FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The universe is filled with countless oddities, some mundane, some fantastic, some downright bizarre, but few can claim witness to a genuine miracle. An unexpected recovery from a deadly illness, an improbable stroke of luck to turn the tide of a war, a deeply-buried secret whose discovery bring unimaginable wealth and fortune, all these are called miracles, but pale before the sheer impossibility of meeting one's own doppleganger. What does someone do when faced with a near-identical copy of themselves bearing the same mind yet carrying vastly different experiences from some strange, unknown world? With this unprecedented opportunity, what does one ask the very mirror of one's own soul?

"What do you mean you don't have any spare clothes!?" Geary shouted, loud enough that Digit winced for fear of drawing attention from neighboring rooms. Seated on the bed, naked but otherwise showing no signs of his earlier exercise in self-exploration, the ferret-otter hybrid crossed his arms and glared down at the horned, bat-like alternate version of himself.

Digit adjusted his simple loincloth as he looked up at the seated fotter, the garment just barely covering the thick meat that had only grown softer, not smaller, after the pair calmed down. "Well I'm _sorry_that I don't carry spare clothing expressly in anticipation for some sort of alternate universe version of myself to appear during my morning jack! Not that I'm complaining, mind." At that, the imp's gaze lowered down to Geary's exposed nethers, prompting him to close his legs and shove his hands down to block the blatant staring. The gesture garnered rolling eyes from Digit in addition to further teasing, "You realize we already fucked, right? Like, pretty thoroughly. Even if we weren't the same person, that would still be entirely unnecessary."

Geary huffed as a blush creeped across his cheeks, "I just want you to spend less time looking at my dick and more time figuring out how I'm going to go around without everyone else looking at it!"

The chastising plea prompted a snicker from the imp, "Okay, okay, so we can get you clothes just fine..." He let the words hang for a moment as his other self simply glared and refused to provide him the 'but' he was waiting for, "But I'm sort of... broke, at the moment." Geary groaned in disappointment both at the situation, and at the increasingly poor impression his own self was providing him, and fell backwards onto the bed. "Hey now, don't be so glum, I have a plan for you to raise some quick cash and get yourself a full set of duds! Now come on, we're burning daylight!" Grabbing a gnarled staff with a shiny, faintly glowing ruby at its tip, Digit moved towards the exit.

"W-wait!" Geary said suddenly, springing back up into a sitting position, "Y-you mean I need to... go outside? B-butt naked!?" Digit merely cocked an eyebrow, looking at the fotter as though he asked if the sky was blue or the grass was green, before turning around and walking outside of the room, leaving Geary to whine and steel himself.

---

It took a few minutes before Geary built the resolve to leave the room, pulling his thick and fluffy tail between his legs to cover his generous endowments as best as it was able to. At the very least, it protected his modesty from the front and back, as much as one can be modest with their bare cheeks on display. Unfortunately for him, an albino walking about stark naked with a blush burning so bright it can be seen through his hueless fur garners plenty of stares even just on the way down to the inn's main room, where Digit waited by the exit.

Digit grinned at Geary's obvious embarrassment, further teasing him, "Ordinarily I'd take a bath and eat breakfast, but that Cleansing spell dealt with the first, and I think we both got more than our daily dose of protein~" He snickers as the fotter's face flushes deeper, before leading him out into the streets.

It was definitely a fantasy setting, buildings made of wood and stone of roughly Western European Renaissance styles, temperate climate, a wild mishmash of species from the standard animilian forms to more exotic and alien species seen only in fiction, like goblins, trolls, robed squid people, and the occasional human. Many of which, naturally, took quick notice of a naked white fotter and a nearly-naked pink demon thing leading him around. As the pair walked through the street, Geary felt countless eyes on his bare form, a fact which served to intensify his blush. "H-how far do we have to walk, exactly?"

