FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Okay, so, I wasn't planning on doing another chapter to this one so quickly, but I had a few ideas with kangaroos and couldn't hold myself back. Really didn't intend for it to go in quite this direction either. Rest assured, Joey and Jace will be the main characters in the next one. I have plenty of other series I should really update before then, though. We'll see how it goes.

Also didn't intend for this to be so long, heh. Just kinda hit a groove at some point! New record, at least. Really gotta stick to smaller ones.

Anyway, same as the last one, this is on the harsh side, so if you don't like that, probably best to avoid. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy it, and thanks for reading!

Proofread by SkyWing

All credit to the masterful title goes to Torin_Otter

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.

______________________

Briskly walking through a pair of automatic doors, heading straight to the center of the brothel's outer lobby, Vincent stopped there, waiting for his bodyguard to park the limousine and follow him inside. He took a sip of his iced coffee, impatiently tapping his foot as he gazed about the sprawling room. The lobby, as open, airy, and nicely furnished as it was, was little more than a facade; something to give any casual observers the impression that this was just another mundane - if unusually tall, given its relatively remote area - office building. For security purposes, almost everyone was required to park in an underground garage, entering the facility through there. Only Vincent, thanks to his VIP parking space, really bothered going through the front.

A short time later, Loomis sprinted up to the doors and eagerly bounded through, unfortunately far too quickly for them to open all the way. Clipping his shoulder on the sliding metal and glass, he was sent into a brief spin, barely managing to find his footing without taking a header onto the floor. He hurried to join the otter, awkwardly smiling as a vivid blush showed through his cheek fur.

"Calm down," Vincent said, giving his coffee a quick swirl, "you aren't going to be useful to me if you break your damn neck."

"Sorry, sir," Loomis replied. He hopped up and down, his bushy tail wagging behind him. "I'm just excited is all. It's hard to believe that you're letting me have a pet!"

"Once we're done with our work, yes." Taking another sip, Vincent turned, walking toward the main reception desk and the chipper skunk sitting behind it. "Remember, it will have to be a bargain item, so you will likely have to settle."

"I know, sir!" The otter's words did nothing to lessen Loomis' enthusiasm, still wagging his tail as he bounced along behind him.

"Good morning, Marcy," Vincent said, nodding at the receptionist as he approached the brothel's real entrance, just past her desk.

"Good morning Mr. Perrin. And Mr. Loomis," Marcy replied, giving them both a friendly wave. Without needing to be ordered, she reached under her desk, buzzing them both inside, triggering the door to unlock and slide open. "Have a good day!"

Turning around to walk backwards, Loomis shouted, "You too," clipping his shoulder on the doorway again as a result. Following after his sighing boss, he blushed again, quietly hoping no one else noticed.

The inner lobby, though far more secure and closed-off than the outer lobby, was far more heavily populated, busy employees hurrying from place to place while trusted customers lined up to use a series of kiosks to browse their wares. Most customers were there to pick out a pet for the night, a reasonably cheap option. A select few VIPs - members of Vincent's preferred customers club - were there to bring one of them home for a longer stay. And in some deliciously expensive cases, they were there to take their new pets home for good.

Grinning, Vincent nodded to a heavily pierced rat as they passed each other. He immediately recognized the rat was an immensely wealthy trust fund kid, and, far more importantly, a VIP.

Pulling a large, black wheeled suitcase behind him, the rat grinned right back, offered a grateful salute. If history was any indication, his suitcase contained a feline of some sort - most likely a lion - contorted to fit inside, along with a small oxygen supply. The facility generally stuck to latex sacks similar to body bags for discreet transport, but the kid liked cats in tight spaces, and for what he was willing to pay, Vincent was more than happy to let him do whatever the hell he wanted.

As they drew closer to a long hallway containing the elevators, Loomis perked up, knowing they were also approaching the welcome wolf, who was bound, as always, belly-down to a sawhorse in the corner. Between his duties to stay close to his boss while working, not to mention the seemingly endless lines, he regretfully never had the chance to make use of his fellow lupine's services. For the moment, he let his boss continue on without him, breaking off to take a closer look at the fallen former employee.

The scrawny, gray-furred wolf's limbs were each strapped flush against one of the sawhorse's four legs, keeping him perfectly in place and immobilized. His maw was held open by an ever-present dental gag, while his long, bushy tail was left completely free to be used as a convenient handle and jizz-rag. A spiked, silver chastity cage adorned his sheath, permanently locked in place by the tight silver ring extending around his scrotum. The cage had a hidden internal tube extending deep inside the sheath itself, covered top to bottom in the same small, metal spikes as the outside. Any attempt to get hard, would only cause his cockflesh to press against the tube's surface, mercilessly pricking and scratching it with no chance of relief.

The welcome wolf - a slaver turned slave, fashioned into a cheerful display to keep waiting customers occupied - had a glassy look in his eyes as he was spitroasted by a pair of waiting customers. On one side, a draft horse was aggressively pounding a thick, foot-long shaft in and out of the gray wolf's throat, not remotely close to triggering the gag reflex. At most, the horse infrequently caused a weak gurgle whenever his flare bottomed out in the spasming gullet. On the other side, a hulking rhino was slamming into the wolf's rear, clutching the cum-soaked tail with both fists. The rhino was thrusting too shallow to show off the full length of his shaft, but it was no less than four inches thick at the base. Letting out a furious snort as he pounded his hips faster, the rhino was evidently right on the cusp of an intense climax.

"Loomis!" Vincent shouted, standing impatiently in the doorway leading to the elevators.

As much as Loomis wanted to stay and watch, he regretfully tore himself away, promptly rejoining the otter.

Immediately after pressing the button to go up, one of the elevators opened, welcoming them both on board. Stepping on board, followed by the wolf, Vincent held his ring up to a scanner, waited for a green light, then pressed the button for the top floor. He stood back and crossed his arms, keeping steady as the elevator jerked to life, swiftly carrying them up through the borderline skyscraper's many floors.

Rising as far into the sky as it dove deep into the ground, the brothel's complex was vast and sprawling. The lowest of the above-ground floors contained the main processing warehouse and kennels, a full auction house, numerous hotel-style rental rooms for customers to enjoy short-term stays with slaves. Above those, the floors were devoted to security, employee housing, cafeterias, all kinds of entertainment and exercise options, anything to minimize their travel in and out of the building. Even higher up, there were several offices for the lesser managers to keep the whole facility running smoothly. At the very top, taking up the entire floor, was Vincent's personal office. His home away from home.

The floors housed below ground were far less glamorous, consisting of plain prison cells, larger dungeons, training rooms, an infirmary, and even a manufacturing plant, focusing on designing and creating new toys, restraints, and gear for the trainers to use. There were also a number of floors dedicated to special development, testing out new methods of training and/or breaking slaves to see how they could maximize profits.

After a short wait, another ding sounded as the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened, letting both occupants out into the penthouse office. For the most part lacking walls, the whole place was more like a luxurious studio apartment than an actual office. A large amount was a dedicated work area, but there was also a full kitchen, a small gym, an extremely large swimming pool, anything he could ever hope to need. Only the bedroom, the bathroom, and a small cell for temporarily housing pets were walled-off. Otherwise, the walls were all tall paneled windows, letting him survey the breadth and width of his domain from all sides at any given moment.

Vincent let out a pleased sigh as he approached his desk, tossing his empty cup in the trash along the way; he truly, genuinely loved it here. If it weren't for a sentimental attachment to the family-owned development that housed his mansion, he would've moved in full-time ages ago. Hopping aboard his luxurious, leather office chair, he scooted up to his desk and logged in to his computer, preparing to review all of the waiting reports.

Lying back on a nearby couch, Loomis rested his head back on his crossed arms, falling asleep as the otter worked.

The next few hours passed by without incident. Vincent was pleased by the overall results for the past month, their numbers once again showing an uptick in profit. He only rarely had to make notes to give issues a more in-depth review, and in one case reevaluate a worker's usefulness. For the most part, he was proud of his employees, whether willing or unwilling. He smirked, glancing over at the gently snoring red wolf draped across his couch.

"Loomis!" he said, startling the wolf from his slumber, "I'm almost done here, take a quick look through the inventory app while I finish up. Start figuring out what you want."

"Arrrrrright, sir." Loomis shook his whole body, dispersing his post nap grogginess. Sitting up, he snatched a tablet off of the coffee table. With a couple taps, he fired up the inventory app and began searching through the current bargain bin occupants.

While his bodyguard perused his options, Vincent went back to his reports. After speeding through most of them, his progress came to a halt when he reached one of the more off-the-books projects. Several weeks ago, they had captured a crew of foreign slave-smugglers trying to horn in on their territory. It was a terrific gain for the company, getting not only the cargo, but also the entire crew to train and sell.

Vincent had a talent for keeping on top of trends, and, of late, there seemed to be a growing demand among farm-owners and farm-fetishists for pony-slaves. That captured crew, consisting of nine male kangaroos, all in good working health, most of them anal-virgins, were exactly what he had been looking for to test the waters. The former slavers were sent down to the depths of the facility, given brand new custom made gear, and given a rigorous, completely new training regimen developed specifically to craft them into the perfect pony-slaves. Vincent had nearly forgotten about the project, which, according to the basic report, was nearing completion.

Tapping a claw against his desk, he recalled his most recent dispute with William, as well as the ensuing conversation with Loomis, deciding that it was far past time he truly get the ball rolling with his hostile takeover. He'd been wary of the next major step, which could spell his doom just as easily as it could guarantee his victory. With one of those pony-roos, he might just be able to swing things in his favor, and being an unofficial project, he could easily make one disappear.

Adding a trip to the basement to his mental schedule, he went back to sifting through the reports, finishing up the last few just as Loomis placed his tablet back on the table.

"Did you make your choice?" Vincent asked, saving his files, then turning off his computer.

"Yes, sir!" Loomis replied, happily nodding.

"...and?"

"I'd like the welcome wolf."

Vincent blinked, somewhat taken aback by the wolf's choice. "I was just joking when I said that, Loomis, you don't have to settle for the welcome wolf."

"Yes, sir, but I'd really like to take him. There weren't any other wolves in the bargain bin, so he's my first choice, easy!"

"But he's so... worn out... even for a bargain item." Vincent quizzically raised an eyebrow. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"With all due respect, sir," Loomis said, submissively lowering his ears, "I'm thankful you're looking out for me here, but I don't think you understand just how much having complete and utter dominion over another wolf means to me." Overjoyed by the thought, he perked his ears back up as he excitedly bounced atop the couch. "Besides, I'm sure I can find lots of things to stuff in him to keep things interesting!"

