[b]Dungeon Quest[/b]

Nick Wilde, twelve year old adventurer, padded only slightly wetly down the stony corridor of the ruined dungeon, off to face the dragon that lay within.

Or something. A true knight probably would have been armed with more than a gameboy. And would have been wearing armor instead of absolutely nothing. And most certainly wouldn't have been playing Pokemon. Truth be told the little cub had only been exploring the ruined stone building while he waited for his fur to dry. The true purpose of his visit to the area had been to cool off on this hot summer day. He'd spent the last hour splashing about in a shallow pool that had formed near the building's entrance and wasn't about to head home soaked. The Ranger Scout Manual specifically advised against exploring unknown areas alone; but, since nobody else was around, why couldn't he  just walk back and forth a bit and drip dry? The water was clean, wasn't it? He wondered if perhaps he could get out of having a bath that night with the excuse that he'd taken one earlier.


So back and forth he wandered, like a neglectful palace guard. Barely paying enough attention to his surroundings to not trip over the occasional rock that had fallen from the ceiling. In places the floor was dirt, or covered with dry leaves. But he was preoccupied enough not to notice the strange patches. Rubbery and pink like giant wads of chewed bubblegum. He stepped over one, again and again as he focused on catching pidgey.

[i]A regular rhythm. Step. Step. Step. A signal that stirred the... thing from its slumber. It did not think, as such, but the response that gradually vibrated through the thick, pink mass was one that was buried in spell and instinct, built into it from the moment of its creation.

[b]Prey.[/b]

It had been a long, long time since something big enough to trigger it had ventured this far into the ruin, but the trap was always alert. Always waiting. And now the soft treading of foxy paws nearby readied it to act. as soon as the threshold was reached, as soon as enough steps were taken, once the prey was positioned correctly, then...[/i]

"Whu-huh...?"


A sudden grip on Nick's foot broke his concentration of capturing another level 7 ratatta. When he looked down he found his paw had sunk into a sort of pinkish, fleshy mat on the ground. All he could think of was that he'd trodden on an elephant's wad of discarded gum. Before he could attempt to pull himself free the... [i]stuff[/i] surged up his legs, moving like living palatine. He yelped and fell backwards onto his rear, only for [i]that[/i] too to be engulfed in the clingy pink... thing. It was moving. It was... alive! The gameboy was momentarily forgotten as the young fox struggled to extract himself from the strange... [i]stuff[/i] as it rose up to his waist in a swelling mass the size of a beach ball. He kicked and squirmed, but it was no use; the stuff was rubbery but very solid. It gave only a little and stretched back into place as soon as he ceased resistance for a moment.

"What IS this...?"


The growing pink mass continued to expand as Nick began to smack his paws against its tough, rubbery surface. He was afraid to push too hard against it, in case his hands were swallowed up too, leaving him completely helpless. But he might have to; he had already sunk in up to his navel and couldn't reach the floor anymore, let alone anything he might be able to grasp to pull himself free. In desperation he tried to claw at the cloying pinkness, finding this utterly futile too. The elastic surface gave under his scratching, but he didn't leave so much as a mark on it as it sprang back. The young fox began to yell, hoping against hope to attract some attention from anyone who might be passing by. That wasn't likely though; the area was quite deserted, something which had been an attraction when he'd discovered his private swimming hole. If he didn't get free then... perhaps nobody would find him. Ever.

"Hey c'mon! Leggo!" Help! Heeeeelppppp!"