"Oh, it's only fifteen, twenty minutes away. We'll be there before you know it!" Digit, of course, knew that that was quite far from the case, and enjoyed taking brief glances at Geary's increasingly flustered demeanor. Every step for the fotter was excruciatingly humiliating, the heads turning and looking down at him, the eyes staring through him in a mixture of judgement, amusement, and appraisal. Even the 'flattering' looks only served to fluster the fotter further as he was continually reminded of his embarrassing state. Worse of all, it all stirred something deep inside of him, which in turn stirred his loins.

'Stay down, you!' he thought to himself, his hands having to cover increasingly more of his nethers as his tip began to push out into the open air. Geary pulled his tail up tighter between his legs, using its relatively thick and fluffy size to provide himself some small measure of modesty. This band-aid solution, however, brought with it another problem, as with each step he found his emerging mast grinding against his taut tail. The stimulation made his face redden as it occasionally drew a tiny whimper of pleasure out of him, his companion pretending not to notice despite having his ears swiveled to focus on the fotter's noises. In no time at all he was back to his full hardness, and in the twenty or so minutes of walking it took for them to finally reach their destination, his tail's fur had become quite noticeably coated in the fotter's precum. What they stood before, however, both surprised and confounded Geary.

"A gladiator's pit!?" Though the words on the sign were hard to read, the arena-like shape of the structure, the ticket booth selling admission, and the images of men, women, and everything in between fighting on banners hung proudly from poles jutting out into the streets. Geary's confused reaction, however, was ignored by his companion, who simply strolled up to the lioness manning the booth and stood on the tips of his toes to put his head over the lip of the counter.

"Greetings, madam, my friend here would like to enter for the special bout." Digit grinned widely as the lioness peered over the counter down at the imp and his doppleganger, rolling her eyes and jotting something down. Jabbing a thumb towards the side entrance, the lioness dismissed the pair as Digit pulled Geary off into the arena's interior. "They're always looking for fresh meat, the crowd apparently doesn't like just seeing the same challenger over and over, even if they're as dashing and spectacular as I am!" The imp demonstrated his familiarity with the layout of the contestants' area, slowly only to admire dressing or undressed fighters through parted curtains. Suddenly, Geary found himself pulled into one of the rooms as Digit began to speak once again to the overwhelmed fotter. "Alright, so, that crate," he said as he indicated to a basic wooden crate, half as tall and wide as it was long, "Is where you would put your clothes if you had any, but you're totally naked so we don't have to worry about that!"

Geary's blush flared up as he frowned at the imp, a twitch from below reminding him that his 'problem' continues to persist. "W-well if I knew I'd be coming here, I would've brought more than my fur!" The pouting only drew giggles from his companion, however.

"Oh, you packed plenty, don't you think?" The imp dropped to his knees in front of the fotter and wrapped his hands around the shaft before him, slowly drawing his tongue from its knot to its tip and eliciting a muffled whine as Geary bit his lip. "That said, it's impolite to walk around with your sword unsheathed, so let's take care of this first, shall we?" The fotter opened his mouth to respond, but was swiftly cut off by Digit wrapping his lips around the canid cock in his grasp. His head slid forwards inch by inch, slowly taking in Geary's length and making the fotter squirm at the teasing pace of it and moan as the imp's snake-like tongue lavished with attention.

The fotter's tail wagged high in the air behind him, entirely forgetting that anyone could walk by and see the lurid affair without any obstruction from the fully parted curtains. His hands began to wander over his doppleganger's head, petting behind his ears and over his cheeks, before settling on the ram-like horns adorning his head. Though his grip was only slight, it spurred the imp in front of him to cease his teasing, and Digit took the entirety of the fotter's cock into his mouth and throat. Not giving Geary a moment's rest, the imp bobbed his head up and down the full length of his cock, drawing out small moans and quickly tasting the fotter's precum. Having been riled up so thoroughly by their walk, it took very little to drive Geary towards the edge, so Digit began to slow somewhat to draw out the oral sex a bit longer. The fotter, meanwhile, was of the opposite mind, and as his grip on Digit's horns tightened the imp knew which of the two would win the debate, especially as the white-furred hips of the fotter began thrusting back and forth, fucking Digit's mouth and throat.

