Olonne

Markus could still remember the days long past when he played pretend games of adventure and travel to lands far beyond his own meager pastures, traipsing through the dense, overgrown forest, simple and carefree. Olonne had been blessed with bumper harvests for most of his weaning, so the panther could afford to neglect his few chores. In those halcyon days, everyone became accustomed to excess, ill-prepared for the years of hardship that marked most of the panther’s adolescence.

The blight had started with wheat and quickly spread to the barley and fireoats. Markus had been taught since birth that their God had abandoned them, a belief that only seemed more and more true as he and his family struggled to find food through year after year of ever dwindling stores of grain, sickly livestock hastily slaughtered to get his family through endless days of famine and pestilence. The lords had secreted themselves behind stone walls, occulted for so long that stories spread about their opulent parties, about decadence and depravity beyond all sense of propriety and honor, the supposed chivalry of knights stripped bare and revealed as no more substantial than smoke in rain.

Publius arrived the same year he would have been pressed into military service for his Lord, a title that remained in his mind as capital letters even with everything that had transpired since. Living so close to the former and future seats of government, Markus had seen the miraculous apparition with his own eyes; the large, black and rectangular craft falling through the heavens, unnaturally silent as it streaked across the sky until its immensity stabbed into the earth with a bellowing roar. There it sat, a sight so unimaginable that he was not the only person whose first thought was of some divine retribution, the nightmarish scenes of judgment even the most grotesque priests seemed afraid to describe.

The shimmering black immensity in the distance had filled him with a trepidation bordering on complete terror. It was so many things: an absurd monstrosity, a massive imposition, a holy monument, proof of conquest, a mockery of the smallness of this world. It sprawled up and into the sky, above the dark-grey clouds it seemed to conjure, absorbing the light that used to fill every corner of the verdant countryside and replacing it with an aura of–if not sheer malice–dominion unbound, a dream of might beyond all former limits of size and power.

When the massive creature–appearance so like a cat of their own kind if not for the tiger’s sheer enormity–stepped out of clear black, the confusion and dread shifted rapidly to horror and terror. The town’s residents ran as far as possible from the massive conqueror. The monster covered so much ground with each booming footfall, it was impossible to escape his presence.

The giant let out a small, dry chuckle as he stomped over the city wall, clearly amused that his mere presence could cause such complete chaos. “There will be plenty of time to run in fear. But first,” a pause for effect long enough to draw the stunned attention of the scattering onlookers, “He must die.” The words were all the more terrifying for their pitch-perfect Olonnean, the way his voice carried across the commune and out into the surrounding hillside. His fiery, golden eyes focused on the manor in the center of town. Demonic. No other word fit Him. The speech only made the tiny felines more eager to flee from the massive, encroaching form whose every footfall sent quakes through the whole town.

He continued through a town rapidly depopulating, past fleeing peasants and towards the Lord’s manor. None of the residences or shops collapsed due to his impressive bulk, but several did develop cracks large enough that even the conqueror himself could spy them from his lofty eyeline. Struck dumb by the impossibility of the scene, Markus clung to the outside of the blacksmith’s, staring up at the enormous tiger in all of his naked glory as he continued his single-minded march to the center of town. The tremors from each and every step were enough to make the panther stumble and almost fall to the ground, even in spite of his tight grip. His life did not matter. Not in comparison to that of the jovial devil looming above their heads.

The massive tiger crossed the village and knelt in front of the opulent manor-house like a collapsing mountain. He was still a full head taller than the four-story structure, his expression hard to parse with its snarling contempt for what passed for authority on this pathetic world mixed with a clear delight at the power his every movement commanded. “Lord Raimond, I know you are up on the third floor, cowering in fear with your family. Does everyone yet know why?” His voice was loud enough to reverberate through not just the nearby field but even the distant hills. “Because he has lost every scrap of power he once held. Because the Lord is so used to acting like God-himself that he cannot even fathom the reality of judgment by a higher power.” The tiger punched a hole into the roof of the manor, the horrendous moan of wood echoing throughout an awestruck valley as he plucked the mayor up in his upsized fist. His shrieks of terror were just as clear, his tiny body unable to wrestle free from even one of the tiger’s massive digits. “Shall I list your sins or wilt thou list them first?” These words, which formed the beginning of the religious caste’s last rites, caused the slender otter who was barely large enough to fit in the tiger’s paw to blanche in terror. His shock rendered him mute–down below, unable to tear his eyes from every unimaginable action of the invader, the panther dreamed all the retribution this giant could wreak on such a worthy target, someone who had gorged himself while the peasants starved.

