Another Round Oktoberfest! The perfect time for a pub crawl. When it comes to festivals of drunkenness, you couldn’t do much better than Oktoberfest. And when it comes to drinking partners, Alkali was top notch. The kangaroo had good Australian genes to work with for drinking excessively. Plus he was a complete pushover. Easy to convince to head out on a bender with a group of guys. Once the roo was out to drink, he stayed out all evening… because his good Australian genes had also blessed him with a quirk: whenever he drank, he grew. And not just a little growth either. A few pints of beer, and he’d shred all his clothes with overwhelming amounts of marsupial muscle. A few more pints after that, and most pubs wouldn’t be able to fit the roo’s bulk inside. It was exactly that quirk that drew Greg to Alkali’s side for a night of Oktoberfest drinking. The purple-furred fox wanted to push Al’s limits. He’d seen the marsupial’s drunken beef on other nights, but this time Greg would not be satisfied until there was entirely too much kangaroo mass for the pubs to handle. After pulling on a light blue sweater on top of a pair of denim jeans, Greg was off with hands rubbing together deviously. This could be a night to remember. Greg met with Alkali early that Friday evening, and with a whole night ahead of them after their work shifts. The shy marsupial pulled his hoodie on tighter in the brisk autumn air. His clothes looked like they were at least 4 sizes too large for him, draped over a skinny kangaroo frame. “You’re sure we can make it through four pubs in a single night? Last pub crawl I passed out in the second one… still need to pay the damages for those tables,” Al said with a wince, remembering the last debaucherous evening out with Greg. “It’ll be great!” Greg said with a slap on Al’s shoulder. “Stick with me and I’ll look out for you.” The Red Lions Pub was first on the list; a red brick building with hanging signs out front of a drinking lion. As the pair went inside, they were assaulted with the scent of ale and fresh soda bread. The pub was unassuming and sparsely decorated inside with worn-down, wooden tables and chairs. People came for the excellent food and drink, not the comfy furniture. Al tried to sink into his hoodie as if it would protect him from the crowds of people. The fabric did nothing to save him though. Greg, realizing he’d need to take the lead, put an arm around the roo’s shoulder and guided him to an open booth. A slow start, Greg thought as he bought their first round of pints. But a few sips of social lubricant would help with that. It smelled like good beer and slow burning candles inside, good ambiance to get the marsupial to relax. The pair drank and talked of small things, slowly getting louder. Alkali told stories of his frustrations at the lab, and Greg added on with his own annoyances with growth magic. The tension in Alkali’s shoulders unwound in direct proportion to how much booze he’d had. At least now he was able to enjoy the conversation as the pleasant feeling of being buzzed kicked in. The nervous grin he usually sported began to fade into something more organic. Greg got to watch the transformation happen in real time from the other side of the booth. His eyes traced the folds of Al’s sweatshirt sleeves in between conversation topics, watching the roo’s arms thicken until those sleeves were tight against the biceps and triceps beneath. Greg’s grip on the table tightened, digging into the wood with each inch of height Alkali rose. The pints kept flowing, with each pint causing the wooden chair to strain more under Al’s weight. It helped that Al was good company at this point too. A little loosened up after the alcohol, the awkward kangaroo was joking back with Greg. Just in time for a pitcher of beer to arrive at the table. When it did, Greg pushed the entire drink over to the marsupial. In reply, the roo reached over the table and gave Greg a bear hug, forcing the fox’s face into his hoodie-clad chest. The zipper was pushed halfway down revealing the fluffy torso beneath, clearly not by choice as his pecs were much wider by this point. He heard the roo yell ‘ANOTHER ROUND!’ from his muffled hiding spot. Completely worth it. --- The second pub of the evening, The Prancing Skiltaire, was a single-story inn built of timber and brick, with a smooth stone floor. It was fancifully decorated, and brightly lit by magical candles and crystal chandeliers. The interior was a step up from the Red Lions Pub, but it was the drinks that brought regulars out after work. A band playing upbeat music at way-too-loud volumes completed the vibe for the pub. Greg thought to himself it wouldn’t be so bad to just end the pub crawl here, enjoy the music and the company. But there was a lot more Oktoberfest to enjoy; maybe there could be a return visit at the end of the night. There was a definite line in front of the pub waiting to enter, but the bouncer took one look at the approaching pair of fox and roo before deciding to step aside. Whether that was because of intimidation, or because Alkali’s sweatshirt zipper ripped moments after leaving the Red Lions Pub, who could say. They kept the remains of the fabric open on his chest rather than try turning the once oversized shirt into a tank top. Greg took the moment to say a ‘thank you’ to the bouncer, an impressively sized dragon in his own right, as they passed. Alkali, on the other hand, ducked under the doorway and plucked the fox up to fireman carry him inside. “Someone bring me n’ my fox