Taking a single step forwards to get a better footing, Geary closed his eyes as he slammed his cock in and out of the imp's throat, slapping his heavy sack against his doppleganger's chin with every thrust. Digit's loincloth, the only real piece of modesty between the pair, rapidly tented as his equine cock grew firm while he was happily used as a toy. The imp reached around and tightly squeezed his twin's soft, doughy cheeks, kneading and spreading them much to their owner's very audible pleasure. The fotter's thrusts grew increasingly erratic as his mouth fell open, loud moans and heavy pants pouring as freely from his lips as his pre from his tip, if the constant swallowing the imp was forced to do was any indication. So engrossed was he in the carnal act that he failed to notice multiple workers and gladiators passing by their room, some stopping for a moment and admiring his bare backside while others only spared a passing glance.

Worked up as a long walk in the buff made him, the fotter lasted only about a minute in total before giving his final thrust, thick ropes of cum firing straight down Digit's gullet. The imp swallowed down every drop, purring loudly and stroking along his cock under the loincloth, and slid off the fotter's shaft once his climax began to die down. As his twin fell down on his rear, Digit rose to a stand, still stroking along the underside of his shaft, and moved over to a small cabinet hanging on the wall above the crate. Being sure to tease his nuder half with his plump rear, the back of his loincloth only doing the bare minimum to hide the plump donut resting between his cheeks, the imp retrieved something from the cabinet that looks like a large belt. Geary averted his gaze from the view to keep their exercise from being fruitless, ignoring the imp until he felt the cloth-covered-cock against his back and the belt being looped over his head before shrinking down to a loose collar. "Wh-what's-?"

Digit doesn't give the fotter time to even ask the question before tapping on a shiny blue gemstone on the front of the collar, causing it to grow dull as his bare body became gradually less so. First a padded shirt and trousers, then light chainmail armor, greaves and gauntlets, and finally a pink tabard. The fotter looked over himself for a moment only to be pulled away by a metal clattering at his side where a basic longsword... or, more accurately a shortsword, but it was long by his standards. He picked up the weapon as he stood, simultaneously surprised by its heft and by how much lighter it felt than he was expecting. Digit snickered as he watched the fotter clumsily maneuver the weapon around, "Have you seriously never handled a sword before? Man, no wonder you're so soft if your world is that lazy."

Geary huffed and glared at his companion, "Sorry, swords haven't really been the standard weapon of choice for a few hundred years. Anyways, this thing looks... really sharp, am I actually gonna be swinging this at somebody?"

"Yes, but it's fine, your equipment can't physically hurt anybody." Digit demonstrated by waving his unoccupied winged arm through the blade, much to Geary's surprise, emerging with not even a nick on him. "The only thing it can harm is your armor, other than that any hit to an unarmored part of your body will just... drag you down a bit. The fight is to incapacitation, the first person who's rendered unable to move is the winner." He cleared his throat to interrupt Geary before he could respond, "Now, you'll be going against this month's Champion, and the amount we get paid is based on how long you can stay in the arena before you lose, so-"

"We?" Geary interrupted, glaring while he practiced swinging the sword as though it were a baseball bat. "And what do you mean lose, if I'm gonna fight I'm fighting to win!"

The imp rolled his eyes, ignoring the first complaint. "You'll be going against the most skilled gladiator here, this guy hasn't been defeated in a single bout, and that's against _professional_fighters. You've literally never touched a sword before, and, judging by your arms and belly-"

"Hey!" The fotter whined indignantly.

"-You haven't been in an actual fight, either. Focus on dodging, maybe swing a few times to make it look like you're trying to hit them, but play it safe and try to draw out the match. Don't just run away, though, they don't pay people who run away. You can tap out at any time, too, but same deal there." Digit placed his hands on Geary's shoulders, staring him straight in the eyes, "Your goal here is money, and the longer you last out there the more money you get. You're here to make the Champ look good and give the crowd a good show, and he won't pull any punches on you. Don't be a hero, got it?"

