FSE

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The west gate of Verbobonc is one of the three main trade gates for the city. East, West and the Port is considered the third. Enough trade passed down the roads to the east and west gates that a major caravansary existed just south of the city.Traffic from either direction stopped here, it serving as a staging ground for cargo and keeping the bulk of the oxen and other draft animals out of the city.

The caravansary had its defenses but it was easier to get permission to go in or out than it was at the city gates. Just the same, occasionally a wagon was stopped before it was allowed into the caravansary. Or, in this case, one of the caravan-goers was.

"Josiah," said one guard, and elbowed his companion. A wagon was approaching the gate and trotting next to it was a brown-furred animal the size of a medium bear. It had sharp, white claws and segmented steel armor that covered it from nose to tail. Underneath it looked to be unarmored but its short legs meant you'd have to be under it to hit it there. Given all the claws, not to mention the mouthful of fangs, you'd have to be mighty brave to exploit that vulnerability.

The two guards observed the animal. It looked alertly around as it ran, matching the pace of the wagon but staying well clear of the oxen lest it spook them.

"Dire wolverine," Josiah speculated.

"Or a feral gul," his companion said. Either way the animal was clearly part of the caravan guard. Josiah gestured for his fellow guard to talk to the wagon driver and stepped a few paces away. From here he waved the animal closer.

It was the size of two, possibly three men. A steel helmet was shaped to fit its muzzled face and steel bracers protected its forelegs. Behind the helmet curved steel strips wrapped around its body one after another all the way to the tip of its tail, varying in size where its muscular body was wider or narrower. The armor strips must each be padded somehow as they did not clank when it moved, and the whole set of armor rested atop a quilted red gambeson that was strapped to its body. Underneath that and barely visible against its dark fur was a harness that sported a few pouches so arranged as to lie flat against its body.

It was definitely a wolverine, both from the build of its strong furry body and the irregular white blotches like splashes of paint on its neckfur. Now it was just a question of whether it was a trained animal or could talk.

It could talk. "I am Uragh," it growled, and sat its rump down at such a distance that they could talk comfortably. "Caravan guard, currently with the red horse line." It reached under its furry chest and turned a flap of leather attached to its harness so he could see the red horse badge. Its snowshoe paws seemed too big for its body and from the way it gripped the badge it appeared to have an opposable thumb on each forepaw. "I normally wear a surcoat with the caravan symbol atop my armor but it was destroyed in a battle with bandits."

"Awakened animal or Maker's People?" Josiah said.

"Son of the Maker," Uragh growled. "I have never been to Verbobonc before. Are ferals allowed in the city?"

"They are," Josiah replied. "Stash your armor in a locker here," he nodded to the gate of the caravansary, "Unless you want to carry it around all day."

"Thank you," growled the feral gul, and ducked his head politely. He loped into the caravansary, still staying clear of various draft animals who might shy away from a four-hundred-pound wolverine, and reappeared a few minutes later sans armor but still in the red gambeson and harness. He also still wore the metal bracers on his forelegs. Soon he reached the west gate and a more comprehensive interrogation.

"Your gambeson and bracers are magical," said the guard lieutenant after peering at Uragh through a lens he kept on a red ribbon.

"Yes," Uragh growled. "The bracers make my claws magical and protect me from any ill effects if I claw or bite an undead or whatnot."

"Bart has ones like that," the lieutenant said without elaboration. "They are common gear for ferals. The gambeson?"

"Magical protection," Uragh growled. "Also keeps the armor I wear over it it from rusting."

"Mm," mused the guard. "You're probably wondering if I ask everyone about their magic. I don't. We don't get a lot of ferals. Are you a gulper?"

"No, sir," growled the wolverine. "I have not earned the right to ask the Maker for a gift. I must eat my meals in smaller bites than some."

"Yawn for me," the lieutenant said, and peered into Uragh's toothy maw. "Wider." Without asking he grabbed the wolverine's lower jaw and tried to stretch his gape wider still. It had already reached its limits, wide enough for a man to stick his face in but far too narrow to admit a whole human body.

