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Making it Rain

"...and next time, pay the proper toll you mugs!" bellowed Oz at the couple scrambling to flee from his sight as fast as they possibly could, their unsecured weapons clattering onto the dirt road in their haste to get away from the brute. With a grin to himself the robber casually walked over to retrieve the pair of swords branished previously by the two foxes in an effort to protect their valuables.

"Should be worth a few silver each, I reckon," mused the mustelid as he carefully felt the weight of each blade before scooping them both into his arms and rushing off back to his nearby hiding spot, where he took a quick swig of his waterskin before scouting for another victim.

Crouching in the bushes, the badger bandit was still an impressively large creature. Oz was exactly seven feet tall and weighed a sturdy 220 pounds of thick, mustelid muscle with just a hint of belly pudge. His great arms and thick legs were no less impressive than his deep, barrel chest. Completely black, save for the telltale blank stripe of his species wrapping along his snout and over the back of his head and down his spine, where it gradually mixed with the onyx hair of his big buttocks and tail. Oz was clad in a dark green hooded tunic and a brown undershirt that had seen better days, and a toolbelt upon which he kept his purse and trusty cudgel. Fortunately for his victims (and himself, were he ever caught) he rarely had to pull a weapon; the size of the imposing badger was usually enough to convince anthros to hand over their coin. Occasionally one would try to play the hero and would fail, losing both their money and their dignity.

Despite his size, Oz was as quiet as a shadow as he watched the road for his next victim. He knew he'd have to move on eventually before the authorities came snooping, but one more mark on this busy road would easily get him a comfortable room at the local tavern. Maybe even a cute waiter to share it with, if he played his cards right. The mustelid was just about to distract himself with the fantasy of some hot young buck beneath him when he heard footsteps along the path and froze. Not only footsteps, for the badger's ears were keen but also...talking?

No, not talking, thought the mustelid. Humming? Oz peered out just enough to get a good luck at the creature that would undoubtedly be his newest criminal conquest today.

Cantering down the beaten path was the most curious sight the badger had ever seen. An opossum, easily at least a foot shorter and 100 pounds lighter than him with a gray-furred body that ended near his elbows in fine, mahogany fuzz and continued just to the very tips of his hairless fingers. His long pink tail swished about in time to his humming as he practically skipped down the road. What was most surprising to Oz was the anthro's choice of attire; the curious marsupial was dressed in the most ridiculously flamboyant outfit the mustelid had ever seen. His britches were a mismatched pair; one azure and one bright scarlet, a loose pink shirt that billowed and flapped around his slender chest and exposed his ash-colored torso which must have been couple with a mid-sleeved golden V-neck undershirt. His floppy, wide-brimmed hat was a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes with numerous tassels and baubles dancing and bouncing to and fro off of it. From the back, Oz could also see some of the opossum's adornments: a solid gold bangle around his left ankle and another at the thick base of his tail, with two petite silver earrings (one for each of his ears). Finally, he had a long and ornately engraved wooden pipe strapped across his back, and on his hip a short dirk and (most importantly) a heavy-looking purse.

Oz chuckled to himself and laid low, until the right moment to strike presented itself. The prancing fool approached closer and closer, until he was near enough that the big badger could tell that this fop was wearing make-up around eyes to draw attention to them, and perhaps even a little pink powder on the cheeks. He couldn't be sure.

As soon as the opossum was roughly 10 feet away Oz launched with the speed of an fired arrow out of the shrubbery and stood wide-stanced in the way, blocking completely the smaller anthro's passage with his sheer size and long reach. Growling menacingly the large thug brandished his cudgel and tapped it into his paw threateningly.

"Halt, fool!" commanded the badger bandit "This is MY road, you hear? Pay me...," the greedy thief paused to glance once more at his victim's purse "...10 silver. Or, I'll take it by force!" As if to accentuate his point, Oz gripped the end of his club tighter and revealed his impressive array of sharp fangs.

If the colorful critter was at all impressed or intimidated by the display, he didn't show it in the least. Cocking a single eyebrow, the strange creature drew his flute. Raising it to his lips, the opossum simply smiled and spoke with a soft and naturally melodious tone.

"Darling, you really don't want to do this. I have the power to make you very sorry that you ever tried to rob me. I suggest you crawl back into those bushes before things get uncomfortable for you," he chided, offering a little wink for good measure; apparently he was also wearing pink eyeshadow to match his cheeks.

