FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Well. Super late, but here it is. I like to think my writing skills haven't atrophied much while busy dealing with every new crisis getting in my way all at once. That has yet to be seen, I suppose.

Still have plenty left to do for the first Welcome to the Show too, but that's next on my list as it is horrifically late at this point.

Funny story, this chapter changed drastically as I was writing it. It was originally supposed to be more plot driven, the second half being what comes after the ending of this one, but I had too much fun world-building and it got away from me. I'm looking forward to revisiting some of the things introduced here, I'll say that much!

Reused and built upon a bit inspired by Dexter Otter from a few chapters back too.

In any case, good or bad, I'm happy to be back in the game uploading again! Woo! Hope you enjoy, and that it was worth the extra wait!

Proofread by SkyWing

Standard boiler plate: This is fantasy, not real. Simple rule of thumb, do not do things to people without their consent in real life. That is bad. No more to say there than that.

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The sun was shining. The sky was a bright, beautiful, gleaming shade of blue unsullied by even a single cloud. A gentle, warm breeze carried the scent of summer flowers mixed with freshly cut grass. The faint sound of the wind was drowned out by a chorus of birdsong.

Milo smiled. Up until that moment, he hadn't even realized he had created birds. Ever since the he had arrived in hell it felt like he'd been rushing from one place to another, dealing with some crisis, working on expanding his ever-growing kingdom, researching notes on an ancient and massive divine contract, or, well, partaking of the fruits of his labor. He had never really given himself a chance to stop and appreciate the little things.

Not even his concerns with the "Reset Clause" he discovered buried in the contract could bother him right then. He hadn't forgotten about it by any means. The instant he resolved to bring his concerns to Chas, the goat up and vanished. That part didn't worry him, exactly. The goat had disappeared before, something about returning to the source of his power. Still, Milo would be lying if he said the timing wasn't at least a little worrisome.

After their last chat, the last thing he wanted was to anger the God of Lust due to a silly misunderstanding. He had a potential solution to the reset issue anyway. To keep the hiring of new caretakers from resetting duration of all damned souls' sentences, he could volunteer to be Lust's caretaker permanently. That way, he could stay in his own personal paradisiacal playground forever, and the damned would properly move on to wherever it is they go when their time was up. Everything would be as it should be. Everything would be perfect.

Unless the goat was already aware of the clause and its consequences... How could he not be? Avarice said a long time ago he was hiding something... And what else...

Milo shook his head. He was in his room to relax, not to spend his time wringing his hands, worrying about things that were firmly out of his control. There was nothing he could do about it for now. The goat would find him when he was available, and they'd talk from there. Stressing himself into an ulcer, even if he could instantly fix it, wasn't going to do him any good. Best to relax, sit back in bed, look out the window, and spend some time enjoying those little things he so often took for granted.

Of course, the bigger things were often far more enjoyable. The pink-dyed ram lying belly-down between his legs, enthusiastically deepthroating his thick, throbbing cock, for example.

Churring with pleasure at the crushing, moist warmth enveloping his shaft, Milo grinned even harder, watching Karl's perfect, masculine body at work. The rhythmic gyrations of the ram's hips were mesmerizing, the taut butt flexing every time rubbed his caged sheath against the sheets. Milo had no doubt that several sizable stains of leaked pre-cum were already decorating the bed, though he didn't mind. He knew his slave would be happy to clean it up. Speaking of which...

Grabbing the pair of curled horns like handles, he pulled Karl's head up from his crotch, forcing the sucking mouth off his cock with a loud, wet pop. Totally subservient, the ram remained on his belly, gazing up at the weasel, waiting for a new command.

"Spin around please, Karl," Milo said, making a horizontal circular motion with his finger.

Without missing a beat, the ram rose to his knees, shuffling around to get into position. As expected, a number of large, dark streaks stained the sheets, appearing precisely where he had been humping the bed.

Wishing to see the dripping cage for himself, Milo knelt behind the ram's muscular rump and took a closer look between the slightly spread legs. He lifted the dangling nutsack out of the way, giving the fat orbs a little squeeze, taking a brief moment to admire just how fat and pent-up they'd gotten. The ram let out a sharp gasp at the sudden pressure, though aside from raising his little tail, he remained completely still. As Milo inspected the silver cage, he could see a thin line of pre-cum streaming from the slit at the tip, looking almost like he was pissing the bed. "Clean up your little mess there, would you Karl? And make sure to put new sheets on later."

Without nodding, or otherwise responding in any way, the ram lapped at the sheets, dutifully licking up whatever of his mess he could find, accomplishing little more than making the dark spots damper.

Though Milo was still completely erect, his throbbing, spit-slathered cock bobbing idly in the air, he was far too entertained by the little show to want to stop watching. Something about seeing the big, masculine, pink ram leaking onto the bed as quickly as he could lick it up was endlessly delightful.

A stirring against the wall drew his attention. He glared over at the tightly bound kangaroo, who was struggling to sleep in a pet bed on the floor. With his limbs bound and tongue sticking out, pierced to an extended bar from his ring gag, it was understandably difficult for him to get comfortable. Which was just the way Milo liked it. His only regret was not calling the roo over to do the cleaning instead of Karl. No matter, he had other plans for after he finished with the ram. He had to make sure Connie's tongue stayed hydrated, after all.

Looking back at the ram noisily slurping the sheets, Milo was well past ready to get started. He sharply brought both hands down on Karl's curly-furred ass, the hard slapping making even the stoic ram chirp in surprise. Snickered to himself, he placing his length between the enticing cheeks, hot-dogging them with several long, slow thrusts. He pulling his hips back, aiming his cock tip lower, pressing it flush against the fleshy ring while his slave simply resumed his work of cleaning the sheets. Knowing full well that the ram could easily take even his impressive thickness, he gave a single hard thrust forward, burying himself inside up to the root in a single try. A weak bleat escaped Karl's lips, though it was mostly muffled by the bed sheets against his mouth. After taking a moment to enjoy the heat of his slave's insides, Milo proceeded to fuck his ass raw, furiously slamming their hips together with blinding speed.

Across the room, the repetitive slapping noise woke Connie from his fitful almost-slumber. With a groan, he feebly tried to roll over and cover his ears. The kangaroo hated being woken, but more than that, he hated himself for being so frustrated by total orgasm denial that the sound of two dudes fucking was turning him on. With a low, rumbling groan, he tried in vain to rub his needy cock between his thighs, attempting to get some kind of relief. Pierced as it was along his scrotum and to his taint, he had no hope of getting off, let alone getting erect, but he was desperate enough to give it a shot.

