained quiet during her trek. The serval and wolf, however, did not, constantly bickering and snapping at each other in hushed tones.

After what felt like an eternity of wandering, a dim light appeared in the distance. A small tent came into view among the trees, its appearance nothing terribly special save for its purple fabric. Upon peeling back the outer flap, both Henrik and Yvette found themselves at a loss for words. The interior looked much larger than its ordinary appearance suggested, hosting an entire living space catered for more than just one person. A small table with a lone wooden chair was placed against a tent wall to the couple’s right-hand side, as two other entryways led to both sleeping quarters and a makeshift kitchen, where a myriad of pleasant aromas wafted from. Several shelves were installed into the sides of the tent fabric, containing a host of different powders, ingredients and reagents, opaque glass making it hard to fully identify the contents within.

“Damn,” Henrik whistled to himself as he looked around. “It’s like we’re in another dimension.”

“Oh, this old place? It’s nothing special,” Mizella remarked, padding across the small greeting room. “Make yourself at home!”

Yvette inspected a nearby bookcase filled to the brim with tomes both ancient and obscure, all written in a font she didn’t recognize. Tempting as it was to reach out and examine a book up close, she thought better of it, given her host’s supposed occupation.

“We don’t want to be a burden,” the feline commented.

“Nonsense! I wouldn’t have invited you otherwise.”

“Well, I suppose—”

Henrik sat down in the chair, giving Yvette an irritated glance. “For God’s sake, would you just relax? It’s rude to turn down someone’s courtesy.”

The serval’s short tail whipped up and about. “I didn’t want to impose on her, Henrik.”

“She just said ‘make yourself at home’, what part of that wasn’t clear to you?”

“Y’know, if you had any shred of manners, you’d be a little more humble about getting rescued,” Yvette snapped.

“Rescued? We weren’t in any danger!”

“Oh, so you call being stuck in the woods with no compass and no directions perfectly fine?” Yvette remarked, waving her hands about in mocking fashion. “I call that being stupid.”

Henrik shot out of the chair, storming towards the serval. “You wanna say that again? To my face this time?”

“Gladly! You’re an idiot!”

“And you’re being a bitch!”

“Alright, alright, break it up.” Mizella wedged herself between the two of them, arms out to keep them spread apart. “You two have been at each other’s throats ever since I ran into you. What’s going on?”

Neither of them spoke, instead choosing to stare angrily at the other. This drew an eye roll from the skunk, shrugging her shoulders.

“Okay, you don’t wanna talk. Fine by me. Can’t do much for you if you only care about one-upping each other. But if you can’t keep the noise down, I’m gonna ask you to leave.”

Henrik’s ears perked, rushing in front of Mizella. “Whoa, don’t kick us out, please! T-this is why we’re here, actually!”

Mizella’s brow raised. “Beg pardon?”

“I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to fight in front of you.”

Yvette huffed out loud. “Speak for yourself.”

Henrik shot his girlfriend another irritated glare before returning his attention to the equally-irritated skunk. “I know this is gonna sound crazy, but…I…we need your help.”

“You don’t say. And what, praytell, do you want my help with?”

“Well, see for yourself. We argue all the time, but we weren’t always like this. It’s almost like a switch went off inside Yvette’s head, and now everything I do pisses her off.”

“Excuse me?” Yvette roared. “Where do you get off blaming me for this?”

“Oh, come on! You’ve been like this for weeks! Nothing I say or do is ever good enough for you any more!” Henrik's voice rose to match the serval’s. Mizella was having none of it.

“Enough!” the skunk boomed out firmly, loud enough to make the couple’s ears ring. “Look, I’m not a counselor, a referee, or an audience. If you’re here just so I can settle your spats, you’re wasting your time.”

The red wolf stammered, then sighed, his entire front body hunched forward. His hands raised up to cover his muzzle on both sides. “Damn it, this isn’t working. We’re not working.”

Yvette looked at Henrik, defeat written all over her face. “Henrik? Are you…are you saying…?”

“No. I’m not saying that, Yvette. I love you. You know that.”

Yvette’s head rolled back, looking at the ceiling. She hugged herself tightly, claws sinking into her dirtied blouse, and small tail limp between her legs. “I know, Henrik. God, I know.”

“Then why can’t we show that affection to each other any more? It’s like something’s…changed between us.”

The serval shrugged her shoulders half-heartedly. “I don’t know.”

A pained expression crossed Henrik’s features. “Neither do I.” He returned his attention back to Mizella. “That’s why we’re here. We aren’t like this. This isn’t normal.”

The skunk let out a quiet, reflective hum. She stared straight into Henrik’s eyes with piercing purple irises. The lupine man felt as if those eyes were staring into his soul, gauging his very ego. She did the same for Yvette—reluctant to follow along, but allowing Mizella to scan her features all the same.

“Do you really mean that?” she said at last. Both nodded.

“We do,” Henrik said quietly.

“I love Henrik. He just pisses me off sometimes.” Yvette hesitated. “Well, okay, a lot.”

Mizella stood still in the center of the tent, thinking to herself. Her quiet became utterly _dis_quieting as the couple exchanged nervous looks with one another.

“It’s clear to me that you love each other deeply. Very well. I’ll help. But as I said, I’m not a love counselor, so don’t expect a miracle.”

Henrik was overjoyed. “Oh, thank you! Thank you, Mizella!”

“Don’t thank me yet. We haven’t figured out how to solve your problem.”

Henrik looked around the tent. “I mean, you’re a witch, right? You can brew up a love potion or something, right? Maybe you can cast a spell so we won’t argue with each other all the time?”

Mizella flinched slightly. “First off, stop calling me a witch.”

Henrik looked down at his feet in admonishment. “Er. Sorry.”

Yvette shook her head. “God damn it, Henrik.”