It took all the willpower the badger had, and then some, to not snap at being talked down to in such a manner. Naturally, this meant that his ability to hold himself back was utterly spent, and he roared in defiance at the slim anthro before him.

"You little runt! You asked for this!" he cried, and charged at an impressive speed for one so large. However, the opossum's mouth and fingers were faster and he played a quick tune composing of sharp and clear notes. The badger reached the small marsupial, club raised high but could not (to his disbelief) complete his attack. Indeed, he could not complete any movement at all; not a single step. He watched, helplessly, as the opossum snickered to himself quietly before growing into a jolly chuckle.

"Oh, you utter buffoon!" teased the opossum "Did you really think it would be that easy to rob The Dashing Disgleirio? Truly I should have come here earlier, lest you not be vexed as you are. Charmed, I'm sure," said the weird musician, offering his paw mockingly to the paralyzed and furious mustelid.

Pulling his paw back and making a pout that was the very picture of disingenuous, the brilliant minstral continued on. "It seems that I shall have to be the one to show you some humility," said Disgleirio, clearing his throat before speaking his next phrase in a tone-perfect sing-song voice that was steeped in magical suggestion:

"Be a dear and lie upon your stomach."

Oz started in shock, or would have could he move an inch of his free will, as he felt his body move of its own accord. He cursed his luck to chance upon not just any random skald, but a genuine Bard on the road. The large badger could do nothing but feel his body conform to the opossum's request, dropping to his knees and allowing himself to fall forwards onto his muzzle and lay perfectly prone on his belly as commanded. Immediately Oz tried to look up, but what he had in willpower he lacked in physical strength and thus had no choice but to remain prostrate on the ground. Above him, the frustrated badger heard a rustling of fabric above him. Before he had time to consider the source he gasped loudly in shock as a warm, strong-smelling liquid rushed down over his back and began to seep into his tunic.

Piss. Oz recognized it immediately; the son of a bitch was actually pissing on him! The robber was utterly powerless to stop the smaller male's pungent pee soaking his clothes, the yellowish acrid liquid seeping through his garments and wetting his fur. Oz could smell the unique musk of the opossum's marking mixing into his coat, causing him to stink like the marsupial's acrid urine. He felt the powerful stream travel along his spine; clearly Disgleirio wanted to cover him as much as possible in his mark. The stream continued down the badger's back, over his tail and across the backs of his ample thighs and buttocks. Unable to fly out in rage the badger sighed and closed his eyes, a tinge of crimson beginning to shine out from beneath his cheeks as the bard relieved himself over his large and well-built body.

Disgleirio shook his limp cock over his subdued would-be assailant, the last few drops of his pee dripping onto the badger's head before stuffing his penis back into his pants. "That should teach you a little humility, oh cretinous villain! But, just so the becomes truly absorbed, allow me to bestow upon you a parting gift..."

With that the colorful anthro twirled his fancy flute between his dexterous gloved fingers and placed the mouthpiece against his lips. One of his bare pink footpaws tapped along as he began to pipe a new melody; one that to Oz sounded low and ominous, like the set-up to a comical disaster in a play he'd seen as a cub. There was no wind presently, and yet the burly badger couldn't help but feel a slight chill brush over his body and make his fur stand on end.

"There. I think you'll find that you'll be quite unable to do anything about your predicament for now. Of course..." he chirred, kneeling down to whisper into the ear of a bamboozled and angry highwayfur. "If you want me to release you, you'll have to find me again," explained Disgleirio.

Oz watched in disbelief as the slender marsupial's paws pried open one of his own mighty mitts and placed what felt like a scrap of paper into his palm before curling the thick fingers back up.

"You should be free to move again in a minute or so, love." explained Disgleirio as he began to skip casually down the path. "Come see me in Copperstone, if you need anything darling!" and with that he was gone.

Moments later, the badger felt a feeling of renewed limberness overcome his masculine body as he flopped onto the ground. Picking himself up at once he whirled around, determined to get his revenge. Unfortunately, he could see no trace of the costumed clown at all. Oz's nose wrinkled in disgust as he sniffed around his body; the pee that saturated his body had already started to dry and he was beginning to truly reek of the other male. Growling to himself and vying revenge he opened up his paw to stare at what he had been given with his small, dark eyes. In his palm was not just a scrap of paper but a silvery ticket. The writing was in cursive, but the badger could still make it out:

'One night only, THE DASHING DISGLEIRIO will perform at Sundown tonight in the Big Top situated near the Copperstone town hall!'