friend here another round! Two pints,” the marsupial yelled at the bartender. The roo was interrupted by a hiccup, before amending, “No wait, a pint for him and three pitchers for me!” He approached the bar, and the crowd of people simply parted around him, unwilling to get in the way or perhaps in awe. One arm curled around Greg, holding him tight between an arm thicker than his torso and faceplanted into boulder sized pecs. Alkali’s other arm raised high in the air pointing down at Greg, somehow drawing even more attention from the Prancing Skiltaire pub to the flustered fox. The bartender looked fairly annoyed, and started to press a point about Alkali’s rudeness. But the owner, a weasel, butted his way in to say he didn’t mind the extra attention. Having a kangaroo as wide as a car drew a crowd of people, and those people had started ordering drinks of their own. The bartender grumbled but began pouring. A few pitchers of beer slid across the counter to Alkali, but Greg was satisfied with a single pint. There was plenty of eye-candy to watch with a marsupial twice his height. Perfect height to look up at the shelf of a chest, unclad by any fabric. He took a loooong drink of the pint, and tried to hide the wagging in his tail or the flicking of his ears. He wasn’t able to do a very good job of hiding the interest though. Yelling from outside the pub was able to pull the fox’s attention away from his drinking buddy’s chest. Greg looked back at the line of people getting their IDs checked. There was a commotion between a pair of ratfolk and a taller polar bear. The details were hard to make out through the wavy glass of a window, but some things were still clear. The bear stood twice as tall as the lanky rodents, and by the way he was stumbling forward to attack he’d already tied a few on. The rats weren’t fighting back. Perhaps they sensed that trying to attack an inebriated person that outweighed them put together wasn’t a winning strategy. The fox bumped an elbow into Alkali’s side to get attention. “Look, something’s about to get violent outside.” “Hm?” the kangaroo said, halfway through his first ‘pint’ at the new pub. “Oh? Well, I won’t stand for that. Lemme finish my beer and I’ll handle it.” Greg watched as his drinking buddy downed the pitcher of beer as if it were a child sized drink. It didn’t strike the fox that it might be for courage instead of for growth until Alkali was already stepping away from the bar. Though most of the pub was trying to get back to their own conversations by now, it wasn’t possible to completely ignore a 10 foot tall kangaroo when he walked past. The cool evening air blew through Alkali’s fur. The roo wobbled slightly, reminded now just how tipsy he’d become, but wouldn’t back away from this fight. This was a one-sided battle, and even though they were strangers Al didn’t want the rodents to get hurt. “HEY, back away,” Alkali said, pulling the polar bear’s arm. “Back off, doessn involve you,” the bear slurred, yanking his arm away. That wouldn’t be enough to get attention. There was no gentle way to do this, Al realized. He took a deep breath in and turned the bear 180 degrees, facing himself rather than the rats. “No, I don’t think you listened. STOP.” And for a brief second the polar bear (named Josh, if anyone bothered to ask) used his remaining sober brain cells to contemplate the decisions that lead to this confrontation. Bear ears do not fold back in any significant way, but they would if they could. That second passed, and he felt the air knocked out of his chest with the force of a huge kangaroo arm pushing him back. The bear slumped to the ground, as a hand the size of the bear’s torso shoved him against a brick wall. Cracks spiraled away from the impact site kicking up dust clouds as the stone debris spread. “Ow,” he wheezed. Alkali was shaking his wrist now, unused to the stress of fighting. It looked as though he’d jammed his hand into the wall too hard. He might have grown to be this beefy but he still operated with a small, skinny mindset. The rodents to his left were awestruck, unable to say much. After a minute of quietly waiting for the bear to get back up, finally feeling safe that he wouldn’t, one of them squeaked a quiet ‘thank you’ and shook the marsupial’s still sore hand. Greg rushed outside to see the damage, after the entire pub shook to its foundation. “Ooohh okay, let’s move on to the next pub. Quick!” the fox said, tugging at the sides of Alkali’s pants. He couldn’t pull Alkali though, or push from the opposite direction. All he could do was trying to convince the wall of marsupial. Al was distracted waving at the smaller folks, even chancing a double bicep flex that ripped the seams of his hoodie. Social media was sure to light up about this encounter, especially with how Al was showing off the newly found mass. --- Greg was having more and more trouble stopping Al from continuing the pub crawl. At first Greg was the one pushing Al to keep going, listing off pub after pub. However, after a half-dozen trips, now he couldn’t hold the kangaroo back from continuing. Greg’s wagging tail betrayed that he didn’t truly mind the situation too much; however, he vowed quietly to end the evening after The Stately Meerkat inn. The inn was a two-story, half-timber building, with a green tile roof and wrought iron tables and chairs. This was the only place on their Oktoberfest list that wasn’t a proper pub. It was more like a bed-and-breakfast that converted into a pub for evening drinkers. It was once a