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Uragh's original plan was to take a trip to the City of Greyhawk, visit the wizard he'd been told about, then head right back to his usual haunts west of Verbobonc. That was not how it worked out.

First he met Shinefeather the gryphon and Captain Varr, two new lovers, and decided to linger in the area at least until Shinefeather's heat passed. The opportunity to empty his balls into the gryphoness several times a day was not one a healthy young feral gul would pass up, and every month or two he knew Captain Varr would stop by and hopefully want her tigress form properly serviced. His new large form was just the tool for that job, or rather it had the right tool for the job. She was, so far, the only lover his large form's penis fit into, unless you counted Shinefeather's beak.

He did the usual caravan guard paperwork to request that he work out of the Greyhawk caravansary for a time and found a warm corner of the common room to sleep in. The plan was still to move back to his usual stomping grounds once Shinefeather no longer lusted for morning, afternoon and evening servicing.

In the meantime, he made himself useful by standing watch on the caravansary walls and trotted down one trade road after another. He wanted to familiarize himself with the layout so that when he was back to guarding caravans he would know where to look for ambushes. It also gave him the chance to meet guard patrols and get them used to the idea of a big feral wolverine in a red gambeson, sometimes with armor on top.

Over the course of the next few weeks two notable incidents occurred. The first was when Shinefeather swallowed a fellow gryphon who wouldn't take 'No' for an answer. This was very much like Uragh's encounter with the feral gryphon he named Blackfeather and just as he coughed up a mass of that gryphon's feathers after their meeting, Shinefeather hacked up Arden's. That meal left her too full to move but not too full to fuck and he whiled away a day mounting her as often as his youth and natural vigor allowed.

Uragh would take 'No' for an answer. He took it all the time from females repulsed at the idea of fucking a feral. But Shinefeather had no intention of saying it. Their species were so different he couldn't get her pregnant no matter how often and enthusiastically he tried, so he was her way to work off her urges during her heat. They were good friends and probably would be nothing more, but they were good friends who happened to fuck a lot.

Shortly after she ate Arden her heat faded but within a week what he later called the "Gnoll incident" happened. That got him him a meal of three men and a new lover in the form of Gnir the gnoll, whose newly stretchy jaws swallowed Uragh's large form's cock as easily as they'd swallowed a whole man. It was the first time Uragh bedded a man, unless you count the lonely times he curled up and used his own muzzle.

By this time he'd been living out of the caravansary for a month and informed the scheduler that he was ready to go on the road again, as soon as a caravan guard team had a slot. Instead he was reassigned.

"Uragh," the cook at the kitchen said that morning when the wolverine showed up for his bowl of oatmeal. There were sausages too, and apples, both of which Uragh approved of greatly. He was a lot more omnivorous than his sharp teeth suggested. "The caravansary master wants to see you."

"The master?" Uragh tilted his head quizzically. Normally the highest ranking person he talked to was one or two steps below that, a caravan chief or one of the schedulers who planned out routes and assigned caravans to them. "I wonder if I did something wrong."

"I can't imagine that you have," the cook said. "You haven't eaten anyone, have you?"

"Not recently," the wolverine said with a pointy-toothed grin. It was a joke among the permanent workers at the big caravansary that if people started to disappear they'd just look in Uragh's mouth to find them. He was, after all, still a feral gul, a muscular wolverine the size of three men.

That was just his normal form. His large form was so massive he had to sleep outside the common room when he used it. He'd still fit through the door but for some reason a one-ton wolverine in a small room made people nervous. In either form, though, he'd found the locals friendly, if sometimes nervous. Maybe it was the sharp white claws. Maybe it was because he ate people.

With his morning meal compete and his fur brushed Uragh trotted to the master's office. Greyhawk was a thriving city with massive amounts of trade and the caravansary outside the walls was larger than some towns he'd visited. It could house four complete sets of caravan wagons and had over a hundred permanent staff. Today he became one of them.

"Sir," Uragh growled as he poked his muzzle through the doorway. This office was big enough for him and Master Rand waved him in. Uragh ignored the chairs and planted his butt at a convenient speaking distance. Sitting down, he was more than tall enough to see over the master's desk.

Master Rand was a half-elf of indeterminate age. Uragh had noticed that longer-lived races tended to produce a lot of caravan higher-ups. He'd worked for a couple of dwarves and a full elf at different times the last few years.

Rand remained seated and peered over his desk full of paperwork at Uragh. He got straight to the point. "Uragh, I am buying your contract from Red Horse."