Squinting a little, Oz was able to read the smaller text beneath the large advertisement on the ticket:

'The bearer of this silver edition ticket has the distinct privilege of a front-row seat, and the chance to meet THE DASHING DISGLEIRIO himself after the show has concluded!'

"Guess I'll see you there, you prancing cretin," muttered Oz. "First I gotta get this off before it soaks me any further." The badger shoved the ticket into his back pocket before gripping his pee-soaked tunic by the hem and tried to tug it over his head. However, when he tried, he found to his dismay that he couldn't. It felt as if the clothing was being held by some unseen force and wouldn't allow itself to be removed. The mustelid yanked and pulled, but came no closer to removing the odorous attire. He thought that in his desperation he would have at least torn it, but no such luck. He considered his pants, the opossum's cold urine still trickling behind his knees and tried to remove them too, with equal amounts of success. The muscular mustelid sighed; it seemed that he would be stuck drenched and scented like the marsupial's musky, xanthous piss until he could track him down again.

Oz snorted. It would have been funny if he wasn't magically restricted from removing his soggy clothing. "This is your idea of a curse, you stupid jester?," he growled, thrusting his paw into his back pocket once more to re-read the ticket that he'd been given. "Oh, I'll visit you alright. Just you wait..."

---

It had already been mid-afternoon when the roadside bandit known simply as Oz had first encountered the ostentatious Disgleirio, and before too long night had started to threaten sunlight's hold over the day. Oz had remained at work during that time, although he found that his next couple of victims were only too happy to give up their valuables if it meant being away from his piss-stained stench. Pleased, at least, with his haul for the day the beefy badger made his way quietly into the nearby town of Copperstone. Copperstone was a small yet surprisingly wealthy hamlet, where someone with enough money could get around without too many questions. Normally it would be stupid to enter the town to which his victims were bound, but with the curse already entrenching the stink of musky opossum piss into his fur Oz had little choice. Pulling his cowl over his broad head as best he could, the suspect mustelid slipped quietly through the gate into Copperstone.

He expected to be immediately apprehended despite his best efforts, thinking by now someone would have reported him. However, he encountered nothing of the sort; all other anthros were quite content doing various labor jobs or gossiping on the street corners. One of the few local militia even gave him a curt, no-nonsense nod upon entrance. The many vaulted buildings cast a plethora of shadows into the town center, and made night come just a little sooner for the locals. At least, it normally would, were there not a ridiculously bright, giant tent erected right in the center of town. Sconces burned brightly in a variety of hues; orange, blue, pink and green flames illuminated the imposing structure and made ordinary shades twist and contort against the flames as if in some kind of dance.

Oz scratched his head at the sight; he'd been here at the crack of dawn already to acquire water and rations, and there was nothing like this set up in the slightest. Making his way through town he noticed a series of glare coming his way out of the corner of his eye. No, not glares...stares. Of bemusement. He could feel the heat of their gaze upon him, the various minor nobles and servants chuckling amongst themselves at his urine-soaked attire. Oz pulled his cowl tighter, not wanting the residents to see him begin to blush.

Just as the big badger began to stride purposefully toward the large and colorful venue he felt a sudden, dull ache in his pelvis: he'd forgotten to relieve himself in the woods due to his distraction and now desperately needed to take a leak as the now-empty waterskin had finally caught up with him. The pressure was rapidly building in his bladder, and the mustelid had to grip his groin between his meaty paws to help stem the tide that had decided now that it would demand to be unleashed. He looked quite the sight as the large male hopped over to where he knew a public urinal would be, his knees contorted slightly inwards as he fought against his urge to simply relieve himself all over the floor. Turning into a semi-private area with a trench filled with running water, he was dismayed to find the various spots almost totally occupied; there were half a dozen other males in various stages of urination, their golden streams pouring from each respective sheath into the channel below them. Shuffling his broad-shouldered girth between a pair of slimmer anthros Oz began to fumble with his belt, but to his dismay he couldn't manage to undo his pants.