Aware of the guards on the wall with their crossbows and horns, Uragh tolerated this annoyance until the guard let go of his jaw.

"Very good," said the guard, who had to test the trustworthiness of visiting monsters from time to time and had so far escaped a trip through anyone's digestive tract. He wiped drool off his hand. "You may enter." He licked a paper sticker and stuck it on Uragh's gambeson.

"Thank you," rumbled the wolverine, who'd had worse encounters with city guards. Often they wouldn't even let him in the gate.

"There's a bar in the low quarter called the Cracked Flask," the lieutenant called after him. "On sunset street. Ferals often go there."

Uragh nodded his thanks and headed into the city. He was pleased to find that while people did make way for him, they didn't recoil in horror as he passed. Some barely noticed the giant wolverine trotting down the sidewalk.

He had memorized a few street names and addresses from the map on the caravansary wall and soon found the bank, a potion shop and a general-magics vendor. He deposited most of his pay, replenished his supply of healing potions, and talked to the magics vendor for a while.

"I can turn either of these into an earring for you," the vendor said when the conversation turned to magic rings. "Or resize them to fit your toes."

One of the rings he had in stock would let Uragh fade into backgrounds almost as though Invisible, and just as usefully let him change his appearance to, say, a pony. The other one the vendor had for sale could be enchanted with a spell, which could not be cast but which made the wearer immune to that spell. The second ring seemed of little use to Uragh and while he'd like the first one he simply couldn't afford it.

He did have a magic dagger belted to his flank, which the gate guard had considered too commonplace to comment on. It had belonged to an orc bandit but now to Uragh as someone who has been torn apart and devoured by a wolverine doesn't have much need a dagger any more. Maybe if the orc had gone down whole he'd yearn for such a thing but he had to settle for arriving in Uragh's stomach in chunks.

The vendor Identified the dagger and while it wasn't worth enough to trade for the ring he wanted, he did offer Uragh an amulet that would magically enhance his already considerable natural fortitude. Uragh thanked him and pinned the amulet to his harness, down under his chest where no one would see it. He'd rather have a simple Protection item but there wasn't one in stock. At least the amulet would let him trot for a while longer before he got tired. That was useful given how many hours he spent on patrol.

Caravan guarding is steady work but the pay wasn't great. From time to time he got lucky, though. The guards split up any treasure they got from monsters or bandits and last year he got a nice magical leather coat as his share on one tour. He'd had the enchantment moved from the leather armor to his gambeson, which was similar enough to the leather for the transfer to work. That was a lot cheaper than having a similarly powerful magical gambeson or suit of armor made. The bracers he'd had since he left the Maker's service as they were produced in great numbers in the arch-mage's lands.

All of his magic items were what he'd heard a mage describe as "plain vanilla." They didn't do much but make him tougher and more dangerous in battle but beggars can't be choosers. He'd like to have something exciting but things like that were rare and expensive.

He was sitting at a street corner deciding whether to find a leather worker - some of his harness straps needed work - or go to the inn the guard mentioned when a passerby reached casually down and scritched his ears.

The people hereabouts seemed to accept his appearance but this was still odd behavior. He looked up, the person looked down. It turned out to be a woman who from her clothing was a Verbobonc firefighter without her heavy outer gear. The runes for FIRE STOP printed on her shirt were a dead giveaway.

Uragh tilted his head quizzically and the woman took a step back.

"Sorry," she said with a little curtsey. "I thought you were someone else."

"I heard that ferals are allowed here," growled Uragh. "Are they common enough that you pet them on the street?"

"Not that common," the woman said. "But I know one about your size. I run into him on the street sometimes and thought you were he."

"Hm," rumbled Uragh. "Is his name Bart?"

"Yes!" exclaimed the woman. "Do you know him?"

"No, but someone at the gate mentioned him," growled Uragh. "They said he has bracers like mine."

"He does," said the woman. "I'll introduce you to him."

The made their way into what he recognized from the city map as the "low quarter." It was not a surprise when they approached an inn sign in the form of a cracked alchemical flask with glowing liquid draining in an arc into a nearby mug.

"The cracked flask," Uragh growled. "The gate guard mentioned it too."

