FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Party Leader

By Danath

Sanmer © Sanmer

* * *

The white fox motioned towards three places on the rocky stone floor, indicating where the other adventurers should stand. The fox's large black cloak hid his body as he moved swiftly, arranging each of the three just so before warning them not to move.

“We'll be inside the dungeon in just a moment, so be very careful when you land!" the fox said. His voice was cheerful and nonchalant.

One of the other adventurers was a tall, lanky wolf in dark green pants and matching vest. He carried a bow on his back and held a small shortsword at the ready as he watched the fox prepare.

“Are you sure this is a secret entrance?" he asked, unable to hide the suspicions he felt from verbalizing.

He wasn't alone; his two party members nodded along. The short and stocky bobcat with the greatsword and the otter mage, both spaced about twenty feet distant on either side of him, chimed in with their own questions.

“I never heard of a dungeon with a secret entrance, only secret passages inside," the otter said.

“You sure you've done this before?" asked the bobcat.

“Oh, yeah, it's fine, don't worry!" the fox said, smiling widely at them. Being that the fox's smile was extremely foxy, it had little calming effect on the other three. “Here we go!"

The three adventurers braced for a glow of magic or blinding lights or really anything except for the floor suddenly opening up beneath them, dropping them into a large and smooth tunnel that carried them far below the ground…

The Otter Mage 1

Philbert woke up in darkness. His head throbbed and he pressed a paw against his skull as he wondered just how far he fell. He couldn't hear anything, which was a good thing, but it also meant that his party members weren't nearby. The fox must have separated them for a reason. Philbert looked around in the darkness, trying to figure out where he was. As if on cue, one of the magical torchstones mounted in the dungeon wall flickered to life. The stone was large and hexagonal; it cast a dull red and yellow glow that extended both ways across the wall of what turned out to be a fairly small room, perhaps a dozen feet by a dozen feet. There was no sign of a hole in the wall or any other method of entrance, so Philbert wasn't quite sure how he ended up inside.

There was a single wooden door with some iron bars mounted in the middle of the upper part, allowing him to see through to the hallway beyond. He recognized it from his previous excursions into the dungeon - somewhere on the fifth level judging from the moss growth and state of decay. Dungeons always got less pleasant the further down they went, and the fifth level also happened to be the final one. Philbert felt his tail twitching and took a few deep breaths. He'd been in worse jams before, and surely he could figure a way out of this one.

The doors was, of course, locked. It was made of large, heavy square timbers and iron banding. Even Philbert's most powerful magic would maybe start a fire at best. The otter was much more specialized in tracking and detection magic than strictly offensive spells, so he ignored the door for the moment and turned his attention instead to the rest of the room. Maybe there was a secret to getting out or something.

It took only a minute to realize there was no trick. It was simply a small enclosed room, one of the hundreds or thousands of such rooms found in a dungeon, and Philbert happened to be on the wrong side of the door.

The otter still had some tricks up his sleeves, however, and squatted in front of the lower door hinge. Extending his paw, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As he whispered a few words, the tips of his claws glowed red. When he pressed his palm to the door hinge, the metal plate began to heat. It would take a while to fully heat the old metal hinges, but perhaps he could warp them out of place or something. It was better than sitting around doing nothing.

Focused as he was on the task at hand, Philbert didn't hear the soft and slick rustling from the far corner of the room, where, through a slight crack in the floor, a large green tendril emerged…

The Bobcat Swordsman 1

Stefanus grunted as he sat up and rubbed his head with one gloved hand. The other reached instinctively for his sword, which was drawn and out at the ready by the time he was on his feet.

The bobcat went against stereotype in a few ways. Most bobcats worked as scouts or rangers when adventuring, but Stefanus was a frontline fighter. He had confidence in his sword skills and his muscular, if a bit short, body was toned through years of regular training and fighting.