Oh no... thought the rogue as he started to panic. Even as he struggled he could feel it, drips of pent-up urine making their way through his urethra and into his already-wet britches. He tugged and pulled with abandon, almost jostling the vulpine peeing beside him who responded with a disarming sneer before returning to his own urination. Oz was panting with exertion to undo his trousers, but already felt that it was too late; to his utter horror and embarrassment his bladder was tired of waiting. An unyielding, hot jet of musky piss shot through his pants and re-drenched both of his legs, staining further his already-soaked clothes with a steady, powerful stream of his own golden waste. The stench of his scent combined with the potent marking of that damned opossum now seeped through his fingers as Oz tried in vain to prevent any further wetting, but succeeded only in pissing over his paws and streaming the liquid through them, spraying it out all over the floor. To make matters even worse, the vulpine that had sneered at him before was looking straight at him now. Oz was stooped with his legs pressed together, but even then the snide fox had to look up slightly to chide him further.

"Couldn't even wait, eh little cub? Couldn't help but piss yourself in front of the big boys?" snickered the vulpine, casually shaking stray drops of urine from his own crimson dick as it rapidly retreated back into his plump, slightly damp sheath. Oz wanted to respond, but despite his size he felt utterly humiliated by his situation and the bullying fox: it had been a long time since he'd felt so powerless and ashamed in public. Then, like a bolt out of the blue the badger had a shocking realization: he'd seen this same fox before! Very recently, for this was one of the pair he'd waylaid just a few hours prior. Strangely the auburn canid did not seem to recognize his previous attacker at all, despite looking the mustelid straight in the blushing face and mocking him. Staring pitifully back at the fox, Oz realized that his cajoler's eyes seemed to be ever-so-slightly clouded over. The male clearly wasn't blind, but was something else that the badger didn't care to consider at the time. He wanted to say something back, or even threaten the fox but the words wouldn't come to him; he was still shaking from the mess he'd made in his pants. All the while the spray was still coming, pooling at his feet and moistening his large black footpaws in his own putrid piss. Most of the males were leaving now, chuckling and guffawing to themselves about the pathetic bitch who just pissed himself. Oz left the bathroom pretty sharply, the remainder of his stream leaving a trail of fresh warm pee trickling out of his pant leg and over the floor.

Utterly disgraced and confused, Oz knew what he had to do. He had to go to the tent and confront that wretched opossum, Disgleirio, and get him to undo the curse. Without further delay he stormed off towards the circus tent, heading towards the open flap signaled by the hand-carved sign that said ENTRANCE.

Flanking the divided section of multicolored tarp were a pair of smaller anthros, even considering that Oz was taller than most. A duo of rodents, specifically field mice wearing matching frilled jester outfits of mismatched shiny purple and orange fabric with ruffled white collars. They were wearing plain golden and featureless masks, but their large round ears and thinly-haired tails (combined with their lack of height; neither was much taller than four and a half feet) made it clear that they were some variant of mouse.

"What ho, what's this?" squeaked the first, in speech that was just on the uncomfortable side of high pitched and fast-paced and pointing in an over-the-top and excited way.

"A massive messy musty mustelid moving towards our terrifically tantalizing towering top!" responded the other. Oz noticed that they shared the same voice, and that they seemed to be talking about him instead of to him.

"Does he have a ticket?" asked the first, placing his paws on his bright, asymmetrical patterned hips and cocking his head quizzically to one side.

"I hope he has. A perfectly preserved pass to peruse and praise the peculiar performance presiding presently." chittered the second to the first, talking as if Oz wasn't even present.

Oz coughed and straightened up to his full height, trying to desperately salvage and shred of dignity he didn't leave in the public restroom. "Yeah, I've got your damn ticket right here." he grumbled, sliding his paw into his pocket and retrieving the rectangular silver scrap and holding it out. He could have forced his way past these jokers, but he didn't want to cause a scene when he was so close. Besides, the pair looked a little off and as his grandmother used to say: never anger the mad.

At the sight of the silver ticket both mice gasped melodramatically, pinkish paws over their mouths like they'd been told a shocking secret. The first mouse whispered something into the second's ear, but quickly resumed his stance afterwards. Plucking the ticket daintily with his thinly-furred fingers, he scrunched up the ticket and crushed the paper in his palm. Seeing the shocked look on Oz's face the rodent smiled, opening his paw to reveal nothing but fragments of charred ash despite there being no visible method of igniting the ticket.