The tiger licked his lips, the gleeful sadist coming out as he wrapped his sandpaper tongue around the otter, finery and all–a dignity he would not allow later nobles–the wet muscle pulling him kicking and screaming into his hungry maw. The giant made a point of chewing loudly, causing the ghastly crunch of the feudal lord to linger in the ears of each witness for long after the grisly scene was concluded. The panther wasn’t sure if he hallucinated a drip of red flowing down the giant’s cheek, wiped clean by the same tongue that swallowed the lord’s corpse. It was as if he had read the panther’s mind, saw what he most wanted, and decided to grant his most gruesome wish.

“Sic semper tyrannis, as they say…” he continued with a dry chuckle as he bashed the manor house once more, swiping his arm through the second floor. The structure crackled, crumbled, and collapsed as the tiger stood at his full extent. “I trust none of you will mourn his passing. I’ve heard what you whisper about him beyond his hearing.”

The next few years were so entirely different from the previous ones that even if a distinction had not been forced from above, Markus and most other furs would have divided them into before and after Publius in any way. The wars that seemed likely to engulf–if not ultimately take–the panther’s life ended quickly as Publius went from town to town in service of his complete aristocide, decimating and often literally devouring the timorous remnants of the ruling class. Traveling bands would tell stories of the righteous tiger parading through the countryside and freeing the people from abject horrors, epic poems equal parts sardonic and hopeful in scope and outlook. Few people trusted their new sovereign’s insistence that they were free to speak their minds, fearing some sort of clever ploy to ensnare the loosest tongues so they would be easier to lop off. Markus had even heard stories of entire garrisons killing their former nobles in futile attempts to curry favor with the gargantuan regent. The fools did not realize the relish with which the tiger enjoyed his romps; running through the countryside, stomping from castle to castle, his each and every footfall fresh testament to his infinite, unknowable power. These acts backfired, bringing further wrath onto these holdings, conspirators rounded up and devoured on the spot, while others disappeared inside the new lord’s gigantic castle.

And what an impressive castle it was! He couldn’t help but note how much more gargantuan the building looked as he approached. Previous designs had been limited in both concept and execution, restricted by some combination of cost, building materials, and logic. The massive cat no longer had to worry about such trivialities. His castle was a massive edifice, one befitting the tiger’s almost ten meter height, fronted with doors of impossibly ornate oak–or perhaps cedar, the panther being no carpenter–perfectly-sized to match the outsize proportions of their sovereign. Markus mawkishly made his way over to the smaller, more modest entryway reserved for visitors of insufficient size to open the enormous doors. As this included all intelligent life on the planet apart from the sovereign, it was in effect the real entrance, and it took him several hours to work his way to the front of the long queue. Ample time to ponder the unfathomable size of their gigantic conqueror, no doubt the real purpose of the enormous entrance.

The panther attempted an air of authority as he introduced himself to the functionaries at the entrance. He stood up a little straighter, focusing hard on emphasizing each syllable. His voice cracked upon introducing himself as “the new mayor of Baslotte,” an awful croak in his throat as he squeezed out the final syllable. He was expected, and so he found himself ushered inside without anything more than a few knowing smirks from the otherwise stolid knights standing sentinel at the smaller entrance.

The exterior of the castle was almost unfathomably huge, but it was still no preparation for the scale of its interior. All around the building there were gothic touches that Markus recognized from the Archon cathedrals that Publius had not demolished in spite of the new regent’s evident distaste for both superstition and the aristocracy that had once supported itself within its auspices. Those churches were nowhere near as intricate, nor as smoothly masoned as the stone of this castle was, but they had some the same themes, the high vaulted ceilings, the flowery carving, as if the stone had grown from the ground itself, and of course rows and rows of ornate columns covered in all sorts of intricate friezes. It would not have surprised Markus to learn that Publius’ fondness for their unique architecture had led him to keep those cathedrals standing. Besides, they could always be repurposed to support the new regime.