[i]The trap moved with purpose, drawing some of its mass from the surrounding areas, concentrating it into a hollow sphere that now engulfed a full two thirds of the fox's form. The prey was struggling, as was expected, kicking, thrashing and clawing violently at the restraining fleshy sphere. But it was all for naught; the very nature of the trap was designed for this, something created for the express purpose of dissuading adventurers from delving too far into its home. Now that the fox was adequately secured all the trap had to do was to wait. Its victim would tire in time.[/i]

A few minutes later and Nick was beginning to flag; his throat had rapidly grown hoarse from yelling and he was panting heavily from his struggles. Nothing he did seemed to have any effect on the strange creature holding him, and any outside help was a distant hope. If there was any upside to his predicament, once he'd been swallowed up to his armpits the thing seemed to stop. He didn't sink in any further, nor did the weird mass seem interested in proceeding any further. It just... sat there. Holding him in an implacable grip. When he pushed down with both hands with all his strength he was able to budge maybe a half inch, but could feel the constant tension pulling him back until he gave up. He couldn't turn or lean of shift much from where he was being held. When he scratched at the rubbery, bumpy surface his claws just skidded off. It was like... like being stuck in a discarded tire... if the tire was pink and blobby. A sharp rock, even a knife... the young fox felt that neither would actually be much use against the durable substance trapping him. And something else was worrying him.

He realized a few minutes in that something weird... something even [i]more[/i] weird was going on. Though he could definitely feel each time he smacked his paws against the top of the pink mass,he couldn't feel the same whenever he kicked inside it. [i]Could[/i] he kick? He... he couldn't feel his legs...

"What the...?"


It wasn't as if they were numb; there was no weird pins-and-needles sensation or weird feeling. There was just... nothing. As if his body below his arms just didn't exist in the same universe as the rest of him anymore. For a moment he panicked and his struggles renewed but... it didn't seem to be that bad. There was no terrible pain, no sensation of being dissolved in acid. Just an... absence. A little worrying, yes, but compared to the rest of his situation, a minor gripe indeed. He pushed it to the side of his mind as he focused on feeling around for something, anything, he might be able to use to free himself.

[i]The trap sensed the wakening of its prey's struggles. That was how it should be; panic giving in to complacency. This particular snare had a very specific nature; any body part it engulfed couldn't communicate with the outside world until the entrapment was released. All sensations were on hold, reaching the victim in a rapid  rush should they somehow succeed in escaping. The sudden sensory overload should incapacitate the prey, rendering it easier to recapture should the unthinkable happen. The upshot of this was that anyone held would be unaware of what was happening beneath the fleshy pink surface.

Following its design the creature began to act. Thick, soft, elastic tentacles the color of rich cream exuded from the walls of the hollow sphere, hanging down wetly like strands of cooked pasta. As the vulpine's struggles lessened and focused more and more on his free half, they began to slowly slide and rub against the small furry body, testing it, exploring it, looking for an entrance, minute by minute. The cub paid no attention to this, unheedingly working on trying to reach a stick that lay just out of his grasp. Inch by inch the small form was probed and analyzed until a questing tip found what it was searching for.

The soft tip poked gingerly at the tight pucker before it, then more firmly as the ring offered some momentary resistance. But the creature was strong and insistent, the blunt apex pressing in then pulling back, rubbing in slow circles around the rim of the fox's entrance. Muscles twitched and quivered in response to the stimulation, receiving no answer from the brain upstairs. Bit by bit they relaxed and loosened, pleasurable sensations held in suspension for the time being building ethereally in the enclosed space.

An inch inserted, then another as the thick length pushed further into the vulpine's sensitive anal space. Squashing and squeezing past the rhythmically clenching ring it continued to invade its prey's warm depths. Once its apex was well enough secured it began to thicken, filling out and irresistible pressing the cub's walls apart like a hydraulic press. Unseen in the depths it suddenly thrust savagely forward, burying half a foot of length deep within the unresisting male.[/i]

Nick crossed his arms and huffed. Nothing was [i]happening![/i] It had been hours... probably. He'd been there for... well he didn't know how long. Five minutes? An hour? Enough t get tired and bored. Nobody was hearing his shouts for help and he couldn't reach anything else around him. The sheer boredom was perhaps the worst part about his predicament, he just wished [i]something[/i] would happen.