"Fair enough, this is your choice, not mine," Vincent said, disinterestedly shrugging. "We'll need a new greeter, but that shouldn't be a problem. After we do our rounds, we can stop by and pick him up."

Loomis didn't reply so much as he made a giddy squeal, clutching his fists to his chest.

"Alright then." Rising from his chair, Vincent smiled. "Let's get moving."

______________________

Though periodic inspections from the top-level manager himself weren't technically necessary, checking out the contents of the warehouse was one of Vincent's favorite parts of the job. Stalking through the aisles between row after row of caged prey appealed to the predator in him. He particularly enjoyed finding the ones who were still aggressive and defiant, making a note to keep an eye on them so he could catch the moment they finally broke.

Regardless, there was never a lack of slaves to see in the warehouse, either fresh arrivals waiting to be trained or fully trained ones waiting to be shipped out to remote offices or customers, and today was no exception. Vincent strolled past nude, bound, and gagged creatures of any given mix of gender and species, stopping to taunt any that showed any kind of open hostility.

A well-muscled badger - a former thief, according to his cage's label - despite being hogtied, stood out from the others by snarling at him. Foaming at the mouth through his ball-gag, the badger even managed a furious lunged when the otter reached through the bars to touch his fur.

Completely unperturbed, Vincent grinned, gesturing toward the nearest guard. He took one the guard's cattle-prods, immediately jamming it against the badger's limp cock, lighting him up with a powerful shock, leaving his fellow mustelid in a twitching heap. "Mark him down as a puppy-slave," he said, tilting his head, smirking at the sight of the four-inch shaft reflexively hardening. "He's got bitch written all over him." He tossed the cattle-prod back to the employee, who made sure to jot down the boss's orders.

Stopping at another cage down the line, Vincent was impressed by the sight of an exceptionally handsome, if somewhat feminine peacock kneeling within, bound and ball-gagged, shaking with fear. He hadn't seen too many of their kind come through there, which was an absolute shame. Those vibrantly colorful exotic birds were always big sellers. Calling over another employee, this one a buff dalmatian, Vincent ordered the dog to jerk the peacock off, just enough to see what he was packing.

The dalmatian nodded, kneeling as he reached through the bars, taking the bird's limp meat in hand, firmly stroking it up and down, skillfully making it grow upright and erect. At its full size, the squirming peacock's tapered length was no less than ten inches, going from a thin tip to a two-inch-wide base.

"Hmmm, very nice," Vincent said, scratching his chin. "Since his tag says he was a dancer, go the classy route. Do the whole harem, belly-dancer package. Give the cock and balls a ladder of barbells, and the nipples and cock tip those detachable jingle balls on a chain. He'll bring in a fortune."

"Very good, sir," the dalmatian said. Wiping his hand on his shirt, he scribbled the otter's notes on the cage's label. The peacock groaned, both from the otter's words, and the fact he couldn't move his arms to jerk off the rest of the way.

Grinning, Vincent continued on through the aisles, stopping a short while later at a cage containing a mottled black-and-white rabbit, already fully trained and geared as a puppy-slave. The rabbit was wearing a canine-shaped latex hood, covering everything but his eyes, nose and floppy ears. Aside from latex paws locked on his hands and feet, he was totally bare, though his cock was mostly hidden, pierced to the curvature of his nutsack and taint by a series of silver rings. His short spade of a tail was wagging as he panted up at the otter, his tongue darting in and out of his hood's mouth slot. He held up his 'paws' in a begging posture, thumping his foot on the floor when Vincent reached through the bars to scratch his ear. The rabbit's trapped cock gave a slight twitch, otherwise staying in place between his balls.

Vincent smiled, thinking back to the doberman that, after the months of training the rabbit had received, would be positively begging for the chance to gargle his balls. A small commotion a short distance away wrested him from his reverie. His curiosity piqued, he rounded the corner, flanked by his bodyguard, to find out what the problem was.

Two employees - a lion and a bear - were carrying a short, mildly chubby otter between them, suspended several inches off the floor by his armpits. The other otter was a complete mess, tears streaming down his face, t-shirt and shorts partially torn, his dark brown headfur mussed and disheveled. His captors completely ignored his pleas for mercy as they dragged him down the aisle, hunting for an empty cage.

"What's going on here?" Vincent asked, pressing his clawtips together as he watched the show.

"Oh! Hello, sir," the bear said, stopping when he noticed the boss standing nearby. "This guy was just caught trying to pay his tab with counterfeit money, so-"

"I'M SORRY!" the smaller otter screamed, "I MADE A MISTAKE, BUT I'M GOOD FOR THE MONEY! I SWEAR! I JUST NEED TIME TO-"

Pressing a finger to the other otter's nose, Vincent shook his head, clicking his tongue. "That doesn't matter anymore. You signed our paperwork, you know we have a one strike and you're ours rule. Paying with funny money is a big strike."

"BUT IF YOU GIVE ME TIME I SWEAR I CAN GET THE MONEY!"

"Yes, I'm very sure." With a flippant wave, Vincent theatrically rolled his eyes.

The panicking otter flailed his legs, his shoes barely touching the cement floor. "PLEASE! I'm an otter like you! DON'T DO THIS TO MEEEEEE!!!"

A wide, toothy smile spread across Vincent's muzzle as he lowered his eyes to slits, leaning in face to face with the other otter. "Why. On Earth. Would you think that mattered to me?"

"NOOOO! DOO-" The final scream was cut off when the bear clamped his free hand around the pleading otter's muzzle.

"Thank you," Vincent said, giving the bear a grateful nod. "Since we're about to need a new greeter in the lobby, I think we just found our volunteer. The other otter's eyes went wide, renewing his desperate struggling. "Strip him, cage him, slap on a dental gag, then bring him out for installation. And don't forget to update the sign to say, I don't know, 'Orientation Otter'. Something like that."

"Yes sir!" the lion chimed in, giving an eager nod as he and the bear carried their frantic captive away.

Cheerfully whistling, Vincent and Loomis continued down aisle after aisle, winding their way through the rest of the warehouse. Same as before, they sometimes paused to come up with possible uses for the slaves, other times settling for teasing or shaming the inhabitants. After several minutes, they had completed their rounds, and much to the bodyguard's delight, it was finally time to retrieve his new pet.

Returning to the lobby, they headed straight for the welcome wolf's sawhorse, bypassing the lines at either side. At the gray wolf's head, a spindly, long-dicked ferret was energetically pounding his maw, while at his rear, a gargantuan elephant was patiently working an appropriately girthy shaft into the scrawny lupine rump.

"Sorry to do this to you," Vincent said, patting the sweaty pachyderm's shoulder, "but believe it or not, this guy's just been claimed. You're gonna have to pull out."

The elephant was about to shove the hand away, replying with a series of threats and epithets, barely catching himself before he made the worst mistake of his life. "Oh," he said, chuckling, "Vincent... Sure thing, let me just..." Trailing off, both he and the ferret withdrew from the gaping orifices, their lengths slick and sloppy, rhythmically pulsing with unfulfilled need.

"Good man," Vincent said, tossing his bodyguard a nod.

In a flash, the red wolf pounced, deftly undoing the other wolf's straps, freeing him from the sawhorse. Helping the smaller wolf to his feet, he held him up by the scruff, keeping him steady.

The welcome wolf blinked, totally confused, yet ultimately pleased to be offered a respite outside of his scheduled exercise, cleaning, and feeding times. He turned his head, gasping and gurgling something incomprehensible when he recognized the otter standing a short distance away.

"No, you haven't been forgiven," Vincent said, correctly assuming what the quivering lupine had asked. "And you definitely aren't being reinstated. You've been claimed, that is all."

The welcome wolf folded his ears back, whining as he looked up at the larger wolf clutching his fur, honestly unsure if his fate had just gotten better or worse. He'd long since learned to be wary of any sort of optimistic feelings.

As Loomis hefted his new pet onto his shoulder, showing off the gray wolf's gaping, jizz-stuffed hole, the lion and bear emerged from the hallway, dragging the still-frantic otter behind them.

The otter had been stripped bare, only a spiked chastity cage and thick, black rubber band strapping his tail to his back offering him the remotest degree of modesty. A dental gag, same as the welcome wolf's, had been locked in his mouth, propping his maw wide open. Seeing Vincent, he made a last ditch effort to beg for his freedom, coming out as little more than a spray of saliva landing on the other otter's shoes.

Vincent grimaced, using a handkerchief to dry his shoes while the otter was dragged by, his raucous struggles summoning a growing audience from the others in the lobby.

The lion and bear had little trouble getting their prisoner in place atop the sawhorse, pinning him belly-down, pulling his limbs down against the wooden legs. Once each limb was strapped and secured to its respective leg, giving the otter absolutely no wiggle room, the lion walked up to the nearby whiteboard, picking up a marker and an eraser. With a few quick swipes, he changed 'WELCOME WOLF', to read 'LOBBY LUTRINE', leaving the line 'FREE TO USE' untouched.

"Very clever," Vincent said, barking out a single, sharp laugh. "Did you come up with that, Eggs?"

"No, that was all Dicky's," the lion said, chuckling as he thumbed toward the bear, who simply smiled and shrugged.

"Either way, excellent work. To the both of you." Giving his cheerfully smiling employees an appreciative nod, he turned around to address the gathering crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, the welcome wolf has been retired in favor of the lobby lutrine. Please enjoy, and as a reminder, we only accept payments in real money. Isn't that right, lobby lutrine?" He brought his tail down on the other otter's rump, forcing a pained squeak out through the gag. As he walked away, heading back to elevator hallway, he waved to the ferret and elephant, signaling them to get back to their fun.

The ferret eagerly got back into position, snaking his length into the forcibly opened maw, triggering a powerful gag reflex once he reached the throat. Not letting the gargling chokes or the writhing tongue slow him down at all, he kept pushing until all nine inches of his skinny member were nestled inside the otter's body. After taking a moment to appreciate the moist tunnel rapidly clenching down around him, he went right back to humping his toy's face.

The elephant was having a bit more trouble with the otter's virgin backside, rubbing the head of his cock between the plump, rounded cheeks, spreading the leftover spooge from the wolf's hole all over his shaft to act as lube. Taking a step back, he prodded his fat, mushroom-headed cock-tip against the clenched, bright pink tailstar, eking a garbled squeal from the tightly bound, teary-eyed otter. He bit his lip, growing annoyed as he gave several sharp jerks of his hips, shoving against the fleshy rim with no success, each time hearing a louder, shriller whine from down below. Grabbing the curve of the otter's tail with his trunk, he used all his strength to inch forward, bit by bit, until he successfully forced his way past the rim, popping the tip inside with a loud, sucking slurp.