That made Uragh blink. He'd worked for the red horse caravan line most of his adult life. He knew the wagon drivers of a dozen caravans by name and his furry, armored form was a familiar sight loping next to the wheels.

"Sir?" He growled.

"You're friends with some of the local monsters, Uragh. I've heard from patrols that you talk not only to humans, but to everyone you meet. That includes things with wings, scales, and more than two legs. For example, the gryphon you're seeing...."

"Her heat ended some time ago, sir," Uragh growled. "And even when she was on heat, she stopped circling the caravansary when I asked."

"Not to worry, Uragh. It just shows you get along well with monsters. Some just more than others."

"Sir, what does that have to do with my contract?"

"We are a big enough caravansary that we have our own diplomats," Master Rand said. "Many creatures travel the trade roads and some either aren't allowed into the city or don't like it for whatever reason. Up until last year we had a lamia who did the negotiating with that sort of traveler."

"A lamia," Uragh growled. He didn't know much about those, just stories heard around the caravan fire. Snake from the hips down, human, or close, from the hips up. "The furry type or the scaly type?"

"Scaly type," said the master. "I've never seen a furry one myself. They are even more rare than the scaly ones. Unfortunately he offended a dragon out on the roads and she slurped him up like a noodle. That got the dragon fined by the city but she couldn't un-digest him, so...."

"Sir," growled Uragh. "I am no diplomat. I'm just a perimeter runner, and a fighter when I need to be."

"You're easy to get along with, Uragh," Master Rand said. "I'm not asking you to negotiate treaties. What I do want you to do is run the trade roads around the city, say hello to people, and see if the more monstrous ones have special needs. Sometimes we don't find that out until they get here. We had four wagons full of otter people from some swamp show up, some on four legs and some on two, and it turned out they all wanted to relieve themselves in a communal spot. And they had human slaves. I'd like to know all that before they come in the gate."

"I didn't think slavery was legal here." Uragh growled.

"Inside the city walls it isn't. The roads have their own laws."

"I saw an otter gladiator fight in Monstertown," Uragh growled, using the common term for Greyston. "Sweetwater, his name is. He's a feral and bigger than I am. I heard he's from some otter race and that the two-legged ones are the children of otters and their human slaves."

"That's useful," Master Rand said, and he made a note in one of the open folders on his desk.

"Sir, will the pay be the same as when I am with a caravan?"

"When you are doing your daily rounds, yes. I'll also pay you a bonus whenever you bring back information. I'll also want a daily report on less critical stuff. You can write, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Uragh growled. "Common and goblin. My handwriting isn't the best, though." His forepaws would each just about cover a sheet of writing paper, with his claws hanging off the end. Wolverines have huge snowshoe paws and so do gul, and though the inner toe on each of his forepaws was opposable it was the size of a man's fist. That made for some shaky handwriting.

"I'll have parchment and quills delivered to your room so you can write your reports. Oh, the job also comes with a room. It isn't large but at least you'll have some privacy."

"Thank you, sir," Uragh growled. He wasn't sure about these new duties but it was this or quit, and he'd been a caravan guard his whole life.

He trotted off to look at his new room and it was bigger than he expected. Only about ten by twelve feet but given how few possessions he owned that was plenty.

A sheaf of parchment, quills and bottles of ink soon arrived. That reminded him of the mass of feathers he heaved up after swallowing the big dark-feathered gryphon. They came up looking much the same as when they went down and a traveling merchant at once started picking through the pellet, which was almost as large as the merchant. He still didn't know why. He asked Shinefeather and even she thought gryphon feathers were valueless.

Just the same, Uragh resolved to consider the possible sale value of things he threw up in the future. Maybe his "educated stomach" was more useful than he knew.

That reminded him of the acid-stained wizard's robe and the blankets he used as a bed. He fetched them from his locker, paid a copper to get them washed at the caravansary laundry, and wadded them up in a corner as a bed. He decided one or two more were needed, bought them from the linen shop, and had about a quarter of his room properly comfortable for a nap. A simple pile of blankets is a luxury when you're a feral used to sleeping on a wooden floor or on dirt. He didn't need anything as fancy as an actual bed.

When he woke from that nap - his new patrol duties didn't start until dawn - he had another idea. He fetched his armor from the locker and had a crude frame nailed together by one of the woodworkers. Using him as a size reference they made him an armor stand so he wouldn't need to keep it in the locker any more. He had space for this sort of luxury now and it would be right in his room when he needed it.