There was a thuggish half-orc woman in a chainmail shirt watching the door as they entered. She had the scarred, muscular look of a retired wanderer. Uragh was just thinking that he could see taking a job like that when he saw someone else who had.

Stretched out like a rug next to a small stage was a huge feral badger. He'd seen dire badgers before but this was a very big one, bigger than he was. Its long flank fur spread out to either side but under that was a muscular and very strong animal. The straps of a harness much like his were all but hidden in his fur and sure enough the badger wore steel bracers on its forelegs. Curved claws as long as a man's fingers weren't as sharp as his but they made up with it with sheer size.

The badger was watching the door and perked up as Uragh and the firefighter came in. Behind the badger on the stage was a praka musician plucking out a tune on a lyre and adding an occasional line of lyrics.

"Bartleby," the firefighter said with the same little curtsy.

"Estrid," growled the badger, who ducked his head to her in greeting. "New friend?"

"Uragh," growled the wolverine. "Caravan guard, just passing through town."

"I did that job," growled Bartleby. "Do they make you sleep under the wagons?"

"Sometimes," said Uragh. "Not everyone wants my claws in the wagon with them as they sleep."

"The captain would like you to come by when you have time," Estrid said to Bartleby. "He's had a new fire suit made for you with some more built-in armor."

The badger nodded. "The fire company sometimes has me go into buildings to get people out," he explained to Uragh. "I am low slung and strong so I can crawl under things to get to them. The city has loaned me a Ring of Fire Resistance so the main worry is getting my pelt torn open by nails or sharp splintered wood."

"Are you a Guard too?" Asked Uragh. "The gate guard knew you."

"That is my main job," growled the badger. "This is my off-time job. Bouncer. Just having me around helps keep the peace."

"I bet it does."

"And sometimes the fire company sends a runner for me," Bartleby growled. "Not often, thankfully."

"Bart swallows people feet first and spits them up when he's out of the fire," Estrid said helpfully.

Uragh looked the badger over. The ability to swallow people whole didn't show on the outside. Maybe if he looked in a creature's mouth like the guard did. "I couldn't do that. I don't have that gift."

"I was an exotic riding mount," Bartleby said by way of explanation. "I was bought by a noblewomen who had me Awakened. I was her traveling bodyguard. Even before that my first owner had me changed so I could swallow large prey. Body disposal, you know. Useful for a noble or even a merchant who has enemies. These days I do it for the city from time to time. They give me a convict and I get the day off to digest them. It's harder for for a criminal to be Raised when they've taken a trip through a badger. Not impossible, but harder."

"That is a good deal," Uragh observed. "I can't eat that much on the road. I have to be able to run on patrol."

Bart craned his neck to keep an eye on the door and Uragh nodded politely to him and turned away. There wasn't enough space for him to stretch out anywhere in the bar except right next to the badger bouncer so he padded over to a booth. Without his armor he was able to get his rump up onto a bench and rest his forepaws on the table. Estrid slid onto the opposite bench.

Uragh waved for a waitress and ordered a bowl of stew and an ale. "Would you like anything?"

"An ale," Estrid said. The waitress soon brought her ale as Uragh lowered his muzzle into the bowl and ate his stew.

"You're the first feral gul I've ever seen," She said.

"Most of us stay in the Maker's lands," Uragh said between bites of stew.

"We don't get many ferals around here," she said.

"The gate guard said that," Uragh growled, and stopped in the middle of a word. Under the table her foot was pressed against his sheath. She had stepped out of her shoe and he wore no armor on his underside. The sole of her foot rubbed his balls and sheath and it'd been too long since he felt anything so pleasant.

"It's nice to meet friendly locals," Uragh growled. Fifteen feet away Bartleby chuckled where he lay stretched near the stage. A waitress stopped and refilled their ales, smiled, and continued on without a word even as Estrid slid out of sight beneath the table.

It'd been a long caravan trip here and Uragh thought he'd have to go back to the caravansary, hole up in a private room and turn his muzzle southward. This far from the Maker's lands he rarely found a woman interested in ferals. Here was one, though. The massage from Estrid's foot had his sheath stiff as an iron bar and she gripped it with both hands and pushed it downward. His cock slid out into her mouth.