barracks, and kept the theming even after the conversion. Crests of various armed forced and royal families adorned the walls, along with a variety of suits of armor. Their accommodations consisted of a mezzanine with several queen-sized beds and mattresses, for those who wanted to spend the evening sleeping off their drinks. That was supposed to be the inside. But there was no way Alkali would fit indoors anymore. A tiny hat on top of his head was the only remaining clothes from the pub crawl, sitting comically between two huge kangaroo ears. Somewhere on that snoot was a pair of glasses too, but good luck trying to find it in the carpet of grey fur. The rest of his clothing was ripped off or left behind by now. A marsupial scientist, drunk with power and alcohol in equal parts, stomped down the streets without a care in the world. Sure, he was naked, but there was no way to convince him to cover up anyway. The roo lifted the roof off The Stately Meerkat inn and grinned down at the people inside. “HEY, GIVE ME AS MUCH ALCOHOL AS YOU CAN MANAGE! NO MONEY ON ME, BUT I’LL COME BACK TO PAY LATER, JUST PUT IT ON A TAB FOR ‘THAT GIANT KANGAROO HUNK’. WHAT DO YOU WANT GREG?” “Can I just get a glass of water?” “A PITCHER OF LAGER FOR MY FOXY FRIEND IT IS!” the roo yelled, before devolving to a giggling fit. That ‘giggle’ was still enough movement and shaking that Greg had to hang onto strands of grey fur for dear life. It wouldn’t do anyone a bit of good if the only influence stopping Alkali’s drinking was dropped to the ground and lost. Rather than trying to lift any kegs of alcohol up to the giant, the bartender and waiters just rolled kegs out the front door. Alkali picked them up between forefinger and thumb, and threw them into his mouth as if they were candies. In a way, they were. Each keg that the kangaroo slurped up added easily another 10 feet to his height, and enough muscle to get the pavement beneath him to crack anew. It wasn’t possible to properly measure the amount of muscle, now that he’d outgrown all normal forms of measurement. He sported a superhero shaped body and musculature to put power lifters to shame. Once he’d finished every keg available, the kangaroo ended his drinking with some pec-bouncing to show off. Just before the roof was replaced, Greg was certain he heard a few people gasp and scream. Maybe even one person collapsed to the floor, fainting from the sight of marsupial muscle. “OKAY, IF THEY’RE OUT HERE… TIME TO GO STRAIGHT TO THE BREWERY FOR MORE! WOO!” Greg’s ears twitched, and his face flushed. “Al, calm down, there isn’t enough beer in the entire city for you.” It didn’t sound like a good plan, but all he’d be able to do is simply convince a drunk kangaroo with his words. He stood up on the roo’s shoulder and yelled into Al’s ears, nearly as tall as a single-story home themselves. Even so, Greg wasn’t totally certain that Al heard or would even listen. That is, until a car sized hand reached up to grip him. “NOPE, NO COMPLAINTS, ONLY TIME FOR MORE BEER!” Al said, pushing the fox down between his pecs. The walls of muscle surrounded him on all sides leaving only a purple, wagging fox tail sticking out between the chest like a lost piece of fluff. Surprisingly, Greg made no effort to pull himself free. It must have been impossible, too difficult to work his arms against the flexing and bouncing. With a huge step forward, Alkali was ready to begin the rest of his evening, passenger in tow. That is, until he stumbled over his own paws. Easy enough to do when either of them could rival a semi-truck for height in the toes alone, or to be used like an undersized skateboard. The roo pinwheeled his arms, trying to regain balance. That center of balance had changed dramatically over the course of the evening. Each pinwheeling correction only served to make him wobble more. There was no saving it now as he flopped forward into the street. Cars bounced in the air, pedestrians were knocked to the ground, and the pavement cracked beneath the shelf of pec muscle suddenly landing. He pulled himself to his knees and brushed the debris off his pecs. That was when he noticed Greg’s flopped tail, completely pancaked into his muscles like a tattoo against the fur. Okay, that was pretty cute actually. He pushed hands against either side of his pecs, smothering the fox further. When Greg’s tail went straight as a rod Al could be certain that the fox was still okay. He pulled the fox free by his tail, as gently as he could manage, until Greg snapped free from being flattened like a slinky pulled too far. “YOU OKAY, GROWING BUDDY? THE NIGHT IS LONG, AND OKTOBERFEST WAITS FOR NO ONE.” Greg whined, both arms held out toward the roo’s chest, drunkenly hiccupping before saying, “I’m gooood, real goooood, just put me back where it’s warm and heavy and I’m trapped in my happy place~” Al’s face turned a shade of red, but quickly turned it around with a wide grin. He’d forgotten just how pecs-focused the vulpine could be, and the compliments got his own thick, kangaroo tail thumping into the ground and off buildings on either side of the street. “OFF WE GO THEN,” the kangaroo muttered, loud enough that everyone in a ten-block radius could hear regardless. He pressed Greg down between his grey pecs again, this time with head free so the fox could actually see their moves and anticipate the growth. Stomping down the road and leaving pawprints in the pavement, Greg drowsily wondered what the rest of the night could hold in store after Al already grew this wide and tall.