Oblivious to his kangaroo slave's pathetic squirming, Milo continued to hump Karl's rear, falling forward onto the kneeling ram's back. He wrapped his arms around his broad chest, squeezing tightly, rapidly speeding up his thrusting as he felt his orgasm approach. Before long, he hit his peak, moaning just shy of screaming as his flood gates burst, thoroughly coating the ram's insides with a geyser of hot weasel cum. He didn't stop thrusting until he finally felt his load taper off, then pulled back out, leaving the ram with a gaping, cum-flooded tailhole.

"Excellent as always, Karl. Thanks," Milo said, taking note of the full puddle underneath the ram's cage, the small silver dome twitching as if it was about to burst. If it weren't for the whole 'this is hell' and 'he's being punished' thing, he might have been willing to let his perfectly agreeable servant get off every here and again. The kangaroo, on the other hand... "Karl, before you finish with the sheets, go ahead and share your gift with Connie. His water bowl's looking low, he could probably use a drink."

Giving no reply, Karl slid off the bed, making his way to the semi-conscious roo. He grabbed the lesser slave's shoulder, rolled him onto his back, and knelt on the floor, squatting over his face. With practiced precision, he lowered himself down, mounting his loosened hole on Connie's forcibly extended tongue. The kangaroo thrashed about when the weasel's load instantly began oozing into his mouth, gushing through the spread anus now flush against his open gag. As usual, the larger ram had no trouble keeping the formerly dominant jock pinned to the floor. The struggling eventually ceased as Karl's pheromones took effect, the sickeningly strawberry taste of his altered rear end putting Connie into a drug-like stupor. It took very little for the kangaroo to completely surrender himself, actively sucking the spent cum out of the ram's sloppy hole.

Milo rested back against the bed, happy to spend just a little while watching another lovely show unfolding in front of him. He doubted seeing that bastard get brought lower and lower would ever lose its appeal. It just goes to show, he thought, chuckling to himself, that if you're going to be a soulless son-of-a-bitch, just make sure it's not in front of the next caretaker of hell. Noticing from the clock on his nightstand that it was almost noon, he finally slid out of bed. He left his two slaves to their business, energetically striding into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

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Before bothering to start his morning ritual, brushing his teeth, taking a shower, drying his fur and the like, he stopped to take a piss. He silently strolled up to his personal urinal, a skunk kneeling on the floor, held in place by a massive hollow butt-plug stuffed in his rear, as well as a set of steel shackles bolted to the floor around his knees and ankles. His arms were behind his back, stuffed in a tight latex binder that was chained to the floor alongside his big, fluffy striped tail, forcing his back into an arch. A posture collar and a large plastic cone kept his head completely still. A pair of tubes, one from the tip of his chastity cage, the other from the base of his cone, were connected to the base of his plug. The skunk nervously looked up at the weasel, who hadn't bothered to hide his rock-hard, cum-covered erection.

Unceremoniously shoving his fat prick partway through the skunk's gag, Milo relaxed his muscles, preparing to let out the heavy stream of urine that had built up overnight. Just before it began, he stopped himself, not expecting to feel his urinal's tongue firmly caressing his shaft. Whether it was due to some remaining ram pheromones, or because the skunk was simply trying to push him out of his muzzle, he didn't care. If his favorite piece of furniture wanted a little extra attention, he was happy to oblige. Grabbing hold of a convenient set of handles around the cone, Milo slowly pistoned his cock in and out, moaning every time his length was fully embedded in the bound skunk's throat.

As enjoyable as the resulting mix of squelching grunts and feminine squeals were, Milo wanted to keep things short and sweet so he could get on with his day. His overall sensitivity from having just finished spending the morning with the ram was a definite help. Speeding up his movements, he could feel the tingle of another orgasm approaching, quickly exploding into an overwhelming burst of pleasure. He let loose another voluminous gusher of spunk, injected directly into the skunk's gullet, humming happily at the wonderful, warm feeling spreading throughout his body. Standing still for several seconds, enjoying the afterglow, he teasingly rubbed his musky pubic fur against the skunk's nose as best as he was able with the cone in his way. Without warning, he let out a loud sigh, finally letting loose and pissing straight down his urinal's throat.

Aside from the additional warmth and fullness, the skunk didn't even notice the extra fluid until the weasel pulled out, still firing a pungent stream of urine, now arcing directly onto his face and into his open mouth. If nothing else, the skunk was thankful he managed to close his eyes before the stinging liquid made contact. He could do little more than squirm and sputter as his face was soaked, the cone slowly filling to just over the rim of his mouth. Once the stream finally ebbed, he opened his eyes to see the weasel peering down at him with a satisfied smile. He drank down whatever liquid he couldn't stop from flowing past his gag, pleadingly eyeing a nearby pull-chain, trying to signal his owner to flush him. It wasn't a perfect solution, as flushing the cone would only send the fluid down a hose, through the plug, and into his rump. Regardless, that was still vastly preferable to stewing in piss for however long it took for the ram to get around to cleaning him.

Luckily for the urinal-skunk, he happened to catch the weasel in a good mood. He let out a garbled, relieved sigh when the chain was pulled, triggering a small pump to turn on, rapidly draining the contents of the cone. The sigh switched to a groan of discomfort as every ounce of it shoot through the hollow plug straight into his rectum. By the time the pump finished, his abdomen felt totally bloated, sloshing around with every little movement he was able to make. A small pained gurgle escaped his open gag as he unsuccessfully attempted to adjust his position and get more comfortable. He had no idea how it was physically possible for someone, regardless of size, to produce so much urine in one go. However it happened, he only knew it'd be several hours before it all trickled back out through the plug, then down into the pipes through the floor.

Milo wasn't about to give him an answer either way. He only playfully tousled the skunk's black headfur before strolling over to the shower and turning the faucet on. He quickly forgot all about the bound skunk as he got ready for another lovely day in hell.

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Strolling casually to his throne, Milo happily greeted a blurred series of bodies constantly rushing by, headed someplace or another. If nothing else, he was truly pleased that his world seemed to be running so smoothly. Given the disaster he had begun with, he considered it nothing short of a miracle that everything worked out for the best. Once he reached his throne, he lounged lazily upon it, sitting back with his arms crossed behind his head.