"You do like ferals," Uragh rumbled, and pretended to pick at his stew as she pumped his cock and sucked. He had to be very careful when fucking human women lest he hurt them. Between his strength, his claws and fangs and a cock too big for most humans he had to treat them like delicate crystal sculptures lest he break them. With his rump firmly on the booth seat that wasn't a problem. She was in charge and alternated using one and both hands. He had a pretty good idea what she was doing with the free hand when she used just one.

It was obvious she'd dealt with sheathed males before because she knew she could grip it and drag it up and down his shaft, using the sheath's slick inner lining as lube. Every so often she sucked his tip and rubbed his balls with both hands and she was doing that when Uragh growled and began to shiver. She'd only been down there a few minutes but he was pent up from the road and she barely got her hands back on his cock when he muffled a snarl and bucked on the seat.

It could have been very messy, but it wasn't. She knew what was coming and kept his tip in her mouth as he came. She hadn't tried to deep throat it, probably because the inner bone kept it too stiff and it was too thick to manage, but his tip fit in her mouth just fine. Her hands pumped his shaft and she swallowed his glutenous load as fast as it spurted forth.

No one paid them the least attention. Bart kept his eyes moving around the room like a good bouncer and merely smiled as Uragh came in a woman's mouth a few paces away. The praka minstrel certainly knew what was going on as his songs shifted to a decidedly adult selection as soon as Estrid slipped out of sight but he kept his eyes turned away and kept the pleasant background melody going.

The waitress had seen Estrid disappear beneath the table as she refilled the drinks. She, Bart and the praka seemed to be the only ones who knew, and they didn't care. It was dark enough in the inn that if you didn't see the woman sink out of sight you'd never know she had a wolverine's cock in her mouth and the minstrel drowned out the slurping, Uragh's muffled snarl and the eventual gulping noises from beneath the table.

Uragh tapped the table with a claw when no one was looking and Estrid reappeared, flushed but not splattered. She had swallowed every drop.

"It is nice to meet a friendly local," Uragh repeated, and slid a coin across the table to her. She ignored it.

"You can return the favor another time," she said. "When we're in a more private place." There was no way he could slip under the table without people noticing. His long body meant he towered head and shoulders above her and he could be seen from anywhere in the inn.

"I could rent a room," he growled, but she shook her head.

"I am meeting my mother for dinner," she said. "And I need to buy food on the way home."

With that she excused herself and left. She'd met him on the way home from work and twenty minutes after she scritched his ears she was sucking his cock. Luckily she, her relatives and the townsfolk he'd seen were all human, or close. Another of the Maker's people would smell wolverine cum on her breath and know at once what had happened. "Lovers have only one scent," the saying went.

Uragh finished his stew, lapped up ale from his mug and took in the ambiance. He could smell the others in the common room and while they were all smooth-skinned except Bart and the praka he smelled other creatures who had been here. Gryphons, a centaur or two, gnolls, and at least two flavors of cat people. Plus some scents he wasn't sure about.

While he nursed his drink and appreciated the fact that he was welcome here - in a lot of towns people barely tolerated 'monsters' like ferals - a couple of the aforementioned cat people came in. They were a mismatched couple, a sleek hestan cat-woman and a tall khardaki lion-man whose mane was braided into many individual tassels. They barely glanced at him before sitting at the bar and ordering drinks. With Bartleby sprawled like a rug by the stage another feral was just part of the background.

Another bouncer appeared, this one a scarred minotaur who looked like he'd stepped from the sands of an arena. It seemed this inn was the where a lot of the local monsters gathered.

The minotaur scanned the crowd, shot a look at Uragh, then took his place by the door. The praka played a last song and made his way to the bar, having earned his dinner and room. As he stepped from the stage Uragh tapped his table and slid a coin across to him. Not the same coin he'd offered Estrid, but still a healthy tip.

"I appreciate the music," Uragh growled. "And that it got louder at times." Specifically, that it got louder right when he snarled and ejaculated in Estrid's mouth.

