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A large tiger unlocked the door at "Malcolm's Music Metropolis". He wasn't looking forward to this morning. Sure it was Saturday and he would rather be in bed right now, but even the fact that it was Saturday wasn't what really bothered him. He turned the sign on the door that said "Yes, We're Open", dreading the moment that "he" would be entering the store. Turning the lights on, he went behind the counter and waited.

Not even five minutes had passed since he unlocked the door when it happened. Looking over at the door, he saw that same, familiar figure entering the store. The figure, a young jaguar, walked into the store, smiling at the tiger.

"Morning," said the jaguar.

"Morning," said the tiger with a grumble.

The tiger watched as the young jaguar ran over to exactly where the tiger expected. The young jaguar stared up at a certain guitar, just like he had done every Saturday for the past who knows how many weeks. Rolling his eyes, the tiger came out from behind the counter and walked over to the young jaguar.

"Can I help you with something?" asked the tiger in a none too friendly tone.

"Yeah," said the jaguar, pointing at the guitar. "I want to play that."

Grumbling, the tiger got a ladder and retrieved the guitar. It was no accident that the guitar had been placed so high up. With a price tag of $2,000, it wasn't a good idea to let just anyone come in and pick it up. The tiger gave it to the jaguar, who ran his paws up and down the neck. This was his dream guitar. A Fender American '52 Telecaster reissue. The guitar sported a butterscotch blonde finish, black pickguard, two single-coil pickups, maple neck and fretboard. Happy that it was in his paws again, the jaguar plugged it into a Fender Super Reverb amp and waited for the tubes to warm up before he started playing. By this time there were several customers who had strolled in and it didn't take long for them to come over and see the young cat go to work on the Telecaster. He went from chicken-pickin' country style while playing on the bridge pickup, to warm, mellow jazz on the neck pickup before settling on both pickups to play some Texas blues. Many of the customers were impressed with the jaguar's superb chops, seeing as he was so young to be well acquainted with the instrument. The tiger sales clerk was far from impressed. Working in a music store, he had not only heard better players, but had gotten sick of what he called "jerk guitarists", guys who came into the store and thought that the place was a performing stage. To top it off, those jerk guitarists usually played at a very high volume, which the jaguar was doing today. Fifteen minutes went by before he'd finally had enough.

"You gonna buy that today, or what?" he asked impatiently.

"Not today," said the jaguar with a cocky grin on his muzzle. He knew full well that his presence alone was pissing off the tiger, and he loved every moment of it. "Maybe next week."

"In that case," said the tiger, folding his arms. "I'm going to have to put it back on the hanger." Reaching behind the amp, he turned the power switch off, all the while glaring at the jaguar, who reluctantly gave him back the Telecaster. Getting up from the stool he was sitting on, the jaguar went up to the register.

"Hey," yelled the jaguar from across the room. "I wanna buy some strings!"

Still on the ladder, the tiger turned around to address the jaguar. "Gimme a second, would you?"

Still grinning, the jaguar waited for the tiger to come back down and get behind the counter. "Whatcha want?"

"Ernie Ball Cobalt Power Slinkys," answered the jaguar.

The tiger reached around behind him, grabbing hold of the requested string set. "That'll be $7.99."

Reaching into his pocket, the jaguar pulled out a ten dollar bill and handed it to the tiger. Ringing up the sale, the tiger continued glaring angrily at the jaguar as he then handed him the change.

"Thanks," he said insincerely. "Have a nice day."

"You too, sunshine." said the jaguar with a smirk.

The tiger curled his lower lip, watching the jaguar finally leave the store. "Damn punk ass kid."

Back at home, the jaguar was greeted by his very angry mother and father right when he stepped inside the house.

"Jack Walker Jr., were you at that music store again?" asked the boy's father.

"Yeah," said Jack, taking off his shoes. "What's the big deal about going to the music store on a Saturday morning?"

"You were drooling over damned guitar again,weren't you?" asked Jack's mother.

"I was," said Jack as he went over to the sofa to sit down.

"Boy," said Jack Sr. "I told you to stop going in there. You're gonna piss off Malcolm and that brother of his that runs the place."

"His brother is a dickhead," said Jack, stretching out his legs nonchalantly.

"You watch your mouth," scolded Jack's mother. "How many times have I told you that we're not buying that guitar for you? You've already got two."

"True," said Jack, thinking of the two Fender Stratocasters he already owned. "But you can never have too many guitars."

"I'll be the judge of that," said Jack Sr. "How much money you got anyway?"

"Five hundred bucks," answered the younger Jack. "You know you could give me the rest of the money if you really wanted to."