While he had the woodworker's attention he borrowed a hammer, bought a few large nails and clumsily pounded them into the walls near the stand. Now he had someplace to hang his saddlebags, harness and gambeson. His plain wooden room was becoming quite livable, especially when he got out the little magical lamp that he'd had for years. To round things out be bought a small set of shelves to hold his writing supplies. He wrote while lying on the floor but the stuff had to be stored somewhere.

In the absence of his gryphon lover, and given that Captain Varr only stopped by the city every six or so weeks, he realized he was going to need to find another outlet for his urges. Uragh shrugged. Sometimes he had a drought between lovers. Feral lovers like Shinefeather and Captain Varr's tigress form were few and far between and most two-legged sorts recoiled in horror at the thought of bedding a feral.

The next morning his patrol duties started. He made best use of his familiarity with the roads, loping twenty or so miles a day and paying particular attention to any nonhumans or actual monsters he met. Many of them planned to stay at the caravansary and since wagons traveled slower than he ran the master had a fairly good list of them before they arrived. That made him happy, and the bonuses made Uragh happy.

When he met someone of note on the road he ran back home to report it and then ran right back out again. While feral gul are good at running long distances, this took time.

He mentioned this to the master he was given a wizard stone and a padded pouch for it. This was something he'd never owned, but he'd heard of them. Two crystals or gems were cut from the same mother crystal and enchanted so that when one was spoken into, the sound came out the other. Sometimes images, too. There were cheap and expensive versions and he got the cheap sort, but it was a lot easier on his paws than running back and forth to the caravansary.

He'd barely started his new duties when he was called to the master's office again.

"Sir," Uragh growled, and plopped down his rump in much the same spot as before. When he stood there would be a dustless spot shaped like wolverine haunches and tail. His fur was long enough to serve as a very effective broom.

"Uragh, what do you know about a wizard named Wittick?"

"He lives in a tower about two miles from here, in the hills," Uragh growled. "I visited him when I first arrived, but haven't seen him since."

"Visited him to get the gulper ability, right?"

"Yes, sir," growled Uragh, because every city he'd been to including this one wanted to know whose mouth to look in if someone up and vanished. He had faithfully reported the new ability the day he got it.

His size changing power didn't fall under that rules umbrella but getting armor made for it had been an early goal and the guards had seen him at his larger form. Not to mention seeing him in his one-ton form with a bulge of gryphon in his middle. He had few secrets from the staff at the caravansary.

"Well, he wants to see you," Master Rand said. "He sent a very generous payment for one day of your time, so head over there tomorrow."

Uragh tilted his head quizzically, and the master sighed. "Yes, you get most of the payment. Whatever he wants, it's worth your time."

The next morning, in just his gambeson as he didn't expect battle, he trotted down a familiar road. He'd been down it many times on his patrols but it was only the second time he turned onto the trail to the wizard's tower. A little while later he sat in front of the bronze door and looked up at the balcony. He was certain the wizard had magical alarms to inform him of any approach and he was right.

This time the door in front of him simply opened. Wittick didn't bother with the balcony greeting but the mage, or more probably a simulacrum of him, stood waiting inside. Without waiting for an invitation Uragh padded in and sat.

"Hello Uragh," the man in the blue robe said. A very similar robe was part of Uragh's blanket bed, but the copy of the mage who'd worn it existed now only as fertilizer and a little fat on the wolverine's flanks. Eating that copy was how Uragh discovered that transforming to his larger form brought with it an almost uncontrollable hunger. That same hunger, and a certain gryphon's unwillingness to back off, had gotten him his most substantial meal to date.

"You needed to see me, wizard?"

"Not me," Wittick said. He pulled a blue gem out of his sleeve. It was pointed at both ends and glowed faintly.

"Wizard stone?" Uragh growled. The color was different, and the glow was brighter than his, but it was the same shape.

Wittick placed the stone in midair, where it showed no inclination to fall. Uragh's would not do this, but he guessed this was a more expensive model. The wizard struck it with his fingernail. There was a clear chime and a figure appeared.

Uragh took in the saffron robes, the bald, tattooed head, and most of all the lack of the Maker's double runic R rune on the man's forehead. The Maker had several simulacruli, all with the mark. There was only one man who looked like this who lacked one.

"My Lord Maker," growled Uragh, and it was if a great hand pressed him down. He sank to his belly and put his chin on the stones.

"Stop that, stop that," said the Maker impatiently, and waved Uragh back to my feet. "You go your own way and I don't ask that even of my closest servants."