“Second, it doesn’t work that way. I can’t force someone to fall in love, and I sure as hell can’t reinforce an existing love just like that.” The skunk snapped her fingers for emphasis. The couple shared a forlorn look at Mizella’s admission. “That all being said, your situation isn’t hopeless. Forcing the arguments to stop isn’t the solution. Being honest about your feelings when your partner upsets you is important in any relationship.” Mizella paced slowly around the couple in a wide circle, taking careful, calculated steps. “I propose…a challenge.”

Yvette blinked. “A challenge?”

Mizella smiled large. “Yes, something that forces you to work together towards a common goal.” She snapped her fingers again, as if coming to a revelation. “I’ve got it! Wait right there!” Before either wolf or serval could argue, Mizella disappeared into the aromatic portion of the tent. The sounds of ruffled paper and clinking glass followed, before she quickly returned with two items: a small, ornate glass bottle filled with red liquid and capped off with a matching glass stopper, and a tiny leather sack in her opposite hand.

“What’s that?” Henrik asked.

“Your challenge.” She gingerly placed the bottle in the center of the wooden table. “All you need to do is retrieve the bottle. Do that, and I’ll happily help you with your relationship woes.”

Yvette, however, was unconvinced, scoffing out loud. “Is this some kind of joke?” She reached for the bottle, only for Mizella to quickly pull it off the table with surprising speed. When she was certain the serval wouldn’t make a second attempt, she placed the container back down in the same spot.

“Come now, did you think I’d make it that easy?” Mizella said, her expression light. Playful, even. “Both of you stand right there.” She pointed at a spot behind her, near the exact center of the room. The spotted feline grumbled to herself, but complied, with Henrik following in her footsteps. Once they were in position, Mizella opened the pouch, spreading the glittering contents of the bag around each of them in a tight circle. When she finished, she clapped her hands together, dusting the remnants away.

“There we go!” she exclaimed.

“So…we just need to figure out how to get the bottle without leaving our circles?” Henrik asked. The task was too simple; his tall figure made it easy for him to reach for the table. If he could get Yvette to cooperate and hold his leg for leverage, even more so. “This is silly. How is this going to fix our problem?”

“Oh, this isn’t part of the game. I just put the powder down so you wouldn’t catch on to the spell I’ve been casting for the last three minutes.”

Henrik raised his head back up. “Wait, what?”

Mizella’s grin grew mischievous as she clapped her hands together one more time. Henrik’s stomach jumped straight into his throat. He found himself falling, the ground approaching at an alarming rate.

The world spun as he came to, surrounded by the feeling of cloth clinging against his fur. His arms and legs flailed as he fought for freedom, blinking back blinding light. He found himself on the floor, the ground covered by dark red fabric; the same color as his…his shirt.

Wait. The cloth was his shirt. His boots had clattered off in the distance, chunks of caked mud covering an otherwise immaculately clean floor. A sudden chill crossed his naked form as he looked around in confusion, his eyes wandering towards the skunk’s shapely legs—legs that now towered high above him. The giant skunk woman's eyes met his own, her devious (and now massive) grin never faltering.

“W-what the hell?” Henrik exclaimed out loud. Mizella’s ears flicked, as if she barely heard his tiny voice.

“Hello,” Mizella said thunderously, waving down at the miniscule wolf. “You look so cute at that size, by the by.”

Henrik’s heart began to pound. “Yvette?” he cried out as loudly as he could. “Yvette!”

“I’m here!” she exclaimed, fighting through her own clothing in the distance. “What the hell happened?”

“My spell worked, that’s what happened,” Mizella interjected, hands on her shapely hips as she loomed over the shrunken couple, each no taller than a playing card. She pointed over at the bottle on the table, now seemingly dozens of feet above them. “And if you want to return back to normal, you’ll need to make it back to the table, and drink what’s in the bottle.”

The wolf’s admonishment deteriorated into sheer rage. “This isn’t funny! Change us back!”

“No can do. If you two want to go back to how you were, you need to learn to work together. And I suggest you learn quickly.” The mystic woman smirked.

Both Henrik and Yvette scrambled out of their old outfits, their legs still wobbly from their sudden reduction. The process felt like crossing a football field, and the added layer of fighting through a circle of sticky glitter only complicated matters.

“Are you alright?” Henrik said the moment Yvette was close enough to hug.

“Does it look like I’m alright?” the serval screamed, refusing Henrik’s offer for an embrace. “That…witch just shrunk us!”

Mizella chuckled. “You’re already off to a smashing start.” She pulled out a small pocket watch, hidden by a small gold chain underneath her sash. “I’m going to give you two….oh, thirty minutes, give or take, to reach the bottle. If you don’t make it, you lose.”

Mizella’s words were at once teasing and ominous. Henrik was quick to take the bait. “What…happens if we lose?”

“You’ll be stuck this way. Forever. And I’m sure I can find plenty of uses for a tiny couple such as yourselves!” Mizella let out a large, bellowing laugh, one loud enough to hurt the duo’s small, sensitive ears. “That should give me plenty of time to brew some tea. Best get to work!”

With her challenge issued, Mizella took a wide stride forward, causing the couple to scramble to avoid her sandaled foot coming down on top of them. That foot was easily three times as long as they were tall, red nails and shiny gold rings glistening in the soft light. She paused for a moment, allowing Henrik and Yvette both to marvel at her towering stature as well as her perfect pedicure, before thundering on her way, disappearing into the room behind them.

Henrik held his head in both hands, struggling to think. “Okay. Deep breaths,” he muttered to himself. “We just have to get to the table. The…very tall table.”

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” Yvette kept repeating as she paced back and forth, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. “This isn’t happening. I did not just shrink to the size of an ant.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re larger than ants,” Henrik said.

“Oh, don’t be a smartass! God, why the hell did I listen to you? We’re never going to get up there in time!”

A pit formed in Henrik’s stomach. As much as the serval’s nagging was wearing on his last nerve, she was right. Seeking out the skunk was his idea, and he was entirely to blame for their predicament. He had to make this right, even if the task ahead of him seemed impossible.