In spite and in no small part because of its recognizable features, the castle was entirely alien to Markus. He had heard of all sorts of strange magicks and wondrous inventions the regent had brought with him from foreign stars, but to actually see them up close, working their magic right in front of his eyes, was something else entirely. The steps on staircases moved by themselves, so that the many knights and ministers and secretaries and undersecretaries shuffled about the massive complex without even having to move their feet. There were large glass casings which glided up and down the walls to different sections within the castle, presumably at the whim of the dozen or so people who could fit inside. It was this quality that surprised Markus the most, how the castle’s atrium was so bustling and full of life, each attendant and sub-attendant and minister and vice-minister scurrying about, all serving the massive master as they were in turn served by the magicks of the unfathomably gigantic castle. He tried to count the floors he could spot above his head but kept losing track around 30 or 40, a scale completely beyond the panther’s comprehension. In all the commotion, the panther almost missed a solitary lynx making a beeline straight for him.

“You must be the new mayor of Baslotte?” he asked, taking the panther’s firm nod–after his initial shock broke–for sufficient confirmation for his own introduction. “I’m Lukas, subaltern to the secretary of decorum. I will be escorting you throughout your visit here. I know how challenging the castle can be to newcomers,” he smiled a remarkably condescending smile as he swiveled on his heels and headed towards one of the nearby staircases, a wave of his hand more than sufficient to get an incredibly flustered panther to follow.

“It is a great honor to be invited to dine with the regent.” The lynx took a step up onto the staircase, and before Markus could blink, it rapidly started to ascend. “Come now, hold on before I lose you!” The lynx yelled, pointing to a railing next to the stairs, a bright blue light springing into existence that linked his grip to the lynx’s. He didn’t even have to climb the stairs to close the distance between them; the ones in between him and the subaltern seemed to evaporate into thin air so that he was only a few feet below the lynx’s own step.

“Like I said, the castle can be quite hard to adapt to. I remember the first day I worked here, trying to figure out all the different machines that the regent has so graciously provided. Suffice it to say it took an embarrassing while before I didn’t get lost on my way to the lavatory,” he laughed as his eyes met the panther’s for the first time. “I can tell by your mien that you were like me before the descent. Probably barely survived the blight, too…” he drifted off for a moment, a grave look setting into his face for just long enough for Markus to read the terror of those years of famine before it returned to his more natural, jovial disposition. “It shouldn’t surprise you that some of the old prejudices are harder to beat than others,” the lynx said. “Some men still cling to the old belief that good breeding and wealth are useful proxies for value. Publius, however, rewards men who show themselves to be worthy of reward, and punishes those who prove worthy of condemnation. You know what happened to the previous mayor, I take it?”

“I-I do,” Markus stuttered, desperately trying not to fixate on it. He had worked his way this far, and while he was pleased with his progress, working himself far above any level he might have even dreamed about attaining under the old aristocracy, he knew exactly how serious the last mayor’s crimes had been, and how swiftly the regent had punished them.

“Then you already know not to arouse the sovereign’s temper, even if you aren’t an aristocrat,” his face flickered anew with seriousness before softening as he gauged the panther’s expression. “This is not as hard as you might think it to be! Publius is not, after all, some mere tyrant! Those petty pretenders overseas like to project their own failings onto Olonne, lest their subjects realize who really stands for them…” The lynx effortlessly stepped off the revolving staircase and onto the landing, reaching through the once solid staircase and pulling Markus out with him. He continued to pull the panther through the winding halls, paying no mind to any of the big cat’s hmmphs of protest. “I would have warned you, but novices tend not to understand phasing until they’ve actually been through one themselves.” The panther was no closer to understanding what had just happened to him, how he had been brought through a solid object, but he found it prudent to keep his lips shut. At least he was learning something. Many somethings, in fact.

“Unfortunately, there isn’t an automatic conveyor on this floor, so we’ll have to proceed on foot from here. I take it you remember how to walk?” the lynx teased with that gratingly cheeky irreverence the panther had come to expect. He turned on his agile heels and briskly walked off in one single fluid motion, purple and red robes swaying just so in the breeze that Markus was given a surprisingly intimate glimpse of the lynx’s silhouette. He was sleek, middle height, with wonderfully groomed fur that suited someone who worked for the office of decorum. He was cute…but he wasn’t really Markus’s type.