Still, this was new. Stefanus preferred an open fight, not running around underground in narrow hallways. He especially didn't like being trapped in a single room. There was just one door in the otherwise empty space - about a dozen feet by a dozen feet, no windows or obvious weaknesses. The fighter's mind worked quick as it could as he tugged the handle to test it, then pulled on the iron bars forming a grill in the door through which he could see the hallway beyond. He recognized it as the fifth floor of the dungeon, but how he'd ended up in here after falling into the tunnel was anyone's guess.

Stefanus didn't think too hard about it - he'd either get out or stay trapped. Taking his sword, the bobcat's forearms tensed and his biceps bulged beneath his shifting black and yellow pelt. His armor didn't cover his arms - he preferred them free for swinging the sword in a fight. Raising his arms over his head, he took a step forward and grunted as he swung down, slicing into the wooden timbers of the door frame between the iron banding holding them together.

There was negligible damage. The point of the sword simply sunk in and stuck there. Stefanus grunted, but tugged the sword free and raised it over his head again.

He didn't have much else to do. Might as well get some practice swings in.

The bobcat's ears twitched. He turned his head, looking around the empty room, but nothing was there. The noise continued, though. It sounded like grinding stones and sand, but it was dull, even though it was nearby. Shrugging, Stefanus turned back to the door and took another swing.

All around the bobcat, the walls closed in…

The Wolf Archer 1

Jefry sat up with a start - and a yelp. He rolled onto his side and reached back with his paw to tug his large tail free. He was laying on it so awkwardly that it was pinched. It wasn't until after the lanky, tall wolf felt the pain fade some that he took the time to look around the dark room in which he found himself. A dozen feet by a dozen feet, one door - this would be a job for their resident lockpicker, Philbert, if the door even featured a lock at all. Since it was just a blank plate below the knob and the door wouldn't open, it meant this room was supposed to hold something inside.

Jefry, with that thought firmly in mind, looked around the cell again. He could see through the bars in the door to the hallway beyond - somewhere on the fifth floor, from the looks of it - but otherwise the room appeared empty. The wolf looked carefully, taking his time and using his palms to feel for irregularities in the stone. The combination of visual and touch inspection paid off when he found a loose paver in the floor.

He used the tip of his bow to pry it out, revealing a large circular stone beneath it. When Jefry touched it, it suddenly sank into the ground flush with the dirt. Something light and sharp whistled past the wolf's nostrils and he froze, eyes wide, as his sharp vision tracked the small dart. His ears twitched as he heard clicks from somewhere deep in the wall on the other side of the room. His shoulders twisted, and his head tipped back. Another dark object whistled past under his outstretched chin and another between his legs.

The archer's nimble body and developed senses were going to be necessary… the button he found seemed to have set off a chain reaction, and half a dozen darts were soon flying through the air. Jefry grit his teeth as he flexed his hips, dropping his shoulders back onto the floor before rolling over to avoid the pointy tips firing from below and above as well as the sides.

He took a breath, trying to calm himself. Which would last longer, he wondered - his nerves or the trap's ammunition?

The Otter Mage 2

Philbert's eyes widened. The otter's legs were stretched wide, held in place by a pair of large, slick green vines. The plant constantly excreted some sort of wet, sticky sap; the otter's clothes, or rather, what remained of them, were plastered to his fur. The otter stared, wriggling and squirming, as another pair of vines forced through the growing crack in the floor in the corner of the room.

Trapped in an enclosed space with a tentacle trap plant was not ideal. Fortunately, unlike most of these sorts of plants, this one wasn't trying to obliterate everything and anything it touched. Instead, it seemed far more interested in wrapping itself around Philbert. Not too hard, not too tight, but firmly cocooned. And the slick wet sap had a sweet, teasing scent that kept distracting Philbert. The otter mage was trying to use the heat spell that he used on the hinges earlier, but his mind kept going blank.