[i]The tentacle was as thick as the fox's wrist now, having worked for several minutes on prying his virgin pucker open, stretching the ring of muscle taut as it pressed ever inwards. And still it thickened. Any normal mammal, even such a famously accommodating species as a fox, couldn't have taken such a girth. But as the trap worked on its prey it did more than explore and invade. The vulpine was becoming more elastic, stretchy and durable. The change seeping into his very flesh and threatening to become a permanent feature if the cub didn't manage to extricate himself soon.

In instinctive response to the continued anal assault the young male's sheath swelled as his foxhood peeked from it. Each slow, steady thrust from the invading length below pressed another inch of the rigid shaft free.The occasional exploring tentacle stroked over it, making the knot swell in anticipation of more contact. Wherever the milky tentacles rubbed or stroked, they left behind an ingenious concoction of secretions that stimulated the nerves, vastly increasing sensitivity. With them came a potent aphrodisiac to push the victim's libido into overdrive. Slowly but surely they soaked deeper and deeper into their target; now not only being applied externally, but also from within as the main tentacle lubricated the cub's ever-tight passage. The effects were easily evident, the young male's shaft soon standing fully at attention, twitching needfully , throbbing harder than it ever had in the cub's short life. The effects of the insidious chemicals were quick to set in, but would take weeks to withdraw. If they ever would; such a small form getting such a large dose would likely be permanently affected.[/i]

Nick fanned his face with a paw. He felt... strangely hot, exhausted even, as if he'd been exercising rather than just sitting there waiting for aid. It was probably just the summer heat though, managing to warm the stones of the abandoned building or something. He'd come here to cool off and yet now he was hotter than ever, a little woozy too. He wished he could go swimming again. Maybe he would, once he got out of here.

[i]Within the sticky confines of the trap the young fox's body rocked back and forth in a steady rhythm. A length almost as thick as the cub's waist plunged in and out of a tight, elastic hole, finally having stretched it wide enough for its liking. Each deep, penetrating thrust made the vulpine's furred stomach bulge as it was filled out, both legs kicking at the air as sparks of pleasure shot aimlessly through them as the canid's prostate was repeatedly squeezed and crushed by the massive invasion. Each deep drive forced the oversensitive foxcock to shoots a sticky stream of white fluid as a suppressed orgasm was forced from it, the silvery liquid painting the inside of the tap in steady bursts, oozing down to the base where it was greedily absorbed.

Through all of this the prey would be unaware, the sensory suppression keeping the building, already unimaginable pleasure sealed away as the trap worked away towards its own goals. Minute by minute its pace and vigor increased, the massive length slamming as deeply inside it's newly minted sleeve as it could go, wet slaps and smacks filling the confined space as the young mammal's body was wracked with spasms. Suddenly the tentacle convulsed and swelled further, stretching an already gaping pucker into a watertight seal as a truly massive load of pheromone-laced fluid surged up its length and poured deep within the tapped fox.

Pump after pump it filled the young male, his softly-furred stomach beginning to swell with the unnatural volume of liquid that it was being forced to accommodate. Soon the bloating belly was pressing against the cub's throbbing member, the additional contact spurring it to loose another stream of sticky seed, weaker than those before as the constant, countless orgasms finally began to milk it dry.[/i]

"Huh...? Oh hey!"


Nick let out a surprised mumble as the paw he was holding behind his back felt something hard and oblong. He gripped it and bought it in front of him, seeing the pale glow of his gameboy's screen. Still on, still right in the middle of battle where he'd left it. In all the chaos he'd completely forgotten about it. For a moment he wondered if he should try and bludgeon the weird pink thing with it, but he reasoned that a mere collection of plastic and microchips probably wouldn't have much effect.

With nothing better to do he turned his attention back to his neglected game. He sure hoped he'd be found soon, but until then, at least he'd be entertained.