Geary frowned, grumbling for a few seconds before letting out a begrudging, "Yeah, I got it." Digit smiled and patted his shoulders once more, leaving his left shoulder sleek with the precum coating the imp's palm.

Before he could complain more, a lion knocked on the doorway. "Geary?"

"Yes?" Both answered in unison, blinking and looking at each other before Digit continued to speak, "So, funny thing, it turns out I have a twin! Long lost, heartfelt reunion, dramatic revelations of our pasts, yadda yadda, but he's a different person than me, and he's the one competing today." He grinned, and Geary gave a shy smile as well, certain that there was no way the lion would ever buy such a nonsensical, contrived-

"Yeah, that makes sense. Alright new Geary, you're up in five, I'll escort you two to the arena." The lion turned and started walking back down the hall, Digit following and giving Geary a smirk and repeated finger guns before returning one of his hands to his still-erect mast.

Geary's jaw dropped, both that the lion bought the excuse and that he didn't even raise an eyebrow at Digit's conduct. 'Just how notorious am I, er, is he, in this world...?' He shook his head and followed along, certain he'll be able to figure that out sooner or later even if Digit doesn't tell him outright. It didn't take them long to reach the portcullis separating the hallway from the open-air gladiatorial arena, twenty-odd foot walls forming the parameter with the audience seating starting immediately on top. He didn't have to wait long after that either before the one before him raised with a steady and mechanical click click click, the lion waiting until a deep thunk signified it was fully raised before motioning for him to take thirty paces into the arena.

His ears twitched as a voice filled the arena, coming from nowhere in particular and having the same tenor as a wrestling announcer. "Aaaaand welcome back folks, for today's Special Exhibitionist Match, we have a new contestant! You know his brother well, but let's see if his endurance is hereditary or practiced, everyone give a hand for Geary!" Geary blushed a bit as the crowd gave him a light, polite applause, far more attention than he'd ever experienced before. It felt rather nice, actually, and the mustelid puffed out his chest a bit with newfound confidence.

While the fotter soaked in the attention, the opposing portcullis raised, the crowd already performing some sort of routine rhythm of stomping and clapping before the Champion even stepped out. As soon as the mechanism gave the dull thunk as the way was fully opened, a shadowed figure strode out into the light as the organized stomping and clapping devolved into chaotic cheering and roaring applause. Taking ten paces into the arena to cover the same distance Geary had, the tall, striking figure posed in the sunlight. Fancy leather armor accented with gold and silver plates, intricate designs, a custom blue-and-gold tabard, displaying what Geary assumed to be their personal insignia and likely also being the only thing covering their loins if the hint of bare hips were any indication, and a shining golden glaive adorned with brightly-colored feathers. It took him only a moment to identify the gladiator as a maned wolf, their long, slender limbs, auburn fur, and a mixture of fox and wolf features making it a fairly easy appraisal. The sight was so impressive the fotter almost missed the likely custom golden collar with three brilliant rubies adorning their neck, just below their uncomfortably attractive and androgynous face, reminding him that the regalia was all conjured and that he needn't hesitate for fear of damaging it.

The announcer shouted out once more, filling the arena, "Aaaaand here he is, your Champion, the Golden Spear of Loxxvale, the Ravager of Rastberg, the Slayer of Sithrius the Eighth, Caaaluuumvaaastriii!" The crowd roared louder, one side shouting 'Calum' before the other responded 'vastri' before starting the chant anew.

Geary steeled himself, remembering Digit's advice... but he grimaced, not liking how his twin had dismissed him, justified or not. Still riding the high of the first cheers he got, Geary started to believe he could win. After all, this wasn't unlike one of the fantasy stories he would always read, where a hero was transported from a mundane reality to a fantastic and magical world, and what better place to unlock his hidden power, brewing underneath the surface unbeknownst to even him, than in a high-stakes duel with a champion? 'I just need to put all my faith into my sword, and it'll work out! They're going to be cheering my name when this match is over!' His stance firmed and his grip on his sword tightened as a determined expression painted itself across his face.