The praka, a fellow Son of the Maker, albeit a more humanoid one, smiled and bowed. Soon the raccoon was in a booth by himself with his dinner, going over scrolls that were probably music and occasionally plucking a few notes on his lyre. He was the only praka Uragh had seen so far in town but just as the raccoon could tell from his scent what just happened with Estrid, Uragh could smell the scents on the raccoon's fur. The minstrel was a quarter his size but he was very cute and from the smell of him he didn't spend many nights alone in bed.

"Variety," growled Bart under his breath. He knew Uragh's keen ears would pick it up. "Not many people with fur here in town and a lot of them end up here. Then the townfolk who are...curious...come here."

The badger nodded to the minotaur, who'd spent the last five minutes assessing the state of the bar. The minotaur nodded back and Bartleby stood up on all fours, stretched, and padded over to Uragh's booth. His long claws clicked on the wooden floor. Uragh waved at the bench across from him and Bart clambered up onto it the same way he had. His legs were shorter than Uragh's and he sat just as awkwardly on a bench meant for bipeds, but he managed. Each had to fold his tail to the side next to his flank.

"I met Estrid the same way," the badger growled, low enough that only Bart and maybe the praka heard. "The first time I went into a fire my fur was singed despite the Ring and she offered to trim off the worst bits. As I stood with my forepaws on a table she trimmed her way down my flanks and the next thing I knew," he glanced down his belly. Bart was bigger than Uragh and the tip of his sunken-in sheath was visible past the edge of the table.

"She is very friendly," Uragh growled, and Bart smiled.

"I have visited with a gul female," the badger growled. "It was nice to not have to hold back. You know how it is."

"I do," Uragh growled. "I met a were-opossum recently." He took in Bart's blank look. "I didn't know such a thing existed either. She invited me to her room and I was careful not to hurt her. It turned out she didn't want me to be careful, so I wasn't any more. What I did to her should have killed her, she was so small. Weres are resistant to damage other than from swords, it turns out. Unless your penis is made of silver, they are very durable."

"They are," Brat growled. "I know a couple of were-rats. I think they can move their organs around thanks to their shape changing powers. Otherwise I couldn't fit in them the way I do."

"The opossum said she could even swallow people whole. People bigger than she is. I didn't see her do it but I believe her."

"About that," Bart growled. "You can't do that. Do you want to?"

"Maybe," Uragh replied. "I haven't decided what gift to ask from the Maker. I think I'm close to earning one, I don't work for him directly but I've done a few things in his employ lately. He's hinted I am close."

"There are other gifts you could ask for, correct?"

"I could ask for a homestead in his lands, I could ask to be made humanoid, maybe. I could ask for other body changes or a magic item. There are other choices."

"The Maker isn't the only one who can do that for you. My first owner had a wizard in Greyhawk change me so I could swallow people. That wizard is still there, I've considered having changes made and I've corresponded with him. He does body changes for a living, he's good at it and it's not that expensive. Now, it isn't perfectly safe, but it isn't when the Maker does it either, right?"

"No it isn't," Uragh growled. "Changes to the body are a shock to the system. Occasionally someone dies. They Raise them when this happens."

"You're a caravan guard. You can ask for different routes. Say you have someone you need to visit in Greyhawk, go see this wizard. I'll give you his name and address. Then you can ask the Maker for something else."

Uragh nodded. It wasn't a betrayal of the Maker to have someone else do the change and from what he'd heard Bart was perfectly able to eat people whole. He didn't plan to do it as a habit, but it would be a useful ability to have. Bart even did it as a city guard and got time off for doing it.

"Thank you." Uragh dug a coin out of a pouch but Bartleby waved it off just as Estrid had earlier. Uragh put a couple of lesser coins on the table to pay for his meal instead.

"We ferals have to look out for each other," the badger growled. "Sons of the Maker or otherwise. It isn't all good, going on all fours. But it's not all bad."

With that he crooked a claw at someone across the room and a barely five foot tall human woman slid off her bench and joined them. Bartleby walked his rump further into the booth to make room for her. Uragh was at least four times her size, Bart even bigger, but she smiled as she took her seat.