Since he had put off any new developments on hold until sorting things out with the goat, he decided to spend a bit of time living among his creations. He had designed it from the start to grow and evolve itself as needed, with or without his input, and things had certainly changed.

At some point, when he wasn't looking, his throne room had gone from a large, regal space decorated by the standard living statues to something more like a massive perverted swap meet. Not that he disapproved. It was truly a sight to behold as he sat perched on his throne, surveying his creations, most of whom he had never actually met, while they put their wares on display. Some were offering used, no longer needed bondage gear for trade, and some others were trying to make a bit of extra cash renting out their property. In fact, a whole row of the makeshift stalls featured nothing but bound, chaste, and gagged furs of every species imaginable being advertised by their owners.

One particularly aggressive gray wolf stood next to a table in his stall, a pair of fingers from each hand buried in a bound, cock caged snow leopard's tailhole. He shouted offers to every passerby, stretching the cringing cat's rear wide open, proudly showing off his pet's assets. Judging by the wide gape explicitly on display, the cat had been extremely well-prepared for his role as a rented hole.

Across the aisle, a nearly identical wolf - possibly the first's twin - had another stall where he was equally aggressively trying to sell time with a bound and gagged female red squirrel. Rather than using his fingers like his doppelganger, he had his entire fist shoved up the squealing girl's painfully spread anus. Running a claw from his free hand along the glistening cunt, pierced shut by a series of labia rings, he shouted at the top of lungs in an attempt to drown out his rival.

As the pair tried to one-up each other, a massive bull walked up and handed the first wolf a few coins. After the wolf counted the coins and gave an approving nod, the bull licked his lips, eagerly dragging the struggling feline behind the table by the scruff of his neck. In a flash, the table began shaking as if an earthquake had hit.

Infuriated at his loss, particularly because of the mocking sneer from his winning rival, the other wolf gave his squirrel a hard slap on her rear, forcing a sharp, muffled cry from his disappointing toy. With a shrug, he resumed barking his offers and enticements while attempting to force his other hand in alongside the first, much to the squirrel's displeasure.

Another stall a short distance away appeared to be advertising for a toy store out in the mall. A heavily pierced white rabbit with dark black headfur was energetically handing out fliers to passersby, occasionally stopping some to try out their sample products. To his side was a tall, vertical steel frame with what was most likely a skinny bat hanging upside-down inside it. A pair of shackles around his ankles were attached to the top bar of the frame, holding his skinny legs wide apart.

All told, Milo wasn't totally certain it was a bat, since the creature was covered head-to-ankle in thick black latex. An especially thick patch of latex totally covered his sheath and balls, preventing not just erections, but any possible pleasurable sensations from reaching the trapped genitals. Only his nose, a wide patch around his ass, and long, clawed footpaws were left exposed. Between the footpaws, the latex-encased wings, and the equally covered wide, round ears, it was a safe bet that it was a bat.

Those lucky few playtesters the rabbit brought over could do whatever they wanted to the shiny, black bat. Some picked out one of the many dildos of varying type and size to try out under his tail, pumping it in and out of his rear as he struggled to get free. Others, rather than try out a single dildo, chose several to see just how many the flailing creature could fit in his impossibly stretchy hole. A few wished to try something completely different, grabbing riding crops, cattle prods, or odd, spiky, pizza-cutter-like items to tickle, torture, or whip the vulnerable footpaws and ass cheeks. Both had grown a bright shade of red, showing even through his light brown fur. Once each prospective customer had enough, the rabbit thanked them and sent them on their way, making sure they had a flier and some coupons. He then removed any dildos still holstered in the bat's rump, put the toys back in their proper places, and went right back to handing out fliers and flagging down more customers.

Milo's gaze eventually drifted to one particular stall where a black cat was selling some sort of snack treat. Suspended inside a series of pipes forming a large rectangular framework was an otter, dangling from chains attached to the joints of his bent, latex-sheathed limbs. Despite a massive pair of breasts, the otter was quite obviously male, at least going by the equally large pair of testicles dangling between his legs. He had a large ball-gag stuffed in his mouth, along with a thin tube running from his sheath cage through a hole in the gag. Whatever fluids his trapped cock produced, which thanks to his overly productive balls was mostly a perpetual stream of leaking pre-cum, were recycled into his mouth for him to swallow back down. His tailhole, though pink, moist, and obviously well-used, was currently empty, while his thick rudder of a tail was chained to the back of his gag's strap. A matte black metallic machine with tubes running to suction cups on each of the unnaturally large-breasted mustelid's nipples sat on the table next to the frame.

As far as Milo could tell, the machine was a milker, only far larger than any he had previously seen. His curiosity having been piqued, not to mention his hunger, Milo rose from his throne and headed over to check it out, barely dodging a cheetah riding a pony-geared wolfess speeding by.

The slinky feline manning the stall looked almost surprised as he approached, her eyes growing wide upon realizing he was headed her way. She appeared somewhat flustered, not having personally met her creator before.

"Ah! sir! It's a pleasure to finally meet you! I'm Frances!" she said, smiling awkwardly as she grasped his hand and vigorously shook it.

"Just Milo's fine," he politely replied, offering back a smile of his own, trying not to laugh as she subtly smoothed out a few wrinkles in her long, slinky red dress. "Nice to meet you too, Frances. So what're you selling here, exactly? I don't believe I've seen a set-up quite like this. Doesn't look quite like a standard milker."

"Oh, it isn't! Long story short I bought the otter for a party a little while ago and decided to keep him afterwards. I had an idea for a customization and brought it to Edris, who then had R&D implement it. It... well, I'll show you! Free of charge, just for you!" Kneeling down by the table, she unsheathed a cylindrical plug from a docking station, a wisp of freezing vapor escaping after it. The icy plug was thick, at least a foot long, and slathered in some sort of goopy, glistening gel that resisted freezing. Upon seeing the source of his torment appear once again, the otter weakly shook his head, flailing his bent limbs without effect. At most he only succeeded in making himself sway back and forth, suspended in his frame.

Placing the ice-cold cylinder's slick tip against his tailhole, Frances easily shoved it past the rim despite his desperate clenching, soon hilting it completely inside his colon. The otter splayed his webbed toes from the icy intrusion, heavily arching his back as he let out a loud, extended groan partially muted by his gag. A sudden surge of pre-cum shot out of his needy, caged cock, rapidly speeding along the tube into his mouth.