Meanwhile, Digit was already running his hands over his face, "He's about to do something incredibly stupid, I just know it..."

The lion raised an eyebrow at the imp, "And how do you know that?"

"Because, it's what I would do."

"Aaaaand, begin!" The shout of the announcer prompted Geary to charge at this 'Calumvastri', yelling and leaping as he rose his sword high above his head and cleaved downwards... blinking in confusion as the space his target was occupying seemed to empty in the split moment his sword created a blind spot between them. His confusion only compounded as his clumsy landing was interrupted by a blade slicing through his back and pushing out through his chest, the fotter gasping... before his tabard burned up in a heatless silver fire and the blade pulled back out of him, leaving no pain or any other damage.

The crowd cheered at the dramatic evade and counter, overlooking for the moment how clearly amateurish the fotter's attack was. Calumvastri turned his back on Geary and began strutting around, basking in the crowd's favor while his opponent scrambled away and regained his composure.

Geary bit his lip, taking a moment to calm his breathing and while he patted his chest and reminded himself that their weapons couldn't hurt them. Turning around, he approached the gladiator once more. Though the maned wolf wasn't even facing him, he knew that his guard was up, and another reckless charge would just result in a similar result... but his opponent didn't know that the knew that, and probably appraised him as an amateur from the first attack, which Geary decided to use to his advantage.

He charged at the spearman once more, in much the same manner as his first, and made to start a giant leap as he had before, only to angle himself downwards and dive at the last moment. Calumvastri anticipated the leap and made a flourishing stab through the air to where the fotter would have been, missing him only by inches as he dove between those long, slender legs and held his sword firmly upwards as he passed.

The novice crashed and scrambled back up to his feet as the crowd gasped, the fancy tabard his sword cleaved through burning up in an illusory fire just as his had... though unlike the fotter, the wolf's outfit was entirely lacking anything one could even remotely describe as 'pants'. The crowd cheered one more as they were treated to a view of their Champion's strong, muscled rear and impressively large sack and sheath, and even Geary wasn't able to prevent his loins from stirring at the sight. Calumvastri raised a hand into the air to silence the crowd before turning and pointing his spear at Geary.

"I admit, I underestimated you!" His voice, as androgynous as the bulk of his form, filled the arena not unlike the announcer's. "You clearly have little experience with the blade, but your wits are almost as honed as a true gladiator's! I had planned on toying with you, but now I see I must take you seriously! I shall not hold back any longer, let the true duel begin!" The crowd roared at the declaration, Geary's spirit soared at the praise, and Digit groaned at the acting.

The spearman dashed towards Geary with extraordinary speed, unleashing a flurry of thrusts, only a few were actually aimed at his opponent. The fotter, as well as most of the audience, however, saw every thrust as a true strike, dodging and blocking as best as he could until he managed to parry a stab well enough that the gladiator jumped back.

Geary grinned, but noticed only then that his chainmail, gauntlets, and greaves were all fading away in the silver flame, leaving him in just a shirt and pants. He gulped and charged back in before his opponent had the chance to unleash a similar assault, though his wild slashes were parried effortlessly. Geary attempted another feint, but Calumvastri merely struck in the opening and slashed his shirt from his body.

Realizing he was dangerously close to being rendered naked, Geary tried to jump back, only to find his opponent suddenly absent from his view and a spear suddenly jutting out from his loins a moment later. As his trousers burned away, the golden blade slid up the entire length of the fotter, giving him more than just a taste of what happened when their weapons struck the unprotected body. He stumbled in his renewed nudity as his body grew hot and heavy, his head swimming and making it difficult to hold his balance as the sound of the crowd cheering grew. Before he could right himself, though, he felt the ethereal blade of the glaive pass through his once, twice, thrice more, the surge of heat and weight dragging down his body as he fell to his knees, panting. Moreover, the heat seemed to concentrate in one area in particular, the fotter's shaft quite rapidly growing from its sheath and firming, much to his mortification, and his sword felt so heavy in his hand that he wasn't able to keep from dropping it to the dirt.