"Yes my lord," Uragh growled, and sat back up, though his head still drooped as though bowing. It was just a projection, but his previous dealings with the mage were via messengers or simulacruli. Uragh was overwhelmed by the presence of the actual creator of his species.

"Wittick here says he made it so you can turn into a dire wolverine," the Maker said. "This is a very interesting power, so naturally I want to know more."

"Naturally," Uragh growled, and shot a glance at Wittick.

The mage in the blue robe shrugged. "I was his apprentice, I use spells derived from his to change people. If I didn't keep him up to date on my doings he'd find out anyway, and I'd rather our relationship be a friendly one."

"I am a busy man," said the projection of the Maker. "So I will be brief. I sent a package to Wittick. I want you to take it somewhere private and open it, Uragh. Somewhere here in this tower," he gestured absently, "Under its wards so no one will peek."

"Hold on," protested Wittick. "This isn't an inn. Why don't you rent him a room somewhere?"

His Grace the Duke of the South Court of Monstertown, Archmage Ruhollah Rushiadah the Maker turned and looked at him, and Wittick slumped.

"Fine," groused the mage in the blue robe. "I suppose he can't do much damage in a store-room."

"My Lord," Uragh growled, "Do you need to see me change?"

"Oh, don't worry about that," the Maker said. "I'll learn all I need to learn."

To Uragh's horror the Lord Maker bowed deeply to him, then winked and disappeared.

"Right then," grumbled Wittick. "Storeroom here." He gestured and a door appeared in a blank wall. He headed for a different door that also hadn't been there a moment before.

"Don't get body fluids everywhere," he said before the door closed, and Uragh was left to ponder his odd day. Then he saw the pouch the mage left on the floor. It was big enough to hold a good-sized book so he took the strap in his teeth and padded into the storeroom. Surrounded by barrels, crates and shelves he set the pouch on the floor and flipped it open with a claw.

Inside was a folded parcel made of smooth gray material like nothing he'd seen before. It was close to the rubber strapping that let his armor expand, but it was far smoother of texture. He shook it out of the pouch and looked at it. Then it moved.

Startled, Uragh backed up until his rump bumped into a crate and watched as the package expanded. There was a hissing sound as it inflated like a balloon - yes, that was it exactly. Seams appeared and the thing turned out to have three colors, or three shades of gray rather. Medium gray most places, gray-white, and almost-black dark gray. Suddenly Uragh realized what he was looking at.

It was an inflatable raccoon, or more properly an inflatable praka. The little muzzle popped out, followed by ears and moulded cheek-ruffs, and a ringed tail assumed its proper shape as it was pumped full of air. There was a cylindrical something at the tailtip that he realized was a nozzle. It sucked in air through some magical effect and the balloonie praka inflated.

The inflatable praka was female. Round balloon breasts popped into shape, complete with dark gray nipples. Blue eyes blinked at him as the thing assumed its full size and he was looking at a animated balloon replica of a prakafemme.

She didn't have fur, naturally, and the normal shaggy outline was simplified by her rubbery contours, but the colors were right. She was a curvy little thing just about the size of the last prakafemme he met. That was Ria, who he'd had explicit instructions not to take to his bed lest she eat him. This one didn't look very dangerous but faced with an unknown quantity Uragh just looked at her to see what would happen.

"Hello,Uragh," she piped, and bowed. She was naked, and he assumed hollow, with a lighter colored belly and throat. Her hands and feet were gray-black, with little rubber claws, and her ringed tail had grooves between each band of color. If she weren't moving and talking he'd have thought her a simple balloon. "I'm Blossom."

Uragh peered uncertainly at this apparition. "Hello, Blossom. What are you, exactly? A rubber golem?"

"I used to be a praka," Blossom piped. "Then I got turned into this. I was eaten by a very rare monster that reproduces this way. It eats people and turns them into balloon versions of their old self."

Uragh's uncertainly edged toward alarm. "I am perfectly happy being flesh and blood, even if the Maker wishes otherwise."

"Oh, don't be silly," the little balloon-raccoon giggled. She seemed solid enough, but he was sure she was full of air. She didn't seem to breathe, so he decided she was sucking air in through her tail nozzle and and vibrated herself to speak as it came out her mouth. "I've only ever eaten one person and that was because the Maker wanted to see how the transformation worked."

"And," she piped. "Even if I wanted to do that and you didn't rip me to shreds in the attempt, your size changing thing wouldn't be useful to the Maker then, now would it?"

