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“Come on, Leodore. You’ve done this before.” Mayor: a title Lionheart had held for ages. This wasn’t his first election – he was even more nervous for that one – but he was attempting to not make this his last. For the first time in his political career he wasn’t out ahead of everyone else. Sure, the margin his strongest opponent had over him wasn’t the largest he’d ever seen, but he’d always had the bigger percentage of support next to his name. To have that not be the case was foreign to him.

Which is why he found himself strolling through the front doors to the Zootopia Police Department. He was greeted by a number of officers he recognized, nearly all of them outsizing him despite his lion physique giving him a natural advantage over many. But he never minded that fact as he greatly supported the wave of fitness obsession overtaking the force thanks to the influence of the man he was there to see – Assistant Chief of Police Benjamin Clawhauser.

His confident stride belied his anxiousness. None of the hulking giants could tell anything was wrong due to his years of developing a deadpan expression to use when the press was hounding him, but his insides were electric with worry. What if this didn’t work? What if he actually lost re-election? He didn’t know what he’d do as a job since he’d been a politician for so long. Could he even do anything else? There wasn’t anything else for him to fall back on! That’s why he needed the help from someone people trusted, someone friendly that could soften his image to the public, make him relatable. It’s what people these days wanted, much to his chagrin. He’d always been a policy person. Oh well, times change, and you need to adapt if you expected to—

“Oh, Mayor Lionheart! I didn’t realize we were expecting a visit today.”

A voice suddenly calling out his name startled him enough for his mane to puff up for a half-second. Normally he’d need a moment to determine who it was – especially when it came from behind him – but this case was different as it didn’t matter what words he heard, the unmistakable sultry undertone gliding through every one of them narrowed the pool of its possible owners to just one. “I happened to be in the area, Nick. I thought I’d stop by and say hello, see how things were going.” Turning around greeted him with the sight of a fox built like a tank, ZPD’s finest vulpine officer sporting arms capable of tearing a door off its hinges, and a chest that entered a room before any other part of his body did. It was amazing what dedicated effort in a gym could accomplish in spite of nature restricting him to only four feet of height.

“Ah, you’re here to get some support for your campaign. I getcha.” The knowing look Nick gave past his sunglasses spoke volumes.

Lionheart, however, wasn’t about to fully admit why he suddenly showed up. Part of a politician’s job was to bend the truth as much as possible, and he wasn’t about to divulge any secrets if he didn’t have to. “Oh please, Nick, I can swing by whenever I want without justification. I’m the mayor!”

“Leodore,” Nick removed his shades with his gaze unmoving, “the polls are public. I know you’re trailing by a hair.”

“It’s nothing to be concerned with. I’ll cinch the win like I always do.” Lionheart’s mane remained unruffled as he straightened his tie. On the inside, it was a different story. He couldn’t deny that him slipping in approval gave him a rude awakening that he wasn’t prepared for. But he wasn’t about to let it be known how flustered it made him, and instead opted to shift the topic entirely to take the heat off – a well-worn tactic in his playbook. “Say, it’s kinda weird you’re here right now. Aren’t you usually out on patrol at this time of day?”

Nick scoffed. “I would be if the cruiser I was assigned wasn’t in the shop undergoing structural reinforcement.”

It didn’t take a genius to determine the cause; Lionheart had heard this one before. “McHorn?”

“McHorn,” Nick sighed. “He doesn’t understand his limits, and then the rest of us pay for it.”

Time to lay on the charm. “What if I walk in here one day and I hear you’re the culprit?” The instant Lionheart put the thought in the canine’s head, he was immediately rewarded with a sly grin.

“You flatter me, good sir,” Nick snickered before shrugging his boulder shoulders. “Nah, that’ll never happen. Foxes don’t have the genetics to allow for anything like that. We aren’t all lucky enough to be born as lions and tigers and bears and rhinos.”

Watching the vulpine flex a bicep so large that it tore the hem of the XXL shirt sleeve wrapped around it told Lionheart a different story, but he ultimately elected to humour the officer. “So you’re just trying to play the cards you’re dealt?”

“Ex_actly_. All of us smaller officers know this is all we’re gonna get. We don’t live life on easy street like the bigger guys do.”

“Oh, I hardly think that matters. I know you’ve been determined in your workouts for years, so I think it’s only a matter of time before you start tipping the scales in your favour, so to speak.” Lionheart was aware of the effort the fox put in, and had no issue playing into the fantasies that these men had for themselves. “You don’t think 800 pounds is likely in your near future?” He understood what the shorter man wanted out of life.

It didn’t work. “You really are trying to garner support here, aren’t you?” Nick mischievously pointed with the arm of his shades.

The playful grin Lionheart gave off instantly showed how he couldn’t deny his true intentions any longer. He shook his head as he chuckled before nodding in the direction of the staircase. “If I were to head up to that office, would I find anyone there?”

“I thought I saw Bogo at some point today, but that was hours ago, and I think he might’ve left the premises since then.” Nick tapped his chin with his sunglasses, looking through the precinct this way and that, his foxy gaze narrowing the longer he searched. “Clawhauser I think is still around here somewhere, but I couldn’t tell you where.”

