FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I should've expected it. The moment I descended downstairs from my apartment into the ground floor, I should have guessed Mr. Danielson would be standing outside the shop's door. He frantically peered through the window, eyes wide, anticipating for me to unlock the front entrance to let him in. Me being a young yet traditional wolf, I let the older bear wait. Just because he didn't feel satisfied with the product I gave him the night before, didn't mean I shouldn't prepare for a day. The customer was always right, but it didn't mean I catered to them like a whipped slave. Especially in my shop.

A good two minutes later, once I put on my apothecary uniform and prayed to the gods for another profitable day, I unlocked the front door. The bear practically burst in like a storm.

"Welcome to Patrick's Potion Emporium, sir," I tiredly recited my traditional greeting, "How may I--"

"Pat, you gotta help me!" Mr. Danielson spoke in a panicked voice. "I drank the potion before bed as you suggested, had Mara drink that elixir you recommended, but, but but...!" He hastily unbuckled his trousers to reveal his crotch, "Look!"

If I hadn't been awake before, I was then. Either I had underestimated Mr. Danielson's size as a bear beast the entire time, or the two-foot-long pole tenting beneath his undergarments could be traced to the Priapus potion I'd sold him the day before.

"How did it happen?" I asked deadpan.

I should've guessed it would happen. When I first opened up years back, I had hoped almost every priestess, adventurer or warrior across the region--be they human, beast, elf, orc, centaur, or faerie--came to my emporium in order to replenish themselves between quests into the wildlands. Unfortunately, a lack of foresight in location meant seeing them were a rarity. The mountainous isolation meant they rarely visited unless a mission required them to venture into the cold, frozen terrain that surrounded the village.

"My brat kids were knocking on our door when I was taking the potion," Mr. Davidson explained in deep embarrassment, "and I drank too much like you said!"

Or, and this was a differential diagnosis, he didn't think the Priapus potion wasn't working when it didn't have an instant effect. Thus, he drank another sip in the hopes of a boost, unaware that I explicitly told the bear only one sip would suffice for an extra inch. When the second drink didn't work, he likely proceeded to chug the entire bottle down. Impatient idiot.

No matter. After mentally reminding myself to place larger lettering on the labels of future potions, as well as close the emporium half an hour early so I could drown my sorrows at the nearest tavern, I went straight to work.

"Alright, come on in." I waved him to the back end of the shop. "And next time, please don't take off your trousers in front of the window..."

Most of the time, plenty of customers only entered my shop in order to...fix their sex life. Sometimes, they were within reasonable accounts such as relaxant elixirs, allowing sexual partners of differentiating sizes to copulate without injury. A wolf like myself could drink a quarter of an elixir, and I could theoretically bend over for any well-hung brute without the need to visit a healing priestess afterward. Yet the most popular of my sexually based potions I'd sell are Priapus potions. One sip could cause a dominant partner's penis to grow an inch in length, as well as keep it erect for several hours. Their popularity not only kept me in business in such a remote, adventurer-less part of the region, but allowed me to experiment with my own potions as well. All because many married perverts wanted to satisfy their husbands and wives.

Sometimes, it went the other way around; I'd been (un)fortunate enough to help concoct a brew or two that allowed an orc's manliness to shrink a couple of inches shorter, because their lover of a differing species couldn't accommodate for their length. One orc by the name of Garrah happened to be in a ten-year long relationship with this one human named Jason, and regularly visited the emporium in order to purchase relaxant elixirs as well as my anti-Priapus potion, which allowed the orc's manhood to shrink from ten feet down to seven. Much like a regular Priapus potion, the anti-Priapus variant he latter lasted for six months depending on the dosage. His friendly, glowing review certainly helped attract more business.

"Did you eat anything before coming back over here?" I asked, avoiding eye contact with the straight bear's monstrous, unnaturally thick member swinging beneath his undergarments. It left little to the imagination. "Well, did you?"

"Had some eggs before coming here," he mentioned, "The wife insisted I not go across town on an empty stomach. Heh, luckily the brats were still fast asleep before I left. Why do you ask?"

He turned to look at me. Thankfully, I kept myself composed enough to continue looking through my cabinets until finally finding the concoction to help Mr. Danielson. I explained, "The standard Priapus potion you consumed is brewed with the intention of remaining digested in your stomach. It only lasts six months, no matter what you eat. However, it only lasts against the stomach acid if it gets the nutrients from food as well. So," I handed him another bottle, looked him dead straight in the eye, "...go find a bathroom and drink all of it. You'll puke 'til the Priapus potion leaves your system, but some will remain for the next six months. Half an inch is better than twenty, right?"

Mr. Danielson, though weary, answered back, "It's okay, above average's fine. I can't thank you enough for this, Pat."

I sighed, "No problem. This ain't the first time I'd had someone do this. Won't be the last either..."

He reached into his pants pocket nearby to fish out a coin. I murmured to the bear it was free of charge, so long as he learned his lesson. In reality, I was more or less distracted by his cock peeking through the strained undergarments, the tip leaking out of the hem. It smelled even more delicious exposed to the air. If only Mr. Danielson weren't straight, then I would've invited him upstairs instead of waving him good-bye once he clothed his lower half back up.