A large tendril wrapped around his neck. Looking down, Philbert watched as a few small four-petaled pink flowers slid past under his nostrils, delivering another huff of the sweet and tender flower scent. His body relaxed and his claws quit trying to scratch at the plant's tough and fibrous exterior. The tendrils, however, only moved more quickly once the plant sensed its prey was no longer struggling.

Philbert moaned. He couldn't do anything else about it at the moment. The vines covered his feet and calves and most of his thighs, while more vines had his arms pinned. Little more than his slender and smooth belly and thighs were exposed amidst a few remaining scraps of clothes. The otter's eyes closed as he inhaled the sickly sweet scent of the flowers again. His hips twisted and his arms pulled at the vines holding him, but it wasn't out of a desperation to escape. Instead, from his sheath his thick pink cock emerged, throbbing its way to full hardness in a few moments before the slick green vines found it.

Philbert's high-pitched moans turned into high-pitched muffled moans soon after. His whole body twisted and jerked as the vines invaded, doing more than cocooning him in sap. His spread legs twitched and the layers of vines around his chest and stomach bulged outwards as the otter received the same treatment on the inside as he had on the outside…

The Bobcat Swordsman 2

Stefanus frowned and tapped his forefinger on his chin. The short and muscular bobcat's greatsword was lodged into the door halfway and was now trapped by the thick, old tree fibers. No matter how he strained, he could not get the sword free for another hack at the slightly splintered planks. The bobcat's arms hung at his sides and his chest rose and fell rapidly as he slumped onto his rump on the floor. For once, brute strength didn't seem likely to get him out of this jam.

The bobcat stuck a pinkie in his ear and twisted, trying to clean it out before doing the same to the other. He kept hearing this noise - a slow, low, gravel-on-stone grinding that sometimes dulled but hadn't stopped since he woke up in this room. He couldn't locate a source despite looking in all the corners and testing all the tiles. The floor was smooth - surprisingly so, since he could tell the pavers in the hallway of the dungeon outside the room were uneven and rough.

The swordsman took a few more deep breaths. He was exhausted physically from swinging his sword so many times, but his brain was only just getting started. For example, he wondered what the otter would do in a situation like this. Surely the smartest of the three of them, at least in terms of books and magic and manners and other affairs that seemed somewhat mystical to the bobcat.

His short tail twitched out of frustration as he rubbed the top of his head and stood back up. It was no good. He just wanted his sword back out of the door so he could keep swinging it. Wrapping his hands around the handle, he focused and heaved. The blade twitched up and down, wiggling a bit, and the bobcat's teeth shone in the dark room. He growled and huffed, working himself up into a lather. His heart was beating so loud in his chest that it was almost drowning out the growing rumbling noise that echoed louder and louder in his eight by eight room…

The Wolf Archer 2

Jefry could feel the last needle rip through his pants, grazing the thick pelt below. He froze in place, tail hiked and ears twitching, claws scratching the stone tiles for purchase as he waited for the next shot.

The next shot never came. Jefry's fur relaxed somewhat and he even dared to take a deep breath, then exhaled as if for the first time in hours. How long had he danced and swung around the room and dodged and dived throughout all that? He had bruises all over from landing awkwardly or bouncing himself off the walls to avoid losing momentum.

The wolf's lips spread into a smirk. He really was good. How many other adventurers at his level could have done what he just did?

That's when the wolf heard the same faint loading click he'd heard hundreds of times in the past few tens of minutes. Only this time, he heard it loud as day, as though hundreds - maybe thousands - of darts loaded in at once. It wasn't just some click - it was a massive chorus all time together to sound like a huge clunk. The sound of the whistling air around the mass of projectiles made his tail bush out and his eyes widen before he instinctively slapped his paws over them and buried his head in his chest and arms.

“Fuuuuuu-"

SHHHHHHHFFFFFFFFFFFF!

The thin little darts dematerialized upon impact, leaving nothing behind but their payloads, so for just a moment, the wolf appeared to have grown a layer of porcupine quills across his entire body - back, front, arms, legs. The clatter of the darts colliding not just with him but with each other thanks to the density with which they fired from every nook and crevice and crack throughout the room would have been impressive had the wolf not been in the exact center of it all.