“Oh, I’ll just wait up there then. I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually.”

Nick smirked. “Good luck with your campaign, Lionheart.” In spite of all the bulk clinging to his frame, he deftly spun on his heels as he waved goodbye, sauntering towards another part of the station. “You came to the right place if you’re looking for a boost.”

He didn’t have to say that quite so loud, Lionheart thought. The last thing he wanted was all of Zootopia knowing he was struggling, much like how the fox’s jacket struggled to keep itself in one piece as it worked to contain hundreds of pounds of beef that it wasn’t rated for as evident by patch job on the back threatening to tear apart again. It revealed to him that something was amiss with the ZPD budget. Perhaps that was something to bring up.

It amused him to watch the different members of the force go about their business. Each and every one of them were several times bigger than their species dictated they should be, and yet none paid it any mind. All of them were so casual about it.

Made sense given who was in charge of the place.

As he approached the office door, the first thing he noticed was the light to the room being shut off, which had him wondering if he was locked out until the knob in his hand turned with the slightest effort. The room being open would’ve struck him as odd if his mind didn’t wander to the subtle imprint of a paw in the knob that his fit into surprisingly well.

A part of him thought he might find someone working in the dark as he entered, but a quick glance revealed no one was present even before flicking the light switch on. He hadn’t been there in a while and forgot how spacious the office was, making it perfect for a man the size of the cheetah. His thoughts then shifted to thinking how cozy the place would be should more than one of the hulking officers on staff be present at once, with three not giving much space to do anything, and four turning the room into a closet. God forbid they congregate in his office!

But the various awards lining the wall would at least give them something to look at while they were there. They instantly drew Lionheart’s attention.

Now, a number of them he remembered the giant cat receiving; a few photos showed him handing various honors to the spotty cat, some being recent while others were years old. The age of a few of them immediately hit him when he saw how much younger he looked at the time. Youthful energy wasn’t as difficult to come by back then.

But the soon-to-be Assistant Police Chief was in the same boat, not quite yet the titan he would become. Instead, some pictures offered an earlier glimpse into the cheetah’s life, showing a feline much smaller than the one whose office he was standing in – much smaller, yet still on par with bodybuilders at an age where most just get started on their journey. It was amazing how much had changed in only a few years’ time.

Though he was aware of the daily exercise the Assistant Chief put himself through. The routine seemed like that of nightmares; he could never maintain such a regimen! Both the amount of time he’d need per day and the amount of weight hauled in every set made him shudder.

And during the thought was when he happened upon the weight bench nestled into one corner of the office. He knew the thing was well-used as made evident by the depression formed in the seat by the officer’s burly body, and it surprised him that it stayed in one piece after all the abuse it was put through. He wondered how many of him would be needed in order to match an imprint like that.

Then there were the weights piled around the apparatus. He couldn’t believe how many there were! Most were thicker than his wrist, and they all appeared to be in multiples of 100. He didn’t even know they made them that heavy!

But then he noticed the material of the bench shine in the light, especially around the edges of where it dimpled. A workout had been done here recently.

And as he stared at the bench, he was hit with a perverse thought.

He didn’t know why he was doing this. He couldn’t explain to himself why he was bending down. He’d never had thoughts like that before, but he also never found himself in the situation where he was alone in the office of a living wall of a feline in the space where the hulking titan personally exercised.

And yet here he was, nose scant inches away from the bench, whiskers twitching from anticipation. A whiff revealed…

That the stench was stronger than he realized it would be. It felt like a punch in the face, causing him to recoil slightly, nearly stumbling as he righted himself. He didn’t know what overtook him to want to sniff the bench, but he did it, and discovered that the pungent smell that nearly knocked him on his ass was a much more concentrated version of the aroma that naturally wafted from the officer. He didn’t think he’d make such a revelation while visiting, yet here he was.

But the fur on the back of his neck bristled as he remembered the door to the office was unlocked. He whipped his head around… only to see that no one else had entered. His heart raced from the idea alone that someone could’ve watched him the entire time. Given his current predicament, it wasn’t the best idea to make himself so vulnerable.

Nevertheless, it was something he could brush off, and he, uh, supposed it wasn’t the worst thing to get a little more intimate with the man he needed a favour from…

…Who still hadn’t stopped by yet. It was at that point that Lionheart began wondering if he picked a bad time to show up and that he’d be better off coming back maybe tomorrow or the day after. He’d be much busier then with his scheduled campaign appearances both at the mall and university, but this was far too important to not fit into his schedule.

His gaze then fell to the Assistant Chief’s desk – a cluttered mess of files and folders, though one thing stood out against all the others. “Oh, hello,” he said as he opened a box to reveal the donuts hiding underneath. More than half a dozen were sitting there, but given that the date written on the case was today’s and that it wasn’t even lunch yet, it told him right away that they were used to supplement the workout. It wasn’t what he would’ve thought of as exercise food, but the cheetah had a notorious sweet tooth.

Well, he’d been there long enough that maybe he could sneak one while he waited. He was due for a snack, and something sugary didn’t sound like a bad idea.