With the plug securely in place, Frances moved to the main machine sitting on the table. She tapped a few buttons and the over-sized milker sprang to life, humming mechanically as it began its suction. The otter let out another groan, this time more from a sort of tortured pleasure. He shook in his bonds, shivering both from the cold and the sensation from his thick, sensitive nipples being sucked. Before long, slushy, partially frozen milk could be seen flowing down the tubes and into the main device.

After a minute of the otter's torment, the flow ceased, the machine stopping its suction while he dangled limply in his bonds. The droning hum of the machine continued as Frances tugged the plug back out and replaced it in the docking station. As she stood back up, a ding sounded from the milker and a door on the front opened. Promptly reaching inside to retrieve the contents, she held the resulting item, a white creamsicle on a popsicle stick, up to Milo.

"Otter pop?" she asked, smiling from ear to ear.

Stifling a laugh, Milo gladly accepted the treat. He took a bite, his eyes instantly shooting open with delight at the sweet, creamy flavor. Without a second thought he wolfed the rest down, much to Frances's delight. "That was amazing!" he said, thoroughly licking his lips. "How does it that all work exactly?"

"Oh, darned if I know! Something about the device lowers the milk temp. It just works, that's fine by me."

"Fair enough. You know, you should look into getting a few more of those special milkers and opening a full ice-cream shop in the mall. I guarantee that'd be a hit! Especially on a nice warm day like today."

Frances's face lit up, far more happy than she ever was before. "Thank you sir! Milo! Sir Milo!" she shouted, gleefully bouncing in place, squealing with joy. "Sorry, just a bit overwhelmed." She sheepishly looked away, still smiling ear to ear. "I'll start looking into getting a shop of my own immediately!"

"Quite alright. Thank you very much for the treat, Frances. It was delightful."

"You're very welcome! It was my pleasure!"

The otter rolled his eyes at her exclamation.

"You know, I'm just kind of wandering around today, just exploring and all that... Perhaps I'll stop by the farm and see if I can get the ball rolling, hm?"

Frances looked as if she was about to explode, barely able to contain her excitement. "Thank you! That would just be incredible!!!"

"I'm happy to help. Something that good is certainly worth my attention." With a polite wave, Milo left her to serve the long line of customers that had formed as they chatted. Grabbing the recharged plug from the docking station, she grinned down at her good little milk-otter. "Looks like you're gonna be real busy, huh!"

The otter simply closed his eyes, whined through his gag, and dropped his head, continuing to gulp down the flood of pre his heavy, overworked, balls unceasingly pumped into his own mouth.

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Stepping out into the sunny courtyard, Milo felt totally reinvigorated. For the time being, the pleasant conversation and tasty treat had totally erased all the worry and doubt that had been plaguing him. Ice cream was truly magical. He kicked himself for not thinking of that sooner. Remember the little things he repeated to himself, smiling at the same pleasant breeze from earlier that morning blowing through his short brown fur.

The farm was a sizable distance away, making him grateful that he'd had the roads paved. It certainly made the walking - and dodging the myriad taxi-carts pulled by pony-slaves zipping by - quite a bit more convenient. He happily strolled along at a brisk place, whistling a cheery tune while appreciating the nice day. A crocodile driving a cart pulled by a pair of pony-geared greyhounds, a silver female and a white male, sidled up next to him, matching his walking speed.

"Need a lift, sir?" the crocodile asked, pulling back on the dogs' reins to make them slow down.

"Hm? Oh, why not?" Milo said, grabbing onto a handlebar and attempting to jump onto the passenger seat. As he jumped, he stepped on the front hem of his long, regal robes, succeeding only in performing a graceless face plant on the edge of the road.

"SIR! Are you alright!?!" The crocodile frantically signalled the greyhounds to stop running, leaping out of the cart to help his boss back to his feet.

"Ah'm all 'ight," Milo said, quickly realizing he had broken both of his front teeth. With a wave of his hand he restored himself, once again smiling at the crocodile helping him to his feet. "Nothing I can't fix. Just don't, uh, spread around what just happened, okay?"

"Sure thing, sir!" The crocodile helped him into the cart, taking special care to keep the robes out of the way, then climbed back into his driver's seat. "So, where to?"

"The farm please."

"Can do! Giddyup!" Pressing a button on a small control panel, the plugs in the rears of both greyhounds sparked to life, sending a small shock under their tail, triggering them to resume running. The crocodile took the reins, guiding the blindfolded dogs along the way to the farm.

Sitting back and enjoying the stronger breeze blowing in his face, Milo glanced down to inspect the duo speedily pulling them down the road. The dogs both shared a similar build, tall, lithe, and wiry, with unusually strong legs. The female's petite chest wasn't even that distinct from the male's completely flat one, both having a pair of heavy gold rings attached by a chain pierced through their nipples.

The gear adorning the pair was uniformly colored to match the respective dog's fur color, blending in while still completely visible. Their footpaws were locked into hooved boots, while their arms were locked into hooved gloves and attached to their chest harnesses in a begging posture. Matching chastity belts were locked around their waists, trapping their genitals behind a metal grate while making room for the electrified control plugs stuffed under their tails. Despite their natural long, bony tails being visible, a full pony tail was attached to the end of each plug, swaying behind them as they ran. A solid latex hood covered their heads except for their wet, black noses, and the bit gags propping their jaws open. A water bottle shared between them had tubes connected to their gags, allowing them to drink when necessary, keeping them hydrated despite the warm, sunny day.

Shifting his gaze out into the fields passing by, he couldn't help but notice a large number of pony-slaves of varying species, all decked out same as the dogs while working alongside farmhands. A few pulled plows behind them, preparing the ground for new plantings. The majority pulled small carts behind them, helping the workers to conveniently store and move the harvested crops. Every once in awhile, one would be unhitched from their burden so one or more workers could take a break and let off some steam. Just off to the side of the road, Milo could see a large, sweaty wolf humping a red fox pony-slave, currently in the process of knotting the squealing male's tailhole. A short distance down the road, several workers were using a kneeling female rat pony-slave for a bathroom break, taking turns arcing streams of piss into the girl's ring-gagged mouth.