[i]With its victim now stuffed full of the modifying fluid the trap's thick tentacle began to withdraw; a newly elastic ring bulging out obscenely as the impossibly thick length refused to give an inch, tugging the tight tailhole with it. After withdrawing a few inches it thrust back, then pulled away again. Each movement tugged the stretched hole out further and further, teasing it, adapting it, pushing it as it was seemingly turned inside-out by the withdrawing length. What this would do to the vulpine's body after was of little concern, the trap had one last thing to see to now.

Another creamy length, one only about as thick as the fox's arm at its widest point, made its way to the exposed vulpine maleness. Seeking out its pointed tip, the elastic appendage pressed itself against the cockslit there, forcing itself inside. The cub's urethra stretched and swelled as the length forced itself inside, being far more direct than its companion had been while working over the canid's tailhole. Designed as it was, the creature shared the common need of all life to spread. Once it was buried snugly within the vulpine's slender tube, it began to rhythmically pulse. Once more a thick fluid erupted from one of the milky extrusions, forcing itself deep within the young male's trapped form.

But this was more than just a chemical-laced liquid, this was an extension of the trap itself, the next generation. A single, elastic pink mass that actively squirmed and wriggle as it pulled itself from its parent and surged forward within the narrow confines of the male's body. Inching forward it pressed past the knotted base of the vulpine's shaft, forcing a slew of suppressed climaxes from it. There was no mess this time, after the long milking previously, all the male's body could do was endure dry orgasm after dry orgasm. With the way clear the invading mass pressed onwards, pushing into and through the cub's long abused prostate, making every muscle of his lower body twitch and spasm in reaction.

Still more was pumped from the confining creature, pushing deeper and deeper within the fox, finding new space to fill. While the bulk ended up in the canid's bladder, the sheer mass of the nesting blob required it to spread itself wherever there was the smallest bit of free space. As the parent's tentacle withdrew a small strand of pinkness exuded from the tip of the overstimulated and overstuffed foxcock, plugging it neatly.

Now, now at least the trap was done. There was no longer any reason to hold onto its captive any further. With a silent shudder it shifted and prepared to return to its dormant state.[/i]

"No! C'mon! Not rollout again!"


Nick cursed under his breath. This was, in his opinion, the single hardest battle of the game, or at least the most trying. He'd been attempting to beat if for the last half hour, returning again and again to throw himself back into the fray. Each time leveling his team a bit more, each time getting a bit further. But that Miltank! It was infuriating! But now, now at last after so much effort, he was finally about to triumph! His tiny fist pumped the air in preemptive victory, his current predicament all but forgotten in the momentary rush of pride and euphoria. He barely even noticed the subtle shift of the mass beneath him, and wouldn't have cared if he did. Victory was all but his, this would be epic!

"Yes! Yes! Take [b]that![/b] I am the very best! Like no-one ever wa-"


[i]An hour alter the trap was still, withdrawn back into stone and soil as it had been originally, recovering from its expenditure before it sought out a new victim. Even if it had been searching however, it would have paid little heed to the small furry form lying directly atop it. It wasn't moving much, certainly not walking about.

Nick lay where the trap had left him, tailhole prolapsed and gaping obscenely. Even now the occasional jerk and spasm from the cub sent a weak spurt of sticky fluid from its stretched and violated end. And there were twitches aplenty as the young fox's body was wracked by a seemingly endless ocean of pleasure, a continual storm of sensations finally freed after so long being suppressed.

Green eyes stared blankly ahead, unheeding of the glow of a nearby device announcing victory over a digital opponent. Every now and then there was a weak gurgle or whimper, the cub unable to do anything else, mind completely shut down by the sheer volume and intensity of pleasure that had flooded through it. Even now nerves were so sensitive that the cool evening breeze brushing through exposed fur was enough to trigger another round of weak convulsions from the tiny, exhausted form.

The temperature was dropping and night would soon fall. A few hours would be all the trap would require before seeking out fresh prey. If the cub was lucky he'd recover enough to crawl away by then. If not then his ordeal would likely just be beginning.[/i]