Sugar was something he tasted as he took the first bite, but it wasn’t the predominant flavour. “Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting at all,” he mused as he regarded the dessert. Protein coated his tongue as he made sense of what he was holding in his hand. It wasn’t necessarily something he hated, but it definitely caught him off guard. On the contrary, the flavours were subtle, and the sweetness of the pastry wasn’t as overpowering as he expected it to be. It made for quite the pleasant surprise!

He lamented how perfect it would’ve been as a treat in his bodybuilding days.

All the grueling effort he put in came flooding back to him as he chewed, remembering the long hours in the only iron pit the city had at the time, slamming back protein shakes in between long sets of lifting the heaviest of weights on offer. His workouts were intense, much like those the citizens he presided over took part in, but theirs were far and away easier than what he went through. All the new equipment and methods developed over the years didn’t exist back in the day!

But he wasn’t upset with that. In fact, he embraced it as it meant others could experience what he went through without the stress he put up with. Not everyone could be the longest reigning Mr. Zootopia like he was, but it was nice to see people wanting to challenge him for the title.

One needed dedicated effort to command a chest like his. Lions were naturally big animals, which meant that gaining pectorals that turned all of his shirts into U-necks was inevitable, if not encouraged. So while the undershirt he wore succumbed to the same fate, his suit at least fared better in comparison, if also struggling to stay buttoned-up thanks to a torso that forced doorways to be built wider.

Absentmindedly brushing a hand through his mane he swallowed another bite, reminiscing about the good ol’ days where he worked his ass off to make a name for himself. Sponsors weren’t as willing to attach themselves to him as they would be today. Back then he might’ve been big – not as big as he was now, obviously – but he was also a no-name, which he relished in as it made everyone stop and regard this newcomer who took to the stage amidst well-known bodybuilders like he’d been competing for years. Nerves were absolutely eating him alive since it was his first time being that undressed in front of a crowd of people, but he promised himself at the start of college that he’d finally take risks and have fun.

Boy, did it pay off.

The biceps currently stretching the fabric of his suit were the envy of the gym rats who idolized him, becoming the crown jewel of his body once he won the fourth competition he’d entered. A year’s worth of effort coming to fruition.

And it didn’t stop there. His name and image were plastered everywhere even remotely related to the sport, but enough wins began putting him in the mainstream. Advertising agencies contacted him for commercial appearances, cereal boxes bore his handsome visage, and he was even a guest on a morning talk show where he showed off his moves, an act that shredded his top on live television. Everyone on set cheered except him; he really liked that shirt.

But the most attention he got was from other lifters. People couldn’t believe he’d put on so much muscularity so effortlessly, but he never knew what to tell them except that he worked hard. And it wasn’t like he was oblivious to the magnitude he’d attained either as the difference in size between him and the next largest person on stage only grew bigger the more that time went on, and that included between the legs. He knew the lengths other men would go to in order to possess a shaft as large as his was, but he often thought it wasn’t worth the hassle, especially on stage as posers only got so big.

The resentment started getting to be a bit much in Lionheart’s opinion, and he often wondered if he gravitated to hanging around places like the precinct because they treated him like just another person even though many of the officers were becoming as stacked as he was. His influence was noted the first time he entered as mayor, with everyone sporting midriffs thanks to their outfits not keeping up with their gains.

It showed in some of the pictures adorning the office wall, the photos depicting different events at the police station acting like a timeline. Before he became mayor all the officers looked like one might expect, but gradually the muscle started piling on, little by little as the days turned to years, their collective attire tightening around their frames as they stretched the fabric to its limit even though it was obvious how everyone subsequently wore a bigger size.

Scanning the rest of the wall revealed how Clawhauser seemed to benefit the most out of anyone. If the others put on dozens of pounds at a time, he put on hundreds, sometimes between photos taken months apart. It almost appeared like he joined different weight classes as he rose through the ranks. The sight of him being the pinnacle of muscularity made sense in spite of other species seeming like better candidates.

The plaque for “ Zootopia’s Strongest Person ” hanging up on the wall brought a smile to his face. It was his idea to expand the criteria for who should be involved given that those in the competition scene were getting rather complacent for his liking. He knew right away how the news of someone who didn’t even own posing trunks winning the title would be taken, and he reveled in seeing the beefcakes who claimed they were following in his footsteps actually take the concept as seriously as he did. There weren’t dozens of consecutive wins hanging up in his own office for nothing.

Of course, a lifetime of high-intensity exercise eventually caught up with him, and he realized that it might be for the best if he started down a different path in life; he already accomplished basically everything he wanted to in the competition environment.

The question then became what to do with his spare time. He had no need to get any bigger, merely working out to maintain his size was sufficient in his books. Various opportunities had been opened up to him thanks to his years in the spotlight, but outside of small parts in various productions, nothing really interested him. His mind then drifted back to his political science degree that he obtained early on into his bodybuilding career. It had always been something people overlooked, a tidbit about his life at best, but a television appearance on the morning show where he expressed his disdain for a new policy about to be put into practice marked the first time anyone realized he knew what he was talking about. People joked about him running in the next election.

But to actually enter the political game? It had always been a passing thought to him, and it wasn’t until a family member pointed out that anyone would have a higher approval rating than the then-current mayor did he attempt to run for office.