The lupine checked their surroundings for anything they could use. His clothing was too large and thick for his small arms to do anything constructive with. The glitter wasn’t going to help, either. And even if he carried any rope in his backpack, it would be too heavy to be of any use—

A moment of clarity struck the red wolf, clapping his hands together. “I have an idea.”

Yvette looked at him, desperate for a solution. “Well? What’s the plan?”

“I…uh, brought some fishing stuff with me.” He pointed off towards his backpack.

Yvette blinked. “You were planning on fishing?”

“No!” The serval’s evil stare got the better of Henrik before long. “Okay, yes, but that was after we found the tent!”

“Unbelievable.” Yvette threw her hands up in exasperation. “And how is that going to help?”

“I won’t know until I get in there and see what I brought. But if I’m correct…” He pointed at one of his boots. “Do me a favor and start pulling out the boot laces.”

Yvette looked at the comparatively large boot, making a face. “Ew. No. They’re all muddy.”

Henrik groaned. “Getting dirty is the last thing we should be worrying about, Yvette! Just…do it, okay?”

“Fine. Whatever.” Grumbling under her breath, Yvette began walking towards the worn footwear. Henrik shook his head before beginning his trek towards his backpack. It would take all of his upper body strength to force the pack’s zipper to separate, itself a third his size. Once he did, a plastic green box tumbled out, landing on its side and scattering its contents across the floor: boulder-like beads and too-heavy weights rolled across the ground in messy fashion. It didn’t take long for him to find what he needed once the chaos settled, picking up a large fishing hook, its curved barb ending in a lethal tip.

“Perfect,” he exclaimed, carefully navigating past the floor hazards on his return. For her part, Yvette managed to pull the lace through the first two eyelets, but the further down the boot she worked, the more lace she had to pull through, and the more exhausted it left her. She was panting rapidly by the time Henrik came back.

“You’re not done?” he said.

“Of course I’m not,” she said tiredly. She noticed the large barb in Henrik’s hands. “Is that a fishing hook?”

“Yeah. I’m thinking we can make a grappling hook out of the shoelace,” he remarked.

“Wow. That’s…actually not a bad idea. For you, anyway.” The serval attempted to force more lace through a third eyelet, but her arms gave out halfway through the task. “Damn it. This is hard.”

The wolf looked at Yvette’s efforts, letting out a quiet sigh. “Er, do you…need a little help?”

“No. I’m fine,” Yvette said dismissively. “Just need a moment to cool down.”

“But we don’t have—” Henrik started, before catching himself. No. Arguing wasn’t going to make the work get done any faster. “I want to help. Please.”

The serval looked down at her boyfriend, tilting her head. “Uh. Sure. I’ll, uh…hold the hook.”

With a nod, Henrik and Yvette traded duties, with the wolf carefully handing the barb over to her before resuming her original task. She wasn’t kidding; being barely over three inches tall made simple tasks far more difficult. Eventually, the lace landed on the ground, coiled up and ready for use.

“Alright,” Henrik breathed out. “Looks like we’ve got about three feet of length to work with, give or take.”

Yvette blinked, examining the lace. “I don’t think that’ll get us to the table.”

“No. But it will get us up there.” Pointing at the wooden chair, he noted the numerous wooden spindles which ran up its backside. “We hook our way up there, climb up, and then do the same to get to the top.”

“You sure that’ll work? I dunno if it’s gonna hold our weight.”

Henrik chuckled. “You barely weigh an ounce now. This’ll work.” Yvette’s face went grumpy, causing him to relent. “That’s not a dig at your weight, I promise. You…uh. You look great, by the way.”

“Nice try.” The serval wrapped her arms around one portion of the lace, lifting it up with a bit of effort. “Come on, we’re running out of time.”

The wolf lowered his head, staring at the ground. “Right.” He did his best to balance both the hook and his portion of boot lace to keep from dragging too much of it across the floor. “Smooth. Real smooth,” he muttered.

Attaching the hook to the lace was a simple process, if cumbersome; after a few tugs, Henrik and Yvette managed to tie a simple knot around the hook’s loop, leaving the barb to dangle off the end. With the task complete, Henrik gave himself enough length to swing the hook with wide, circular motions to build up momentum. His release was impeccable, managing to snag the hook on the chair’s centermost spindle on his first try. An experimental tug ensured the rope was stable.

“Alright, that should do it,” he exclaimed. He looked up at his efforts, the brown lace dangling down to the ground, their first steps towards success. Upon realizing he had to climb the rope, his ears suddenly folded over. “Um. You, er…mind going first?”

Yvette’s brows raised. “Why?”

“I…I can act as an anchor. To support you if you’re struggling.”

The serval scoffed, walking past her boyfriend. “Please. You just want to stare at my ass.”

Henrik’s eartips turned red. She wasn’t wrong; her ass was nice to stare at, bare or otherwise. He shook his head in defiance.

“No, I don’t! It’s…I’m just using common sense!”

“Sure, you are. Stand aside, wolf.” After a deep breath to calm her nerves, Yvette crouched down, then extended to give herself a jumping start. Her arms and legs curled around the rope with ease, pulling herself up towards the chair’s seat. With more hesitation that he could afford, the wolf began his own climb right behind her.

“Don’t look down,” he muttered to himself as he pulled himself up.

Much to his relief, the climb itself was relatively quick, and the couple soon found themselves navigating around the spindle, sitting on top of the chair’s expansive seat. Henrik took deep heaves of air, his body shaking slightly.

“Okay…that’s the first part down,” he said, finding the exact center of the chair. Yvette watched Henrik’s somewhat erratic response.

“Hey, aren’t you gonna get the rope?” she asked.

“Y-yeah. In a minute.”

She blinked, giving him an inquisitive stare. Henrik was always a bit of an oddball, but this was weird behavior, even for him. “I’ll get it, then. I think I’m actually getting a second wind.” She padded over to the hook, doing her best to separate it from the long wooden column.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Yvette raised her head in annoyance. “Hey, stop jumping around!”

Henrik stared back at the spotted cat, feet firmly planted. “I’m…not doing that.”