The cart came to a jarring stop, having arrived at the farm's central building, a large, white, sterile facility more like a laboratory than something that would be expected on a farm. Milo had been so focused on watching the fields going by that he hadn't even noticed they were nearing his destination.

Jumping back onto the ground, again minding his robes to avoid another bad landing, Milo said, "I shouldn't be here long, do you mind waiting a few minutes?"

"No problem, sir. I'll keep the engines running!"

Chuckling softly, Milo stepped inside.

______________________

Like the outside, the inside of the building resembled a sterile scientific facility, which was appropriate since it contained the primary milking area. Milo strolled past stall after stall filled with massive-breasted individuals of any gender or species, each with their bodies below the waist embedded in the wall. Their hands were embedded in the wall the same way, only higher up, forcing them to arch their backs, thrusting their dangling, pendulous breasts out. Detachable feeding tubes were attached to the mouth holes of the latex hoods covering their heads. Naturally, pumps and suction cups were attached to all of their nipples, a constant flow of milk heading off to be stored in tanks, then processed and shipped out later.

With their heads and lower halves hidden, it was almost impossible to tell the females from the 'enhanced' males, not that it really made a difference to Milo. Besides, each milking slave had a small bio with those details for those interested whenever tours came through. It seems even in hell, Milo thought, farm tours weren't uncommon. It certainly explained why the feeding tubes were so easily detachable from the gags.

Stopping at the end of the aisle, just before reaching the main office, he took a moment to check out the last milk-slave in the line. The pudgy black and white furred creature was a female badger, if the bio was accurate. He gave one of her hanging beach-ball-sized jugs a small squeeze, smirking at the resulting moan and momentarily increased flow of milk. With an appreciative nod, he turned and entered the office.

As Milo strode through the door, he was a bit surprised to see Alvin not at his desk, but kneeling on the floor, fucking a male mouse through the bars of a metal cage. The cage was barely large enough to fit its little, gray-furred prisoner, holding him in the cannonball position on his hand and knees with no room to stretch or stand, but plenty of open chest-space. He assumed that the mouse was on his way to joining the others outside, given the decently-large rack growing on his chest. Though his new tits were already impressively large, judging by those others, the new milk-slave still had a ways to go. The feeding tube locked on his muzzle made sure he was force-fed all the nutrients and hormones he needed to make sure they grew nice and big as quickly as possible.

For a moment the obese boar froze stiff, startled to see an unexpected guest standing in his doorway. "Oh, heya, boss! What brings ya here?" he asked, promptly resuming his humping of the caged rodent's rear.

"Is this a bad time? I can come back later."

"Naw, just havin' a bit of fun with the new fella here. Still got another day or so left before he's ready to install, but he's comin' along nice-like. If'n it weren't such a pain to get the feeder out ah'd offer ya the mouth."

"Don't worry, I'm just stopping by for a moment anyway. I wanted to ask you a favor, actually... Would you mind donating a few of your milk-slaves for an ice-cream shop in the mall?"

"Ice cream, huh? Sounds like a damn fine idea to me! Ah'll be happy to help out, especially after ya fixed us up with this nice new place!"

"Yeah, that was the least I could do after... flooding... the old one..." Milo sheepishly scratched the back of his head, not taking his eyes off the mouse's breasts. A pair of dark stains were growing on the carpet at either side of the cage, formed by streams of milk from the mouse's long, thick nipples. Every thrust the boar made squeezed the prisoner and his breasts against the floor of the cage, forcing a little more milk out. "Anyway! Glad to hear it, I'll have Frances get in touch with you so you can hammer out the details. Looking forward to getting that all going!"

"Same here, boss! Sounds great!" Alvin reached his hand through a gap in the bars, pressing down hard on the caged rodent's back. "Hope ya don't mind goin' from makin' cheese to makin' dessert, huh fella?"

Milo didn't bother to wait for the pathetic creature to respond, merely waving as he slipped out the door and headed back to the waiting cart.

As promised, the crocodile was still there, sunning himself on his cart while the dogs stood still, waiting for a command. He perked up upon seeing Milo return.

"Where to now, sir?"

Off in the distance, Milo saw the faint outline of the stadium he had created. It hadn't struck him up until then that he had yet to see it in action. If he was lucky, perhaps he could catch a game of some sort. "Take me to the stadium, please..." It also hadn't struck him until that moment that he had never gotten the croc's name. "I'm sorry, but I don't think you introduced yourself."

"Sawyer, sir."

"Stadium then, please, Sawyer. Thank you."

"Happy to oblige, sir!" Another spark under the dogs' tails sent them on their way.

______________________

To his delight, Milo arrived just in time to see the start of a game of soccer. Specifically, it was the third game in an eight team soccer tournament. He planned on sitting among the spectators in the stadium's standard seating, but as soon as he arrived he was ushered to a personal VIP box up top that he, frankly, had completely forgotten he added.

Slouching back in one of the posh chairs, he had to appreciate the perks of being in charge. There was a perfect view of the field far down below, the furniture was some of the most comfortable he had ever used, and the snacks were delicious. As if that wasn't enough, the box even came with his own complimentary servant to make sure he enjoyed his stay.

At the moment, said servant, a red wolfess, was kneeling between his legs, suckling on the tip of his cock like a lollipop. The wolfess was encased by a black latex bitchsuit, keeping her limbs bent, forcing her to walk on her heavily padded elbows and knees. The suit left her head, heavily-pierced cunt, and plugged tailhole exposed, while a chest window let her petite, yet perky tits hang free. A muzzle covered the bottom half of her head, propping her jaws open with a built-in dental gag. The rage in her eyes was unmistakable, glaring up at Milo as she sucked him off, reluctantly putting aside her pride in order to prevent any more shocks from the plug under her tail. Or from the rings and chain piercing her nipples. Smirking down at his loaner pet, unperturbed by her gaze, he placed his hand on the back of her head. With a pleasured sigh, he looked out the window, slowly pulling the gagging wolf down to his root while focusing on the game.

At no point in his life had he ever been terribly interested in sports of any kind. Even so, he had a fast appreciation for the specialized version of soccer being played. The members of either team wore nothing save for cleats, latex mitts locked on their hands, a collar, and an adjustable muzzle locked on their faces. The muzzles also acted as athletic mouth-guards, keeping their mouths securely shut while reducing the players to muffled grunts and growls for communication. Every player also had a standard chastity cage or belt, whatever fit the respective player better. What few pieces of gear each player wore were colored to indicate the team they were on, acting as a lazy kind of uniform.