"I suppose not," growled a still uneasy Uragh. He told himself that he wasn't smart enough to know what a wizard might want with him or a balloon version of him. Still, it was the Maker.

"All right," he went on. "I trust my Lord Maker so I'll trust you. What do you want, then?"

"Well," piped Blossom, "I'm made of rubber now. I don't need to eat much at all, just the occasional rat and donations. There are plenty of people around the castle who help me out when I'm hungry. I don't have to absorb what I swallow, so from time to time when the maker needs, say, a sample...."

"What sort of sample," Uragh growled. He was still putting all the pieces of her rambling speech together. "Wait," he said. He sat down and thought.

"The Maker usually sends a note along with me when I meet people who don't know about me. It's like this..."

"Hold," Uragh growled. "I can work it out. The Maker wants a 'sample' from me and you live on 'donations' but you don't have to digest them. So the Lord Maker sends you out to get samples...liquid ones."

"That's right." Blossom grinned. "I've gotten them from lot of people. Even a gold dragon, a huge foxtaur, and the gul-taur you may have heard about. I keep the seed inside me and the Maker gets his sample. This time he wants them from you in both your forms."

Uragh considered the little balloonie praka. He expected she was one big hollow space inside. He had no inherent objection to sticking his cock in one of her orifices, but... "Won't the samples get mixed up if both end up inside you?"

"I can change my insides around a little," Blossom piped. "Right now I've divided myself into three sections. So what goes in my mouth," she pointed into the hollow of her rubbery-toothed maw, "Doesn't get mixed up with what goes in my sex, and so on. The Maker even enchanted me so the seed stays fresh."

Uragh had gone to the caravansary bar the night before, but despite plying the ladies with alcohol he'd gone back to his room alone. If Blossom wanted fresh seed, he had some saved up.

"All right," he growled, and rose to all fours. "How do you want to start?"

"Let's keep things simple," the little balloonie praka piped. She dropped to her hands and knees and turned away from him. Her ringed tail moved to one side in the universal signal that a female, feral or otherwise, is ready to mate.

"Pick a hole," she giggled as Uragh stepped up over her. And so he did.

He wasn't sure what it would be like, fucking a balloon. Very quickly he found out that when inflated Blossom was as firm to the touch as a real woman. Uragh dropped the long ridge of his sheath on her butt and began to hump.

One of the benefits of being a gul, as opposed to say a human, was that Uragh had a bone in his penis. This kept him stiff even if he wasn't fully erect and he could, and had, fucked for an hour and more at a time without pulling out. He might come at the start, then two or three more times over the course of a long mating. He could fuck a female until she was sated, however long it took.

With most females, though, he had to be careful. Between the length and thickness of his cock and its stiffening bone, he might hurt a woman if he went balls deep and she wasn't built to take it. That is not a way to convince a lover to come back to your bed and Uragh was accustomed to treating women gently until he knew their limits. Sometimes it came down to licking them out and accepting a handjob in return.

Though Blossom was barely four feet tall and he'd treat a similarly sized prakafemme very gently, he was pretty sure she wouldn't pop like a balloon unless he tore he with his claws. Uragh planted his paws carefully away from her hands and knees, rubbed his sheath against her butt until he swelled hard, and then dropped his tip under her tail.

"Oh!" Blossom squeaked. "That's the spirit!" That was as a cock thick as a man's wrist and more than a foot long slid into her rubbery sex. Uragh tested her depths with a balls-deep thrust, growled his approval, and set to humping.

When Uragh reached the point in his youth that the scent of females brought on strange thoughts and messy nighttime dreams, he was told about a plump grandmotherly prakafemme who lived up the hill from his parent's house. Someone had to teach males how to deal with smaller lovers without hurting them, she was his instructor. To his astonishment her well-practiced asshole had taken his entire cock and Uragh's first orgasm when in the company of a woman was with a furry praka tail wrapped around his balls and his shaft straightening out her lower intestine.

Even with her, he'd had to be very gentle when they fucked the usual way. The grandmother had taught Uragh care and manners and they served him well. He didn't need them with Blossom, though. Nor did he need the lube the granny kept around in great quantities.

Blossom was smooth and slick inside and her pussy and vagina, or whatever passed for it, stretched tight around his cock. He'd wondered if there would just be her pussy and then a void inside her. Why would a balloon have a woman's inner bits? This one did, or something like them, and they gripped his cock as he slid in and out. Only at the utmost depths of his thrusts could he feel a loosening around his tip as he reached the rubbery equivalent of a womb. He was lucky to fit more than half his cock in a prakafemme, but Blossom took his whole length easily.