Geary silently cursed himself for having been so sloppy, expecting to hear the announcer call the match for the canid at any moment. What he wasn't expecting, however, was the sound of a blade burying itself in the sand, followed shortly by long and lean arms hooking under his thighs and lifting him into the air. The fotter squeaked and squirmed weakly as he was raised up to the gladiator's chest, those arms moving further to fold his legs up in the air and bridge his hands behind the smaller male's neck, firmly locking him in the revealing grapple. Thinking for a brief moment that this was merely to solidify victory and humiliate him in equal measure, Geary closed his eyes and waited for the match to end... only to go wide-eyed a moment later when he felt a warm, hard piece of meat slap between his cheeks.

Everything suddenly clicked as he looked down and watched a cock twice the size of his own grinding between his cheeks. The armor being destroyed on hit, the effects of their weapons, the fights being to 'incapacitation', the announcer calling it an exhibitionist match, for goodness sake! He was so caught up in the moment he completely missed that when it was said, but now it was painfully obvious. And worst of all... he found himself excited for what was about to happen, overtly and unambiguously.

Calumvastri noticed the nervous smile spreading across his opponent's face, giving a grin in turn and speaking lowly. "That was a good warmup, but now it's time for the real show." Before Geary had the opportunity to respond, the gladiator shifted his hips with practiced precision and lined himself up with the fotter's plump rim, pushing the smaller male down as he simultaneously thrust his heavy cock straight up into him.

Geary's moan filled the arena, much in the same way as the announcer and the owner of the shaft driving deeper into him. The fotter closed his eyes as he sank further and further down the canid cock, squeezing his inner walls tightly around it by reflex as pleasure surged through his body, only blinking his eyes back open when he heard a collective gasp from the audience. Looking down, he found the reason for their surprise in the form of a knot kissing his rim. He had taken nearly twenty inches of cock all in one go, dry, with no prep since his rut an hour or so ago, a prominent bulge from the sheer size of the shaft the only assurance to all involved it wasn't some unexpected magic trick.

The maned wolf whistled, "You and your 'twin' really are related, I haven't seen anyone else take me this easily. I suppose there's no need to hold back." With that, he began slamming in and out of the fotter, rendering the latter speechless and capable only of panting and moaning. The sounds of balls slapping against balls formed the backing beneath his vocals, and as Calum started to leak and slicken the fotter's inner walls with precum, slick shlucks joined the other sounds of sex filling the stadium. As his pace and force increased with the aid of lubrication, the gladiator cooed into the ear of his challenger. "Mmm, it's like I'm fucking a living toy~" He leaned back against his spear, almost casually, as his real weapon adjusted its angle and began striking at the fotter's greatest weakpoint.

With every press against his prostate, Geary let out an even higher-pitched moan than usual, hurtling rapidly towards the edge. He certainly would've passed over it twofold by now, were it not for the pre-fight oral motivation he was given on top of the three rounds he went with himself back at the inn. Had he anything resembling a normal refractory period, so much activity in so little time would probably make him impossible to finish off, but with his being extraordinarily short, combined with the feeling of hundreds of pairs of eyes on him, afforded him no such luxury, and he was starting to have to consciously hold himself back from popping early. While the round had not been called yet despite the suspended pin, he had no way of knowing whether the bell would ring when he popped or when he was too exhausted to move, and the massive cock pounding away at him made it hard for him to even consider weighing the odds. He had to assume that the very moment the first rope of his cum struck the ground, the match would be called, and every precious second was insurance for him finally getting real clothes to wear. Plus... he didn't want this to end yet.