A purple-clad raccoon was gingerly kicking the ball downfield, trying his best to get it to someone who could score despite his clumsy ball-handling abilities. Almost all of the yellow team was chasing after him, desperate to get the ball back under their control.

As it was explained to Milo, the reason why the players were so desperate to win the tournament was that the winning team was rewarded by being allowed a quiet night to rest and prepare for the next day's games, whatever they may be. The losing teams, once eliminated, were sent to a play area and placed in stocks, hogtied, or otherwise bound so that the fans could make use of them at their leisure. There was a also a betting parlor, a remnant of the system Bridget had set up, where the fans could place bets on the games, with the top winners being given their pick of the losers to take home for the night.

Whatever their personal tastes and interests, not a single player wanted to get eliminated and experience that kind of pain and humiliation. Though none of them were anywhere close to the professional level, or even novice level, with that added incentive as motivation they may as well have been professionals.

Down on the field, a great dane from the rival, yellow-geared team came barreling toward the raccoon, slamming shoulder-first into his opponent's side and sending him flying off the field. Before he could try to take the ball, a ref ran up, tossing a red card at his feet. The crowd erupted into a roar of cheering while the big, sweaty, gray dog went pale. He attempted to run away, not getting very far before a pair of security guards caught up to him. The horse and wolf grabbed the disqualified player, dragged him off the field, and forced him to his hands and knees. After adjusting the muzzle to hold his mouth open, the horse unceremoniously slammed his long, thick equine shaft down his throat. The wolf did much the same, licking his lips as he forced his knotted member between the firm, upturned butt cheeks. Underneath the kneeling, grunting dog, a field camera zoomed in between his legs on his cage, the tip of his red, pointed cock showing through the cage's slit as it futilely tried to grow erect. The guards would get to use him for as long as they desired, after which he'd be taken to the play area same as any of the other losers. Whether or not the rest of his team would be joining him was yet to be seen, though with a man down, their odds weren't great.

Back on the field, a ref gave the ball back to the dizzy raccoon and play resumed. Milo watched on in amusement, finding himself wishing they had sports like that in the real world. Before that moment, he'd never have considered wanting to watch a whole game, much less a tournament. He was pleased with his decision to pay Sawyer and send him on his way before coming in, rather than making him wait outside again. There was no way he was going to be leaving before the end.

Off on the side of the field, the horse and wolf had switched places, continuing to mercilessly spit-roast the rule-breaking dog. Between watching that and his own in-house entertainment, Milo was ready to pop. He bit his lip and slid even further down in the chair, squealing with glee as he felt the rush of another orgasm hit. Holding the wolfess flush against his crotch, he came deep down her throat, especially enjoying the increased, flexing tightness from her desperate attempts to gulp it all down. As soon as he let go of her head, she pulled off his cock and coughed several globs of spunk onto the floor. Milo said nothing, instead pointing down at the mess. The wolfess growled in defiance, immediately stopping and using her long tongue to lick up the spent cum the instant Milo brandished her shock remote.

Feeling like he could use a full meal after his bit of fun, he jotted down his order on a nearby sheet of paper. Once the wolfess was done cleaning, he pinned the note to the back of her suit and pointed out the door. Understanding what her master wanted, she gave a defeated sigh, and shakily rose to her elbows and knees. She gradually shuffled out the open door to deliver his order, her small, pierced tits jingling slightly as she moved.

As he was fully aware, it would be quite some time before she returned with the food. Luckily, he had more than enough to keep himself busy in the meantime. Kicking his feet up, leaning back in his chair, he joyfully resumed watching the game.

______________________

By the time the tournament was over, it was late in the evening, completely dark out save for the glowing moon and a smattering of stars. He began his walk home in a wonderful mood, positively beaming as he left the stadium. Between finding a new pastime and taking the wolfess under the tail several times as the day wore on, not to mention the ice cream, it may have been his single best day in charge of hell.

Seeing the overall winner of the day's betting walking out with the disqualified great dane was just the icing on the cake. The dog was huge, sure, but he was nothing compared to the hulking bull effortlessly carrying him heaped over his shoulder. His struggles were met by little more than amusement by the pleased bull, who gave the dog's heavily dangling pup-makers a slap. Squealing in pain, the dog ceased his struggling and went limp, wanting to avoid any further strikes to his genitals.

Nodding a polite hello as he passed the pair, Milo was almost tempted to follow them to wherever they were headed. Ultimately, he decided to let the bull enjoy his winnings; he had plenty waiting for him back at the castle.

He didn't bother getting a cart for the return trip, preferring to take in the beautiful summer night. The same warm breeze was blowing, slightly cooler than before. Crickets had replaced the birds, making him chuckle to himself, having forgotten he made crickets as well.

As he traveled, however, he grew to regret walking. Being left alone to his thoughts turned out to be somewhat unwise decision. Throughout the day, he was bombarded by so much stimuli, keeping him distracted and happy, that those creeping worries regarding the goat and the contract were effectively kept buried. Now, with nothing left but quiet introspection, or the occasional cart zipping by, it became apparent that appreciating the little things was only effective when paired with a warm throat suckling his cock.

Approaching the entrance to his throne room, he sighed softly, looking forward to a bit of extra entertainment to get his mind off of things before calling it a night. He passed through the doors, happy to see that the swap meet was still going strong, if a little less crowded. Many of the stalls he passed by were different than before, likely having changed hands as their owners' schedules allowed. Pleased to have plenty of new sights to get his mind off things, he strolled down the aisle and checked the new stalls out.

Milo froze in place, surprised to see his assistant, Bridget, manning a stall of her own. The lithe, buxom weasel was lying back against a long, portable lounge chair, her legs spread wide, one foot on the floor, the other flat against the seat. A thin, white t-shirt was all she was wearing, leaving her totally nude below the waist. She held a book in one hand, somehow able to read despite the constant din of activity from all sides. Her other hand was pressing down on the back of a kneeling skunk's head, holding his muzzle against her moist, warm cunt, thoroughly enjoying the long tongue exploring her folds.