Which he won hands down.

The myriad of bodybuilding titles he claimed over the decades certainly made him swell with pride, but being in charge of the city was a rush he’d never experienced before. Suddenly he had the ability to enact any laws he wanted to, with the support of practically the entire population behind him. It was a lot. It was almost too much. But after many frustrating mayors in a row, he knew the people were due for one they’d want to keep around for more than a term, and he aimed to be that guy.

Right away he got to work. He enacted initiatives to improve the health of the people living in the city, first by encouraging exercise by subsidizing establishments like gyms and sports clubs, and then making sure that all citizens had affordable access to healthy food. Results of his efforts were slow in the beginning, but quickly picked up once people got used to being active.

The lifestyle he once lived soon became accessible for everyone. Clothing stretched across growing frames became the norm in Zootopia, which had people clamouring for retailers to stock attire in bigger sizes, though in some cases it proved difficult. But his next move in supplying roomier housing for the rapidly expanding populace proved to be favourable, especially when the tourist dollars coming in from watching the city’s various sports teams paid for everything and then some. Even though the path he took wasn’t perfect, opinion of him was still incredibly positive.

His proudest moment, however, was when his staunchest critics said he wasn’t doing as bad a job as they thought he would. They went on record after his win stating that a former bodybuilder would make for a lousy mayor. It just went to show that people can be proficient in more than one thing.

And because of his unnatural political prowess, this upcoming re-election was already his by a large margin. He knew there were people in the city that wanted to try something new, but clearly the beaver challenging him for the title still benefited from his policies given how the suit worn during press conferences left increasingly little to the imagination. Another win was in the bag.

Hell, he couldn’t even think of a real reason to come to the ZPD anymore! Sure, getting the Assistant Chief of Police to speak positively on his behalf would bolster his support for those who found themselves on the fence, but he didn’t even need it given that his campaign was nothing more than a triviality. No one had ever had an approval rating as high as he did, but no one had also ever enacted such radical political strategies like he did. Sometimes it paid to have an outside perspective on things.

The donut had all but vanished down his gullet, the last remnants of it being the powder he licked his fingers clean of. He made a note to ask about where to get those when Ben came in.

But that thought quickly got derailed when he noticed one of the older photos hanging on the wall. “Wait, he has this hanging up?” It was of his first competition win, and the Lionheart staring back at him was the baby-faced college freshman he used to be. Seeing it in Clawhauser’s office struck him as odd. That was until he noticed the figure of a familiar cheetah in the bottom corner of the picture, barely even high school aged, and yet seemingly following in his footsteps. “Man, that was such a long time ago.” He had no idea he provided any sort of inspiration for his fellow feline, but the thought alone sent a tingle racing through him. It got him to chuckle knowing that their paths had crossed long before the current day.

“Do you miss it?”

Lionheart nearly jumped out of his skin, his hand clutching his chest as his heart rate tripled in half a second. “Clawhauser, you can’t sneak up on me like that! I know I’m not that old yet, but I’m getting there.” The words sputtered from his mouth. It took genuine effort to get his fingers to stop trembling.

“Goodness, how it tickles me that I can still do that,” Clawhauser chuckled. “Sorry, I was trying not to startle you.” His gentle nature contradicted the mammothian figure he’d grown from an adulthood filled with hundreds of thousands of hours of lifting heavier and heavier weights.

Lionheart stood amazed that someone only slightly bigger than he was could move so gracefully, but he knew he had his moments as well. “To answer your question… kinda?” He turned back to the picture, gaze squarely on his past self. “I know that probably sounds weird considering my prowess at the sport and how natural I made it look, but I feel like I’ve achieved all I wanted out of it. It’s fine, but I also have other aspirations too.” A wry grin split his mouth. “Let the kids have fun now. Everyone knows they would never take home the win if I was still around.”

“They might cause a scene and force you to quit.”

“I think I’d actually love to see them try that.” Naturally his eyes landed on the hulking cheetah beside him, his mind painting the image of the colossus taking position on a stage. “Surprised you never took an interest in it. With your body, you’d be a shoo-in!”

“Never really grabbed me. I always found other things to be more engaging.” A huge grin adorned Clawhauser’s chiseled face. “Besides, I’ve been needed here. I think this is a much better place for me!”

That was logic Lionheart couldn’t deny. Sure, there will always be talk of ‘missed potential’ amongst those still in the scene, but he knew it was best not to force someone to do something they’re not interested in.

“Leodore.”

His ears twitched as he followed the voice, having to turn around to see the other cat as his traps prevented his head from moving much. “Benjamin.”

“There appears to be one of my donuts missing. Now, yes, I was out of my office for a bit, but I do know that there were seven in the box here before I left.” Clawhauser held the box out in front of him, the pastries neatly stacked to one side. “You wouldn’t happen to know why there’s only six now, would you?”

Busted. “Well, perhaps – and stay with me on this one – there could’ve been someone who was looking for you but didn’t know where you were, and thought it might be an appropriate punishment to nick one of the donuts while you were away.”