A loud cheer went of from the crowd at the elephant's success, though it was little more than a whisper compared to the reverberating shriek echoing throughout the room. Vincent chucked, his tail swaying energetically behind him as he stepped back into the hallway, heading for the elevator.

"Uh, sir?" Loomis said, following beside him, still carrying his new pet heaped over his shoulder, "Shouldn't we be going back to the car to go home?"

"Soon," Vincent said, hitting the button for the elevator, "I have one last errand to run first."

"Oh..." Loomis' ears and tail visibly drooped, making it difficult for the otter not to laugh.

"It'll be a... relatively... quick stop. While I take care of it, you can take some time to get to know..." Vincent tilted his head, getting an intimate look at the gray wolf gaping hole, able to see inside damn near up to the kidneys. "Have you decided what to call him, yet?"

His tail wagging once more, Loomis broke into a full smile. "Yes, sir! I'm going to keep calling him 'Welcome', only maybe I'll spell it W-E-L-L-C-U-M and get him a collar that says it!" He hopped up and down, incidentally bouncing the smaller wolf on his shoulder. "Since he'll basically be a well full of cum, you know? And he won't be doing it that often, himself!"

"Indeed." Vincent said, chuckling. He hadn't hired Loomis for his wit, but rather because the red wolf and his partner were two of the most vicious fighters he'd ever encountered. Still, every once in a while, it was nice to have a bodyguard with a sense of humor.

Wellcum only let out a weak gurgle, dreading whatever his new master had meant.

Arriving with the usual ding, the elevator's doors opened, allowing them all inside. As Vincent scanned his ring and selected one of the deeper floors, Loomis grunted, slipping the gray wolf off his shoulder. Once more set upon his weak, spindly legs, Wellcum was held upright by the larger wolf holding his upper arm. The gray wolf gave his new master a furtive glance, a bit taken aback to see the red wolf offering him a warm, loving smile.

"So... what errand are we doing right now?" Loomis asked as the elevator hummed to life, taking them deep into the depths of the facility.

"Hm? I'm looking into picking up a... gift, of a kind." Vincent lowered his eyelids, shooting his bodyguard an easily recognizable expression, letting him know that further questions would neither be appreciated nor tolerated.

Loomis was just as happy to let it go, spending the remainder of the short journey running his claws through his pet's messy fur, leaving thin furrows all the way through. When the elevator jerked to a stop and the doors opened, Wellcum couldn't help but let out an appreciative sigh, earning him a condescending smirk from the otter and a playful nipple tweak from his master. Saying nothing more, they stepped outside, with Loomis helping his aching pet along beside him.

Passing by several gray, featureless doors marked only by stenciled black numbers, they made their way down the hallway until Vincent found his destination. Peering into the nearest door's retinal scanner, he waited for the door to open, then stepped inside, promptly followed by the two wolves before it slid shut behind them.

The training room, despite being far underground, was large, bright, and airy. A dark green carpet covered the floor, while the walls were painted a pale sky blue, helping to keep the trainees good and docile. A few doors lined the walls, also colored blue to blend in with the surroundings. There was no furniture to be seen, only wooden corrals, pulling carts, and a number of agility courses; things one would reasonably expect to see when training pony-slaves. Though the kangaroos themselves, as well as their trainers, were nowhere to be seen, a bright red light gleaming above the door to the showers and restrooms indicated they were likely inside.

Walking up to the indicated door, Vincent held down the buzzer, not letting go until his call was answered. After about thirty seconds, the door opened to reveal a frazzled possum wearing a tan jumpsuit, ready to launch into an apoplectic fit.

"I swear to FUCK, Francine," the possum said, clenching his pink fists, "I'll be done when I'm done, so-" He froze, realizing far too late with whom he was now face to face. "Ah! Sir! What I meant to say was, uh, huh, hm, the, what..." He paused, clearing his throat into his hand. "Theeeeeeeeeeeeee-"

"Steve," Vincent said, sighing, "take a breath, then speak."

Slowly breathing through his nose, Steve nodded, then cleared his throat again. "Apologies, sir. What brings you down here? You got the latest report, right? Francine didn't lose it, did she? Damn it, I keep telling her to-"

Wearing a bemused expression, Vincent held his hand up, silencing the possum. "I got the report. Everything sounds good. In fact, I wanted to take a look at them in person." He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for the possum to retrieve them. "If that's alright with you," he added, growing annoyed as his nervous employee remained standing in the doorway, failing to move.

"Uh, well, the thing about that, sir... I'm kind of in the middle of doing their washing routines. I just finished with their internals, but I still have fur cleanings left for... four of them. It's kind of a hassle to stop partway through, so..." He blanched at the sight of the otter's clenched teeth showing through an otherwise friendly smile, chilling him to the bone. "O-of course, sir," he said, gulping as he disappeared behind the closing door.

Strolling back to the center of the room, Vincent sighed, counting himself lucky that he arrived before the cleanings had finished. He turned to check on Loomis, smiling at the sight of the red wolf, joyfully fixated on his new pet. The gray wolf looked nervous, unsure whether to be more afraid of his new master or the otter that had ordered his torture in the first place. Several minutes of dull silence passed by while Vincent busied himself with his phone, answering a few email emails up until the door reopened and Steve walked out, pulling a chain leash behind him.

One by one, a line of nine kangaroos, lashed to one another by chains running between their tight, leather collars, marched out from the back, carefully lining up side by side for the otter to review. Their thick, powerful tails were all held perfectly upright, securely strapped to the backs of their collars, showing off the bases of butt-plugs sticking out from between their cheeks. Each plug had a long, luxurious artificial pony tail attached to its base, swaying side to side with every movement they made.

Each member of the pony-roo coffle had been given some degree of additional pony gear, though, aside from the collars and plugs, the only other pieces common among them were hooved sleeves locked on their arms, and thick, heavy rings piercing their nipples. A thin chain connected the wrists of each pair of gloves, running through their wearer's nipple rings, keeping their arms held upright in an adorable begging posture.

Most of the crew had additional hooved, latex boots locked over their muscular legs, covering them from the knee down, though the eighth and ninth ones in line were instead given toeless latex leggings. As a safety precaution, their claws were trimmed and polished down into harmless nubs, while the three toes on each foot bore golden rings, blatantly gleaming out from their fur. Same as their wrists, each kangaroo's ankles were chained together to limit their range of motion.

Vincent nodded as he inspected the line of pony-roos slaves, not just to gauge their personalities, but also to check out the fascinatingly varied bits of anatomy on display. The first two kangaroos were fairly standard, one gray-furred, one red-furred, with small, silver cages locked over their sheaths. They had been given bit gags, stuffed uncomfortably in the backs of their mouths, preventing them from doing much besides drooling.

The next four in line were genuine curiosities. They had the same bit-gags as the first two, though instead of sheath cages, so far as Vincent could tell, the didn't have... anything. Just fur of shades varying from red to bluish gray, and a fat pair of balls dangling between their legs. Smirking, he walked up to the third in line, a nervously cowering, red-furred roo, and caught his nutsack in a tight grip. Roughly squeezing the squishy orbs, he lifted them up and out of the way to take a look underneath. Sure enough, like feral kangaroos, the genitals on these four were reversed, with their pent-up balls hanging over their sheaths, which, instead of full chastity devices, were simply given a set of crisscrossing rings, piercing them shut.

Vincent chuckled, squeezing a little harder, eliciting a squeak from the trembling roo before releasing his grip, letting the abused balls slap back down. He smirked, continuing on down the line, relishing the frightened panting from just behind him.

The seventh in line was comparatively disappointing, being another red-furred kangaroo with rightside-up genitals and a sheath cage. The only thing that made him stand out was an eyeless, fully latex horse head locked over his own. Even his ears were covered, though there was an audio port, likely to connect a device to give audio commands while out, working in the fields. Perhaps not terribly practical, but Vincent had to admire the cruelty of the full sensory deprivation. That combined with the constant teasing and denial must've been hell.

Licking his lips, he continued down the line to the final two, the ones allowed toe-rings instead of full boots. Like most of their companions, they had bit-gags locked deep in their muzzles, though rightside-up genitals and external, sheathless cocks were feature unique to them. They both had a small, two-inch-long wire cage trapping their pricks, clearly far too small to comfortably hold the throbbing bits of pink flesh.

Vincent cocked his head at the final pair as he looked them over, something seeming odd about them. The eighth was far larger than the ninth, several inches taller, much more muscular, likely a few years older, and yet they still looked remarkably alike. They shared a light gray, nearly white fur color, not to mention a pattern of silvery splotches on their shoulders.

Smirking, Vincent had little doubt that the last two were brothers. A fact that was reinforced by the eighth glaring daggers his way when he reached forward to squeeze the ninth's testicles in his fist. He grinned at the eighth, wiggling his eyebrows to taunt him, immediately deciding that he would be offering these two brothers as gifts that evening. Losing out on two sources of profit was frustrating, to say the least, but this situation seemed almost heaven sent, far too perfect to pass up.

He just knew Artie was going to absolutely love them.

Despite his training, the ninth couldn't stop himself from buckling over from the pain in his balls, letting out a whining groan as his knees shook. The eighth, not nearly as docile as his little brother, shouted something muffled, only to be slapped in the gut, winded by the otter's rudder.

"These two. What are their names?" Vincent asked, releasing the kangaroo's testicles. He gave his victim a moment to recover before giving the abused orbs an additional hard slap.

"Pony Eight and Pony Nine, sir. Or just Eight and Nine for short."

"Eight and Nine?" Turning to face the trainer, Vincent raised his eyebrow. "That's it?"

"Oh, yes," Steve said, chuckling nervously under the otter's gaze, "We decided to keep them generic and let their buyers do the naming. With their names and gear kept basic, we can really play up the customization and gearing angles, maybe work in some upselling to give our customers the perfect pony-slave, yannow? And that way, we can figure out what's the most popular for the future." He paused, scratching the back of his neck. "Plus, the numerical names seemed to work really well for breaking them."

"Excellent work, Steve," Vincent said, giving the possum a pat on the back. "I like it when you all plan ahead like that. If certain accessories seem particularly desirable, make sure to them to your reports."

"...O-of course, thank you, sir!"

"That said, I'm going to be taking these two with me."

"...taking them? What do you mean?"

"Was I not clear?"

"Yes, but, sir... they aren't done training, and..." A flash of the otter's teeth was all it took for Steve's words to catch in his throat.

"I have a side project they'll be perfect for, especially if one of them is still willful." Vincent glanced at Eight, reveling in the older kangaroo's angered sneer.