The thumping was growing louder—and closer. Yvette’s heart caught in her throat—and at the worst time, as she fumbled with the fishing hook, slipping out of her hands as it clattered to the ground.

“Shit!” Yvette cried out as she watched all of their hard work now sprawled out over the floor far below. Losing their rope was the last of their worries, as a telltale hum filled the air.

“No way. It…it hasn’t been thirty minutes already, has it?”

Henrik didn’t answer. Or rather, he couldn’t. His eyes were fixated on the fast approaching skunk, her head buried in a small book. It was hard to reach the cover, but it appeared to be a…romance novel? Judging by the smile creeping over her face, she was clearly absorbed in whatever she was reading.

“Hmm, I do hope you’re making some progress, you two,” she said in a sing-song tone, head still buried in her book. “I may like my tea strong, but that’s no excuse for you to slack off!”

If Mizella had any knowledge that the pair were standing on the chair she was approaching, she made no signs of showing it. In fact, she made quite the show of turning herself around, displaying her own backside, curvy and voluptuous against her blue skirt. Her voluminous tail raised as she began to lower her rump down.

“Holy shit!” Yvette cried out. “Henrik, move!”

Henrik’s legs failed him. He managed only a few stumbles before falling backward onto the seat. He raised his hands up in defense as Mizella’s ass fast approached.

With a heavy thump, it came down.

Henrik felt a heavy weight smothering his body. There wasn’t any pain, but the pressure was certainly noticeable. He felt incredibly warm, from head to toe. He could still hear the skunk’s humming, if somewhat muffled. He could make out Yvette’s cries, too, echoing away in the distance.

This is it, he thought. Who knew being crushed by someone’s ass would be this…pleasant.

“Henrik!” Yvette screamed, snapping him out of his daze. His eyes flew open, finding his vision completely obscured by dark blue cloth. Henrik pressed his palms against what felt like silk, or something similar—it was hard to tell. He began to slide himself backward, closer to Yvette’s voice.

Eventually, he felt something tug at his wrists, pulling him out from the crevice he found himself wedged into. The serval panted heavily, eyes glistening as she embraced Henrik, chest pressed against his back, arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Oh God, you’re okay!” she exclaimed, struggling not to cry. “I…I thought she…I thought Mizella—”

“No, I’m…fine. I…I think,” Henrik said quietly. He squeezed his fingers together, wriggled his toes. His tail wagged against Yvette’s lap. Yep. Still alive, in one piece, and with all three of his dimensions. And with his freedom, came the realization that his entire vision was obscured by Mizella’s posterior. “Wow. That’s…that’s a lot of…y’know.”

“A lot of ass?” she said, finishing his sentence, her cries became sobbing laughs of joy. “You can say it, y’know. We’re adults!”

Henrik, still in his daze, added his own laughter to the mix. “Heh. It's…a great ass. Not as good as yours.”

Yvette smirked, giving him a gentle punch against his arm. “Oh, shut up,” she said, but in a tone that, to Henrik’s surprise, wasn’t demeaning or reactionary.

High above, the skunk’s tail draped over the back of the chair as she engrossed herself in her novel, leaving the pair stranded near the rear edge of the seat. The pair used the moment to recollect themselves, under the ever-present shadow of skunk butt.

“God, I don’t think she knows we’re right here,” Henrik said, keeping his voice low.

“Or she doesn’t care,” Yvette remarked. She was sitting down, hugging her legs to her chest. “Not that it matters now. I…I lost our rope. I’m sorry.”

Henrik blinked, a hint of frustration in his voice. “You lost it?” Seeing the pain written all over Yvette’s face, the wolf relented. “No, it’s…it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. How are we gonna get to the table now? Assuming she doesn’t just choose to waste the rest of our time by sitting there on her fat ass!” She pointed up at the giant skunk.

“I can hear you, you know,” a booming voice rang out. The pair froze solid. “Most people would be insulted by having their asses called out for being fat. You’re lucky I’m not one of them.”

“Shit,” Yvette whispered harshly.

“Don’t worry—my tea’s still brewing, so you’ve still got about…oh, ten minutes worth. Better figure out your next move!”

With that, Mizella stood up, throwing the pair off balance as she threw the chair back an inch from the motion. She straightened out her skirt in the process, giving the pair a view neither of them would forget. Closing her book, she began to thump her way back to her kitchen, hips and striped tail swaying to and fro to a beat she played in her own head. Henrik’s eyes followed the skunk the entire time, tail wagging lazily behind him.

“I thought you said my ass was better,” Yvette complained, catching Henrik’s stare.

“It is, but…I was under that.”

“You almost died because of that.”

“Would have been a hell of a way to go. You gotta admit it.”

The serval scoffed. “You’re lucky I love you, or I’d call her back to finish the job.” She stood up, looking at the table behind them, a veritable mountain looming high above them. “This…this isn’t your fault, you know. What’s…happened to us.”

Henrik raised his head, swiveling his sitting form to face his girlfriend. “Come on, Yvette, you don’t have to lie to me. I know you’re pissed at me.”

“I am.” She hesitated, biting her lip. “I…I was. I know you only meant well. But I’m not talking about our situation. I’m talking about…everything. The arguing, the snipes at each other. I’m to blame for a lot of that.” Another sigh escaped her. “I get why you were so upset when I mentioned we should seek counseling.”

“I…I was scared whoever we saw would tell us to…to separate.” Henrik’s voice sounded small, tired. Defeated. Yvette’s shoulders slouched, looking equally exhausted.

“I know. We argue, and we fight, but…I can’t imagine my world without you.” A tiny, sad smile spread over Yvette’s short muzzle. “For what it’s worth, I love how spontaneous you are. You always make my life exciting.”

“Heh,” Henrik said, shaking his head. “You are right about one thing. Well, a lot of things. I’m always afraid I’ll bore you, which is why I drag you along on so many of my weird escapades. But…right now, a quiet night alone, watching a bad movie and chewing on some popcorn sounds pretty damn good right now.”