The attention, the cheering, the air on his naked body, the way he was being held in the air, especially the way he was being ravished so brazenly and unashamedly, and, of course, the cock pounding away at him, they all combined to fill him with feelings he never even dared to consider, ones he would have a very difficult time putting back in their box. Thankfully, he didn't have to think about the future for now, as Calumvastri's knot slamming at his ring, stretching it ever so slightly wider with every thrust as it began to threaten entry, kept the fotter planted firmly in the moment. It was all he could do to hold out with every fiber of his will as the gladiator began to earnestly attempt to knot him, the thorough lubrication his copious precum continued to provide soaking the bulb enough for it to finally breach the mustelid's gate.

Once, twice, thrice he thrusted hard in full, hard strokes, finally getting the momentum he needed on the fourth as the knot sank past his rim and promptly vanished inside of him. Geary gave in then and there, unable to stop himself even if he tried, shooting off rope after rope of cum across his chest and face while his partner adjusted his head out of the fotter's firing arc. Calum followed a mere instant later, shuddering and smiling widely as a flood of cum pushed its way into Geary's gut, not having to go far thanks to the sheer size of their owner's tool.

The waves of pleasure brought on by the twin climaxes overwhelmed the fotter, his ears ringing as he faintly registered the voice of the announcer and the deafening roar of the crowd. Calum whispered something into his ear, a true whisper this time for none but him to hear, though his ecstasy-addled mind failed to process it at the moment. He felt his legs lower as the canid adjusted his grip into a half-hug, the knotting enough to hold him aloft on its own, while the reigning Champion grabbed his spear and performed the best flourish he could manage before carrying his unsuccessful challenger back out of the arena. Geary blinked slowly as his senses started to return to him, words finally regaining meaning to his ears.

"...won't settle for any less than three! The second act counts for double, and you know it!" The fotter's surroundings came into focus as he found himself in a rather fancy lounge, where Digit appeared to be chewing out a well-dressed and exceptionally colorful peacock. He caught a glimpse of the lion from earlier sprawled on a couch off to the side, one leg hooked over the back as seed dripped from between his legs, his pants some ten feet away.

"It's a midday show on sudden notice, the Champ over there might be happy to do these whenever, but we prefer being able to plan in advance and have these fights earlier in the morning or later in the afternoon." The peacock sighed, jabbing a finger at a clipboard he was showing to the imp. "Besides, he's a first-timer too, we can't even hold bets with nobodies his size. Two is my final offer."

Digit and the peacock glared at one-another silently for an uncomfortably long time before Calum coughed, reminding the two that they're not alone. The imp sighed, "Fine, two and a half, you know the audience loved that pounding."

"Two and a quarter," the bird rebutted.

"Deal!" Digit grinned and wiped off a hand on his hip before extending it out, the peacock shaking it before rustling around in a small pouch at his hip and dropping a small collection of silver and copper coins in the imp's hand. Stuffing the coins in some hidden pouch under his loincloth, Digit finally turned and trotted over to the other two conscious people in the room as the bird casually brushed past them and out the room, "Sooo, what did I saaay~?"

Geary blushed and averted his gaze, mumbling, "You were right..."

The imp nodded, "Just be glad you managed to last until Cally here got the knot in, everyone loves a simultaneous finish."

"Geeearyyy, I told you not to call me that," Calum said, his voice sounding much more youthful and feminine than the cool, mature voice he used out in the arena.

"Well, would you prefer I call you Vally~?" Digit's grin practically grew past his face as Geary felt the cock knotted inside of him give a firm twitch at the mere mention of the nickname. "Then Cally it is! Mind if we hang out here for a while so my nuder half can regain the use of his legs?"

Calum waved his hand dismissively as he began moving over to a small pool in the corner, about eight feet wide and only three feet deep, "Yeah, yeah, I don't have another match for a few hours, and untying early isn't fun for me either." He stepped into the pool and sank into the cool water, the fotter's neck just barely above the water with the maned wolf sitting down fully.

"Er, how long does it take for you to... um... go down, anyways?" The question brought a giggle to both his twin and the canid tied to him, and it became quickly apparent that he would be waiting a good while longer before he'd finally be able to get dressed.