"A silver ticket...do you know how lucky you are, Sir?" asked the first. "Does he know how lucky he is?"

"Forsooth, a fantastically fortunate fellow!"

"Should we show him inside?"

"Certainly! See he's centered squarely; the spectacle's soon to start!"

Both mice suddenly broke into laughter, and not just any minor chortle; a louder-than-life, full belly laugh that made them grip their sides. The laughing sounded as if it came from much larger creatures than the two rodent clowns; the entire town could likely hear them. Oz couldn't help but shake some awkward feeling that he was part of a much larger joke, but he shoved that thought aside. He had to find Disgleirio and put and end to his torment, or he'd stay stinking of pee forever.

Eventually their laughter subside and they each took one mirrored step back and allowed Oz to pass through the tent flap, overtly bowing to the badger as he walked through the entrance.

If the sudden appearance of a large carnival venue hadn't been curious enough, Oz's suspicious were newly amplified by the absurd bouncers. What he was not prepared for however, was the room itself. The tent looked large from the outside, but inside it was impossibly humongous. Thick wooden poles supported the bright tarpaulin sides, and the circular seating was packed full of anthros of all ages and species excitedly chatting about their expectations for the act. It was bright inside, the same multicolored flames shedding their iridescent glow about the auditorium. Excitement was brimming, almost electric in the air and for a moment the badger forgot himself and stared in awe at the lights and decorations within. Moments later he caught himself gormlessly gazing and shook his head, giving his temples a rub as he made his way down the aisle to his front row seat. This too, was surprisingly simple; there was only one chair available and it was right at the front and center of the arena's outer ring. Approaching the seat, Oz's brown eyes focused on a note in fancy cursive writing that simply read: FOR YOU-KNOW-WHO: ENJOY THE SHOW. Sighing, and feeling worse and worse about this whole situation, the tired, pee-smelling mustelid sat in his seat and tried to ignore the nearby anthros giggling at his stench while he waited.

He didn't have to wait long. As soon as his plush, plump posterior hit the seat, every source of light in the tent was immediately snuffed out. The interior was black, too dark for Oz to see his snout in from of his own face. For an untold time there was nothing. The crowd started to murmur, wondering if there had been an accident or a mistake. Then, in the center of the arena a bright flash of light and a deafening crack erupted, both partially obscured in dark fog. Oz strained his vision to peer into the mist, but couldn't see a thing until it faded away by itself and a familiar shape materialized inside the miniature storm cloud. The huge brimmed hat, the frilly, ridiculous outfit, and the long pipe being held could only identify the emerging character as...

"The Dashing Disgleirio!" called out a loud, booming voice from elsewhere in the tent. The sconces reignited into a hot pink flame as the audience cheered and applauded, with more than a few whistles directed at the marvelous marsupial. Oz simply rolled his eyes and watched; the ticket guaranteed him a meeting with the Bard after the show, after all. He could wait until then.

"My friends! My adoring public! My...family!" called Disgleirio, addressing the mass of hysterical anthros as one entity with his paws reaching out as if to touch every one of them. "How are you all tonight?" he called; a cacophony of fresh adoration responded. Being the only one not caught up in the collective madness of seeing his number one performer, Oz took a quick glance around the room and noticed that everyone really was cheering almost as if they were a single person. He made a quiet mental note to try to never become famous.

Disgleirio chuckled to himself as he put his delicately-carved flute to his small, black lips. "I'm glad to hear it. And now, here's a special piece I wrote just for you!" he promised, casting a disarming wink directly at Oz before he closed his painted eyes and began to blow into the woodwind instrument. The music coming from Disglerio's talented mouth and fingers was a thing of beauty, his naturally-gloved digits dancing delicately and precisely over the holes to produce a captivating and charming melody. The soniferous opossum swayed lightly and tapped his footpaw in time to his own music, and despite his ill will towards the slender and effeminate jester Oz couldn't deny that it was a very pleasing sound. He felt himself being taken under the tune, bobbing his head happily as if nothing else in the world mattered except getting to hear this wonderful song. The big badger started to shuffle mostly in time in his seat, when he felt a coarse abrasion against his bottom and grunted with disapproval.