Yvette’s smile widened—and brightened. “Yeah. It does.” Her index finger pointed out errantly, focused on what was between Henrik’s legs. “That boner better be because you actually find movie nights sexy, by the way.”

The wolf blinked, looking down at himself—and quickly covering himself up with his tail. The serval couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It’s okay, Henrik,” she said, offering her hand. “She’s pretty hot, in her own way.”

The wolf smirked, taking Yvette’s hand in his own, hoisting himself to his feet, and doing his best to take his mind off his erection. “Well, I’ve had my fill of distractions for one day. We still need to get up there,” he said, pointing at the table. “Question is, how?”

Yvette pondered that as well—and with a cooler head, came to the only logical solution. “The spindles. They’re not that thick. We could use them to climb up. I think.”

That thought caused Henrik’s ears to fold back a second time—and quickly drained the excitement from between his legs. She was right, of course—the spindles were only half an inch across, and easy to wrap their arms and legs around. Having the grappling hook as a safety net eased his initial apprehension, though. Without it, his doubts came roaring back in full force.

The serval didn’t wait for his reply, wrapping her limbs around the nearest column. “Just like in grade school.”

“R-right. Just like…just like school.” Steeling his nerves, Henrik took the spindle next to hers, hugging himself as tightly as he could to the beam. Much to his dismay, the wood was laminated, which made getting a proper grip arduous. Yet, centimeter by centimeter, inch by inch, he worked his way up.

Don’t look down, he told himself, repeating the words as loudly as he could in his mind. Don’t look down. Don’t. Don’t.

Eventually, the tip of his muzzle batted against the lip of the chair’s topmost horizontal beam. He made it. He felt a twinge of panic as he looked over to his left. Yvette wasn’t there.

“Oh, no,” he whispered aloud. He didn’t hear a sound from her. Did…did she—

“Hey! Grab my hand!”

Henrik’s gaze shot upward as the serval’s paw reached down over the edge, lying prone to give her better leverage. He reached for it with one hand, and with the serval’s assistance, managed to sink his claws into the chair’s surface, letting his upper body strength do the rest of the work.

“Thanks,” he said as he caught his breath.

“Don’t mention it. This part’s a bitch to navigate.” She patted the top rail with her fingers. “Figured you wouldn’t mind the assist.”

Henrik nodded, keeping his focus on Yvette and not on the hard floor below. “So, what next?”

“That.” Yvette pointed at the glass bottle sitting atop the table, a wide gap between chair and table separating the pair from victory. “We don’t have a lot of real estate here, but it doesn’t look like too much of a leap. Guess we can thank Mizella for that, too.”

Henrik’s fingers ran through his short, tawny headfur. “Right. All we gotta do is jump, yeah? Shouldn't be too hard—”

His world spun as he made the only fatal mistake he could; he looked down. The floor was nearly a yard away from where they stood. A small distance—if he were five-foot-ten. Instead, it felt like staring over the edge of a skyscraper. His legs felt weak as he fell back down to a sitting position.

Yvette had yet to realize Henrik’s predicament as she crouched down, judging the distance, and with all of her leg strength, leapt forward. Henrik nearly screamed as he watched his lover propel herself over the chasm, risking certain death if she miscalculated, only to watch her land on all fours on the other side, as felines were wont to do. She rose back up to her feet, letting out a triumphant cheer.

“Woo! I made it! Take that, you dumb skunk!” she cried out joyfully, bouncing up on her toes, quickly turning around to call back to Henrik. “Come on, hun! One more jump and we can grow back to normal!”

Henrik’s body betrayed him. He hugged himself, unable to move. “I…I can’t,” he whimpered.

The serval’s ears folded over, perplexed. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I…I just can’t, okay?”

“Alright, if this is a joke, I’m missing the punchline, here.” She beckoned him again, waving her hands towards herself. “We’re running out of time! Jump!”

“I’m…I’m afraid of heights!” he shouted in embarrassment. “We’re too high up! I won’t make it! I’ll…I’ll fall!”

“But…I…I don’t…” Yvette stammered, trying to make sense of his words. He climbed all the way up without breaking a sweat. Hell, she’d never seen him so much as flinch at anything remotely terrifying. “But you hike all the time! Didn’t you say you climbed mountains like they were anthills when we started dating?”

“I lied, okay?” the wolf barked out, his voice starting to crack. “I can’t stand being in high places! I can barely manage riding an escalator!”

“Why would you lie about that?”

“Because I was afraid! Someone as awesome as you are, dating someone who was scared of escalators as a kid? I wouldn’t date me!”

A wash of emotion crashed into the spotted feline as she watched her boyfriend bare his soul right in front of her. She felt numerous sensations at once—disappointment, anger, bewilderment, and much more—all directed at herself for being blind to his fears. Not once did it ever dawn on her that he’d grow apprehensive whenever she suggested visiting an amusement park, or his insistence on taking the stairs instead of an elevator, no matter the inconvenience.

One emotion stood head and shoulders above the rest for her: determination.

“Henrik?” she said in a soothing, level tone. “I don’t think that of you. I never have. Being scared of heights is nothing to be ashamed of.”

Henrik fought back a sniffle, holding himself tighter. “It is when you’re me. When your family expects so much of you, and you can’t even do something as simple as get on a damn escalator. It took me months of therapy to finally work up the nerve to ride one. How can anyone be proud of that?”

“Because you actually did it. You rode that escalator, just like you made it all the way to the top of that chair. It’s just one jump. You can do it.”

“It’s…not just one jump, Yvette. Climbing a rope or a beam is one thing. It’s an entirely different story when you can see the ground!”

“Then don’t look at the ground!” she shouted. “Keep your eyes on me.” She walked to the edge of the table, outstretching her arm. “I won’t let you fall.”

Every fiber of Henrik’s being resisted the urge to rise back up to his feet. The goal was so close, and yet it felt miles away. Yet somehow, by keeping his eyes on his girlfriend and her outstretched arm? It didn’t feel so far away any more.