“H-have you met the…the r-regent?” he asked, a stutter coming out of his disbelief that he was actually about to meet the titan in person.

“A few times,” the lynx answered without turning back to face him. “Have you ever seen him in person?”

“Yes, I-I s-saw him…during the d-descent.” Markus’s fur stood on end as he ran his paws down the front of his robes, trying to get a grip on himself and not lose sight of the larger situation. He mostly failed. At least kept pace, staying as close as he could manage to the lynx in spite of his own feverish gait.

The lynx turned back upon him to take a brief but hard look, judging whether Markus was telling the truth. The panther almost plowed right into the subaltern, stopping just in time to end up uncomfortably close to his face instead. After a moment’s hesitation, the lynx seemed satisfied that he was telling the truth. “I’m jealous! I’ve heard the regent was in rare form during the descent, and…well, he had not yet taken to our attire!” The panther had spent countless sleepless nights thinking of the giant tiger’s naked body. It was not making this visit any easier. “If you saw him then, it’s no wonder you’re so nervous. Positively quivering in your boots back there! You probably think you’re about to be punished. Nothing could be further from the truth! Publius simply does not punish people who do not deserve it.”

This sentiment was not as reassuring as it was meant.

“That’s why I know he’ll end up liberating the Bretagnes before long. I don’t work on any sort of defense policy, mind; my job is mostly accommodating diplomats and helping people like you acclimate to all of this,” he waved his arms around in an unnecessarily exaggerated fashion that did nonetheless help make the point. “But I do know someone in the defense ministry, and he’s told me there is endless talk over there about how to deal with all those barbaric little tyrannies that still don’t bow before the regent, and given Publius’s clearly divine nature, it shouldn’t be all that surprising that he’s planning on expanding his terri—”

“Lukas, I do hope you aren’t filling Markus’s head with prattle and idle gossip,” a large voice boomed to the right of them. It was unmistakable, even after the passage of almost a full decade, its dulcet basso profundo clear in his memory. It was Him. “Isn’t your job here to show the guests around, not lecture them about current events?” Turning to face the source of the booming voice, Markus found that he could see through the stone wall, much like the staircase that he had somehow been pulled through earlier. The striking visage of the massive tiger held a grin the panther couldn’t help but notice was a few arshin larger than he was tall.

The admonishment was playful enough, but Lukas cast his head down in desultory embarrassment anyway. “Of course you are right, Publius, I-” he began, but the tiger had already moved on to the panther. His eyes met the panther’s, and Markus found himself unable to look away. This was his regent, this–this was Him…and He was breathtaking in the flesh, with only, what, five or six arshin now between his lips and the panther’s body?

“What a rare specimen Baslotte has selected,” the tiger began, steamrolling the middle of what appeared to be the first paragraph of Lukas’s characteristically lengthy apology. Even as the tiger took a pause for effect, the lynx knew to quiet himself. “You’ll have to pardon my gaze, Markus. It’s not everyday that you meet someone quite so…” he trailed off, taking a pause before he started again. “A jaguar, the only one in your family with a coat that shade. We will have to talk about it more over dinner, don’t you think?” The tiger winked, turned his head, and the wall turned back into opaque stone.

“Holy shit…” Markus muttered as he struggled to catch his breath. The regent knew far more about him than he would have even hoped; was this some special interest of his, or was the giant somehow this knowledgeable about each and every one of his subjects?

“Interesting…” the lynx began after a moment of silence, as if to answer the panther’s unspoken question, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Publius take such an intense interest in someone quite so quickly. Usually it takes him a while to warm up, even those people he does like…” Through the lynx’s pauses Markus could swear he read an intense, seething jealousy. Had he once held the tiger’s interest, only to be unceremoniously replaced? “Come now, though. It will not do to keep Publius waiting.”