"This is Clara," growled Bart. He leaned down as nuzzled her ear and Clara giggled. "She's a traveling trader. Also a were-rat."

"That's the smell," Uragh exclaimed. "I knew I smelled someone odd here but I didn't know what it was." He sniffed, looking from the badger to the woman.

"'Lovers have only one scent'," he growled, and Bart said it with him word for word. Clara just grinned.

As she smiled her front teeth grew and her face sprouted a muzzle. Her ears migrated to the top of her head and went cup-shaped, her nails became claws and the hair on her head spread across her body and became fur. Uragh had heard of Weres with such fine control they could change at will and without discomfort and there was one right here. Maybe Priscilla the were-possum was like that but she'd been in opossum form the whole time he was with her.

Carla reached behind her and pulled her new tail up past the hem of her dress. Her dress and top were separate and fur showed between the two on her belly now. She was no larger or smaller than before but she was a humanoid rat now, complete with twice as many breasts as before. Her eyes were inky whiteless things but Uragh still thought she was prettier now than before.

"Clara's caravan is in town and she was upstairs when you arrived," Bart growled. He glanced fondly down at his lover. "She smelled you and here she is, which saved me the trouble of sending for her. I'd never hear the end of it if you came and went without her meeting you."

Uragh looked from the big badger to the little rat-woman. He suspected he knew that they'd say next. He was right.

"Bart is off duty," Clara said. "I have a room. It is big enough for three, even if two of its occupants are awkwardly large." She smiled. "I'm sure I could squeeze the two of you in somewhere, however tight the fit."

She slid off of the bench, waved to the minotaur and led the two ferals up the stairs. Eight paws worth of claws clicked on the wood, the badger's long claws louder than Uragh's sharp ones. The praka minstrel gave Uragh a thumbs-up from his booth. The sleek cat woman had sat across from him last time Uragh looked but she'd disappeared. Uragh had a pretty good idea where she was and what she was doing. There was plenty of room under the booth tables here for a reason.

The were-rat's room was indeed big enough for two hefty ferals and a rat. Bart nipped into the mattress and dragged it off the bed, then rolled over onto it and reached for Clara. Claws as long as a man's fingers dragged her in and he licked her all over all over as she undressed. Clara giggled and reached under Uragh with one hand, finding the long ridge of his sheath and gripping down. With the other hand she spun the lid off a jar. As his cock unsheathed she moved that hand to it and he felt the slippery goo from the jar on her fingers.

Uragh thought he knew what would happen next and he was right again. Clara straddled Bart and the big badger hooked his claws over her hips and pulled her down onto his cock. The badger was hung at least as well as he was and the were-rat's belly bulged as more than a foot of badger disappeared into her sex. By all rights his tip should be in her lungs but Uragh was getting used to Were flexibility.

With Clara straddling Bart, her breasts pressed into the badger's fur, Uragh did something he wouldn't do to a human woman without the greatest care. Clara was no human woman and she didn't complain when he stepped over her to mount. She reached back to guide his tip but he would have found her asshole with or without her help. Uragh growled and shoved his lubed-up cock into her ass, then set to thrusting.

"I told you there was room for three in my room," panted the five foot tall were-rat, who was improbably stuffed with the cocks of nine hundred pounds worth of ferals.

"However tight the fit," Bart growled, and Uragh laughed. He nipped the were-rat's scruff, confident he wouldn't hurt her as long as he didn't bite down full force.

"Pleased to meet you, Clara," Uragh growled as his lubed-up cock slid in and out of her asshole. Beneath him Bart did the same via a different hole. "And you, Bart." His contact with the badger wasn't as intimate, unless you counted the furry balls rubbing as they jointly fucked a rat.

"Pleased to meet you too, Uragh," Clara panted. "Now don't hold back on my account."

"I won't," he growled, and he didn't. Uragh's legs were longer than Bart's and he was just tall enough to fuck Clara's ass as Bart fucked her sex. Uragh set about straightening out the were-rat's lower intestine, treating her not at all like a crystal sculpture but like someone he could fuck with all his strength. Which she was.