"But, sir... they already have a few preliminary bids on them, it's too late to-"

"Then tell them a private bidder came in and claimed them first."

"Will you be covering their cost, then? I don't-"

"I just complimented you," Vincent said, throwing his hand over the possum's shoulder, pulling him in uncomfortably close. "Don't make me regret it. I'm the boss here, I'll be taking care of the paperwork, everything's handled. Nine is seven, now stop worrying your pretty little head about it before I get irritated."

"O-o-of course, sir."

"Good boy." Giving the possum another, far harder slap on the back, Vincent strolled up to Eight and Nine, unhooking their collar chains to use as leashes. Holding his hands behind his back, he leaned to the side, making a show of checking out at their rears. Eight's ass was perfectly sculpted, taut and muscular, while Nine's was rounder, firm and lovely, if a bit more plump. "I'm going to take them in back to do a bit of prep work before we go."

"Yes, sir." Though he still appeared uneasy, Steve nevertheless nodded, allowing the otter to drag the kangaroos away to the gearing room.

"I won't be too much longer," Vincent shouted over to his bodyguard as he walked. "Have some fun with Wellcum while you wait. Let the other kangaroos see what they're missing." He glanced over his shoulder, enjoying the sound of at least one groan coming from the disheartened former smugglers.

"Absolutely, sir!" Loomis replied, gleefully hopping in front of his terrified pet wolf.

Chuckling, Vincent continued on toward the gearing room, dragging his selected kangaroos by their chains, going fast enough to keep them both off balance. Without breaking his stride, he shouldered the door open, yanked them inside, and flipped lights on, bathing the darkened room in harsh, sterile fluorescent light.

The gearing room was fairly small, though neatly maintained and organized. The walls, unlike the pleasant blues of the training room, were pure white, same as the tile on the floor. Several cabinets full of tools and gear lined the walls, along with a washing sink and an assortment of cleaning supplies. A set of square, two-foot-wide, four-wheeled tables were lined up against the far wall.

After locking the door, Vincent unhooked the roos' leashes, placing the long lengths of chain in a cabinet. Moving over to the tables, he wheeled two of them to the center of the room, positioning them directly under a series of chains hanging from reinforced anchors in the ceiling, hitting their brakes to keep them in place. He pressed a button under the first table, splitting the thick, white tabletop into two halves, pulling them a foot apart, then did the same for the second table. Once they were both prepped and ready, he shot the roos a grin, cocking his head as he gave the nearest table several slow, loud slaps.

The younger roo immediately followed the unspoken command, shuffling over to the table, lying back on top of it, placing his tail between the opened slats. The older roo stayed back near the door, flinching as he recalled his previous experiences in the gearing room, pierced and bound like the bitch horse they were trying to make him into. He shot the otter a defiant look, desperate to find some way to intimidate the newcomer.

Vincent was less than impressed, his expression unchanging as he stared at the larger roo, tapping a claw against the younger sibling's thigh as he waited. Several tense seconds passed before he grabbed hold of the Nine's hoof-encased forearms, tugging them both upward, pulling the chain taut between the two rings painfully stretching his nipples. "What do you suppose would happen if I were to give these a good yank, hm?" Vincent asked, keeping his gaze fixed on the older kangaroo. "Unless you want to find out, I suggest you do like your brother and get. On. The table."

A cross of indignation and rage fluttered across the older kangaroo's face, though when the otter gave the younger roo's arms another, firmer yank, he gave in, obediently walking to the table and lying back atop it, tail between the slats. Once Eight had settled back, Vincent pulled a retractable strap from one slat to the other, over his belly, then repeated the process for Nine, firmly pinning them to their respective tables.

Bending down, Vincent next picked up Nine's ankle chain, hefting the younger roo's legs upward until they were straight up, perfectly perpendicular to his body. Clutching the skinny, yet well-toned legs around the knees to keep them in position, he reached up to attach the ankle chain to a pair of parallel hooks, keeping them upright and spread several inches apart.

Vincent stepped back to admire the gear the trainers had chosen for the brothers. He was pleased to see that the soles of the long, three-toed feet - aside from a strap in front of the heel - were completely bare, exposing the rough, dark-gray pads. No modifications would be needed there. And the addition of gold toe-rings not only gave them a lovely appearance, but would also be extremely useful in a moment. The artificial pony tail was hanging down from his plug, over the edge of the table, jumping with every slight twitch its wearer made.

Stepping over to the other table, Vincent prepared to do the same for the older kangaroo, hefting the far thicker legs off the floor. He had just about gotten the muscular limbs in position when they were abruptly yanked out of his hands.

Eight drew his knees close to his chest, taking a deep breath as he readied a brutal kick directly into the otter's face. He was halted before he could even make an attempt, stricken by a dull ache radiating out from his testicles. Looking down between his legs, letting out a pained wheezing around his gag, he could see that the otter had his poor nuts in a firm grip, claws menacingly pressed against the top of his scrotum. The smirking bastard hadn't even gotten out of the way of his feet, almost as he was daring him to follow through and attack.

"By all means, Eight, hit me," Vincent said, adopting a mocking tone. "Let's see what happens if you send me flying while I've got your boys." Punctuating his statement, he tightened his grip, raking his claws against the tautly stretched skin. He waited for the kangaroo to whimper and relax his muscles, using his other hand to rub along the set of rounded, formerly threatening toeclaws. "Don't forget that we have a policy about removing... threats... so it's in your best interest to behave." Flashing his teeth in a wide smile, he stood up straight, tugging slightly on the already taut scrotum. "Now, get into position. If I have to tell you again, I'm going to start taking it out on your little brother, and I'm not nearly as nice as the trainers around here."

Though he did so reluctantly, Eight was cowed into following the order, glancing over at his brother as he raised his legs, holding them up until the ankle-chain could be secured. As soon as the grip on his testicles vanished, he let out a deep sigh of relief, relaxing his muscles, letting his bindings support his weight. Limply resting his head back, he jumped, startled by the otter groping under his balls, grabbing hold of the base of his butt-plug.

Giving the shiny, black plug a slight twist, Vincent began to pull it out, forcing the kangaroo's overly-tight tailhole to spread wide open around the toy's round, two-inch wide bottom. He grinned at the groan rumbling out of the bound marsupial's throat, removing the plug as slowly as he was able, making sure to angle the tip upward, pressing against his inner walls.

Bucking his hips into the air, held to the table by the strap, Eight was going crazy with need, trying and failing to rub the far-too-small cage around his cock between his thighs. He could feel his pulse thundering inside the metal prison, throbbing to get free. As horrible as it was, the shock of pent-up lust flooding his mind did serve as a welcome distraction, even if it only lasted a few seconds. He was almost disappointed when the plug was completely gone, leaving behind a gaping tailhole, glistening with leftover lube.

Holding the plug by its tail, Vincent turned around, silently dangling it over the younger kangaroo's face. He reached down, using two fingers to activate a switch on the gag's strap, causing the bit to split apart into two horizontal pieces. With a mechanical whir, the halves began to spread apart, gradually forcing the confused marsupial's mouth wide open.

Timidly gazing up at the toy recently housed in his older brother's ass, Nine easily pieced together the otter's intent. Accepting that there was nothing he could do to stop it, he shut his eyes and moved his tongue out the way. Once the bit opened his maw wide enough, the otter dropped the plug inside, then used the switch to close it around the thin stem connecting it to the base. Nine whined at the pungent taste assaulting his senses, otherwise remaining docile, quietly breathing through his nose.

Vincent let the tail fall from his hand, the loose strands of fake hair cascading down to hang over the side of the kangaroo's muzzle, inwardly amused by the awkward sight. He could almost swear he heard the faint sound of suckling as he stepped around to the kangaroo's rump, grabbed hold of the butt-plug, and wrenched it free with a single firm yank.

Having watched everything that had just happened in rapt, aghast silence, Eight was completely set off by the otter strolling over, dangling his little brother's plug over his gagged muzzle. He thrashed wildly against his belly strap, flailing his limbs in an attempt to unhook his legs, not caring that his wrist chains were yanking hard against his nipple rings. Whipping his head side to side, he refused to give the otter access to his gag's controls, shouting forth a litany of muffled threats.

Sighing, Vincent shook his head at the pitiful display. "You've seriously been in training for over a month now, you're 'almost complete'," he said, "and you're still this difficult? Either we made a mistake not recruiting you, or I need to rethink those kind words I had with that trainer." He sighed again. "I should really have the rest of your crew independently evaluated before it's too late. They're far too valuable to lose to something stupid like shoddy training." Thoughtfully scratching his chin, he gave a halfhearted shrug. "Oh well, if I find out your trainers were slacking off on this job, I'll just have to find better ones and have your crew start the pony program over again... With the addition of a possum and a tigress. Regardless, as I said, you're exactly what I need for this specific job, so it'll work out."

As the otter rambled on, Eight's flailing slowed, eventually too exhausted to keep it going any longer. The instant he stopped moving his head, he felt a webbed paw clamp down over his muzzle while the other triggered his gag to open. He let out a pathetic whine as his aching jaw was opened wide, intensifying to an outright squeal when the plug was dropped in, landing directly on his tongue. Before he could shove it back out, the otter held it in place, closing the gag until the halves touched the stem, an automatic safety catch stopping them in place.

Inundated with the taste of his little brother's ass, Eight couldn't stop his eyes from watering. He didn't know if it was the disgusting, pungent sliminess, or if it was the sight of the other roo simply staring up at the ceiling, sucking on his own butt-plug, but he was absolutely devastated. Tears ran down his cheeks as he shot the amused otter a hateful glare.

"What bothers you more?" Vincent asked, condescendingly placing his chin on his palm. "The taste? Where it's been? That it was inside a male? Or that it was inside your sibling?" He straightened the tail hanging down along the side of the bound roo's muzzle. "It doesn't really matter, though, does it? Now, just a couple more things and we'll be done."

Strolling over to the cabinets, he searched through their contents one by one, eventually pulling out four small plastic boxes, as well as twelve short cords capped with power jacks and alligator clips. He returned to the kangaroos' backsides, deftly inserting one of the devices into a pocket hidden in the sleeves on top of each of their footpaws. Once they were in place, he went down the line, attaching a clip to each of the glinting toe rings, then plugging its jack into that foot's respective device. Finally, he completed that set-up by retrieving a pair of remotes, keying one to each of the roos, immediately turning them both on at a low setting.