“Alright,” he said weakly. “I’ll try. But you better catch me.”

Yvette flashed the wolf a grin. “When have I ever let you down?”

A nervous chuckle escaped Henrik’s lips. He took a step back, the laminated wood feeling increasingly slippery. He wouldn’t have any room to build up speed; he’d just have to go for it.

Mimicking her previous movement, Henrik crouched down, eyes focused on Yvette’s arm. Don’t look down. Look at her. Just her.

He leapt forward, arms flailing as he propelled himself as far as he could. His stomach leapt up into his throat, terrified that he’d miss, that the ground would rise up to meet him, threatening to swallow him whole. His arms reached out as he fought back the urge to scream.

Henrik’s jump was short. He clasped onto Yvette’s arm, sending her sprawling flat on her stomach. The wolf dangled precariously over the edge, eyes wide with fright as the serval winced, struggling to keep her grip. Her arm was already starting to burn from the shoulder down; whatever remained of her second wind  was fading fast.

“D-don’t let go! P-please!” Henrik screamed.

“N-not…not planning on it!” Yvette replied, reaching her other arm down to grasp Henrik’s wrist. Despite her earlier boast, her arms were too tired. She was struggling to keep her grasp on him.

“Yvette!”

No. She wasn’t going to let him go. She was stronger than that.

Using what little strength remained, the serval slowly swung Henrik’s body like a pendulum, hoping the momentum would be enough to carry him the rest of the way. The wolf’s claws sank deep into the table the moment it came into reach, burning off the last of his energy to hoist himself up. Both of them laid at the table’s edge, gasping for air before finally embracing one another.

“You did it! God, you did it,” Yvette exclaimed, eyes glistening as she held the wolf tight.

“No, you did it! Thank you!” Henrik replied, squeezing as hard as he could. He never wanted to let go.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Yvette’s eyes flew open wide. “Oh, no.”

“Ah, shit,” Henrik said. “She’s coming back. We need to get to the bottle!”

Sharing a short nod, the pair ran raggedly across the table’s surface and towards the glass container, even as the thumping and giggling grew ever closer.

“Ten…nine…eight…” the skunk counted down, just as they reached their objective. Yvette’s hands fumbled for the glass stopper, just out of her reach.

“Damn it, I…I can’t grab it!” she exclaimed. Henrik was attempting to do the same, claws scraping uselessly across the glass surface. Neither of them could even get it to budge, even as the skunk’s countdown grew closer to the inevitable.

“Time’s up!” Mizella said, adding another thump that briefly reverberated through the surface—a steaming cup of strong-smelling tea that filled the air with aromatic spice. The bottle was quickly ripped away from the pair’s grasps with a massive paw.

“No!” Henrik shouted. “That’s not fair! We made it, didn’t we?”

“You did, but reaching the bottle wasn’t enough. Remember what I said? You had to drink its contents, not just scratch up the glass.” She gave the glass a whimsical glance, tsking slightly. “And it was such a nice bottle, too.”

Yvette chimed in following Henrik’s complaint, stamping her foot. “You cheated! You made that bottle impossible to open on purpose!”

The skunk shrugged, still grinning. “I did no such thing.” To prove her point, her thumb and index finger squeezed around the stopper, popping it away with ease, much to the couple’s dismay. “See? Easy as pie.”

The wolf’s legs finally succumbed to fatigue as he fell down to his knees, looking utterly distraught. “But…it’s not fair. We…we did so much…” Yvette leaned down, hugging herself firmly against the wolf’s back, kissing his cheek as she swallowed down her own dismay. The giant skunk watched the display, still smiling.

“Sorry, but rules are rules. You’re all mine now. And I already have your first task in mind.”

Both of them shuddered, awaiting their fate at the mercy of the all-powerful sorceress, their minds reeling on what awaited them. Deadly experiments, being used as additional potion reagents, or perhaps the worst task of all: being forced to clean the floor below by themselves. None of that sounded pleasant, but they couldn’t fight back, even if they wanted to.

Mizella raised her free hand, snapping her fingers. A small plume of purple smoke obscured their vision, causing them to cough as they swung their hands to clear it away. Before their eyes stood a smaller table, similar in design to her own, but built to their scale. Two thimbles served as cups, resting on either end of the table. The skunk’s grin remained.

“Join me for a drink?”

Both of them stared at the doll-sized table, then back up at the skunk as she poured a few drops of thick red red liquid from the bottle into each thimble. They continued staring after she finished, completely flustered.

“B-but…you said we lost—” Henrik started.

“You did, and I’ve decided what to do with you. I want to have a drink with you two. I get tea, you get what’s in the bottle. Works for everyone, don’t you agree?”

The red wolf let out a sharp bark, before bursting into fits of laughter. It proved infectious, as Yvette joined in. Mizella simply watched, continuing to smile as she took her seat in the same chair that served as the couple’s sole access to the tabletop.

“O-oh, wait, aren’t you worried about the table? We’re gonna be pretty heavy once we return to normal,” Yvette said.

“I just created a table out of nothing, dear. I’m not too worried about a little collateral damage. Come on! Drink up!” She raised her tea cup, pinky extended outward. The two shared a mutual smile as they wrapped their hands around their thimbles, drinking deeply. Henrik’s expression warped as he finished his share, looking himself over, finding his height unchanged.

“Wait. Nothing happened.”

“Of course it didn’t!” Yvette said, slamming her cup down. “This is cranberry juice!”

Mizella couldn’t keep her face straight anymore, laughing out loud, slapping her thigh with her palm. Neither Henrik nor Yvette found the skunk’s trickery amusing.

“What is with you?” Henrik cried out, pointing up at the taller skunk. “Haven’t you tortured us enough?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I couldn’t resist!” she said, wiping away a small tear from the corners of her eyes.

“So…we’re really stuck like this?” Yvette said in a panic, shooting up from her chair. “You were never planning on fixing this, were you?”