Lukas grew sullen and quiet for the remainder of the journey. It made Markus all that more uncomfortable, even if he was still too shocked and terrified to say much of anything himself. He just could not accept that the attention was positive. What had he done to earn the sovereign’s ire? Had he ever preached his downfall or worked against him? One heard stories of people cursing the regent and mysteriously disappearing into the night. Was he suspected of having ties to the old regime, or harboring sympathies for the old aristocracy? Distantly, he was aware that some cousins and nephews of the old king still lived in the courts of Růs and Quan-di, over the channel and across the White Ocean…but he was hardly an old regime loyalist. Their execution had been brutal and bloody, but the truth was, even though he dared never tell another soul, Markus had if anything found the thought of Publius devouring each and every lord and lady to be arousing. A colossus reaching down and just taking what was rightfully his by unmitigated, brutal force. Targets so deserving of his wrath that even now, while the panther struggled through his intense fear, the panther could feel his cock ever so slightly stiffen at the memory of the tiger’s swallowing Lord Raimond with his gorgeous jaws…

He thought that he had witnessed enough impossible things for one day–if not for his entire lifetime–but the sight of the dining room was beyond even his now expanded imagination. It was absolutely massive, large enough for his previous idea of the entire castle to occupy. Such limitations were of no consequence to the sovereign, though. The panther had heard whispers from the more learned men in town of the impossibility of the tiger’s proportions. Markus just argued that this was further proof of the sovereign’s divinity.

The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting the many heroic feats of the conquering tiger, adversaries he had bested and sacrifices he had made for comrades-in-arms. One in particular stood out, the tiger clad in the classic armor of a legendary knight as he struck a fatal blow against a creature with seven limbs and at least as many eyes and mouths. “Magnificent, aren’t they?” a voice now intimately familiar bellowed far over his head as his footfalls seemed to shake the very foundations of the room. Glancing up at the tiger’s form looming above, the panther almost fainted in reflexive terror. “I can tell you the story behind each and every one, if you’d like,” He went on, wistful, almost, like he wanted to say more before holding back. “But we have more important things to discuss.” His tone was intoxicating, jovial and friendly in spite of its sheer, enormous power.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get over being so much larger than you natives.” The flow of the giant’s voice was a gentle river the panther felt compelled to follow to whatever uncertain destination the tiger led.  As Publius crouched, his chubby thighs strained his massive trousers with his legs akimbo. “It’s hard to hold myself back,” the tiger confided, now able to once again meet the panther’s gaze with his own hungry eyes. “Forcing you to do what I please, no matter your protests. I didn’t have to devour the old nobles; probably made my mission here a little more difficult with such brutality! But oh, the fear I could taste in each and every one…” his voice growing more and more breathy as he continued. “It got into their meat, panther, and it coursed through their blood. It was so satisfying…” Underneath his clothes, the panther’s half-hard shaft continued to stiffen.

“Enough of that, though,” the giant’s tone shifted back to his more formal baritone, “I wouldn’t want to spoil your appetite, after all!” There was something about the way he said it; did he know it wouldn’t?

While Markus was transfixed with the massive monarch, servants and attendants began to scurry about the oversized table and floor, setting up all sorts of pieces in a rather ornate and nigh absurd display of power and luxury. The panther managed something approaching a brisk pace, trying his best to soak in as much detail of his absurdly large surroundings as he could understand, but each detail seemed to unfold into ten more details the more a, and before one of those details could be parsed another fifteen would draw his attention and invariably start the cycle over again.

It was in this spirit of amazement and wonder that the panther arrived at the base of a massive table seemingly carved out of a singular piece of stained oak, even though it must have taken the lumber of several forests to craft something as big as a cathedral. The presence of some mechanical car to lift him up the table leg and onto the surface of the table didn’t even register to the overwhelmed panther, nor did he register that the enormous tiger had taken his seat at the head of the table until his speech once more echoed through the brobdingnagian chamber. “I have been looking forward to this dinner for quite some time, little panther.” His voice was positively radiant, joyful as he casually plucked a wriggling form from the serving platter. The panther realized they were bound nobles in the moment just before the tiger tossed them into his waiting jaws, swallowing before he continued, equal parts monstrous and courteous. “I really do hope that none of this ruins your appetite, Markus. But I’m sure you know that each and every one of these men deserves their fate. The one I just swallowed was a fairly notorious sadist. Amusing that they never think they’ll become prey to the same violence they so wantonly inflict on others.” The tiger words were accompanied with a sardonic smile that still managed to freeze the blood in the tiny panther’s veins.

It took all of the composure the terrified panther could manage to ask him a single question. “Wh-why am I here, lord?”

“It’s hard to know where to begin. There is so much to tell you, after all! Perhaps a short biography is in order? I’ve only been around a few centuries but I’ve managed to accrue my fair share of stories and great heroic deeds.