"No offense," Uragh growled as he arched. "But I've heard of sex toys like you. Sort of a fleshy tube, sometimes with a fake body around it."

"We can talk afterward," Blossom piped, and pushed back against his thrusts. Her little rump fit neatly between Uragh's haunches and he set to thrusting in his natural rhythm, growling with each arch of his back. She wasn't wet inside but she was smooth and slick and grippy and he didn't need to worry about hurting her.

Uragh was so much larger than his lover that she was completely beneath him, just as Priscilla the were-opossum had been. Priscilla had to tell him to stop being gentle but Blossom didn't. Uragh growled with each thrust and found that if he put his back into it he could force a matching squeak from her. However she'd been made, she still enjoyed sex.

She was a squeaky balloon lover but Uragh was a young and healthy male who was extremely broad-minded about who he would take to his bed. He had to be, in the absence of anyone like himself in the areas he traveled. He thrust faster and faster until he growled, shuddered, and rubbed his balls against Blossom's rubbery sex. Uragh snarled and resisted the urge to scruff her, settling for filling her insides with spurting ropes of hot gul cum.

"Very nice," she said a bit later, when he was licking traces of himself off her ass. "You've been with a praka before, I expect."

"I am much more careful with fleshy praka," Uragh growled. "And in general around two-legged ladies. Most are not built for gul cock."

"The Maker told me he made praka, volpa and gul so they could fuck each other, to help keep the peace," she piped. "Praka and volpa I can see, their cocks are about the same size if you leave off the fox's knot. But gul are twice as well hung."

"I cannot speak for my lord," Uragh growled. "But maybe he made gul bigger so they would learn to be gentle with small lovers."

"Maybe," Blossom piped. "Now show me your large form."

"Just a moment," Uragh growled. "I smell food in some of these crates. When I change I get very hungry and I wouldn't want to eat you."

"I'd just go all the way through you," the little balloonie raccoon said with a smile. "It's happened before. I'm quite indigestible, except maybe by a dragon."

Uragh got his claws into a crack and pulled the top off a crate. Inside were sacks of dried fruit and jerky, emergency rations in case the tower was besieged, he supposed. It would do.

He stepped back into the space between the crates and stretched. That was what it felt like, stretching. It was just he kept stretching and when he relaxed he was five times as heavy as before. If he stood up now he'd be at least twelve feet tall and even on all fours he stood five feet at the shoulder.

He was a massive shaggy thing, with claws as long as a man's fingers and enough strength and appetite to overpower and swallow a big male gryphon. As the sudden hunger of the change overtook him he put his muzzle in the open crate and started to eat. One of his sleeping blankets used to be a robe worn by a copy of the wizard Wittick and he didn't want to send Blossom on the same trip that man took, even if she'd reappear alive and not as wolverine droppings.

As he snapped up and swallowed fruit and meat, along with scraps of canvas he was too hungry to nose away from the edibles, Blossom found the long ridge of his sheath and began to rub.

Uragh hadn't taken a tape measure to himself but he was sure that his cock in his large form was bigger proportionately than it was in his small form. All he knew was that it was much, much too large for any of his lady friends except Captain Varr in her feral tigress form, and only then because she had a Were's innate toughness. He'd run into other people who could swallow it but only the one with a lower orifice in which it would fit.

Until now. Blossom went down on all fours once more, sidled crabwise under him and teased his tip with her rump until Uragh growled and arched. His sheath drew back and the little balloonie raccoon got two feet of ankle-thick cock up her ass.

"Damn," Uragh rumbled, already humping. His lower body knew what to do. He couldn't imagine a fleshy woman her size doing this without fatal consequences. Maybe a Were like Priscilla could do it, even though his tip would be in her throat from below. Deep throat usually started from the mouth, but Priscilla was talented.

"One of the advantages," Blossom squeaked, and twisted like a belly dancer. He could feel his tip bulging out of her rubbery body as she moved and the glide of slick rubber over his tip was almost too much to bear. If he hadn't just painted her insides with his seed he'd do it now. "I've been with men so big I was stretched over them like a glove."

Growling rhythmically, Uragh put it to her, feeling her brace herself below him so not to be flattened against the floor. "You could be with a male that size and be thrust into a woman."

"Guilty," she piped. "Big foxtaur, big badger. I saw everything. I was wet outside and sloshing inside when they finished."