“Ahhhh! Ahh! Ahhhh… ahh… ah?"

Expecting massive pain - some kind of vicious, life-sapping evil poison, perhaps, or maybe a quicker method that would simply dissolve his insides - the wolf was prepared to go down screaming. He really didn't like the idea of getting poisoned to death - even as an archer, he avoided using the really hard stuff on his arrows.

Instead, there was only a feeling of mild warmth. The wolf patted himself down, but other than brushing away the scraps of his ruined clothing, he found nothing amiss - no bleeding wounds, no injuries, no damage at all. Must have been a magic-enhanced dart trap or something, he thought. He didn't know how else to explain it. Maybe it was an illusion, even? His clothes and equipment were ruined - his bow was in bits on the floor at his feet.

The wolf's lips spread into a smile. Plumping up to almost twice their original size, they framed the wolf's happy and toothy grin nicely as he absent-mindedly rubbed a hand down his flat chest and belly. What was he supposed to be doing again? Oh, right, escaping the room. Dodging the darts or whatever. Something like that… well, better find a door or something…

The Otter Mage 3

Philbert's bound figure twitched in midair. He hung somewhat horizontally from vines that, by now, covered every surface inside of the room. A mass of four-petaled pink flowers blanketed the vines as well, filling the room with the cloying scent.

Slender and narrow sap-covered vines twisted around the otter's arms and legs, thickening around his biceps and thighs. More powerful vines clenched his chest and belly, holding his hips in place. More surrounded even his tail and ears and head, ensuring every possible surface felt the wriggling, firm, sticky embrace of the fibrous tendrils. Under Philbert's tail, the largest such vine pumped in, stretching the otter's insides and sending cascading signals that resulted in the bound-up male shooting the biggest loads of his life despite himself.

He could feel everything. The otter had no way of knowing for sure the sap was making him hypersensitive, but it wasn't difficult to figure out. His hips twitched as he came again, sprinkling seed across the plants growing from the vines blanketing the stones below. The otter's toes curled against the tiny vines teasing at his pawpads and his erection twitched, releasing another blast mere moments after the last. Each fresh orgasm made him shudder and shake and moan with pleasure - there wasn't even a chance to think of how to escape in between the vine's supernatural ability to make him cum. The flowers below grew larger and larger, especially directly below the spasming, bound otter's stretched out body.

Philbert's legs stretched. His pinned arms squirmed. He wriggled and flexed and humped, but other than clench and bear it, there seemed little he could do until the plant was done. Somewhere in the back of the mage's head, he realized he couldn't remember just what it was he was meant to be doing. But with the vine's squeezing him, pulling him around in a new direction, and forcing his bound muzzle open with a suspiciously thick and flexible branch, he didn't have time to ponder the implications…

The Bobcat Swordsman 3

Stefanus expected to die in battle, not from a trap in some random dungeon somewhere. The room was now only three feet square. The bobcat was embarrassed, but had to admit, at least to himself, that he noticed the walls closing in far too late. Had he really relied on his team for trap detection to this extent?

At least he got the sword out of the door, though now it was bent in half and wedged into the floor where the stones were grinding his expensive weapon into the pavers.

The rumbling was almost deafening at this point. The bobcat squared himself up with the four walls, stretched out his paws, and prepared to try to push them apart. Sure, he uselessly exhausted himself earlier, but this was a heroic last stand, and he wasn't going to go out without putting up a good fight first.

The bobcat's paws spread and his fingers descended. Instead of meeting the cold and unyielding stone, however, his fingers squished into the rock as though it were filled with down feathers. The same happened on his other side. He jerked his hands back and looked at them closely. They looked normal… furry fingers, retracted claws, rough and calloused paw pads from years of wielding the sword.

