It was another lovely day of Spike being eighteen years old, and only a day or so ago, Rarity had offered him some naughty devotion. Rarity had gotten busy shortly thereafter, but Spike hadn't gotten his fill, and surely—he thought—Rarity hadn't either. But today was a day for Spike to be rewarded.
Determined to see his fantasies through, Spike had chosen today to go visit his loving Mistress. Spike loved thinking about Rarity; he loved thinking about how she adored his muscles and admired his new and ever-thickening figure.
He wanted to hold her again. With a day off from working for Twilight, Spike was ready to have a good time.
Spike had grown exponentially since his birthday. His muscles twitched and pulled with each step he took, and he could feel his growth surge beneath his scales progressively each day. His fangs were long now and pointedly dangerous. As Spike stomped along, he ran his tongue along his fangs, wondering if they were a bit too sharp.
Apparently, Rarity had liked them, and so Spike tried to put his concerns to rest and focus on the trek ahead.
Stomping around over Ponyville, Spike made a B-line for Rarity's home. Ponyville looked so small to Spike, and though he had grown used to seeing it shrink every year, he had yet to grow used to worrying about stomping on houses and flowers.
Even though his growth was yearly, Spike felt like every day the ground rumbled a bit more with each step or that the trees shook even harder. The wind now whistled around his ears, as Spike was tall enough to feel rushing air currents.
The ponies of Ponyville had grown used to Spike's massive size, and the Princesses had even made him his own personal walkways. The walkways were layers of purple and green stone that broke easily through the town, allowing Spike to walk without worrying about every step.
As the large male dragon towered above the town, his tail slashed at the air with each step. Part of it was his excitement to see Rarity, and the other part was the weight of his steps forcefully thrusting his tail back and forth. The stirred-up air blew some ponies away, and Spike gave them apologies as he went.
"Sorry!" He called again and again.
"You are too big, Spike!" Called back a pony, her hair tangled from Spike's tail-wind.
Spike was indeed gigantic, but he hadn't just grown large. His scales were harder, his tail longer, his ears more narrow. His claws were sharper, and most importantly, his muscles were more defined. Spike had grown stronger; he had turned into a proper dragon able to court and rutt all the mares he wanted.
Indeed, Spike was no longer just a baby dragon; instead, Spike was an adult—swelling and humungous. And seemingly, that was exactly Rarity's type.
The thought of being Rarity's type sent a shiver down Spike's spine and caused him to misstep, crushing a potted plant on someone's doorstep. Spike winced, unable to help the strengths of his feelings stirring his mind. The strong crush from Spike's young age had cultivated into adulthood as a drunken passion, and he had to consciously remind himself to quiet his feelings.
"Hey!" A filly called, crossing her arms.
Spike glanced, "O-oh! Sorry!" He said with an apologetic blink, ears steaming with embarrassment.
The filly sighed and waved him off.
Spike felt shocked at the sound of his voice and noticed the deeper differences in it. He remained apologetic with his words, but his voice was like a booming in the air or the beat of a drum. Spike wasn't an elder dragon yet, but even at the young age of eighteen, he still had a rumbling vocal.