Only slightly geared, the skunk was wearing a set of black latex mitts on his hands and footpaws, a collar, a small silver cage, and a butt-plug reading 'Berry'. From what Milo could tell, the hand on the back of his head was only a show of dominance. Not once did the black-and-white slave try to pull away from her, even when she momentarily lifted her hand to turn the page of her book. She briefly shivered as the probing tongue tickled her inner walls before going back to reading her book.

Off to their side - seemingly the only thing on display in the otherwise empty stall - was a slender buck, sitting on his knees, straddling a long, half-cylinder-shaped seat. Unlike the lightly bound skunk, he was covered in leather straps and harnesses, holding him totally still with his ankles tied to his thighs and his arms wrapped together behind his back. Rather than a cage, a silver ring was locked around the base of his cock, keeping him hard at all times, extremely sensitive, and completely unable to orgasm. The sapphire-studded tip of a sounding rod was visible, resting against the rim of his piss-slit. The thin rod could be heard quietly buzzing, keeping the needy bit of flesh nice and hard.

The seat he was straddling had a built-in butt-plug that was jammed snugly in his rear, holding him flush against its cushioned base. Another plug, similar to the skunk's, aside from the text reading 'Twig', sat in a small puddle of lube on the floor. Locked around the back of his head was a ring-gag, holding his jaws open almost painfully wide.

A dark gray clydesdale was hard at work testing the limits of Twig's gag reflex, thrusting his over-sized equine cock through the wide metal gag, aggressively fucking the deer's face, alternately snorting or panting like a feral dog. It was a safe bet that Twig wasn't enjoying himself as much as his companions, wincing from the thick shaft pounding in uncomfortably deeply, letting out a wet, choking gulp each time the horse's flare struck the back of his throat.

"Will we be getting back to work tomorrow?" Bridget said, not looking away from her book, only stopping to turn another page. "Not that I'm complaining about the extra time with my pets. That's been exceptionally wonderful." She lowered the book for a moment, humming with pleasure as Berry began lapping at her clit. "Just wanted to know."

"Haven't been able to get a meeting with the goat yet, so go ahead and take another day," Milo said, totally transfixed by the horse and deer, almost hypnotized by the pendulous balls slapping Twig's chin. "So, what's the deal with your stall? Selling time with your slave?"

"Oh, no, he's giving it away for free as a punishment. I wanted to give my pets a nice, relaxing day out, and Twig decided to throw a tantrum when I told him to put on his nice, pretty dress." Releasing her hold on the skunk's head, she cupped her hand under her chin and grinned at the deer. "You can't tell at the moment, but whenever that gag of his is empty, his plug inflates, slowly growing bigger and bigger until someone finally decides to make use of that smart mouth of his. Sometimes you need to show them why it's in their best interest to obey. Isn't that right, Berry?"

Berry looked up from her crotch, his muzzle utterly dripping with her juices, and vigorously nodded with a wide, beaming smile on his face.

Giving her favorite pet a loving scratch behind his ear, Bridget leaned forward and licked the side of his muzzle, getting a taste of her own cunt. "You're welcome to use his rear, if you like," she said, gently pressing the fluffy skunk's head back down against her crotch. "I guarantee it'll get your mind off the contract and that whole 'reset clause' business." In response to her offer, Berry hiked his tail up as high as it would go, wiggling his plugged rump for the other weasel.

"I probably... You know? That does sound good. Sure." Milo promptly knelt down behind skunk and tugged on the base of his plug, almost startled at how easily the thick, greased object popped free. Parting his robes, his throbbing shaft sprang free, already at full mast thanks to the twin displays going on in front of him. Wasting no time, he placed his tip against the slick, gaping tailhole and thrust inside. He met little resistance as he pushed past the rim, bottoming out in mere seconds. The moment his pelvis met the skunk's rounded ass cheeks, he pulled back and thrust back in, quickly establishing the tempo for his pumping.

Berry dug into Bridget's folds with even more vigor, stopping only to let out a low, delighted moan before diving back in. With his own prick throbbing inside its small, metal prison, his only real pleasure came from serving his mistress. But he truly loved serving his mistress.

Bridget tossed her book onto the floor alongside her shorts and boxers, using her now free hand to massage her breasts while gripping the skunk's head with the other. Her long, thick tail whipped gleefully about as she finally focused everything on enjoying her pet's increasingly enthusiastic efforts.

Given his overall sensitivity, having spent the day fucking everything that moved, or was too tightly bound to move, Milo didn't last very long. He pistoned his increasingly fast, tightly gripping the plump cheeks in either hand as he briskly worked up to yet another orgasm. Switching to shallow thrusts, he started to gyrate his pelvis with every short, powerful pump of his hips, grinding his shaft along the walls of the skunk's bowels.

The force of his humping pushed Berry's snout progressively further into Bridget's vagina, until the point where he was essentially fucking his assistant himself, only using the skunk's face as a proxy. Without warning, Bridget came hard, screaming a loud, "YES!!!" as she tweaked a nipple and shook in place, further soaking her moaning pet's facial fur with her spent juices.

Berry was happy to drink down everything he could, loving that he was totally coated in his mistress's scent. With his muzzle buried deep in her vagina, getting squeezed and massaged by the glistening walls, he couldn't imagine wanting to be anywhere else. Moments later, he felt the weasel at his backside tense up, climaxing as well, sending a torrent of creamy spunk deep into his colon. Though his own cock was twitching with need, unable to grow at all, he felt satisfied. So long as Bridget was pleased, so was he. Glancing upward, he was overjoyed to see her smile back, giving the back of his ear another affectionate scratch.

Totally spent, Milo fell back onto his rump, gasping for air, his well-used, jizz-soaked shaft throbbing between his spread legs. He had to imagine, if it weren't for his hell-powered sex drive, he would have been reduced to a desiccated husk after a day like that. Regardless, Bridget was right. It did get his mind off the contract, if only for the moment.

"...Hey..." Milo mumbled, slowly recovering on the floor. "...How did you know about the reset clause?"

"Please, Milo. Remember who you're talking to," Bridget replied with a sly smile. "I can read you like a book."

"...Really? That doesn't-"

"Well, if I'm being honest, I know because Marcus has been blabbing about it all over the place. About how you wanted advice on dealing with the goat, the contract and all that."

"Damn that little mutt..." Milo rolled his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to talk about it either, would you?"

"All things being equal, I'd rather not."

"Figures."