"You think so, huh?" growled the boy's father. "I guess I should just cough up fifteen hundred bucks like it was nothing. It's not like your mother and I have enough expenses as it is. We've got the mortgage, car payment, insurance, groceries . . ."

Jack simply tuned out his father's ranting. He was always going on and on about the price of things. In the younger jaguar's mind, his parents were just being stingy with their money. As far as he was concerned, they were doing this just to irritate him.

"You listening, boy?" asked Jack Sr. angrily.

"Yeah," said Jack, rolling his eyes.

"I saw that," said Jack's mother. "You just go sit in your room until I tell you to come out."

"Fine," said Jack as he got up to go to his room.

"And I better not hear any guitar playing while you're in there either," added Jack Sr. "Or I'm comin' in there and beatin' you over the head with it."

Jack went to his room and slammed the door shut. Throwing himself on his bed, he stared up at the ceiling. He didn't give a fuck that his parents were upset with him right now. He was more worried about the summer coming to an end. He'd been working like crazy, trying to get the two thousand dollars he needed to buy that Telecaster. It was a single obsession that was driving him crazy. He'd given other kids guitar lessons at ten dollars for a half hour session, did odd jobs, looked for money in the washing machine and even under the sofa cushions, he'd even mowed lawns for his neighbors who weren't exactly keen about having to spend their time in the scorching Texas summer heat. Pouting about his ordeal, Jack threw his bed covers over himself, wishing that he had better parents, but wishing more than anything that he could just get that Telecaster. He would do anything for it.

Next Saturday rolled around, and as usual, Jack went to the music store right when it opened up. That same tiger, Marcus, the younger brother of the store's owner was there just like he was every Saturday. Every time the tiger saw the young jaguar enter the store, it made his blood pressure spike. It was the same thing every week, and he was getting tired of the boy asking to play a guitar he couldn't afford. This time, Marcus didn't move from behind the counter.

"I wanna play that Telecaster again," said Jack.

"You gonna finally buy it today?" asked Marcus, folding his arms.

"Could you let me have ti for six hundred?" asked Jack, who'd grown one hundred dollars richer since the previous Saturday.

"Not gonna happen," said Marcus. "You don't got two grand, then I'm not coming out from behind this counter."

"What?" said Jack, unable to believe what he was hearing. "But I'm a paying customer."

"Paying customer?" repeated Marcus. "You come in here every Saturday and buy a pack of strings or five dollars worth of picks. I ain't waistin' my time on you anymore."

Jack glared hatefully at the tiger. "That's bullshit."

Marcus gnashed his teeth at Jack. "What did you just say to me?"

"You heard me, ass wipe," said Jack with a grin.

Marcus walked out from behind the counter, ready to throw the jaguar out on his ass for what he just said. Luckily for Jack, Marcus had only put his paw on the his shoulder when it was quickly removed by a tiger standing behind. Him.

"There a problem?" asked the tiger behind him.

Marcus turned around, seeing his older brother and store owner, Malcolm was behind him. Calming himself down, he tried to explain things. "I was just throwing this little jerk out for cussing at me, Mal. He comes in here every stinkin' week, always wantin' to play that '52 Telecaster, but he ain't got the cash for it."

Malcolm, older and calmer than his brother thought about what his brother had said, then turned and looked Jack. "That true, son?"

"Yeah," said Jack. "I just really want to buy it."

"I understand," said Malcolm. "How much you got?"

"Six hundred," said Jack. "I know I'm fourteen hundred short but . . ."

Malcolm interrupted him. "I think we can work something out regardin' payments, son."

Jack was stunned. "Really?"

"Sure," said Malcolm, giving his brother a wink. "Boy like you obviously is willing to do what it takes to get what he wants."

"Damn right," said Jack, growing hopeful that they could come to some kind of agreement.

"Tell you what," said Malcolm as he reached inside his back pocket to get his wallet. He handed the jaguar one of his business cards. "You just right down your name, number and address and we'll get back to you later today, alright?"

"Cool," said Jack, barely able to write he was so excited. "I promise you that I'll do whatever it takes to get that Telecaster, sir."

Malcolm smiled, putting the card back inside his wallet. "I'm sure you will. Now, how about you head back home and we'll get in touch with you, okay?"

"Okay," said Jack before he ran out the door. He was finally getting the guitar of his dreams.

If patience was a virtue it was certainly not something that Jack Walker Jr. possessed. He spent the entire day waiting for Malcolm to call him back, never letting his cell phone be far from him. It was like torture to the jaguar, knowing that he might get the call any second, but knowing when that second would be. Though agonized over the wait, he was in a good enough mood that he was even helpful to his parents. Jack Sr. and his wife Jenny were amazed as they watched their son doing the laundry, taking out the trash and even cleaning the bathroom. They wondered if they even had the same fourteen year old boy that was normally so mouthy and disrespectful. Whatever it was, they hoped that his new attitude would continue.