The loud grinding noises continued. Stefanus pushed his hands outwards again. The rock squished inwards at his touch, but curiously had been completely hard when he tried using his sword earlier. It was warmer than he would have expected as well.

Two feet by two feet. Stefanus couldn't even turn around, or so he thought. The walls yielded to his shoulders, allowing him to twist to the side, though it wasn't as if there was anything different over there. The bobcat was out of ideas, though.

Was this really it? How the famous warrior would meet his end?

The walls were close enough now to push against Stefanus from either side. He turned his head before his muzzle, too, was pinched by the walls. The warm material - the bobcat didn't know what it was, but it certainly wasn't stone - squeezed in closer yet, filling in the space between, pressuring his chest, belly, hips, thighs, everything.

Zero feet by zero feet.

The bobcat squirmed. The heat rose. Ripples of movement shook him and rubbed him, vibrating his whole body. He couldn't see, but could he ever feel what was going on all around him. He couldn't help but get hard, which only made things worse. Or better. He couldn't really worry about it now - moments before he was expecting to get crushed to death and now he was experiencing one of the most intensely pleasurable moments of his life. His hips twitched as he came. He hadn't meant to. The bobcat prided himself on his stamina, after all, but he just… couldn't… stop…

The Wolf Archer 3

Jefry's palms wrapped around his pecs. His muzzle was open and his tongue out. The wolf, lying on his back on the floor, thrust his hips into the air, making his fully erect, knotted wolf cock slap between his thighs and belly each time. Long strands of pre-cum pulsed from the tip, flinging across the stones and his fur, as he let out a low and hungry growl of pleasure. His fingers squeezed around either side of his plump nipples as his pecs bulged outwards. He moaned, keening with need, as his entire torso rippled. Muscle built beneath his stretching fur as the “poison" went to work. Hot pleasure assaulted his nervous system as his legs and arms spasmed and then stretched, growing in girth and length to match his overgrown torso. Both fat pecs twitched and bounced, causing the long fur to shift around them, as below his deeply cut abdominal muscles formed grooves in the pelt.

The wolf howled as his body bulked up. His twitching arousal jerked, throbbing, veiny and hard and on the edge of peaking at any moment. The enormous balls forced his thighs to spread apart. Each orb, easily larger than the wolf's head, visibly drew up and then relaxed as each thick blast of pre-cum surged through the flexing, arcing length of wolf cock. Jefry's eyes squeezed shut as he felt his body growing and flexing and changing. He couldn't focus or think clearly. He couldn't remember if he had any anti-toxin potions on him. Usually he did. But did he now? Did he care? It felt… it felt so good…

The wolf's hands slid down his huge pecs to his belly. His fingers dug into the crevices of his abdominals as he gasped and lurched. Slops of pre-cum, each thick blast enough to fill a camping mug twice over, splashed around his forearms and belly. His hands opened and lowered, then wrapped around his pulsing arousal. The huge erection spasmed as he came immediately from the simple touch. Shots of thick white wolf cum hit his chest and face; the rest roped off to the side as he gripped his thick meat tighter and howled.

Fuck, it felt so good. It felt so gooooooood… the wolf's eyes opened halfway, watching as his huge length curled above his equally massive pecs. His enormous thighs tensed, then squeezed around his fat balls. How big was he, he wondered? It felt good being big… having big muscles… a nice big dick and balls… the wolf's muzzle opened and his tongue flopped out again even as a few more blasts of richly scented wolf seed splattered across his face. He even tasted good, he realized with a grunt. And now he was so big and long that he could even-

Wet suckling noises echoed through the dark and damp room as the wolf's cheeks bulged with his own arousal. His massive pecs twitched and flexed against the base of the shaft as his full, plump lips did work on the upper bits. Both hands wrapped around the knot, but it was far too large for just one pair of hands. The veiny bulge throbbed against his fingers as he closed his eyes, winced, and came just as hard - if not harder - than he had moments before, straight into his own muzzle.