Almost in unison, Eight and Nine groaned around their gags, twitching and flexing their toes as a weak electrical current began to pulse through them. Showing off the effects of his training, Nine swiftly calmed down, adjusting to the added torture. Even so, he still showed some visible discomfort, squirming and clenching his toes along with the repeated shocks. Eight, on the other hand, resumed thrashing, splaying his toes as he tried to get his ankle-chain free of the hooks. Anything to get his mind off the regrettably horrid taste filling his mouth. He shuddered as a foamy glob of saliva and lube dripped down into the back of his throat, just grazing the back of his tongue.

Keeping watch over the lovely show, Vincent returned to the cabinets, this time retrieving a thin cane before returning to his victims. He said nothing to give Eight any kind of warning, only grinning as he drew the cane back, then whipped it forward, bringing the hard surface down on the footpaw's sole, striking the arch with a resounding thwack.

Eight's eyes went completely wide, throwing his head back as he involuntarily shrieked through his gags. The electricity running through his toes was unpleasant, but sharp pain from that merciless strike was beyond agony. A heat radiated out from the reddened welt spreading across the rough, calloused pawpad, making him hope the hit hadn't drawn blood. He gasped, shaking his head, realizing that the otter had drawn back the reeds for another hit, bringing them down on the arch of his other foot. Shrieking again, he managed to lift his rear off the table, the wild thrashing of his head sending flecks of spittle and tears in every direction.

As horrible as it was for the kangaroo, his suffering was nothing but pure entertainment for Vincent. Alternating between left and right, he unleashed powerful strike after powerful strike upon the vulnerable feet, never enough to actually break the skin, but still enough to leave a network of welts behind. He made especially sure to focus on the bottom halves of the feet, leaving the toes untouched while giving the heels a vibrant red glow. Increasingly turned on by his victim's garbled screams and sobs, Vincent reached down to rub at his steadily swelling bulge. Stopping as quickly as he started, he stepped away from the sniffling mess of a marsupial to repeat the process for the little brother.

Same as when he accepted the butt-plug in his muzzle, Nine took the foot-whipping far better than his counterpart. He still squealed when every repeated hit tenderized his soles, but otherwise didn't try to struggle away, or even cry. He only kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he continued to suckle on the slimy toy. Stretching out his electrified toes, he made sure they were presented and available in case the otter kept moving his swats upward. The last thing he wanted was for the crazed mustelid to think he was trying to deny him access, earning another, likely worse punishment.

Vincent was almost impressed by the kangaroo's willingness to continue the abuse, making him rethink the need for reevaluation, accepting that the older brother was likely a fluke. After several more swats, he ceased his attacks, ending up with a pair of reddened, nicely swollen heel-pads. He pressed down on the sore, extremely hot flesh with his thumb, getting a pitiful whine in return, making his own rock-hard cock pulse within his pants. Lightly smacking the cane against his palm, he sauntered back to the cabinet to put his weapon back. As he passed by Eight's table, he came to a sudden stop, pivoting around on his heel while swinging the cane once more, this time aiming it directly at the older roo's plump nutsack.

Seeing this, Eight let out a blood-curdling shriek, screwing his eyes shut as he braced for impact, not even noticing that his tongue was pressing directly against the butt-plug's surface. To his confusion, he felt no pain, gradually opening his eyes to see that the maliciously grinning otter had stopped the reeds just before they made impact. His heart was thundering in his chest as he exhaled through his nostrils, slowly reducing his near-hyperventilation to shallow, though steady, breaths.

Letting out a slow, unsettling laugh, Vincent gave the vulnerable nuggets a sharp tap - forcing a sharp wheeze through the kangaroo's gag - before continuing on to hang the cane back in its cabinet. "Alright, only one more thing left to do," he said, proudly strutting back between his captives. After slipping off his shoes, he unbuckled his pants and pulled them off, leg by leg, taking care not to let them touch the floor. His lack of underwear put his girthy, throbbing erection on display for the roo brothers as he lifted his pants upward, hanging them from one of the ceiling hooks.

Not saying anything further, he took his position at the younger kangaroo's rear, gripping his knees, then slipped his cock under the scrotum, pressing it against the exposed, greasy tailhole. He glanced over at the older brother, condescendingly wiggling his eyebrows as he roughly thrust his first inch inside. Hissing through his teeth, he shimmied his hips. splaying his webbed toes flat on the cool tile floor. Even with the leftover lube, not to mention the stretching from the thick toy, the kangaroo's tunnel was surprisingly tight, most definitely one of the anal virgins in the crew.

In most cases, it would've been far more valuable to leave him that way, given the markups a straight virgin ass could earn, but where they were headed, Vincent knew this would be far more appreciated. Not that he was complaining. Bucking his hips, he gradually worked his thick ten-incher inside, moaning despite himself as he met an increasing amount of resistance.

Nine made a noise akin to a gurgle, breathing slightly faster as his tunnel was filled, his cage liberally leaking as the otter's shaft began to apply pressure to his prostate. Compared to the beating his footpaws had just received, the pain of stretching his ass to accommodate the thrusting cock was a joy, at worst a warning numbness alongside the periodic shocks to his toes. He rapidly clenched and unclenched his scrotum, right on the cusp of release, yet still so far because of the metal cage keeping his prick soft and needy. Making the best of his hooved sleeves, he rubbed the latex against his pierced nipples, working himself up as much as he possibly could in spite of his forced chastity.

Vincent got all but two inches embedded in the roo's rear before he ceased making any inward progress. Figuring that was good enough to get started, he tightened his hold on the skinny legs and began thrusting in earnest. At first, he kept a slow, steady pace, sawing in and out of the clutching rectum, fighting its grip, then shoving back inside. With every thrust, he picked up a little more speed, and before long, he was slamming in so hard he had to lean back to keep from shoving the table alongside them.

Beyond sickened by the rape going on right next to him, yet unable to do anything to stop it, Eight did much like his little brother and resigned himself to staring up at the ceiling, waiting for it to be over. He wasn't proud of himself, but he had to admit that he hoped it never stopped. It was hardly a stretch to guess that he was going to be next, and thanks to his weeks of constant struggles, fights, and protests, his ass hadn't been trained nearly as well as his brother's. He ground his teeth on his gag, wincing once more at the taste, absolutely loathing himself for thinking anything like that.

Eight's ears nervously perked up, hearing a deeply contented sigh, followed by several faint, gooey squirts. He looked over to see the otter standing on his tiptoes, hugging his little brother's legs in a tight grip, repeatedly slamming his thighs against the vulnerable rump as he enjoyed his climax. Eventually coming to a complete stop, the otter noticed he was watching and tilted his head, showing a smug, momentarily contented smile.

Not bothering to enjoy his afterglow, Vincent went right back to business, jerking backwards several times until he wrenched his shaft from the cum-stuffed tailhole. He let his sloppy, only slightly flagging erection bob in front of him as he stepped over next to Nine's head, opened the bit-gag, retrieved the butt-plug, and closed it once more. Swiftly returning to the roo's backside, he popped it inside the tailhole before any fluids could leak out.

Wasting no time, he walked - moving almost like he was dancing - right up to Eight's rear entrance. Stroking a fist up and down the full length of his cock, he pushed it under the fat nutsack and took a step forward, jabbing his tip against the greasy, nervously clenched tailhole.

Eight looked up at the otter, shaking his head, begging for any kind of mercy. Even if it was hardly a surprise, it was no less horrifying when the otter responded by widening his grin, giving a pair of slow, insistent nods.

Stabbing his hips forward, Vincent failed to get past the tight ring on his first try, though after three more brutal jabs between the struggling kangaroo's cheeks, he managed to get his tip through the clenched rim. Before his panicked victim could even attempt to lift his rump away, ruining the progress he had just made, he began rapidly pistoning his hips, forcing his way, bit by bit, into the impossibly tight, mercifully lubed tunnel.

Eight thrashed again, nearly lifting the table off the floor as he fought to escape the massive intrusion forcing it way into his guts. If anything, his struggling only enticed the otter, forcing him to tighten his grip and hump faster, eventually getting as deep as he could get at around the six inch mark. The increasingly fast thrusts that followed felt like he was getting beaten from the inside out, receiving devastating jab after devastating jab, rearranging his insides. If he hadn't already gone as part of the internal cleaning a short time ago, he had no doubt that he'd be pissing through his cage right then.

And that was the worst of it, the hammering at his prostate making the two inch long tube of metal wire feel even smaller. He absolutely cursed that he was a grower, that his proud eight incher could be shoved in such a tiny space against his will with no room to grow. A chaotic lightning storm of thoughts flooded his mind, an unfortunate number of them willing to accept being fucked in the ass in the future - or worse - if only that cage would be removed, and preferably destroyed.

Sharply speeding up, Vincent's knees buckled as he was struck by a second climax, pumping several more spurts of seed into the groaning roo's rump. This time, as his flow tapered off, he allowed himself a few brief moments to enjoy the onset of calming endorphins before pulling out, retrieving the tail-plug from the roo's muzzle, and stuffing it back into his rump, trapping the voluminous load inside.

"Alright, that should be everything," he said, retrieving a wet-nap from the cabinet to clean his softening cock. Tossing away the soiled cloth, he retrieved his pants from their hook, pulling them back on as he inspected the brothers' rears. Noticing the angrily throbbing, pre-cum spewing cages poking out between their legs, a cruel smile crept across Vincent's muzzle. After putting his shoes back on, he looked through the nearest cabinet, pulled out a small key, and headed back between the younger kangaroo's legs.

The eyes of each brother went wide at the sound of a small click, followed by the loud clank of metal hitting tile. They both looking down to see that Nine's cage was gone, his freshly freed cock already swelling to its full five inch length. For the first time, the younger roo showed a hint of excitement, bucking his hips, wagging his prick in an attempt to get off. The prick of claws gripping his calf quickly calmed him down again.

"That doesn't belong to you," Vincent said, shaking his head. "If you want the cage to stay off, do. Not. Touch." The kangaroo went still, hungrily eyeing his own cock, yet doing nothing to pleasure himself. The older brother, however, was frantically trying to get his attention, showing off his cage, eager to be freed as well. A terse, "No," was all Vincent added, smiling as he held up the key and snapped it in two.

Eight screamed again, flailing left and right, cursing the otter down to his very soul, thoroughly entertaining his tormentor. He had no idea that the key was one of many, but the otter wasn't about to tell him that either.

"Alright then,," Vincent said, briskly clapping his hands. "It's time to meet your new owner."

______________________

Wellcum gulped, leading into a slight cough due to the dental-gag propping his muzzle open. He had no idea how long the red wolf - his supposed new master - had been wringing his hands, staring at him with an expression of purely crazed delight clear on his face, but it felt like a hellish eternity. Folding his ears back, Wellcum whined, turning away, nervously crossing his arms over his chest.