Clawhauser gasped in faux surprise. “Leo, that’s horrible! I’m gonna need your help trying to catch this monster before he gets away.” He set the box back on the counter and laughed before nimbly making his way back over. “You have crumbs in your mane.” He picked at one and popped it into his mouth.

Lionheart could never stop himself from smiling at Ben’s antics. “Gosh darn, you’re just too good at your job.”

“You know, I didn’t take you as someone who’d enjoy a protein donut.”

“I didn’t realize that’s what it was at first, but it was actually quite pleasant.” His expression then turned inquisitive, remembering the question he had from earlier. “Where’d you get it from?”

“You know where the fountain is by the park? There’s a bakery nearby.”

The location instantly appeared in his head, leading to him realizing how he’d walked past that place all the time without once stepping foot inside. He really needed to stick to his promise of patronizing every establishment in the city. “I’ll have to make a visit sometime!”

“They’re so good!” As if demonstrating – even though he didn’t need to – Clawhauser shoved one his mouth before nearly swallowing it in a single gulp. “Trust me, you won’t be able to control yourself around them. Well, I mean, I can’t. Sometimes I buy multiple stacks of them at a time just because the craving hits.”

As long as he knew the cheetah, Lionheart had always seen the hulking cat munching on something. If it were anyone else, he knew the results would pile up around their midsections in no time, but the other feline was a different breed of beast altogether, and used every calorie shoved down that gullet in the most intense workouts this side of the gym district. He could never keep up with a diet like that, but he always appreciated a man who could do things he thought impossible. “You look like you could carry a whole pallet without help!” A crimson blush began to show through the rosettes on the officer’s face.

“Oh stop. No I couldn’t,” Clawhauser giggled.

“Sure you could. See?” Lionheart gently grabbed the underside of the cheetah’s arm along the thickest tricep he’d ever laid eyes on in his life while using his other hand to shift the forearm perpendicular. The result was a curled bicep one might mistake for an industrial-sized wrecking ball were it not attached to a man who could wrestle bulldozers with just a paw, one with split peaks that a person could climb, forming a valley that a stream could run through. “That thing could lift the cargo wagon of a freight train!” While he was certain of it, he couldn’t help but notice the larger cat sputter. It struck him that this might’ve been the first time the Assistant Chief of Police ever really looked at himself like that.

It took a moment before Clawhauser found the ability to speak again. “Please, I wouldn’t even know where to start. You’d have a much better idea of how to go about that.”

“Yeah, I do.” With a grin, Lionheart launched his own arms into a pump, the sleeves of his too-tight suit screaming for agony through the stitches that popped from his engorged arms flexing twice as large. Not many men could say they could touch the crests of their biceps with the same hand the arm was attached to. “The things these babies have lifted will be in the record books for years to come. I’m sure of it.”

“Oh goodness, I keep forgetting how huge you can be!” Clawhauser exclaimed, his face wide with awe.

Many people did, he mused. Were this twenty years ago he might’ve ripped off his clothing and given his muscles a kiss. But as the mayor, he held himself to a higher standard than he did in his bodybuilding days. His suits were expensive; it was imperative he performed self-worship after meticulously removing his attire. “I think everyone would be impressed if they got to see me up close, some begrudgingly.” The memory of a few people who considered him a rival burning with envy from watching him flex himself twice as big forever stuck with him as that was the moment they finally understood he was the real deal and not some beginner with incredible luck. “But you should have me beat,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Come on, just give me a flex.”

He watched the cheetah gulp before moving, body shifting around cluelessly for about a minute until the pose he was in looked something like one seen in a competition. “Uh, well…” Clawhauser sighed. “It’s something like this, right?”

In spite of the effort it took to get there, Lionheart immediately recognized the side chest pose the instant he saw it. Even though nothing was tensed up, he could regard the mass monster the other cat was, the magnitude of that herculean frame showing in everything from shoulders that Atlas wished he had, to quads that cyclists could only dream of. “Now that’s the build of someone who can haul a tanker!” Upon seeing the spotty feline flex, he knew the officer was simply waiting for approval first.

“Oh wow, I—” Even the smallest of flexes offered immense results. “I-I never actually realized how big I was. I’ve never done this before!” While Clawhauser had chest boulders that no others could compare to, they looked like they could reduce the real thing into a fine powder just from the force exerted alone. Not to mention those legs jumped to redwoods in a fraction of a second. “Golly, I’m bigger than you!”

Lionheart smiled. “Hence my earlier confusion about why you didn’t want to compete. Now try this.” With decades of experience under his belt, it took no effort at all to reposition the officer into another stance. Arms that could rip steel I-beams in twain were pulled in front of the cheetah’s broad torso with fists clenched, being slightly hunched over putting the top of that swollen chest on display as so much meat stretched the collar of the uniform open wider than it was ever meant to go. “Now flex.” The consternation written on the larger feline’s face gradually turned to surprise as flexion doubled his beef, bulging it out in three dimensions.

“Woah! I—” Clawhauser could only scoff before the corners of his mouth curled upwards. “It kinda feels good! I might do this more often.”

Lionheart matched the other cat with a crab pose of his own, one less forced as he’d done it hundreds, if not thousands of times in the past. “It’s quite the rush, isn’t it?” Like the officer, he didn’t stop his body from pushing his pecs into his face, instead reveling in his own enormity invading in spaces it shouldn’t be in normally.