The sun eventually sunk below horizon, and night was upon the place. Jack stayed up late enough that his parents went to bed before him. He looked over at the clock. It was after midnight, and despite wanting to hear back from Malcolm, it looked like he had forgotten to get in touch with the jaguar. Jack was getting tired, and wanted to go to bed. Sighing, he went to his bedroom and shut the door. He stripped down to his underwear and placed the phone on his nightstand, all the while grumbling about his lot in life.

"Fucking assholes," he said as he climbed into bed. Closing his eyes, he quickly drifted off to sleep, but was quickly woken up by the sound of his phone vibrating against the wooden nightstand. He'd received a message. Picking it up, he looked at the screen.

"We're outside" it read.

Putting his clothes back on, Jack quietly exited the house, seeing a Cadillac parked along side of the road. The engine was running, but the lights were off. Unsure of who it was, he slowly walked over and saw the passenger window being rolled down.

"Get inside if you want that guitar," said the darkened figure from within.

It was Marcus, the younger brother of Malcolm. Jack threw caution to the wind and got inside the car. He could see Marcus in front, and to his left was Malcolm, driving the vehicle.

"I thought you guys were never going to call," said Jack.

"Oh, we just had to wait until the right time to do this," said Malcolm. "You ready to get your guitar now?"

"You bet," said the eager jaguar.

Both tigers laughed. "Alright then," said Malcolm. "Let's go get it."

The two brothers drove around for almost half an hour before they finally pulled into the driveway at a very nice housing edition. Malcolm hit the remote button to raise the garage door and the Caddy pulled inside. Turning the ignition off, he then shut the garage door and told Jack that it was okay to get out. As Jack went inside the house, he marveled at the decorations. Everywhere there were guitars of various makes and models hanging from the wall.

"Nice place," said the jaguar.

"Thanks," said Malcolm. "But I think there's a certain guitar you really want to see, isn't there?"

"That's right," said Jack, rubbing his paws together excitedly.

"It's right this way," said Malcolm.

Jack was marched down a hall and into what was most likely the master bedroom. There, lying on a king size bed was the guitar, his guitar. He went over, picked it up and started playing. It was finally going to be his. He looked up at the two tigers.

"I have the six hundred right here," said Jack, getting his wallet out.

Marcus grabbed the wad of cash and counted it twice to make sure it was indeed six hundred dollars. Looking over at his older brother, he nodded, indicating it was all there.

"So, what kind of deal are we working out anyway?" asked Jack, still picking away at the Telecaster.

"You said you were willing to do anything for this guitar, right?"

"Right," said Jack in agreement.

"Okay, well how about you put that thing back in the case and we'll get down to business?"

Jack looked over on the floor, seeing the tweed case for the instrument. Opening it up, he gently placed it inside before shutting it and securing all three latches. He couldn't help but notice that both tigers were grinning at him.

"So, now what?" asked Jack.

"Take your clothes off," ordered Malcolm.

Jack wasn't sure he heard that right. "What was that?"

"You heard him," said Marcus. "Take your clothes off."

Jack had heard them correctly the first time, but was now in shock. They wanted him to get undressed in front of them?

"What?" he said. "No way."

"If you want that guitar you'd better get butt ass naked really quick," said Marcus.

Jack quickly thought about his options. He knew that if he refused he could kiss the Telecaster goodbye, and he might be in for worse than that. Sighing, he slowly took his shirt off, then his shorts, and stood there in his underwear. He saw the horrible grins on both tigers faces as he slowly pulled down his underwear, leaving him completely exposed.

"Oh, that's nice, isn't it, Marc?" asked Malcolm to his younger brother.

"Sure is, Mal. But I think it would be rude if we didn't join him."

Jack watched as both tigers pulled all their clothes off and approached him. Shaking, he felt Malcolm's big paws rub over his chest. "My, you are a sweet young thing, you know that? How about you get on your knees for ol' Uncle Malcolm?"

Shivering, Jack dropped to his knees and was face to face with two large, rect cocks only inches away from him. He knew what they wanted, but still he waited for the order.

"Open up and get sucking," ordered Malcolm. "Don't you be scraping me with your teeth neither."