"Okay, so, I should probably introduce myself," Loomis said, abruptly breaking the stillness by hopping excitedly in place. "My name is Louie Loomis, but you can call me Alpha!" Unable to hold back his glee, he burst into a fit of giggles hardly befitting his masculine, musclebound form. "I can't believe I get to be a real alpha! Of my own little pack! If only my granddad could see me now!"

His eyes going wide, Wellcum tentatively nodded, understandably wary of his new... alpha. He was, in a way, grateful that his alpha freed him from life as a fuckable piece of furniture. Then again, he had yet to see anything that told him this would be an improvement. The red wolf, standing just over a foot taller than him, was clearly unstable. He knew all too well exactly how bad things could get for slaves in the brothel. He was a former employee, after all.

And that was forgetting that damned otter's presence.

Giving his pet's tangled, gray headfur a playful tousle, Loomis grimaced, looking down at his hand. "Hm, I should get you a bath and a grooming before we leave," he said, wiping the grease, dander, and flecks of dried cum off onto his pants.

Wellcum blinked. Essentially, his fur cleanings amounted to getting a high-pressure hosing once a week, followed by a few spritzes of pheromone-laden perfume to make customers that much more willing to part with their money. The idea of an actual grooming, getting his unkempt coat of gray fur trimmed, shampooed, combed, and genuinely cleaned sounded unreasonably wonderful. Without realizing it, his cum-rag of a tail began to wag.

"Ooo, you like the sound of that, huh?" Loomis said, smiling as he gave his gray wolf a loving scratch behind his ears. "That's good, because as long as you obey your alpha, I'll take real good care of my little buddy! A nice bed, good meals, walks through the park, and all the toys I can afford!" Moving his hand lower, he touched the dental-gag's strap. "And once I figure out how, I can take this out too..."

Perking up, Wellcum made an inquisitive grunt, reaching down to cup his spiked cage between his palms.

Loomis cocked his head, leaning down to give the cage a closer look. "Hm. I'm not sure if that model actually comes off, but sure! Someone around here probably knows the tricks to those things." He stood up straight, his own tail wagging alongside his pet's. "Don't worry, I'll get you in a nicer model and let you have plenty of playtime without it. If you're good!"

Though he was initially disappointed by the answer, as he listened to the rest, thinking it all over along with everything else his alpha had said, he began to feel more hope than he had otherwise felt since his one major fuck-up upended his entire life. Clasping his hands together, smiling as much as his gag would allow, he allowed his fear to give way to gratitude, shouting a joyous, if unintelligible, thanks. It didn't even strike him that the news should be horrifying rather than a cause for celebration; after his long ordeal, being a beloved servant, devoting himself to his savior in exchange for even a minuscule chance of personal pleasure sounded like heaven.

"Good boy, Wellcum!" Grabbing his filthy, jizz-caked pet a powerful hug, Loomis crushed the smaller wolf against his chest.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt," Steve said, thumbing back toward the showers, "but if you guys are done, I should really get back to work."

Wellcum glanced over at the line of pony-roos still standing on the other side of the room, held in place by their trainer, their mix of vacant and alert eyes staring his way. He had gotten so used to having a crowd watching his every twitch that he had forgotten they weren't alone. Far past being able to feel any kind of shame, he made no attempt to cover his spiked cage or round, heavy testicles.

"Not yet! The boss said to give them a show first, right?" Ignoring the possum's frustrated sigh, Loomis unzipped his fly, grinning at his pet. He sat down on the floor, then reclined back on his elbows, letting his bulging sheath poke through the opening in his pants. "Hop aboard, Wellcum! Sixty-nine, please, I want to check out that famous tailhole of yours."

Obediently nodding, Wellcum crawled atop his alpha's body, straddling the broad chest while positioning his gag over the open fly. He hiked his crusty tail, showing off his puffy, gaping tailhole, then nuzzled the red wolf's sheath, extending his tongue to lap at the salty entrance. As he worked on coaxing out his alpha's shaft, he gave his rump a wiggle, eager to receive receive a rimjob in return. Though such instances were exceptionally rare, he had grown to enjoy a good tonguing on occasion, especially compared to most of his other options.

To his surprise, rather than a nice, moist tongue, he felt the rough pads of a pair of thumbs stroke his rim, meeting little resistance as they pushed through it. Pausing briefly to gasp, he lapped harder against his alpha's sheath and emerging cock, flicking his tongue against the red, pointed tip. The taste of a strong, yet clean and pleasant musk struck his tongue, a far cry from some of the unwashed horrors he'd previously had to deal with.

He still had nightmares - when he was allowed sleep - regarding one particularly filthy skunk, who despite seeming wealthy, had absolutely no sense of hygiene. The skunk had chosen to use the welcome wolf as a sort of living sponge bath, making him tongue a different part of his body clean each morning until his allotted time ran out. Gagging at the thought of the skunk's vile stench, Wellcum redoubled his efforts, coaxing his alpha's shaft further into his gagged muzzle, growing increasingly enamored of his new owner.

Pressing his fingerpads into his pet's bony ass-cheeks, Loomis pried the gray wolf's tailstar wide open, seeing just how far he could stretch the well-traveled rim. "Wooooow..." he whispered, soon peering deep inside a cavernous pink tunnel, still slick with numerous loads of previously spent cum. Hooking his index fingers down alongside his thumbs, he stretched his pet's hole into a rough circle, no less than four inches in diameter. It was impressive, the effect taking it up the rear thousands of times could have. Shooting the intently observing kangaroos a lewd grin, Loomis straightened his left hand, lining up his fingers while folding his thumb in, and, with a wet slurp, pushed it inside. As the pucker closed, tightening around his wrist, he balled his hand into a fist, taking care not to scratch the sensitive inner walls with his claws.

A few of the kangaroos whined, either out of sympathy, or merely fearing for their own plug-stuffed asses. Wellcum didn't mind one way or the other; it was nothing he wasn't already used to. While it wasn't as enjoyable as a simple rimming, it was far preferable to getting his poor rectum pounded raw by a shaft thicker and far longer than an admittedly beefy fist. Wagging his tail to let his alpha know he was okay, he began to swallow around the thick lupine shaft swiftly nearing its full length, nestling itself snugly in his throat.

Having plenty of practice dealing with his fellow wolves and other assorted canines, he made certain to push his snout down into the pubic fur as far as he could go, allowing the red wolf's knot to swell safely within the bars of his dental-gag, effectively locking them together. His mouth totally blocked off by the thick slab of wolf meat, he breathed entirely through his nose, inundating himself with his alpha's lovely scent.

Loomis sighed, nearly howling at the gentle suckling around his shaft, not to mention the practiced tongue dancing all over its top side. Having given his pet enough time to adjust, he pushed his fist back inside the accommodating colon, knuckling against the slimy walls, squishing through the reservoir of pooled jizz.

Once he had three quarters of his forearm sheathed within his squirming pet's rear, bunching his suit up past his elbow, he hit a hard stop, unable to get in any deeper. Switching gears, marveling at the skinny ass capable of handling his thick, muscular limb, he began to work on pulling it back out. He promptly burst into a fit of giggles, watching as the bright pink wolf-hole pulled outward alongside his arm, smearing his fur with a slick, slimy coat of ooze.

Huffing through his nostrils, incidentally sucking around the knotty shaft locked in his muzzle, Wellcum jerked his hips, feeling an odd stirring in his cage. After so long, he'd largely grown numb, feeling no real personal pleasure, only involuntarily ejaculating every month or so. And yet, now, free of the sawhorse, a warm body lovingly flush against his own, a whole fist precisely targeting his prostate through his inner walls, he felt a burgeoning spark of life within his sheath.

Granted, it was a mixed blessing, his cockflesh still encased in an unyielding tube lined with little spikes, but he felt something for the first time in ages, and he trusted that his savior would get it off him someday. In spite of the pain, he wanted to howl with joy, sucking his alpha as hard as his lungs could muster. Pausing for a moment to take in a short breath, he clenched his toes, making another sucking moan as the red wolf's arm made it out to the wrist, then started over again, pushing back inside.

Several of the kangaroos whined again, this time due to a growing discomfort between their legs, their genitals straining against their varied chastity devices as they watched. The four with their balls sitting above their pierced sheaths seemed to get it the worst, bucking their hips, jealously humping at the air while their cocks strained against their furry little prisons. Only the seventh, his senses totally taken away by the latex horse head, seemed unperturbed, standing perfectly upright and still.

Though he was still impatiently checking the clock, the possum gradually lost his distinctly irritated expression as he watched, rubbing his hardening prick through his work pants. He leaned against the horse-headed roo, grumbling at the fact he wasn't allowed to fuck any of his trainees.

Immensely appreciating his pet's efforts, Loomis raised his hips off the floor, his entire crotch tingling as he gently humped up against the tied muzzle. He massaged the base of the gray-furred tail with his thumb, slowly, patiently pistoning his other hand in and out of the warm tunnel, just picturing all the fun he was going to have testing the smaller wolf's upper limits, then pushing them even further. A grin spreading across his muzzle, he entertained the possibility of adding his other fist, ultimately deciding to save that for another time. Instead, he settled for taking a moment to drive his thumb knuckle hard against the other wolf's prostate.

Wellcum sucked in a deep breath through his nose, gasping around the cock in his throat as his whole body seized up. Kicking his toeclaws into the carpet, he twitched his hips, driven right to the edge of an explosive climax. Several drips of pre-cum flowed through his cage, pooling on his alpha's shirt. As frustrating as his cage still was, he hadn't felt this good in ages. Just getting to stretch his limbs, so close to-

"You certainly look like you're enjoying yourself, Loomis," Vincent said, approaching them while pulling his chosen pony-roos by their leashes. Both marsupials looked more haggard after their time in back, walking solely on their toes, refusing to let their heels touch the ground, no matter how unsteady it made them. "I'm sorry I doubted your choice."

The otter's voice made Wellcum's blood run cold, ruining his building climax. He softly whined, hiding his utter devastation.

"In any case," Vincent continued, "I'm going to take one of the company cars to do my little errand. You may have the rest of the night off. Have fun with your pet, I'll see you in the morning."

"Are you-" Loomis began to say, transitioning into an intense moan as he slapped his crotch harder against his stationary pet's muzzle. "You don't want me to come with you?... Where are you going, anyway?... Are you going to be okay alone?" he asked, panting heavily as he kept up his workout.

"I'm going to be delivering these two to an old friend." Tugging on the leashes, Vincent headed outside with the two pony-roos tiptoeing after him, groaning as they struggled to stay upright. "Your presence is not needed." Stepping out the door, he turned to give a farewell wave to his bodyguard. "Have a good night, Loomis."