Wet. Why was his seat so wet, and chafing his buttocks? Oz sniffed the air, and realized that he was sitting in a dried puddle of his own piss. Like a flashback the memories of the day returned, and he gave the bridge of his nose a rub and took a deep breath before looking at the performer and audience with a fresh set of eyes. What he saw shocked him, and bordered on disturbing.

Every anthro was swaying to the music in complete harmony; not a soul was even remotely out of time. Oz saw that those sat nearest to him had eyes that looked as if the color had faded a little from them, yet those big grins suggested that they were having the time of their lives. The buff badger shivered slightly, and not just from the cooling urine on his seat and in his pants. Realizing quickly that he should look as blank as the rest of the crowd, Oz did his best to rock side to side with his seated neighbors.

After a few more minutes, Disgleirio put away his flute and deftly removed his fancy and ridiculous hat, placing it onto the floor in front of him. "Thank you, one and all! Now then everyone: be a dear and toss your coin-purse into my hat. Don't worry, there's room enough for each and every one to fit!" he commanded in a melodious voice that Oz found all-too familiar. He even found his paw drifting subconsciously to his pouch, but caught himself before he actually loosened the purse on his belt. The same could not be said for the rest of the adoring public, who were practically leaning over each other to have a better angle for throwing their hard-earned gold in the jester's direction. Most didn't actually make it into the hat of course, but nevertheless the swift opossum was able to catch and drop the vast majority of the gold that was showering him and plop it casually into his hat that, remarkably, never seemed to be in danger of overflowing. It was as if the space within the accessory were endless, always having room for more and more gold.

"Ah, thank you friends! You're too kind, too kind indeed!" congratulated the thieving Bard, blowing kisses and plucking up his hat and planting it back on his head at a jaunty angle; it appeared to have not gained so much as an ounce despite being filled with ill-gotten gains. "Alas, my time grows short and I must depart for the night." a chorus of groans and protestations emanated from the literally captivated audience.

""But don't worry, friends! The Dashing Disgleirio will return to your beautiful town again soon, and shall put on an even more stupendous display than the one you have seen here tonight! But, until then my loves...goodbye!" he yelled, dropping to his knees and slamming his palm into the dirt floor. A flash and a plume of smoke not unlike the one he used to enter the stage billowed up and over his body. Being completely conscious and having seen this trick before, Oz started long and hard at the image within until he saw it; the figure darting off stage by cover of smoke.

Now or never, he thought to himself as he planted a paw on the outer barrier and vaulted it to land in the ring. He noticed the slim footpaw prints of the sneaky bard leading away in the dirt and followed them, his large frame allowing him to cover plenty of distance quickly. The trail led him out a small flap at the back of the tent, through which his considerable girth barely fit, and out onto the open road. Oz ran as fast as he could, keeping his eyes on the tracks as he hunted the tricky opossum, determined to get himself cured. He could care less about the money.

Coming to the same road where they first met, the powerful mustelid stopped suddenly; for the footprints had done the same thing. Looking around in the dark, moonlit night with obscuring trees he could see neither hide nor hair of the mischievous minstrel. Then, he sniffed the air, walking slowly off of the beaten path into the woods as he smelled the atmosphere, tasted the scents with his snoot as he slowly and casually walked into the treeline. Then, quick as a wink he shot out a huge paw to his side and curled his fingers with an iron grip around the vibrant shirt of Disgleirio's costume and yanked him into view.

"H...how on Earth did you find me?" blustered a confused bard, in complete disbelief that he'd been caught out of his hiding place and that this huge anthro wasn't still enjoying the musical number that should be ringing in his ears until morning.

"I smell like you, remember? It was easy to find your scent, you slimy scoundrel." The badger lifted Disgleirio off of the ground with a single paw; the opossum's small paws around his chunky, muscular forearm doing nothing to impede his ascension.

"Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait!" pleaded Disgleirio, expertly withholding his reaction at being called a scoundrel by a highway mugger. "If you hurt me, I won't be able to revoke my charm! You'd be cursed to forever wallow in your own piss. I can still help you get rid of that, by the way...but I want something..." he suggested, a twinkle in his eye almost as bright as the moon.