“Oh, heaven forbid I’d leave you like this! I don’t need little assistants crawling around, getting in all of my knick-knacks! A girl has to have some privacy!” She took a brief pause to sip her tea. “There’s one way to fix your condition.” Her finger pressed against the table’s surface, tracing it across its edge in showy fashion, stopping once her arm fully extended. “Jump off.”

Henrik could feel the color draining out of his face. “W-what? You…you want us to jump?”

“Yep.”

“Are you crazy? We’ll break every bone in our bodies!”

Mizella rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. I promise—no more tricks. Just do as I say.”

Henrik began to have a conniption, struggling not to curl up into a tight, tawny-furred ball. He felt a hand press against his shoulder, looking into his girlfriend’s brown eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he looked so deeply into them. They looked so…illuminating.

“It’s alright, Henrik,” she said quietly. “Let’s…do what she says.”

“Y-you’re actually listening to her? After everything she’s done?”

“Trust me, I’m ten kinds of pissed at her, but I don’t think she’s lying about this. If she wanted us dead or as her servants, she would have just done it already. And if we die now, we get to haunt her for the rest of her life. I’d say it’s worth the risk.” The serval flashed a devious smile. Henrik heaved a sigh, then nodded.

“We take shifts. I haunt her during the day. She’s all yours at night.”

“Deal.” Taking her boyfriend by the hand, Yvette helped him back to his feet, turning to face the edge where Mizella’s finger traced over. “On three,” she whispered, steeling her own nerves. “One…two…”

“Three!” Henrik shouted, and continued to shout as he ran at breakneck speed, with Yvette in tow. Wincing his eyes shut, he took a full leap over the edge of the table, eyes flying back open once he realized what he’d done. The ground came up to meet him all too quickly as he landed with a heavy thud. His eyes fluttered open, staring at Mizella’s sandaled feet, with her pedicured nails and glittering toe rings; only now, they weren’t nearly as gargantuan as before. He wagged his tail once, brushing against one of the table’s legs, and then another.

“W…we’re…we’re back to normal!” he exclaimed, looking over at Yvette, back to her original proportions as well—and as expected, on all fours, without so much as a flinch.

“See? What did I tell you? Nothing to worry about!” Mizella said joyfully, now having to look up at the wolf as he managed to upright himself. Mizella’s eyes traced down between his legs; a reminder to himself that he was still very exposed. He yelped, using his tail to keep himself decent. Yvette did the same, forearm cupped around her breasts, the other hand covering her loins.

“Uh. D-do you…uh…mind if we get dressed first? Y’know, before we kill you for putting us through this?” Yvette said, embarrassed.

“Oh, I’ve seen it all already, but if you insist.” Mizella grinned wryly, turning her back to the pair and allowing them to retrieve their respective articles of clothing. Her humming filled the air as they got dressed, exchanging glances with one another.

“There we go,” Henrik said as he donned and straightened out his now-wrinkled red shirt. “Now that that’s over…” He turned Mizella around, now completely furious. “What the hell was all that about?”

“Yeah! We could have died!” Yvette chimed in. Despite their attitudes, Mizella’s confident smile never wavered.

“Oh, I’d never let that happen. You just triggered the enchantment’s failsafe.”

“Fail…” Henrik muttered.

“...safe?” Yvette said, finishing the thought.

“Yes. Failsafe. Bit of an echo in here, isn’t there?” The skunk smirked. “The spell becomes inert if you ever find yourself in mortal danger. Such as falling off the equivalent of a ten-story building, getting stepped on, or—”

“Sat on,” Henrik interrupted. “But…you felt me, didn’t you? Why didn’t I change back?”

Mizella chuckled. “Because you weren’t in any real danger. In fact, I’d say you had the best seat in the house.”

Henrik’s ears colored red, averting his gaze as he rubbed at the back of his neck. Yvette shook her head fractionally, stepping in to finish the conversation.

“Okay, fine, I get it. This was all a part of your little game. Still doesn’t answer why.”

The sorceress let out a hmph. “You really like making me repeat myself, don’t you? This was a challenge: a chance for you to put your petty squabbles aside and work towards a common goal. And it worked, wouldn’t you say?”

Yvette couldn’t muster up an answer, now sharing Henrik’s mindset of avoiding eye contact. Watching the two of them caused Mizella to sigh.

“Listen,” she said at last. “I know this isn’t going to fix all of your problems overnight. You’ll still get under each other’s skin every once in a while, that’s unavoidable. But I hope you at least think back on your time here with me, and it brings you some perspective.” She shrugged. “Like I told you: I’m not a love counselor. I’d be a hell of a sorceress if I was.”

The red wolf conceded. The skunk had some unusual methods, but damn, if they weren’t effective. He grasped Yvette’s hand tightly. “Well, I sure as hell won’t forget tonight.”

Feeling the squeeze made Yvette beam joyfully. “You can say that again.”

“Good! Now that our business is settled, it’s time for you two to be on your way. You’ve made such an awful mess of my floor, and I need to clean it up.”

“But we don’t know how to get back to our car,” Henrik said, finally admitting what Yvette already knew—that they were still lost in the middle of the forest.

“Oh, just walk straight ahead. You’ll hit the parking lot in ten minutes tops.” The skunk snapped her fingers, remembering something important. “I almost forgot! Before you go.” She reached for a small vial, capped with a cork and filled with glowing green fluid. “I may not be able to produce love, but I can definitely spice it up some. Take a swig of that before you get busy. Just make sure you do it in a proper space.”

Henrik was hesitant about drinking more ‘potions’, especially those of the fruit juice variety. Yvette, however, reached for the vial, taking it in hand. “This better not do anything weird,” she said.

“Oh, nothing weirder than usual. Now, off you go! Sun’s rising! Scoot!” Mizella shared one last smile between the two of them, before taking her cooling cup of tea, disappearing back into her kitchen. Both Henrik and Yvette looked confused.

“Sun…rising? Didn’t we reach the tent by nightfall?” he asked as they wandered outside the tent.