He wasn't big enough to make her slosh, but he tried. When he snarled and filled her intestines, or whatever their equivalent was, with spurting gul cum, he decided it would be a shame not to fill the third of her inner compartments. She swallowed his large form's cock as easily as he expected and Blossom went home with three samples, neatly divided.

Uragh for his part shrank to his usual size and trotted home with the mile and the smug self-satisfaction of one who's healthily and repeatedly emptied his balls into a willing lover. His itches had been properly scratched and he'd even got paid for it. The arch-mage sent him a package empty and would get it back full. What the Lord Maker did with all that cum was his business. Uragh could always make more.

With that day's fun to remind him why it was good to make new friends Uragh took to joining the crowd around the fire pit in the caravansary's open center at night. He still very much wanted regular company on the pile of blankets in his room, but this was a less vulgar way of going about it than trying to get ladies drunk enough that a big feral wolverine became attractive.

The fire pit gave him someone to talk to and got travelers used to the idea of a talking wolverine. They would talk, eat, swap stories, and, he hoped, he'd find someone who wanted to swap more than that.

A few nights after visiting with Blossom the ring of faces around the fire included two leonine ones and even a fellow gul. Khardaki lion people were great travelers and often worked as mercenaries, traders or hunters. They were well known for being open minded about sex and he'd found they had no objection to bedding a feral.

Uragh only had eyes for the other wolverine, though. The gul was a thickly muscular female over six feet tall and Uragh found her very attractive. Unfortunately he could smell that her heat was starting and she knew it too. He'd gotten a lot of mileage out of being so different from most lovers that he was a safe alternative to fucking someone of their own species. This was the opposite of that and much as he wanted to drag her to his room by the scruff and properly mount her, she met his gaze across the fire and shook her head.

"No," she growled when he proposed that maybe something other than mounting could be arranged. "You are handsome, but no. You know why."

Uragh nodded. He knew why. They might go to his room intending only mutual mouth play, but her heat made them both so lustful that it might overpower them. One thing would lead to another and he would bear his child. She was a caravaner by trade and not in the market for getting knocked up by a random horny male.

"Another time, though," she growled. "Another time for sure," and gave him a sharp-toothed smile.

That left two gul and two lions at the fire. There were also some humans, but they'd have to get pretty lucky to get in on the action. No such luck was forthcoming.

"You," said the male lion as the fire crackled. He pointed a claw at Uragh. "Feral gul, right?"

"That's right," Uragh growled. "My parents were both built like Sascha here," he waved a paw at the two-legged gul, "But this happens sometimes. Even the Maker is not sure why."

"I hear that some of the Maker's folk can swallow people whole," purred the lioness.

"Not me," growled Sascha. "That takes a gift from the Maker I don't have."

"Or another wizard who does body changes," added Uragh. "There is one near here. I visited him to get the gift. He charges, though. Three thousand Lunars, plus another thousand for what he called an 'educated stomach' so when you swallow something indigestible, you can cough it up later. It doesn't try to leave the long and painful way."

There was a brief discussion about all that in which Uragh related the story of swallowing Blackfeather the gryphon and coughing up his feathers later. To this day he thought of the feral lionbird that way, and Blackfeather was too digested to object to the label.

"Wittick the mage was an apprentice of the Maker and uses the same spells, or very similar ones," Uragh growled. "He does report everything he does to his old master, though, so you might consider that if it is a problem for you."

"I could pay to get the ability to swallow people," purred the lioness, who gave the human next to her such a predatory look the woman shrank away. She grinned and laughed.

"If you have the money," Uragh growled.

"So you're saying," growled the male lion, who was close to seven feet tall and whose mane was bound into many individual braids, "You could swallow one of us whole."

"Try to keep up, Azach," purred the lioness. "That is what he said."

"There would have to be a good reason," Uragh growled. "I would have to explain to the caravansary master and the Guard why I ate someone."

"I don't believe it," growled the male. "Even Ahri there," he gestured at the lioness, "Is at least half your size." The lioness was six inches taller than Sascha but more slender. She was muscular but lighter than the female gul. Just the same, she must weigh over two hundred pounds.

"I ate two humans together once," Uragh growled. "But that was a very big meal."

"Could you swallow someone and spit them back up?" Purred the lioness.

"It wouldn't be safe," Uragh growled, unknowingly echoing a certain badger when asked the same question. "Once fully swallowed a person might curl up in my stomach. If I couldn't get them started back up my throat," he shrugged, "They'd leave the other way."