“I have neither the time nor the inclination to fully brief you on galactic politics so that you can understand the causes of our current conflict, but they predate me by several millennia besides and the whole thing,” he waved his arms around in a gesture that implied totality, “is rather absurd, or at least it would seem by your standards. It is very rare for either side’s combatants to truly die, at least to the way you understand that word. A bunch of immortals duking it out over slightly different visions of utopia.” The panther managed a single nod of his head as the tiger locked eyes. Even though so many of the words seemed so foreign and confusing, the tiger’s eyes were so soft and strong. It was hard not to be reassured by them, if strangely. He should have been terrified of such direct attention, and of course a part of him was–but there was a warmth there, drawing the panther in with the enticing rhythm of the tiger’s words. He need not grasp every concept to understand the broad outline conveyed.

“I fought bravely and valiantly for over three centuries before earning the right to this expedition, Markus, and I feel very fortunate to have such a large degree of latitude in the way I conquer you. I could not–even in my wildest dreams!–hope to match the depravity of some of your wilder tyrants, but I like to think I’ve taken a few liberties that my comrades-in-arms will probably view with a mixture of derision and revulsion. But you…I think you understand me.”

The panther was dumbstruck, stunned for an entire moment before he managed a halting reply. “I…I’m s-sorry, m’lord, I’m j-just a simple cat and, and all these things…I d-don’t think I can even begin t-t-to understand–”

The tiger waived such concerns away with a flick of his wrist. “You already understand, Markus, in all the ways that matter. I can smell it. You’re already so flushed, little panther…I bet after I eat him,” with an excess of theatricality, Publius lifted another bound and gagged man that Markus could now recognize was a former aristocrat, struggling hard and uselessly to break free from the tiger’s unbreakable binds, before he was dropped into the tiger’s cavernous maw, crushed between his ferocious teeth. The sickening crunch was so loud it filled the panther’s tiny ears. A heavy swallow and light belch were followed by a knowing smirk. “Excuse me, where are my manners…by now you must be fully erect, I take it?”

The panther shook his head instinctively out of something resembling basic peasant propriety, but he knew the truth would be all too easy for the tiger to discover. The giant reached over, rumbling an “Is that so?” that made the panther’s breath shorten, trying hard to contain his excitement. The tiger’s massive thumb brushed the panther’s bulge as he chuffed with approval, the little creature surrounded by his fat, furry digits. “You are very cute, Markus, but you shouldn’t lie to someone twelve times your size, especially about something it would be trivial for him to find out.”

The panther’s potential responses were held in place by the tiger’s thumb idly pressing against his length, nudged this way and that by a digit almost taller than the panther. “You don’t have to say anything, little fella. You just have to take these off if you want to continue.” The force of the tiger’s words were not just within the volume of his voice nor its resounding bass, but also the meaty scent the diminutive panther could smell on his lord’s heavy breath. He didn’t have a choice. With one quick and fluid motion, the panther let his pants fall to his knees, a simple undergarment completely unable to hide his enormous, fully erect shaft.

“Do you want to know how I knew this would happen? It’s actually a funny story, and it does concern your future…” The tiger held his right index finger out to gently wrap around the back of the panther’s head while his left continued to prod the diminutive feline’s bulge with the tip of his thumb. He couldn’t help but notice how easy it would be for the tiger to crush his entire body, accidentally or on purpose.
It took all the strength in his body for Markus to manage a faint nod. He wanted to know where this was going, and the attention he was receiving from Publius, his liege and his lord, the tiger he had devoted his entire life to, was as intoxicating as it was invigorating and arousing. He was lucky that someone as large as Publius could read his expression. “My my my, aren’t you sweet…tiger got your tongue?”

Even if he wanted to say what few words came to mind, the small fur could not move his mouth to make the sounds. “Most people outside–those who don’t work for the castle at least–they don’t know I’m not really the highest authority on this planet, but it’s true. I am technically only Suzerain, Plenipotentiary and Lord High Protector. Until we’ve determined you’re at a suitable level of development, none of you will have any ability to appeal my decisions or question my authority. That should only take a few more centuries, and they’ll probably send me home after one.

