Peter looked up at Tiny. A beat passed between the pig and wolf cosplayers. Then Mr. Pigsty finally smiled, “Lead the way.”
“Follow me,” Tiny nodded his head. His wolf mask shifted on his face ever so slightly. He wasn’t was expressive as Mister E, but it was fun watching him bob his head.
Peter followed after him. Mostly. He may have stopped briefly to dip a carrot stick in some hummus. He considered grabbing one of the bacon-wrapped peppers, but he didn’t want to ponder the philosophical implications of that right now. He instead plucked one of the grilled tofu squares and dunked it in some harissa.
“Man that’s good…” he mumbled, shoving the fermented soybeans under his nose.
Tiny turned to watch him. “You’re incorrigible ,” he laughed.
“I can’t pass up on- Eep!” Peter let out a startled snort as Tiny grabbed his hand.
“Come on piggy,” he pulled, well, gently led Peter into the next room.
He had been expecting a kitchen, but it almost felt like a less casual dining room? Man, how big was this mansion? There was a wet bar though, so it was the ideal spot to set up all the drinks.
“What can I get you?” Tiny grinned. “There’s-“
“Gin,” Peter grinned back, pointing at the liquor shelf, “A gin and tonic please.”
“Grr, assertive little pig,” Tiny play-growled at him, “I like when guys know what they want.”
“Do you now?” Peter felt his heart beat a bit faster. He hadn’t expected to be flirting before he even had a drink in him.
“Grr, or maybe I just like pork?” Tiny swished his hips. Oh wow, he had a cute butt. “Do you have a gin preference?”
“I haven’t tried that one on top yet. Looks expensive,” Peter blushed, “This is actually one of my first times at one of these parties.”
“Oh! Really? That explains the pig nose.” Tiny rubbed the back of his head, “Sorry, I was laying it on a bit thick.”
“No no, the growls were cute. Oink oink,” Peter blushed.
Tiny plucked the gin bottle off the shelf. His hands slid across the counter surprisingly easily. He grabbed a glass, plucked some ice with a pair of tongs, flipped over a jigger, measured the gin, and then topped it all off with some tonic water from a cooler.
“Tada, one gin and tonic,” he held out the drink.
“Thank you!” Peter grinned, taking the drink from him. He gave it a quick sniff, feeling the bubbles from the tonic tickle his nose. Then he too a quick sip and- “Wow, this is really good.”
“I’m glad I meet your standards,” Tiny bobbed his muzzle, “So, what do you think of the masquerade so far?”
“It’s fun!” Peter glanced by the door, “The host is a bit uh…“
“He’s quite the mystery, huh? I’m not sure anyone’s ever seen him without his mask on,” Tiny reached into a mini-fridge and grabbed a beer. It seemed a little pedestrian after that display with the gin and tonic, but Peter noticed it was a pretty solid craft beer brand. He poured it into a pint glass with just the right amount of head too.
“Listen, how much do you know about these parties?” Tiny held his beer up and pointed to a door on the far side of the room.
Peter started following Tiny out into a quieter side room, “I know folks apparently fool around upstairs?”
“That is the main reason we’re here,” Tiny’s face went a bit pink, “But no, Piggy, do you know about-“
“Peter.” He cut Tiny off, “Peter Pigsty, remember?”
Tiny poked an eyebrow out from behind his mask, “You’re really all in on this, aren’t you?”
“I thought everyone was?” Peter sat down in an open armchair.
“To… varying degrees,” Tiny chuckled, sitting down in a sofa across from him, “I mostly just come here for the drinks and company.”
‘Company’ sure was a euphemism. Peter sipped his gin, “Uh huh. So what’s your surname Tiny?”
He blinked, “Uh. Wolf. Tiny Wolf.”
“Original,” Peter smirked.
Tiny leaned in, “Yeah yeah. So what do you do for a living Pigsty?”
Now that was a good question? What did pigs do for a living? Peter glanced back at the snack room for a second and got an idea.
“I do restaurant reviews for the local newspaper,” he shot back. He licked some of the crumbs off his fingers for emphasis.
“Tribune or Chronicle?” Tiny responded without skipping a beat.
“Chronicle,” Peter grinned, enjoying the patter of conversation, “What do you do for a living Wolf?”
Tiny glanced down at their drinks, “You couldn’t tell? I own a bar downtown.” He wagged excitedly.
“Really?” Peter’s eyes lit up. No wonder he was so good at- Oh. Right. Tiny was being in character too.
“Howling Good Time, Fourth and Capital,” Tiny gave a toothy grin, “You should stop by some time.”
“Ha, good one,” Peter snorted. He reached up, rubbing his nose self consciously.
“Those Tribune jerks gave me two starts,” Tiny huffed, leaning down and lapping at his beer.
Peter watched Tiny’s tongue splash across the top of the beer, gathering up a bit of foam. It was a very canine gesture.
Tiny closed his muzzle. Peter’s mind complained as he tried to process the sight. His mask had a full muzzle now. He swore it ended at his nose earlier. He had apparently got the end of the mask stuck pretty far into the beer. The nose looked wet.
He could clearly tell Peter was staring. Tiny reached up and felt his nose, “Ah, I think everyone’s made it to the party.”
“What’s going on…?” Peter asked nervously.
Tiny wagged, “I was trying to tell you earlier.” Wait, Tiny was wearing a wolf tail too?
Peter looked around the room, trying to parse Tiny’s comment about everyone arriving. There was someone by the window with a devil mask talking to a guy who had apparently gone for the bull ring. On the far side of the room, Chesh was talking up someone wearing a lion mane. Beside him, someone was wearing a crisp black suit, a snow leopard mask, and… an ear piece?
Peter gave Chesh a halfhearted wave as he took on the crowd. The devil had a forked tail dangling behind him. The bull was swishing a short tassel. All three of the cat masqueraders had feline tails pinned to their pants. Even Chesh.
“Where did everyone get their tails from? Is that part of the party too?” Peter blinked.
“Woof…” Tiny left out a small exhale, “Let’s get you some place a bit more quiet.”
He stood up, holding a hairy hand out to Peter. Somehow Peter had totally missed the small press-on claws Tiny had been wearing earlier.
He let the wolf man help him up, “I haven’t been drinking that much.”
Tiny squeezed his hand firmly, “It’s not that. Come on.”
This wasn’t the segue to sexy times that Peter was expecting. Tiny pulled him through the house and- Woah, maybe he had been drinking too much. Every room they passed was full of laughing partygoers with far too realistic masks. One of the rooms had a laughing crocodile who was showing way more teeth than should be remotely possible.
“This way,” Tiny tugged Peter into the entryway.
The entryway naturally had a grand staircase going upstairs. It also however had a full length mirror for the master of the house to check his appearance before going on a carriage ride or whatever old timey mansion owners did. Peter was a bit too distracted to remember clips of Downton Abbey at the moment. He was too focused on his own reflection.
The seat of his pants now featured a short pink corkscrew tail. It twitched nervously as he took in the sight.
“Did someone pin this to me when I wasn’t looking?” Peter asked curiously.
“Arf! Oh jeez, uh-“ Tiny mumbled.
Peter reached down to the tail. He was expecting to feel cold plastic or rubber. Instead he felt soft warm skin. The tail curled around his fingers reflexively, and he could feel every moment of it. He could feel his fingers on the skin, the smoothness of his fingertips, and twitching of the tail.
He could feel his tail.
He had a tail!
“Welcome to the party?” Tiny gave him a toothy canine grin. His tongue dangled out the side of his muzzle as he started to pant.