As seed dribbled out of his nostrils, his eyes lidded over and his muzzle sagged into a half-grin around his own flexing maleness. His shoulders thickened and his pecs fattened up further, building even more layers of muscle beneath his damp pelt. The wolf's thighs tensed, snapping the bow which had ended up beneath him at some point. He grunted and moaned as his swollen balls demanded more and more attention. All thought fled his mind. He had but one purpose now… one driving need… just one urge forcing him to move…

The Otter Mage 4

Philbert shuddered as he spread his toes across the green grass and pink flowers coating the floor of the dungeon room. His hands stretched around a pair of vines that wrapped around his arms, teasing his enormous biceps. A few more tendrils splayed across his chest, exploring the thick curves and deep valleys formed by the impressive slabs of muscle. The same went for his belly, now featuring an impressive array of abdominal muscles that looked like stones wrapped in a layer of thick brown fur.

His tree trunk-like legs trembled as he humped into a mass of curled up vines in front of him, erupting with another satisfying roar that made the whole room tremble. The flowers and grasses grew longer yet as the vines feasted on the otter's overly productive orbs. Philbert licked his plump, thick lips, as he made his pecs bounce a few times. He felt so good and energetic… these vine traps must have gotten a bad rap somehow because he really liked this one.

The otter idly humped his hips forward, massive thighs flexing, as his enormous pink cock disappeared into the squirming mass of vines and flowers. Was he supposed to be doing something? There was something he was meant to do or somewhere to go, and he got stuck in this room. Right? He was having trouble remembering - especially as he felt yet another imminent orgasm building up in his loins. He was just so productive, and his thick cock felt so good…

The otter licked his lips and tensed his shoulders. They fairly swallowed his neck by this point, as muscular and powerful as the otter was now. His tail flexed behind him, shifting around across the bed of flowers, causing even more sweet scent to travel in the air along with the pollen and nectar getting into his fur, ensuring the vines would have a chance to travel to a new location later on. The otter didn't notice or care - Philbert simply felt too amazing to worry about anything. A big, happy grin spread across his muzzle as he merrily humped away, driven by a whole new set of needs based on his massively grown body…

The Bobcat Swordsman 4

The first thing Stefanus noticed was how small his old sword looked. It was like a toothpick to the big bobcat now. Not that the sword was any good, having been flattened into the stones earlier.

The second thing Stefanus noticed was how big his new sword was. Massive, erect, throbbing, with a few neatly placed veins bulging along the sides. Too heavy to stand fully upright on its own, the enormous length stretched out from the bobcat's wide, powerful hips at a 30-degree angle instead. The bobcat had merely to stroke a few fingers across the top for several rich pulses of pre-cum to erupt from the tip. Stefanus's plump lips twisted into a grin as he wrapped both paws around his new weapon and prepared to wield it for the first time.

He got no more than a few strokes in before he was cumming. His enormous shoulders tensed as his pelt bushed out. His pecs squeezed together between his incredible biceps and his thighs formed ridges of muscles beneath the splayed fur. Larger, taller, and thicker in all ways than before, the bobcat stood amidst the destroyed ruins of the walls that attempted to squeeze him earlier. He hadn't managed to escape right away, of course, but the bobcat was strong, and Stefanus was happy to be even stronger now.

Ropes of thick bobcat seed splattered off the walls as he jerked his massive new organ. He was so big… so buff… so strong… his eyes closed as he came again, then again, experiencing overlapping orgasms that sent trembles of lust from the root of his cock all the way to the tip throbbing away between his overgrown pecs.

“Fuuuuuck…"

Stefanus let out a moan, then a roar, as the warrior's paws groped and stroked and squeezed. He was so big and buff and strong that he couldn't help it. The lust in his loins overpowered what little common sense the swordsman had in the first place. Missions? Exploring the dungeon? None of that mattered now.