Oz was either too fed up or too tired to argue, and simply gave a loud sigh "What do you want? Besides for me to not beat you to a pulp, I mean?" he joked, although his ferocious, full-fanged grin suggested otherwise as his left paw rested upon the hilt of his club.

Displaying an air of confidence Oz would've thought impossible under the circumstances, Disgleirio smirked and looked the badger straight into his chestnut eyes as he made his offer.

"I will undo your curse if you allow me to fellate you." he asked, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Oz was about to tell the opossum to go and fuck himself when he realized what he'd actually heard. "You...want me to let YOU suck MY dick? Are you sure you don't have that backwards? Not gonna beguile me into blowing you?" he asked incredulously.

Disgleirio shook his head "Trust me, I'd prefer it how I said it. Of course if you're not interested, in males or a sexual favor, let me go. I'm sure you'll get used to wetting your britches eventually..."

"I didn't say that!" Oz quickly responded "...fine." Feeling like there must be some kind of catch. On the other paw, having the spell broken over him and getting a free blowjob as part of the deal was too tempting to pass up, especially seeing as he hadn't had a release (even by himself) for a few days. He gently lowered the minstrel back down onto the ground, once again appreciated the difference between them in heights. Almost immediately after reaching the leaf-covered floor the overly-eager opossum dropped to his knees and reached for the front of the stocky badger's pants, opening up the ties without trouble and licking his lips at the sight before him.

"I thought I couldn't open...never mind..." gasped the badger as he decided it would better to shut up than question how Disgleirio managed to open up his fly. He felt the marsupials hot breath and cool snout against his cock, inhaling what Oz could only imagine would be a strong funk of stale piss and sweat. Either this didn't bother the slutty opossum or the smaller guy had some kind of odd thing for it, and right now Oz didn't care which was correct. The rubbing and sniffing into his musky pubic fur, couple with the fact that he'd not had the time to get off in a while made it easy for Disgleirio to encourage an erection from Oz and prepare for the main event.

Oz's cock, like the rest of him, was impressively large. A thick, ebony phallus swelled in Disgleirio's paw as it was stroked. Pulling his pants down even more the horny opossum cradled the bandit's plump, black plums as he gave the dripping rod a tentative kiss at the very tip. The badger must have easily measured over seven inches long, likely closer to eight, and the sheer thickness of his shaft was only reinforced by the delicate marsupial's smaller pink paws trying to wrap around it. Disgleirio happily licked slowly and deliberately along the huge cock, inhaling deeply the scent of dried urine and hot dick sweat; the odor was enough for the marsupial's own cock to tent through his pants, sporting a much smaller but no less firm erection.

Disgleirio made out with the cock in front of him, churring happily as he lapped, sucked and smelled the cock in front of his maw. After much teasing, he firmed up the tip of his tongue and slid it up the underside of the badger's turgid malehood; the opossum pressed his tongue along and up until it rested just at the base of the head where the bard wriggled his tongue against that sensitive spot before finally slipping his lips over the glistening, thick tip of Oz's ebony meat and giving it a lurid smooch. It tasted strongly of precum, crotch musk, and piss and the hormone-driven opossum couldn't get enough of that alluring aroma. Churring with pleasure, and to stimulate the mustelid's penis in its entirety, the bard gripped and pumped at Oz's cock with hungry abandon while he replaced his maw at the base of the badger's member. Ravenous to drink in more of the mustelid's scent, Disgleirio widened his mouth as far as possible and sucked one of those fat testicles into his mouth and gently drank in the warm stew of hormones off of it while also burying his sensitive snoot into the mess of musky pubic fur around the mustelid's genitals. He heard Oz moan above him, clearly he'd never had his balls given such treatment. The opossum's mouth made wet, slurping sounds as he suckled those heavy orbs, occasionaly sneaking his tongue against the badger's perineum as he relished in the addictive flavor of sweaty sac and stale piss. A small patch of sticky precum had began to make its way through the crotch of the skald's pants, his smaller tent soaking the inside of the expensive material in his own arousal.

The opossum's own need for release was building, and he used his spare paw to retrieve his own marsupial member out from inside its slick confines. At just barely over five inches the opossum was far smaller than the badger, but it was good enough for him as he began to desperately slam his loose fist over his oozing, rosé rod.