Closing his eyes, Jack opened his mouth and felt Malcolm's cock being shoved in his mouth and down his throat. He had to suppress the urge to gag, as he had never done this before. Marcus grabbed at the young jaguar's arm and pulled his paw onto his cock, gesturing Jack to rub at it. Both tigers moaned as Jack pleasured them. Jack couldn't believe this was actually happening to him, but he had to get through it or he would be without that lovely Telecaster. He tried to think of a happy place, but couldn't. Eventually Malcolm blew his load into the jaguar's mouth, causing Jack to gag from the stream of cum that he was forced to swallow. He'd barely stopped coughing when he was ordered to start sucking off Marcus. Sucking him didn't last long, as the big tiger pulled out of the jaguar's mouth and turned around, shoving his ass right in Jack's face.

"Lick it," said Marcus. "That's for calling me an ass wipe."

Completely disgusted, Jack was forced to rim Marcus, who let out a huge fart during it. Jack felt like he was going to throw up as he was forced to breathe in the foul air and vile taste of the tiger's ass. Tears started flowing from his eyes, wishing that it could just be over and he could go home with the new guitar.

"That's enough of that," said Marcus. "Get your ass on the bed and get on all fours."

Jack complied, knowing that he was about to get fucked by the tiger. Clenching his teeth, he felt the tiger's huge shaft being inserted into his anus. It was painful, but Jack refused to cry out as Marcus thrust in and out of his ass, getting rougher by the second. Malcolm now took the opportunity to get in front of Jack and shove his dick back inside the jaguar's mouth. Now spit roasted, Jack now had insult added to injury.

"You like that, don't you, you little bitch?" said Marcus, riding the jaguar's ass.

"Course he does," cackled Malcolm. "He's a little slut."

The onslaught seemed to go on forever. Jack had no idea how long this would go on, but finally when the tigers were spent, they cackled at him, loving what they had forced him to do for his precious Telecaster.

"Alright," said Malcolm. "You go take a shower and we'll get you back home soon, got it?"

Jack, his mouth filled with the taste of cum, his soar ass leaking semen, hobbled down the hall and into the shower. It was finally over.

Jack hoped to sleep in that morning after all that he had been through, but he was rudely awakened by his father, who was pulling on his ear.

"Ouch!" yelped the jaguar. "What the hell?"

"What the hell is right," growled Jack Sr. "What the hell is that?"

Jack looked at the direction his father was pointing. There on the floor was his new Telecaster in an opened case.

"I got that yesterday from the store," whined Jack as his ear was still being twisted.

"Bullshit," yelled Jack Sr. "You god damn little thief. You stole that!"

"Did not!" protested the younger jaguar.

Incsensed from what he perceived as a lie, Jack Sr. pulled his son out of bed and into the living room, all the while Jack protested his innocence. Jack Sr. shoved his son onto the sofa and interrogated him further.

"You rotten little bastard," he said, getting ready to strike his son across the face. "I'm gonna knock your brains out for this!"

Jack prepared himself for a severe ass beating, but was saved by the sound of the doorbell ringing. "You sit your ass down and don't move!"

Stomping over to the door, he opened it, and much to his surprise, saw Marcus and Malcolm standing at his door. "Marc, Mal, I'm so sorry for what my son did. You can have the guitar back, and I understand if you want to press charges against the thieving little shit."

"Press charges?" asked Malcolm. "What for?"

"He stole that '52 Telecaster you have in your store," said Jack Sr.

"Sir," said Marcus. "He didn't steal it. We simply arranged a payment plan with him."

Jack Sr. temper vanished. "You did?"

"Sure did," said Malcolm. "He just pays us what he can every week. Besides, both of you have been such good customers for so many years, so why not accommodate a fellar when you can?"

"I see," said Jack Sr., looking back at his son.

"We just stopped by last night to drop it off. Sorry it was so late," said Malcolm.

"Oh, that's not a problem," said Jack Sr. "Jack, would you come over here,please?"

The younger jaguar did as he was told, walking up to his father and the two tigers. "Son, I'm sorry about all of this."

"It's okay, Dad," said Jack, giving his father a hug.

"Plus, Jack said he'd help us out at the store. Isn't that right, Jack?" said Marcus.

Jack looked at the tiger, who only hours ago had been buttfucking him. He would see the lust in his eyes, and knew that he was going to be giving him his ass until that Telecaster was paid off. The meeting ended with Jack Sr. shaking the paws of the two tigers and telling them to have a good day. After they left, he again apologized to his son and told him to go enjoy his new guitar. Jack went back to his room and shut the door. Picking up the Telecaster, he plugged it into his amp and turned the power on, all the while thinking about what happened earlier, and that he would be doing many more times before everything was said and done. Looking over the butterscotch blonde guitar, he nodded his head. It would be worth it.