Loomis grunted, barely aware of the response to his questions thanks to the waves of pure pleasure overtaking his senses. Lifting his rear higher off the floor, he rapidly slapped his crotch up into his pet's face, wildly bouncing his nutsack within the confines of his pants. A few blissful seconds later, he threw his head back in a full howl, his whole body tensing as he fired multiple shots of jizz down his pet's gullet. Bringing his arm to a stop, he shuddered, idly gyrating his hips, not slowing down until the flow of cum had abated.

With some difficulty, Wellcum swallowed most of the load, only leaking a bit from the sides of his mouth. Unable to pull himself free of the knot locking his muzzle, he settled in to wait, exhaustedly draping his body atop his alpha. He moaned, pleased at serving the red wolf well, yet also frustrated that his own orgasm was ruined. Checking over his shoulder, he was at least pleased to see that the otter was indeed gone.

The line of kangaroos groaned, shifting uncomfortably from hoof-boot to hoof-boot, blatantly envious of the wolf, freely able to shoot his seed. The third one from the left hunched down in a vain attempt to rub his junk with his elbows, nearly toppling them all over alongside him.

While he rested back against the floor, enjoying his afterglow, Loomis glanced back and forth between the frustrated marsupials and the damp stain his pet's cage had left on his suit. "You were close there, weren't you?" he asked, grinning.

Wellcum said nothing, simply whining as he bucked his hips, trying to restart the fisting. He froze, holding perfectly still when a firm hand caressed his ass-cheek.

"Hold on, Welly, I wouldn't be much of an alpha if I left you hanging, would I? Just give me a few minutes to deflate and I'll give you a real treat. Can you do that?"

Nodding just enough to respond without reawakening his alpha's meat, Wellcum allowed his mind to go blank as he waited; a skill he had mastered many times over. It felt like no time had passed at all when he felt the top half of his body bent upward up by a single hand, the softened knot easily slipping free from his mouth along the way. He moaned again, gurgling out a few strands of lingering spooge, the change in position making his rear seem even more full than it was. His cage twitched, feeling another small spark within his sheath.

Helping his pet off of his chest, Loomis set the gray wolf upright on his knees, fist still embedded in his rear. With a significant effort, he crawled onto his knees as well, positioning himself directly behind his pet, then turned them both together to face the kangaroos. Ducking his head under his pet's arm, Loomis placed the back of his neck against the armpit, giving the unsteady wolf something to hold on to. He snickered to himself, reaching down to grab the spiked cage, aiming it at the kangaroos as he drew his other arm back, pausing when his wrist met the tailhole.

Before Wellcum knew what was happening, the fist launched forward, giving him a light punch straight to the prostate. He squealed, his body seizing as he grabbed onto his alpha for support, his cage spewing several more drops of pre-cum onto the carpet.

Firmly, though gently, Loomis resumed pistoning his fist, targeting the general area of the prostate each time, absolutely loving the sight of his pet's eyes rolling back into his head, going a little further with each additional hit. It only took a few more to push the twitching gray wolf over the edge, breaking into a gurgled howl of his own, throbbing endlessly in his spiked tube, sending a powerful stream of cum through the cage, arcing straight for the kangaroos, splattering all over the third and fourth ones in line.

While the fourth hardly reacted, the third made a gurgled shriek, stumbling backward, pulling the others into a pile alongside him. The writhing heap of marsupials rolled all over one another, groaning and grumbling, spreading the mass of spent jizz all over their fur.

"Dude! What the fuck!" Steve said, running over to pick them up, getting wolf-jizz all over his hands in the process. "Oh, fucking hell! I JUST finished cleaning most of them! Why did you do that?"

"Sorry," Loomis said, shrugging, "I thought it'd be funny." Watching as the bound pony-roos fought their bindings, grappling with each other, he couldn't stop himself from laughing. "And I was kinda right, wasn't I?"

Exasperatedly sighing at his tangle of latex-covered limbs, Steve had to laugh as well. "Yeah, yeah, fine. I'm still pissed though. Takes forever to clean these fuckers with all that gear."

"Tell ya what, I'll give you a hand if you help me give Wellcum a bath too." Straightening his fingers, he pulled his hand from his gasping pet's tailhole, giggling at the sucking slurp the gaping tunnel made. "That sound okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Just remember, no fucking these guys, okay? Gotta keep the virgin rumps virgin, yannow?"

"Not an issue," Loomis said, clutching his pet close, smearing his cum-covered hand all over the gray wolf's chest. "I got Wellcum for that now!" Leaning down, he nuzzled his pet's cheek, giving it a short, possessive lick. "How does that sound to you, Wellcum?"

After giving an eager nod, Wellcum nuzzled the red wolf right back, beyond grateful that his new alpha - his savior - had chosen him.

"Alright! let's get to work!" Loomis said, rising to his feet, smiling from ear to ear.

______________________

The sun was just beginning to set as Vincent neared his destination: the home of Arthur Belltower, one of his fellow managers. Or, at least, a coworker. Perhaps even a superior. All told, the bat and the group he led were something of an anomaly within the company.

Back in the old days, when the original crime family was first stretching its influence across the country, staying in the shadows, hiding from authorities, swiftly became too difficult for the existing departments to handle on their own. In those early stages, any kind of large-scale exposure could have easily meant the end of everything. As a result, a new agency was formed - completely independent to the rest of the company, as a compromise between the managers and the big boss - dedicated to making sure they all remained out of the public eye, secret and secure, no matter the cost.

From that point on, anyone who even threatened to release proof of the company's existence was silenced, quickly and cleanly, in a way such that no one would question it. It didn't matter if it was a group of well-known politicians or just a lone conspiracy nut, they were all dealt with, one way or another. The original departments were still expected to handle minor breaches on their own, though, if a minor issue was ever allowed to blossom into a major one, whether through ineptitude or negligence, that department's head wasn't likely to be spared their wrath.

In a similar vein, this new agency, its existence known only to the higher-level employees, also acted as a kind of internal affairs, mediating disputes between departments, preventing violence, weeding out corruption, and generally keeping the peace. While, technically, they were under the direct supervision of the big boss, they were ultimately expected to remain totally neutral, accepting commands from no one, acting only in the company's best interest.

Given all that, if Vincent hoped to seize control of the company from William, above all else, he needed to win the bat's support. It was a huge gamble, of course, but he'd heard William and Arthur had been at each other's throats as of late; that could only work in his favor. If he could convince the bat to join him, he was guaranteed victory, and if not... in all likelihood, it wasn't like anyone would ever hear about it.

As risky as it was, Vincent was still confident, having brought along a secret weapon. The reclusive bat had ordered a number of slaves and pets from the brothel over the years, delivered for extended stays at his mansion, and going by his most frequently requested custom kinks, Vincent believed he had found the perfect gifts to soften him up.

The bat certainly had a number of interesting quirks, not just limited to the sexual. For one, his mansion was carved into the side of a small mountain, surrounded on all sides by vast forests of fruit trees. He rarely left its confines, only ever doing so when his personal supervision was required for a job. The only others around for miles were his house staff, mostly amounting to workers tending to the trees or harvesting fruit.

As irritating as navigating the winding gravel road through the trees up to the entrance could be, Vincent had to appreciate the peace and quiet it all offered. Pulling the car to the side, he parked half on the grass, half on the gravel. He tossed the door open and hopped out, popping the trunk as he strolled around to check the contents of the climate-controlled chamber. The roo brothers had both fallen asleep at some point during the drive, adorably snuggling one another. Nine appeared to be the little spoon in the pairing, his cock still standing fully erect while his older brother humped his rear, slapping his cage between his cheeks. Vincent smiled, pleased to see that Nine was also completely dry, having kept from cumming for the duration of the drive.

Giving the roos' shoulders a rough shake, he startled them both awake, then lowered the car's back grill, helping the groggy slaves to their feet. Landing flat on the gravel, they both winced when their heels made contact, rising up to stand on their toes. Even that was little relief, making them sidle onto the grass to get away from the sharp stones.

Grabbing their leashes, Vincent said, "Follow," gesturing toward the mansion's entrance, partially jutting out from the stone mountain. Nine obediently followed, while Eight warily stepped back, contemplating a run into the nearby forest. Rather than giving the reluctant kangaroo's leash a yank, he held up the remote for his toes, increasing the level to a two without saying a single additional word.

Eight's knees buckled at the current pulsing through his feet intensified, begging for the otter to lower it again.

"Unless you want me to take it up another notch, follow," Vincent said, thumbing the device's control. Within seconds, the older kangaroo joined his younger brother, both hopping along behind their master, up to the mansion's front door.

Pulling down on a nearby rope, Vincent set off a musical series of chimes. Within moments, the double doors were opened by a short, sour-faced, gray-furred mouse wearing a finely-tailored suit.

"Yes?" the mouse asked, raising an eyebrow at the pair of scantily-clad marsupials.

"Hello, Dare," Vincent said. "I'm here to see Artie. I called from the car a few hours ago, he should be expecting me."

"Yes, Mr. Belltower mentioned you'd be here. Come in." Standing off to the side, Dare allowed the otter and his slaves inside. "Shoes off, please," he said, silently watching as the otter slipped out of his shoes, leaving them on the entryway carpet. Condescendingly glancing down at the roos' mostly-bare, thoroughly-tortured footpaws, he showed a small grin. "They are fine."

"Would you mind watching them for a few minutes?" Vincent asked, handing the leashes and the remotes for the roos' toe-shockers to the mouse. "They're a gift, and I don't want to ruin the surprise."

"Of course, Mr. Perrin." Dare said, his reply dripping with sarcasm, "I live to serve." He gave the remotes a brief look-over, then slipped them both in his suit's chest pocket. "You may wait in Mr. Belltower's office. He will see you when he is ready."

"Yes, yes, I know how this works." Flippantly waving the mouse away, Vincent headed down the leftmost hallway, took the first right, stopping at an out-of-place, opulent pair of double doors at his immediate left. Throwing the doors open, he walked into a complete and utter inky blackness, unable to even see as far as his own nose once the doors were closed.

Fumbling through the dark, Vincent took several careful steps forward, one by one, feeling about until his hands bumped against what he recalled was the bat's desk. Sliding his hand along the polished wood, he stopped when he found a guest chair, pulling it out so he could take a seat. He relaxed back, silently sighing as he waited for his host to arrive.

One of the more notable of the bat's quirks was the fact that he exclusively took meetings in his home office, always in complete and utter darkness. It was hardly surprising, taking Arthur's total blindness into account, that he would want to do business in a position of power. Vincent had met with him in such a fashion several times over the years, discussing how to silence major leaks here and there. It wasn't until the funeral of Darien Lesko - the company's founder and William's father - that he had actually seen the bat for the first time.