All the posing the two of them did enticed Clawhauser to check himself out further, twisting his limbs this way and that, regarding what his body could do. “Gee, I wonder if I’m bigger than you all over.” His eyes flicked back and forth across the room as he matched whatever body part was being tensed, giggling at the results. “I bet I actually am!”

And that was when Lionheart knowingly smirked. “Well, no. You’re forgetting I still have you beat in one area.” With his tongue somewhat slipping past his teeth, his fingers traveled south along the strained material of his suit to his belt, which deftly unbuckled before daintily opening the fly of his pants. He then, in contrast, wasted no time in whipping out a cock like a fire hose for the cheetah to gasp at – as long as a baguette and as thick as a two-litre bottle – complete with a set of melons for balls that rounded out his image of masculine virility. He considered himself lucky that his tailor always accounted for his prodigious package when designing his suits.

A gulp signaled Clawhauser’s apprehension at the sight – as did his face growing flush – but he quickly went to mirror what he’d been presented with. “Hey, maybe that’s changed since we last measured up!” He giddily gripped his own salami and held it beside the other, only to notice that his came up short. “Oh, wow, maybe I’m wrong.”

“Sorry Ben, I don’t think this one’s changing any time soon,” Lionheart chuckled as his girthy schlong chubbed up in his grasp. He’d always been blessed with a cubmaker larger than other men of his species; it wasn’t always beneficial to him, especially in professional settings, but behind closed doors it was more of a boon than he realized because the men who took interest in him were big – much bigger through natural advantages. While he could never put on enough muscle to outsize an elephant or a rhino without resorting to means he wasn’t comfortable with, he could rest easy knowing that he could still rely on one body part to keep him in the conversation. He had many huge men gushing about their satisfying night with him.

But he knew that other titans his size weren’t afraid of what he was packing, as evident by the hungry grin painted on Clawhauser’s face. “You seem a little pent-up, Leo. More than usual!”

“I’d have taken care of it myself by now, but I stopped by here because I was looking for your support for re-election.” Lionheart’s hand pumped his dick without thinking about it, the pleasurable feeling guiding his motions. “Not that I really need it, of course. Yes, it’s always good to get people to vouch for you, but there isn’t anyone I could get who could make me more popular than I already am with the citizens of Zootopia.” His confident demeanour was interrupted by rhythmic grunts as his fingers glided along his throbbing flesh. “Asking you is just a formality!”

“Well, I have no issue saying something. We’ve been friends for a while now.” It was Clawhauser’s turn to be cheeky as he slid a claw up the underside of that thick pillar, teasing the edge of the pulsing cum pipe. “Are you sure you didn’t come here to have me help you with anything else?”

Lionheart’s tongue carefully slid across a fang. “I wouldn’t want to impose on you, but if you’re offering…”

Clawhauser merely grinned. “I’m a man of the people. I’m meant to serve those who need it, and right now, you look like you have a problem that needs taking care of. I think you can appreciate that line of thought.

“That’s why I took the job! I enjoy figuring out how to get people out of tough situations.” The larger feline firmly clutching his pulsing tool had Lionheart shudder in anticipation. Arousal swirling inside him built up like a snowball cascading down a mountain, biting his lip at the officer’s careful ministrations. “You guys here are men after my own heart.” Speaking clearly became more difficult as it got punctuated with huffs.

But the sensations only grew stronger the second the spotty cat’s tongue grazed the tip of his length, slimy pre coating the rough appendage as it very deliberately danced around the mushroom head. He could do nothing but grip the edge of the desk as the other man dug into the bunched up foreskin where the most sensitive of nerves lay. It elicited a loud, low moan that he couldn’t repress if he tried.

And then his shaft was taken by the cheetah in one fell swoop. In all his time both pleasuring men and being pleasured himself, he hadn’t met anyone that needed less than two attempts to swallow the entirety of his prick as even the largest of gym rats he encountered received euphoria more than they gave it.

But Ben was different. No doubt the numerous times they’d fooled around helped with throat muscle control, but that pillar jutting from his crotch was taken without struggle from the get go, likely aided by the officer used to always having something in his mouth. Not that he complained, of course, because the expertise of someone like that meant he didn’t have to direct them, which meant he could just sit back and enjoy the ride.

And enjoy it he did! The bobbing along his meaty hog was masterful, the strokes coming from those thick hands only adding to the thrill as they cupped his fattened balls, audibly churning with seed ready to burst when his libido popped. One might think this to be unbefitting of someone of his title, but what was a little fun between friends? The door was closed after all.

Or at least it was. The hinges creaked – a telltale sign of those opening the door not knowing their strength – signaling the entrance of someone he didn’t expect, but given how there wasn’t any reaction to him getting blown, he didn’t have to look to know who was now among them. “Oh, hello Mayor.”

Lionheart flicked his gaze over, his mouth twisting into a warm smile. “Bogo! I thought I heard you were out and about today.”