The Wolf Archer 4

Jefry's palm swung forward. The huge wooden planks and iron banding splintered on contact and exploded outwards into the hallway. The wolf bent over to get through the arched doorway, then stood up in the hallway where the ceilings were a more comfortable height. Considering the powerfully built wolf was now well over nine feet tall, he needed the extra clearance.

Spectacularly nude, the wolf looked more like a dungeon guardian than an adventurer in the gold and red light of the magic stones on the walls. Huge shoulders, meaty pecs, dense abs, and arms and legs to match produced a fearsome-looking wolf, but combined with the simply incredible set of balls and sheath hanging from his crotch - it simply put the enormous himbo into a league of his own.

Or so he thought. Jefry's head swung around and he turned to the side. The massive wolf cock snuggled into his sheath twitched as he sniffed the air, picking up an exciting new masculine scent. More than one, in fact.

There was another crashing sound of something wooden breaking. Jefry walked quickly, massive tail wagging behind, as the scents intensified. Something fun was happening in the dungeon quite nearby, he was sure of it. Jefry's keen instincts, which served him so well as an archer before, now helped him track his quarry through the halls of the dungeon. Loud moans, grunts, and even a few cries echoed down the stones. The stench of sex and lust grew stronger, and Jefry's tail wagged harder than ever as he wondered what kind of exciting monster could appear in a dungeon to cause this sort of thing.

When he finally turned the corner, he realized it wasn't monsters. It was his party members. The wolf licked his thick lips as his whole body tensed and relaxed, stretching out and getting ready to join in himself. The otter had the bobcat on all fours; the otter's plump, stretched belly showed clear signs of having already been well-used at least once or twice. The wolf's knot pushed free of his sheath, following the girth of his erection, as his loud growls added to the moans and cries of the two other adventurers…

The Fox Alchemist 1

Sanmericus grinned as he sat on a rock nearby. Half a sandwich remained in his fingers as he leaned forward, his chin in his palm, eyes locked on the scene in front of him. A recording stone floated nearby, capturing the images permanently for future research purposes. The white fox's lean and limber body was relaxed, though an obvious bulge stretched down the leg of his trousers, giving away at least some of the fox's internal feelings.

It was hard not to get excited. The fox's latest research produced outstanding results. The otter, wolf, and bobcat all reacted perfectly to the modified traps, the timing was about as good as he could have asked for, and the results appeared to be delightfully permanent. With a group of new party members like this, Sanmer would be able to go do research in even more exciting dungeons - new traps, new dangers, and new adventurers to level up…

Speaking of adventurers, Sanmer closed his notebook and packed it away in his bag. Standing up, he carefully disrobed, taking off his tunic, pants, and undergarments before packing them up in the bag as well. After using a dimensional storage spell, the now naked fox put two fingers in his muzzle between his lips and whistled sharp and loud.

Sanmericus's lips stretched into a grin as the floor rumbled beneath his feet. The three newly-grown members of his adventuring party - the smallest himbo was just over nine feet, the biggest almost eleven - bounded over like a group of playful puppies. All three remained happily erect and dripping as they surrounded the fox, crowding in close to say hello to the much smaller male.

“Good boys," the fox said. In his paw, he popped the lid on a dark purple potion and tipped it back into his muzzle. The bottle clattered away on the floor after he finished drinking and rolled onto its side to reveal the face up “Potion of Adequate Stretching" label. “I think it's time to celebrate you joining my new party, don't you?"

There was already a pair of thick arousals prodding under the fox's tail as he leaned forward into the pecs of the huge otter in front of him. The bigger male's eyes widened, then relaxed as he felt Sanmericus's claws digging into his fur. The white fox sighed as a paw grabbed his tail and pulled roughly. Paws and muscles and balls ground up against him as his new party members started the celebration with some over-productive shots of pre-cum that soaked the smaller male down. The fox shivered as he put the thoughts of future dungeons to the side for a moment. Now was the time to celebrate his first successes…

The end