"Mostly because nothing I say would have any effect on what you do. You made your choice the instant you found that clause. The only reason you want advice is because you're a coward. In the likely case that the goat is already aware of the clause, it means that he wasn't entirely forthcoming when he explained how everything works. That makes you worried, wondering what other lies he may have told to get you to sign up, and that kind of a mystery is understandably terrifying. As such, you're desperate for someone - even if they're just a construct telling you what you want to hear - to give you the confidence to do something about it."

Milo listened, wide-eyed, to the other weasel's impromptu speech. A pregnant silence hung in the air for several seconds. Just as he began to reply, she interrupted him and continued.

"There was never any chance of you letting something like that go. Your entire ability to enjoy yourself here, to function at all, really, stems from the idea that punishing sinners to rehabilitate them is good and honorable. Crime and punishment. Hurt others and get hurt in return. That concept of hell makes perfect sense to you, and you're happy to be a part of the system. But more than that, what you truly desire is the same thing that so, so many others do; the chance to indulge your darkest desires while also being the hero for doing it. Finding out that the majority of the damned are here for eternity changes things from being about punishment and rehabilitation to being about torture for torture's sake. You go from being a hero to a monster, no better than any of the other monsters down here, and there's no way you could ever accept that."

"That... was... impressive..." Milo said, utterly stunned by her spot-on assessment.

"I can read you like a book. Sir." Bridget smiled warmly, looking down at her boss from her lounge chair. "You may be a coward, but you're a brave coward. With or without anyone helping you, you'll do what you think is right. I truly respect you for that."

"...Thanks?... I think?" Milo said, confusedly squinting at his assistant, who had to stifle a laugh.

"I mean it sincerely. Whether you did it on purpose or not, you made me different from the rest of your constructs. They tell you what you want to hear; I tell you what you need to hear."

Milo could only chuckle back, knowing everything she said was absolutely correct, almost relieved to hear it said aloud for once. "Thanks either way, Bridget. I think getting it all out in the open helped-"

A loud whinny from the clydesdale interrupted him, grabbing both of their attention. The horse was just finishing, rapidly pumping his long firehose of a cock in and out as he came straight down Twig's throat. After thrusting in up to the root one last time, getting a final grunt from the deer, he pulled the whole way out, exposing the sloppy, white-smeared horse meat to the open air. Giving a thankful wink to Bridget, he wiped his cock off using the gasping deer's cheek fur and took his leave, not concerned at all by his nudity. Or at how he nearly clotheslined a passing mouse as a result.

Once more unoccupied, Twig slumped his head forward, lazily oozing a thin stream of spunk from his open mouth. For several all-too-short seconds he rested, a dazed expression on his face, until a gentle hum sounded from his cushion. His eyes flew open in a panic, grunting in discomfort, frantically searching around for any available cocks. Catching sight of Milo's own overused cock idly pulsing between his legs, Twig tried to beckon him over. He shouted a series of desperate, begging shouts of muffled gibberish, every once in awhile peppered with a pained moan as his plug inflated, slowly but surely increasing in size.

Milo watched on, oddly amused despite the serious conversation just a moment ago. "How big will that plug get, exactly?" he eventually asked, cocking his head to get a better look at the base of the plug.

"You know," Bridget replied, scratching her chin as her skunk pet slept soundly, resting his cheek against her pubic bone, "I honestly have no idea. It got maybe football-sized once a while back. There's been such a crowd all day it hasn't been much of an issue. With the crowd thinning I guess we'll have a chance to find out. Maybe it'll keep going until he blows up like a hot air balloon? That might be fun to see!" Hearing that, the deer redoubled his efforts trying to coax the male weasel over, whining as the plug steadily grew larger. "Either give him some relief, or sit back and let him suffer. It's up to you," she said, lying back against the lounge, closing her eyes, and resting her head on her crossed arms. With a smile, she placed a footpaw on her sleeping skunk's back, using it to stroke along the plush fur.

"Well, when you say it like that, how could I refuse?" Milo said, chuckling as he rose to his feet, cracking his back with an arching stretch. He stepped up to the begging deer's face, playfully tapping his nose with his cock tip before pushing it through the open gag.

The precise moment the slick member entered his mouth, sliding along his tongue, a look of relief bordering on ecstasy appeared on Twig's face. Even with the taste of skunk ass and weasel jizz overpowering his senses, feeling the massive plug deflate once again was heavenly. If it weren't for the cock ring and sounding rod, he might have shot his own load right then and there. As it was, he only let out a long, extended sigh through his nose, not stopping until the plug returned to its default size.

Tired from his long, if incredibly fulfilling day, Milo lazily gyrated his hips. By that point, he was so far beyond spent that he was perfectly fine enjoying the warmth while waiting for someone else to take his place. His mind eventually changed, spurred on by the wonderful tongue rubbing the underside of his shaft. Shrugging slightly, he decided that one more climax before calling it a day couldn't hurt. He increased the speed of his thrusting, tightly gripping the deer's ears as handles while he worked himself to his peak.

Several minutes of mildly aggressive humping passed before Milo felt the telltale tingling in his groan, followed immediately by spurts of cum shooting directly into the deer's stomach. With a satisfied, if exhausted sigh, he held still, willing to wait like that until someone arrived to take his place. Glancing over his shoulder, outside the stall, it appeared that either his presence or his performance had drawn a small crowd.

Milo pulled out, willingly making room for an eager bull, who replaced him without a second thought, making good use of the cum-stuffed deer. He stretched his arms out, giving a loud, extended yawn, and began to leave, stopping to say, "'Night Bridget, have fun tomorrow." Assuming she was asleep, given her lack of response, he nodded and left for his room to call it a night.

As he left, she groggily said, "Good luck, Milo," before nodding off for real.

______________________

A short walk later, he reached the twin doors of his bedroom, opening them as he let out another yawn, far past ready to get to sleep.

"I believe you have been looking for me," a deep voice said, stopping him in his tracks.

Milo barely kept himself from gasping, not expecting to find the goat he had been searching for sitting on his bed. He was equally surprised to see Karl sitting on his lap, his ass totally reamed by the goat's impossibly large shaft. The ram let out a series of weak bleats as he was pumped up and down the long shaft by powerful hands on his waist, his stomach round and bloated from gallons of cum being pumped into his colon, effectively nothing more than a cocksleeve for Lust.

Steeling his nerves and giving a nervous gulp, Milo nodded and stepped inside.