“I was, but the matter’s been taken care of. It really didn’t need me of all people, but what can you do?” Bogo shrugged a set of bloated shoulders that could only come with being an absolute wall of a mass monster, a couple tons of unadulterated brute strength condensed into eight feet of hulking bovine power. His kind were known for their chests, and he didn’t disappoint with a set of meat slabs each capable of towing a car if hooked up right. Each limb of his bristled with might that he didn’t even need to parade around as simply walking bulged his muscles thicker than some men’s torsos. He might not be the biggest guy in the precinct, but there was a reason he was the boss. “You two enjoying yourselves at least?”

A sudden gasp pushed itself from Lionheart’s throat, nearly causing his legs to buckle had he not been grasping the heavy wooden desk. His heavy pectorals rose and fell as ecstasy pummeled his very being, the warmth of arousal coursing through his veins as his face instinctively found itself pointing towards his chest, the fluffy forest of hair in his pec valley roughly an inch from his flaring nostrils. “I don’t think I need to say anything. Ben?” The cheetah didn’t even shift from his position, instead giving a hearty thumbs-up as he refused to let up his oral onslaught. He even found a moment to free his own sausage and give it the attention it deserved.

That put a grin on Bogo’s face as he took the nearest set to the action. “Maybe I can finally let loose too now that I’m free.”

Not another word was uttered as the water buffalo unzipped his fly and pulled out a cock to rival Lionheart’s. It was positively impressive! He often found it hard to take his eyes off of it since the first time he saw it when the Police Chief visited him in his office – for official business matters, of course – but, as both of them were hypersexual beings who enjoyed the company of the larger members of society, they inevitably ended their meeting with a frotting session that led to him being invited to the station on numerous occasions, which then led to him being brought on to have his way with the beefcake cheetah officer whenever the need arose. Truthfully he thought it an honour to be included like that and accepted right away, if a bit dumbfounded by the proposal in the first place. “I’m still surprised you’re so okay with this.”

“Well, you obviously know what tickles my fancy.” Bogo slyly chuckled as he pumped his meatlog.

“Big cats?” Lionheart wheezed.

“Really big cats.” There was almost a purr in Bogo’s words. “Believe me, I’m not concerned. All I ask,” he repositioned, allowing for his other hand to play with an orb of his the size of a bowling ball, “is that you make it good.”

Given that Lionheart’s own testosterone factories barely surpassed cantaloupes, he could only imagine what being on the receiving end of those bad boys was like. But even though Clawhauser came in second on both fronts, he was no slouch either considering how he walked in on the cheetah flooding the bovine’s guts one day, instantaneously going hard the nanosecond he recognized what was going on. He knew he made the right call in taking up their offer then and there. “I take it I’m the only one you trust for the job?”

“Well, if I had to give it some honest thought, I could probably make a case for Officer Wilde. He might not quite be on our level, but he is a fox after all.” Bogo groaned as he yanked on the collar of his uniform, several of the buttons sliding from their respective holes and freeing all that heaving bovid flesh covered in a layer of sweat, his free hand finding purchase on a thick nipple. “I have no doubt he could make things… interesting.”

The thought might have crossed Lionheart’s mind before, but he never acted on as he thought the studly vulpine would’ve been uninterested. But then again he knew the officer liked to push his limits. Perhaps that was something worth pursuing? He sensed another visit in his future. “Maybe you should consider asking.”

Bogo snickered through a grunt. “I’ll think about it.”

Lionheart knew that no one else could have a conversation with another person while having Clawhauser slurping down their dick except for him and maybe the bovine jerking off to the scene, and that a less-experienced man would blow their load in less than five minutes, but his time in the gym he frequented receiving blowjobs from people who looked up to him gave him the practice he needed to figure out how to accomplish it. He’d never done it while giving a public speech as he didn’t want that associated with his image, but if for whatever reason he was caught off-guard and had to address a group of people who came to hear him speak, he knew he could pull it off almost flawlessly.

But Benjamin seemed to have learned things since the last time they were in this position. The spotted feline seemed more confident, leading to his body being attended to like it never had before. Not many people knew he liked his taint being played with as the fat thumb thrumming across it sent shivers racing up his spine. And with being down there came exploring the rest of his nether regions; one of the cheetah’s hands gingerly poked a claw along the underside of his ample rump, tracing the crease where the muscles attached to his body, but not causing his cheeks to tense until he found it tickling between them. He hadn’t let many people have access back there as he didn’t think a lot of them deserved it given their actions, but if there were any that he’d be okay with, the two officers in the room would be at the top of the list. They’d for sure make for a stimulating test of his abilities, but he was the greatest bodybuilding champ in Zootopia – he didn’t turn down challenges like that!

Like the water buffalo, a hand of his had gravitated to his chest, grabbing hold of one of his prodigious pectorals as it flexed, the fabric doing its damndest to stay in tact, though suffering from having to envelop someone clearly meant to wear the next size up and slightly tearing where tension was highest. His mind was elsewhere and didn’t register the noise.

The two officers pleasuring themselves sounded like echoes of one another, both nearly in sync as their hands basically flew up and down poles built like battering rams. Moaning grew louder and harder the hornier they got.