Oz looked down the entire time, even going as far as to place a large paw upon Dislgierio's shoulder (which he seemed to love) and watch with fascination as the strange opossum sucked his cock and balls alternately with such lewd noises and moans that it wasn't going to take long for the badger to climax. Feeling his dominance encroaching, Oz's paw moved to the back of the marsupial's head when the opossum's hot and tight maw slipped over his penis again and held him down on his fat prick, thrusting back and forth into the smaller anthro's mouth. The over-eagerness of the subby cocksucking bard soon won Oz over, and without warning him ahead of time he held Disgleirio's mouth into the base of his musty pubic fur as he discharged a thick shot of cream into his mouth. The horny badger grunted with relief as his nuts churned and pumped out several additional potent loads, feeding the submissive marsupial with his virile batter as he released almost a week's worth of sexual need over the opossum's tongue and down his throat.

Tasting the hot, salted, and strong-scented gush of Oz's seed was all Disgleiro needed. Moaning lustfully around the warm, spurting dick in his mouth, he ejaculated his own meager (yet still intensely satisfying) spurts into the ground between them; his average-sized cumshot almost splashing onto Oz's footpaws. The feeling of the heavy, commanding paw on his head only encouraged the minstrel further, hilting the badger's pungent cock in his maw as he sucked the buff badger dry.

Satisfied that he had drained the highway robber's bountiful balls, Disgleirio sat back on his bottom and stared up at the imposing beast before him as he already considered what round two might look like. For now, he simply wanted to rest awhile.

"You...looked like you needed that..." he breathed, wiping any possibly stray semen from his lips with the back of his paw. Out of seemingly nowhere the marsupial was flabbergasted by a stinking hot jet of putrid urine from a very dehydrated male hitting him square in the face and quickly running down as yellow rivulets throughout his body. Disgleirio didn't even need to bother looking to see who it was, or why he was debasing him this way. He simply looked away and tried his best to hide how big of a smile he had over his long-muzzled face, or -despite his recent orgasm- how hot it was making him to feel debased by this hunk of a badger. Had he waited five minutes, there would most assuredly be a round two if this was the beginning.

Sighing in the relief at finally being able to pee outside of his own clothes, Oz felt a little payback was warranted against the bard who'd been the cause of most of his misery (and pleasure) all day. The badger's swiftly-softening cock made for an easily-aimed piss, and he went out of his way to utterly drench the capricious performer in his own urine, marking him as the badger's own. At least, marking them as even. The burst was powerful but short-lived, and in less than 30 seconds Oz was shaking the last drips off of his impressive obsidian member before allowing it to completely retreat into his silky, fluffy sheath.

Finally joining him on the forest floor, a content Oz replied. "That's for earlier. And yeah, it was...it's been a while. Thanks, I guess." he offered, knowing that he had to make this moment awkward immediately. "So, what about the curse? I can't go around pissing myself forever."

The opossum sighed and shook his head, drenched in the fresh urine of his most recent lover. "You fool...can't you see? You're not cursed anymore. You're free to go. Unless..." he began, deliberately trailing off in his voice to encourage the badger to respond.

"...yes?" sighed Oz, knowing full well that he'd just been played.

"Life on the road as a traveling, innocent musician such as myself can get rather dull, or dangerous. It would be a splendid idea if you were to...tag along? To protect me...and keep me company..." suggested the cheeky performing marsupial, his voice low and needy.

Oz thought about it for apparently too long before responding, and had to think fast to catch a fat purse being cast towards him. He carefully opened it, and his eyes almost shot out of his sockets at the sight of so much gold.

"It'll be a nice way to earn a...less-illegitimate, more profitable lifestyle. And I'll pay you in other ways too, of course..." grinned Disgleirio, sliding himself over to the kneeling badger and running a single digit over his chest. "Come now, what do you say?"

"I say...that you got yourself a deal, bard! Name's Oz, by the way." said Oz, getting himself to his feet and wiping off a paw before offering it to the minstrel.

"The Dashing Disgleirio! But you can call me Disgleirio for short; nothing shorter mind you! "he grinned. The piss-soaked marsupial simply took the paw and gave a little whistle; the pair's clothing and fur had been magically cleansed, although for how long neither one could say. One thing they did know, was that this was the start of a new chapter in both of their lives as they walked shoulder-to-shoulder (or rather, shoulder-to-chest) along the dimly-lit highway together.