“Yeah, how could the sun be—”

A thin fog covered the forest floor as they found themselves back outside in the wilderness, beams of rising sunlight shining through the branches above.

“Holy crap, it is morning! But we were only in there for half an hour—”

Henrik pointed behind him, suddenly letting out a loud gasp. The tent was gone. Not a trace of it remained; only the fog that permeated every inch of the woods.

“B-but…it was…it was just—”

“After the day…night?...we’ve had, nothing surprises me anymore.” Yvette took her befuddled boyfriend by his hand. “Let’s go, hun.”

“Uh. Y-yeah. Sure.” Henrik nodded, following the feline’s lead, every so often peeking over his shoulder to see if the tent’s disappearance was just another one of Mizella’s tricks—that she’d still be there, watching them, and sipping away at her tea. The woods themselves remained quiet and serene, the only sound being their own footfalls. Yvette tried to keep a straight face, still barefoot as she walked across the soft ground. She should have asked for new shoes when she had the chance.

“Y’know, it’s funny,” she remarked. “I should be livid after everything we’ve been through. I’m not, though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m…happy.” Her head raised up in thought. “No. Happy’s not it. Content? Satisfied? I don’t know. I just know I’m in a better mood than before.”

“Because we survived being the size of bugs and trying not to get squished by a crazy skunk magician?”

She smirked. “Sort of. It’s more…knowing that we’ll be okay. If we can survive that, we can survive anything. Even the occasional fight.”

Henrik grinned. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. And we’ll keep on surviving, because that’s what couples in love do.”

Yvette gave Henrik’s paw a reassuring squeeze. The trees slowly parted as a familiar part of the trail came into view—and with it, the wolf’s SUV, a lone vehicle parked in a small, stone-laden parking lot. The serval breathed a huge sigh of relief.

“Ugh, finally,” she said. “I can’t wait to get home and take a shower.”

Henrik raised a brow, slowly grinning from ear to ear. He stood in place, even as Yvette tried to make for the car.

“Uh, honey? The car? It’s right there.”

“I know,” he replied, slowly pulling the serval towards him. “But…we don’t have to go home right away, do we?”

Yvette blinked as he found herself pressed gently against the wolf’s body, taking in his warmth, and the lingering scent of his cologne. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. “Whoa. You’re not serious, are you?”

“Come on, when was the last time we had a fling in public? You gotta admit, there was something kind of kinky about tonight,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. Yvette felt her face grow hot, a flustered smile spreading.

“Oh God, you’re terrible,” she said teasingly. “But seriously, right here? In the woods?”

“Why not? We’ve spent most of the night in our birthday suits. Why not spend a few more minutes?”

Yvette’s tail whipped back and forth, slowly warming up to the idea. “But what if…what if someone sees us?”

Henrik gave a truly wolfish grin, hands rubbing down the pretty woman’s sides. “Then they get a nice show.”

“I hate you, you know that?” Yvette whispered, despite pressing her lips against the wolf’s in a muzzle-to-muzzle kiss. In mere seconds, they were shrugging themselves out of the clothing they’d spent most of the night out of, fingers exploring the other’s bodies in earnest. Henrik slowly lowered the serval’s body down on a soft patch of wild grass, his tongue lapping gently against her large ear, giving the tip a quick nip. Yvette let out a sharp gasp, her body rearing up against his own.

“God, you’re such a tease,” she whispered into his ear, purring as he grew hard against her stomach. “I love it.”

“And I love you,” he replied in due fashion. He raised up his hand, bringing the vial into view. “Since we’re here, why not try a little bit of this? See what happens?”

The serval looked at it nervously. “I dunno. Maybe we should wait until we’re home first. Where it’s safe.”

“Just a small taste. And if it gets weird, you can just pick me up and put me in the car until it wears off.”

Apprehensively, she nodded. “Just a sip!”

Henrik beamed, quickly uncorking the bottle and pouring a small amount on his tongue. He smacked his chops, face contorting. “Ugh, that’s sour—whoa.”

“Whoa? What does ‘whoa’ mean?”

Henrik’s head began to swim again, bracing himself. “I…I feel really warm all of a sudden—” suddenly, a sharp yelp escaped his lips as he lurched up higher and higher, his body starting to swell all over. His proportions remained the same, yet he felt as if he were being stretched up and out, again and again. “I’m…holy crap, I’m g-growing!”

Yvette’s eyes went wide as she watched her boyfriend expand, widening his stance to avoid smothering her underneath. He reached out for two trees for support as he let out a deep, passionate grunt, doubling his original height. And with another shudder, triple that. His erection pressed firmly against Yvette’s belly, crawling up towards—and eventually past—her yellow-furred breasts, nipples already hard from the cool morning air. The growth finally abated, leaving him panting. The trees bent outward as he leaned against them for support, reedy creaking filling the air as he did.

“Damn,” Yvette whispered, looking up provocatively at her now gigantic boyfriend, easily twenty-five feet tall, and with a cock to match. Henrik stared down at his smaller mate, his tail wagging furiously.

“Mmmf. Should’ve known Mizella had more tricks up her sleeve.” His ears folded back, face flush with arousal. “That…that felt too good.”

The serval’s tailtip was a blur. She could feel his heartbeat throbbing through his length as it bobbed against her, thumping gently atop her body. She couldn’t describe why, but watching his transformation in the opposite direction turned her on like nothing else. “I’m gonna want a turn with that bottle after this,” she said, tracing her finger across the side of his too-sensitive glans, eliciting another heaving shudder from the towering wolf.

“Nngh, I…I don’t think it’s gonna fit,” he stammered out.

Yvette gave him a wink, wrapping her limbs around as much of his shaft as she could. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” she mused, her barbed tongue dragging across the slit. Henrik threw his head back, snarling with bliss, as if a bolt of electricity wracked through every inch of his body.

And so their fun continued, the sounds of laughter and lovemaking filling the air—none of which were lost on the skunk, watching from her new vantage point, enjoying the last of her tea.