The chair Bogo had seated himself on groaned in protest as he shifted even further down, one hand now actively playing with what might’ve been the biggest set of ass cheeks the precinct had employed, those overmuscled mounds giving him a foundation that suited the width the bovine naturally possessed. So much beef packed onto one frame certainly made the task difficult, but he did the best he could with his chest fighting him every step of the way.

And Clawhauser worked like a well-oiled machine, not stopping pleasuring every turgid log of feline fuckmeat in his grasp for even a second. Each thrust of his pole into his hand belched out another glob of preseed, while his gurgling balls slapped his wrist. They swung with power as his hips did all the work. Momentum launched the translucent fluid further and further on the carpet in front of him as if he was measuring his output, splattering into larger and larger patches the more his pace quickened.

Which Lionheart noted immediately. His lungs struggled to fill themselves as his breaths became shorter, but the pleasure from his crotch rocket rippling through his nervous system was his main focus. The material of his suit ripped even more, going completely unnoticed as the noise level in the room kept increasing, tan-furred bulk poking through some seams. While sweat matted the fur along his body the more he exerted, it was most evident on his mane as it acted like a sponge for everything that dripped down his face; not the most becoming of looks for him, but one he was well used to.

But the cheetah’s assault was too great, and he succumbed to the euphoric bliss cajoling him into giving in. Those plump balls of his pulled up to his pelvis and let loose the floodgates. In less than a second he fired off a load of hot, sticky cum, then a second, then a third, all down the greedy gullet of the Assistant Police Chief, with not even a drop going anywhere else. There might have been a point in mentioning him being pent-up because he certainly felt it!

And he knew the cheetah felt it too because Clawhauser gasped around his cock as the torrent rushed from his cumpipe. That caused the seal of the other cat’s lips to grow tighter as he heard the revealing sound of orgasm come from below him, followed by splashes of something creamy landing somewhere in front of him before pooling between his feet. The hand clutching onto his thigh for support trembled all the while.

Even though Bogo hadn’t been an active participant in the fun, that didn’t stop him from letting the energy of the room get to him and busting a fat nut, though he managed to arrange himself in such a manner that his throbbing shaft had been shoved into his mouth and blasted everything it produced down his perpetually gulping throat, the reason likely so that he didn’t paint his face a pearlescent white. The hand playing with his rear had to resort to simply groping it as best he could, thumb holding onto where the mound dimpled from being flexed. No heed was given to the squealing of the office chair.

Climax best measured in minutes was normal to behemoths of their calibre, but all good things inevitably come to an end. Flows tapered off as balls became drained of spunk, the room no longer filled with the cacophony of pleasured groaning, but still saturated with the musk practically pouring off the three hulking titans. With the door locked and the windows shut there was nowhere for it to go; not one of them made an effort to change anything.

Lionheart carefully helped the cheetah to his feet, a soft chuckle slipping past his lips as he saw the result of the officer’s libido on the carpeted floor. “Looks like I wasn’t the only one that backed-up, huh?”

Clawhauser sighed in relief. “Yeah, I really needed that!”

“We all did, apparently. This has been the first time this week that I actually had a moment to myself after having to be a part of endless meetings that could’ve just been emails. Can’t remember the last time my head’s been this clear.” As if knowing that Bogo wanted to relax after emptying cum tanks that could easily fill a bathtub, the office chair capitulated to the tonnage weighing down on it and its support structure broke, sending him painfully slamming to the lowest level the chair was built for. What was once adjustable was no longer. “I hate meetings.” He groaned.

In his time cavorting with Zootopia’s finest, Lionheart hadn’t noticed until just then that his appearance looked rather disheveled. Maybe he could play off his outfit having torn thanks to him just so dang massive, but the sweat sticking his fur together narrowed down what he could’ve been up to, with his intoxicatingly masculine odour making his activities obvious. Eh, it was probably for the best to hold off on leaving until he was more presentable. That or call an aide of his to get him a ride back to city hall.

“Oh, before you go, mayor,” Bogo stumbled out of the chair, rubbing his sore rear as his pants remained wrapped around his ankles, “I was hoping we could perhaps discuss an increase in the precinct’s clothing budget. I’m sure you’ve seen the state of the officer’s uniforms. Some are barely holding together!” Right on cue, an armpit on his top ripped open, revealing the musky bush it was hiding.

That got a guffaw out of Lionheart. Oh, how he’d been there plenty of times, and in worse situations. “There’s nothing to discuss, Bogo. I’ve been dealing with that issue across many different city services. If you could’ve seen the bill for new sports jerseys I just signed off on, you’d have an aneurysm, believe me.” At least his suit pants were still in one piece, giving him some leeway in keeping a respectable public visage. “Leave the proper documentation on my desk and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of as soon as I can look at it. Decency is important, but not impossible if I have anything to say about it.”

“That’s good to hear! I’ve been dying for an upgrade for some time now.” Between relieving his urges and hearing how the police stations main issue was being taken care of, the excitement had truly gotten to Clawhauser, whose body found itself in flexion without him thinking about it, leading to the top button of his uniform shirt unable to withstand the pressure anymore and fly off like a shot in front of him, smashing through the window behind his desk chair. The universe had perfect comedic timing. “Gosh darn it…”