“But the truth, my little panther, is…I can’t keep living like this,” the tiger continued to rub his digit up and down the panther’s sensitive length. The panther felt the breath from each word ruffle his fur, the strong scent of a fresh kill sending  primal fear and delight pulsing through the tiny carnivore. “And so, using the unfathomable resources of this office, I have calculated my sexual compatibility with each and every soul currently under my power. If I’m going to be here for a hundred years, after all, I’m going to need some real companionship! I almost went with Lukas, even though he was only seventy-fifth. He was just so desperate for my approval, and so close at hand…but you, Markus, were number one. Right down the road! And you had just been elected, so I had the perfect excuse to invite you here for a nice, long chat.”

The small cat looked up at his lord’s divine countenance with a mixture of awe and confusion. There were concepts here that did not and could not make sense to a newly emancipated serf, of course, but those paled in comparison to the ones he could understand, but which daunted him all the more. Publius…wanted him? As some sort of companion? Concubine? Love slave?

“With ah-all due respect, sire,” the panther’s eyes downcast as his hands clenched in a vain attempt to exorcise his abject terror, “I can’t see how I’d be able to help…”

“Are you worried about your size? That can always be adjusted. I could even make you as large as myself, if you so desired!” A smirk worked its way up his face and deep into his shimmering, golden eyes. “Something tells me, however, that isn’t what you mean. Even if you were my equal in scale, you’d still think of me as your liege, monarch, sire, all those wonderful honorifics I adore–to a point.” The tiger sighed a little as he plucked up another trussed noble and tossed him offhandedly into his waiting mouth. He purposefully chewed loudly before swallowing to emphasize. “But eventually, Markus, you are going to have to have a little courage. Take a risk and trust that I know what I’m doing, even if you do not.”

The words chastened the panther. His rapid heartbeat grew faster still in response to the booming taunts. He was just too large and imposing. Part of him knew this was inevitable danger, what he had already risked letting the giant toy with him so far. As if he could have it any other way. As if he had a choice. Everything that Publius wanted, he had taken. It had been that way since he landed. Why would this be any different?

“Say yes, or come up with a good reason for a no. If your objection is that deep-seated, surely you can conjure some excuse?” Markus made the mistake of looking at the pile of noble hors d’oeuvres, locking eyes with a terrified bald lynx whose horrified expression rapidly turned to one of disgust as he realized just who he was looking at. The cat felt every deprivation of his adolescence stoke the embers of his anger. He could not deny it was immensely satisfying to see the trussed noble plucked up and tossed into the tiger’s mouth, another life ended at the giant’s whim.

“Y-yes.” The terror did not leave him, but it mingled with the joy of someone whose most treasured, impossible dream had somehow found a way of coming true.  “You know I have always been your faithful servant.”

“Oh my, very good! I thought you’d keep insisting, as if I couldn’t feel your erection against my pad. Like you were not positively thrilled at the opportunity.” For someone so immense, his motions were delicate, with a gentleness that should have been beyond someone his size, a subtlety of movement that he had no right to possess. Further proof of his power, the awed panther supposed. “I do get so hot and bothered when I’m punishing nobles, and it will be quite a help to have you at hand.”

The panther didn’t even have a chance to respond to the tiger’s enormous words before he was plucked up between two padded fingertips, a third pinned to his throbbing erection, holding it fast against his groin and stomach. He should have found the display obscene, he should have made a case for his own independence, he should have said a million different excuses he could no longer muster. He struggled some halfhearted struggles, but they were more for comfort than for freedom. It was all the resistance he could manage. The gigantic tiger pulled his own erection free with one hand while he lowered the panther down to meet it.

“You’re just the right size to wrap your tiny body around it, you know. One of the reasons I fought so hard for this posting.” The panther was pressed into his giant shaft, the tiger’s voice reverberating through his body as he was rubbed up and down, each oscillation of the gargantuan paw a fraction of a second shorter than the one before. Neither of them actually changed size, but the panther, terrified in the tight confines of his gigantic fist, certainly thought they did; the tiger’s hardened cock seemed to expand around the panther’s body, taking more and more and more space while the panther dwindled in direct proportion.