The male lion opened his mouth but the lioness spoke first. "I've never seen someone swallowed whole," she purred. "And I won't tonight, I understand. What about a goat?"

"A what?" Said one of the humans at the fire, but Azach stood up and padded out of the firelight. Like most khardaki he stood tall on backward-bending cat legs that ended in padded four-toed feet. He wore elaborately laced, beaded sandals that ran all the way up to what on a human would be ankles.

The lioness looked after him and Uragh leaned over close to Sascha. "'My heat is on me, and I do not wish to bear a child this season'," he whispered. "'If only there was someone different enough to scratch my itch, yet not fill me with child'."

The she-gul shot him a look, then followed his gaze and grinned.

Azach returned with a fat goat on a lead. "Jimbles here is aged out of milking," he growled. "We were going to eat her ourselves."

The goat, used to being around predatory lion people and yet being safe , looked fearlessly at Uragh from a foot away. Uragh waited a moment in case someone else claimed ownership of the animal, then the she-goat's trusting expression was in his maw along with its head as his jaws snapped forward.

Uragh leaned forward, forcing the goat to sit down in front of him, and with a yawn and push of his jaws half of it was gone. The khardaki watched with great interest as his jaws gaped far wider than should be possible. When Uragh lifted his muzzle the goat's rump poked out and a kicking set of legs hung down on either side of his lower jaw.

With a heave of his jaws the rump was gone and Uragh swallowed twice. After the first a pair of hooves hung from his maw. With the second, the last bulge moved through his neckfur and his belly swelled as a goat the size of a human woman arrived whole in his stomach.

"Thank you," growled Uragh. He licked his chops. "I was hungry."

He didn't miss the lioness's eyes fixed on his twitching belly and when he rose, Ahri did too. He shot her a look and she was one step behind him as he headed for his room. On the third step she took the goat's lead where it dangled from the corner of his mouth but he was the one leading her, not the other way around.

Behind him he heard Sascha growl. "My heat is on me," the she-gul said, and she put her hand on the bulge in the lion's red loincloth. "And I do not wish to bear a child this season. If only there was someone different enough to scratch my itch, without..."

The door to his room closed behind the lioness, cutting off the view of Sascha and Azach rising from their seats. Ahri the lioness looked around, clearly unimpressed by Uragh's blanket bed, the armor stand and his few spartan possessions.

That didn't stop her from following him to the pile of blankets. The bulge in his middle drew her like a magnet and when he rolled on his back she straddled him to reach it better. Her fingers were sunk into his thick belly fur, feeling the goat's last struggles, even as she impaled herself on his cock.

Khardaki males are notoriously well endowed but so are gul, especially ferals. She sank down atop him until only an inch of purple-black cock remained outside, then began to bounce. Uragh hooked his forepaws over her thighs and helped. He knew what she wanted. When the pressure of her hands forced a long belch out of him, and even though she'd only been atop him for a minute, the lioness threw back her head and yowled.

The next morning, after a very pleasant evening of exploring the lioness's natural bodily orifices with cock and tongue, he found himself at breakfast with her lion companion. Azach walked with a limp now and had the look of one bruised and battered, but he carried the smug look of a triumphant male as only a lion can.

"We will be by again in two weeks," the lion growled. Two seats away Sascha was eating her breakfast, looking very relaxed for a female in heat. Azach's barbed cock had scratched her itches very adequately last night, just as Uragh had scratched Ahri's.

"Ahri says your room could use some decorations," the lion growled. "The next time I am here, perhaps I could help."

Uragh thought about that as he put on his armor for his morning rounds of the trade roads. He knew what was going on, or thought he did. He'd bruised Azach's ago by winning Ahri's favors so quickly and the lion wanted something other than a verbal contest to sooth his pride.

Uragh wasn't sure how he felt about that. He'd let Gnir the gnoll swallow his cock readily enough and looked forward to straightening out the hyena's lower intestine next time they met. Gnir had made it very plain he was up for that sort of play once Uragh was back at his usual size and Uragh had no objection to fucking another male. A hole is a hole when you are a lonely feral and lovers are few and far between. He'd even be up for returning the favor Gnir did for him at the ruin. He'd swallowed his own cock often enough, why not the gnoll's?

The problem was, Azach was too prideful to take that sort of thing lying down. If Uragh mounted the lion the lion would want to reciprocate, and Uragh was a firm believer in his asshole being exit only.

Uragh shrugged himself into his armor and trotted out the gate. He'd had a very good couple of days. He'd worry about the future when he got there.