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Poor thing... shouldn't've charged the dungeon all on his own. Now he has fluffy fingers scribbling in his pits, clawing his paws, tendrils diving into his navel, tweaking his nipples, and one long fluffy tentacle milking his 'mage rod' for every last drop it can produce.

Of course, each sticky plume he shoots only makes him more sensitive...

Poor, poor thing...

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