He should have hated it. His mind kept returning to that insistent thought. This should have been nightmarish, one of those horrors that his neighbors muttered about in hushed tones when they were sure they couldn’t be overheard. He never should have said yes, never should have admitted his attraction to the charismatic titan. He had no one but himself to blame for getting so carried away. The fantasy of belonging to the massive tiger was too enticing, the giant of his dreams, feeling his massive member pulse and throb around his diminutive form. The red flesh was so hot it was starting to make him sweat, just barely enough room in his lungs for short, shallow breaths filled with the tiger’s heady musk. He could feel the beast’s heartbeat pulsing through every inch of his massive length. He could taste the pre on his lips, feel it in his mouth, running down his throat, making it impossible to breathe. He couldn’t think logically. His own cock spasmed against the tiger’s enormous shaft, a pathetic little orgasm with less volume than one spurt of his keeper’s, insignificant in comparison.

As if he felt the tiny panther’s eruption, the tiger let out a few short, sharp chuffs as his grip grew tighter and tighter, the tension continuing to build and build until finally, with a short exhale of pleasure loud enough to echo down the great hall, the tiger let loose rope after rope of his seed, a climax large enough to drown the tiny panther in gallons and gallons of mighty ejaculate. The miniature panther nearly did.

Through the thick, watery mess the giant had made for the panther, he heard two booming claps. Attendants came over from their posts at the edge of the gigantic table, wiping the tiger’s shaft clean as they pulled the tiny panther out of his puddle at the base of his scrotum. He appreciated their decorum as they wiped him clean, a few other attendants coming over to pour water and wipe his fur clean. “They’re quite diligent, Markus. One of the perks of power, I suppose…” the tiger chuckled a little at the panther’s continued awe. His look conveyed everything, his eyebrow arched as he awaited his hapless plaything’s words.

“I. I want–I want that. That, in my life..” Each word took a visible amount of effort as it escaped the panther.

“Just that? Nothing else?” The tiger was perhaps a little cruel, but the commitment he was making to his lord was immense. He wanted something definite. Resolute.

“No, of course not!” He saw no way around it, no better expression. “I want you, sire.”

Later that night, as both felines started to run out of cum and the night wound itself inextricably down, the tiger ordered his servants away, leaving a bedchamber the size of a lesser noble’s chateau to himself and his new lover. The panther buried his head deep into the fur between the two massive mounds of flesh that made up the tiger’s chest. The panther was exhausted, feeling himself drift off close to sleep before the tiger’s words brought him back to consciousness. “Doesn’t feel real, huh?” Not for the first time that night, the panther was at a loss for words, gazing up at the enormous behemoth he had long since accepted as lord and liege,sire and sovereign, mythical and mighty and far too powerful to ever take interest in a peasant. “But it is, Markus. Though you might have to commute to the city from now on.”

Even with everything else that had passed before that night, the pledge of fidelity from the panther to the massive tiger, he couldn’t believe his ears. “I…am to live here?”

“I can carry you into town if you would prefer it,” the tiger boomed with wry humor, his each and every word so reverberant through the supine panther’s entire body. “Though I could always find you something to do around the castle if you’d rather.” His eyebrow arched suggestively.

The panther blushed, but had just enough sense to shake his head. “No, I still want to be mayor. I should serve my full term.” The corner of the tiger’s mouth twitched with a fraction of a frown. “And if I am number one on that list of yours, I’m sure you can wait four measly years.”

“I can see your point,” the giant boomed, running a finger gingerly down the petite male’s spine. “This must be your choice, after all.” His eye-slits narrowed in on the small panther, sending a shiver from his head down to his toes. It did not have to be a free choice. “I wouldn’t want to put any pressure on you.” His words were nonsensical given a second’s contemplation, the immense power he possessed. But it wasn’t entirely a lie. The tiger could not change what he was, or what he could always do to the panther. He’d forced the panther to spend hours underneath his chubby behind as he held required audiences with ministers, diplomats, and provincial administrators, feigning obliviousness to his attempts at freedom. Could he really believe that he could refuse, let alone wish to refuse in the first place?And yet he couldn’t think in terms so black and white. The panther had not, would not say no. As much as he wanted to believe it was the tiger’s power, he enjoyed being crushed underneath his bulk, gasping for breath under ass cheeks larger than most homes. He savored his fragility, so frail in his master’s paw. The tiger knew what he wanted and had the audacity to take it, to show the panther the experience, and realize that their dreams were the same, that he had always wanted such attention from such a lofty lord. They were mismatched in so many ways that should have mattered. But now, with his liege, his lord, the sovereign, his newfound lover–he was committed. He was His.