Even so, the instant the bat had stepped out of his limo, his identity was all too obvious. The suit-clad bat was lithe, wiry yet fit and well-muscled, standing a little over six feet tall. An immense pair of leathery wings on his shoulders made him appear much larger, whether or not they were folded in, out of the way. It was only those wings, and his spindly, prehensile feet, the made it clear he was a bat at all; otherwise, his flat nose and tall, rounded ears made it easy to mistake him for a black-furred fennec.

Contrasting sharply with his fur, his overly large, perfectly spherical eyes were colored a flat, soulless, milky white. A prominent pink scar was also readily apparent, streaking through his fur, going from the center of his right eye, over the top of his left, stopping at a small chunk missing from the bottom of his left ear. While Vincent had never found out exactly what had happened to cause either the scar or the blindness, one thing was certain; the bat had absolutely no problem advertising his lack of sight.

A wet, sickening crunch shattered the silence, echoing far more than one would expect in a small office. Unperturbed, Vincent stayed perfectly calm as he detected the sweet scent of fresh apple wafting his way. "Good evening, Artie," he said, pressing his clawtips together over his chest.

"I know why you're here," Artie said, quietly chewing the mouthful of fruit, savoring the taste.

"Do you?" Keeping his breathing calm, Vincent held still, only raising an eyebrow at the source of the voice. "Please, elaborate."

"You want me to help you kill William. And you were planning on bribing me with..." Artie sniff at the air. "... a... kangaroo... no... two of them... brothers... latex and metal... Hmm." He swallowed, then took another loud, crunching bite.

"You aren't wrong."

"You do know I would be well within the bounds of my position to remove your head from your shoulders for admitting that to me."

"And yet you haven't." Vincent slowed his breathing, doing everything in his power to keep calm. He could hear the bat give his fresh mouthful of apple a couple chews, then swallow it down. "Why is that, I wonder? Perhaps because you want him gone too?"

Artie made a single, grimly deep laugh, echoing ominously throughout the office. "You were always a clever one, weren't you? Then again, it's no secret that William and I share no fondness for one another." Placing his apple on the desk, Artie sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "But, admittedly, you are correct. He is, at best, ill-equipped for his position. Arrogance can be a strength, but his inability to accept council and adapt to new information is becoming actively harmful to our existence. Despite all your duplicity and scheming, you seem to have the capacity to learn. I do believe you would make a vastly superior leader."

Vincent leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. "So, does that mean I have your support?"

"Hm. Yes and no. I can and will not directly aid a coup. Directly helping one of you gain power over another would compromise my agency's neutrality. At the same time, since I believe it is for the good of the company... in exchange for your thoughtful..." Artie paused, sniffing at the air again. "...gifts... I will order my men to stand down, and do nothing to stop you."

"Fair enough." Holding his hand out, Vincent waited for the bat's bony hand to grasp it before giving a firm shake. "I think you'll enjoy them, they're a bit of an experiment into pony-slaves. You can use the to haul fruit, among other things. The younger one is nice and pliable, but the older one is still willful."

"They sound quite lovely," Artie said, pulling back his hand, giving his palm a long whiff. "Mmm... I take it you... seasoned... them yourself?"

"Exactly how you like it." Vincent wasn't certain, but he could swear he heard the sound of fabric creaking, followed by heavier breathing from the bat.

"Mmmmm. Excellent. I do trust you covered the costs yourself, and didn't just try to bury them in the books, correct?"

"Of course." Making a mental note, Vincent reminded himself to pay their projected profits. Much though he hated to spend money from his own pocket, losing a bit of cash was vastly preferable to losing his head if the bat found out. Assuming he didn't already know.

"I wouldn't expect anything less of you, Vincent." Artie said, clasping his hands, resting his elbows on his desk. "Did you know that for as long as I've been doing this job, you're the only person who has never once tried to turn on a light in here? And yet you've never shown any signs of fear."

"...No, I didn't know that."

Artie laughed again, sending another grim chuckle bouncing off the walls. "Well, I've always been impressed by that. And since I'm being honest, I must admit, feel a bit bad accepting your gift. Had you simply asked, I would have gladly stepped aside for free. On top of his willful ignorance, William doesn't seem to understand that I work for the company, not for him. He seems hell-bent on micromanaging everything I do. Suffice it to say, I do not appreciate his efforts."

Vincent bristled slightly, kicking himself for overplaying his hand. Still, knowing the bat approved of his actions was pleasing news. This was about the best result he could've hoped for. "Oh, well, either-"

"But since you showed me that kindness, there's one thing I can do to repay you." Artie stood up from his chair, slowly pacing about the room.

"That's not necess-"

"Sedgewick's planning on killing you the instant you take William down."

"I... What?" Vincent raised his eyebrow again, curiously tapping the claws of his index fingers together. "Did you just say that Sedgewick is-"

"Planning to kill you, yes. He's been waiting for you to make your move so he can make his own. If you like, I can have the proof on your desk by tomorrow morning."

"...I would appreciate that..." Vincent said, a bit stunned, unaccustomed to being so thoroughly blindsided. The idea that Sedgewick - a soft-spoken black rat, the milquetoast head of blackmail and extortion - was scheming to kill him was absolutely absurd... Then again... the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Lay low, don't make yourself out to be a conceivable threat, let the big guys do all the fighting for you, then sweep in and take pieces for yourself. He should have seen it coming himself. "How did you find out about this, exactly?"

"Please, Vincent, I have ears everywhere. It's part of my job."

"Fair enough. Then I suppose you'll be taking care of him?"

"Hypothetical scheming behind closed doors doesn't really warrant my intervention. That's why you're still breathing, after all. Were he to put his plan into action, I would slaughter him, yes, but then... I do know you, Vincent." Grabbing an orange from a bowl sitting on his desk, he speared a claw deep into the flesh, peeling a large chunk away and tossing it aside. Holding the dripping fruit to his mouth, he gave it a hard squeeze, using his dexterous, foot-long tongue to noisily slurp up the juices. "Something tells me you'd rather handle him on your own, wouldn't you? Were he to, say, mysteriously vanish, I wouldn't look too closely into it."

Vincent smirked, his mind already teeming with ideas for what to do with the rat. His office could always use a live-in maid, something to do all the cleaning, and perhaps act as a portable urinal on those longer workdays. "Thank you, Artie, I appreciate it," he said, standing up from his chair, filled with a renewed vigor. "I should get moving, got a long drive ahead of me, and more plans to make after that." He turned around to make his way back to the door, only to be stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist.

"Just to be absolutely clear, I'm stepping aside because I believe, between you, William, and Sedgewick, in the long run, you offer the best future for the company. After you take charge, if you ever disappoint me in any way, betray my trust, or worse, try to order me around," Artie said, pressing a threateningly sharp thumbclaw to the otter's wrist, directly against a vein, "laws be damned, I will gut you myself. And it will not be fast." His ears twitched, finally picking up a slight flutter in the otter's heartbeat.

"Of course, I understand, Artie," Vincent said, pulling back his arm once the bat loosened his grip. Clearing his throat, he nodded, shuffling back to the door, opening it the instant he found the knob, letting a dim ray of light filter in across the carpet.

"Oh, and before you go, tell Dare to send in the new toys," Artie said, his eyes faintly glinting unnaturally out of the darkness.

Looking over his shoulder, Vincent grinned. "One last thing, I started calling the older one Eight and the other one Nine, but you can call them whatever you want. I'm sure you have plenty of ideas. Have fun." Giving the bat a goodbye wave, he stepped out, closing the door behind him, returning the office to its perfect darkness.

Swiping the half-eaten apple off his desk, Artie tossed it high up in the air, using his finely-tuned ears to track its location. As it slowed, reaching its apex, he spread his wings and launched off the floor with a powerful flap, snatching the spinning piece of fruit in his mouth. Landing in a squatting position atop one of the many overhangs peppering the walls of his literally cavernous office, he took another few crunching bites of his apple, swiftly reducing it to nothing but the core.

He wasn't left waiting long, the door reopening a couple of minutes later. As the two pony-roos had their leashes removed and were shoved into the lightless cavern, he grinned, instantly able to hear both of their pulses distinctly elevate. The rapid beating only grew faster when the door slammed shut behind them, locking them inside, unable to see a thing.

Artie's nose twitched. Their musky fur, their latex and metal gear, and the scents the otter left behind to mark them were all intoxicating, but it was their uncertainty blossoming into pure terror that sent his cock creeping out of his sheath, swelling down his left pant-leg. He began to drool, running his tongue over his lips and fangs, using a bit of echolocation alongside the sounds of their gagged whining and struggling to scan them, taking note of their gear. Licking his lips, pleased, as always, with the otter's taste, he let an unnoticed glob of saliva drip down from his tongue, landing in the larger kangaroo's headfur.

Eight instantly flew into a full panic, flailing his elbows, spinning around, looking upward, searching in vain for whatever creature was waiting to attack. Though he was also clearly frightened as well, Nine was holding himself together far better than his brother, standing perfectly still as if he was resigning himself to his fate.

Tossing his apple core to the floor between the kangaroos, making both turn toward the slight thud, Artie dropped down from his perch. Without making a sound, he landed behind the younger kangaroo, immediately stepping forward to grasp him around his stomach. As he buried his nose in the fur between his pet's neck and shoulder, just below the collar, breathing in deep to process the aroma, the younger kangaroo lost whatever composure he had, breaking out into a shrill, if garbled scream.

Hearing his brother in danger, Eight charged to his defense as best he could, widely missing his target and crashing blindly into the wall behind them. He staggered back, momentarily stunned by the impact.

Artie sighed, craning his head up, away from the shivering marsupial's coat. "Weak... Washed recently... Disappointing... No matter, after a few days of work, you'll be more to my liking." His nose twitched. "What's this..." he mumbled, stepping around to the kangaroo's front, squatting in front of the half-hard, rapidly twitching prick. "This... this is nice... caged... for a long while... only recently released..." He leaned in close, sniffing all around the turgid five-inch shaft. Letting the full length of his tongue dangle out of his mouth, he coiled it around the pungent prick, root to tip, humming with delight at the sweaty, unwashed taste. He rapidly whipped his probing appendage back into his mouth, leaving his horny, yet still terrified pet on the verge of orgasm. "Just a moment, little one, we'll get to that."

Standing upright, he shifted his attention to inspect the larger kangaroo, swiftly slipping behind him. Grabbing hold of the larger roo's muscular flanks, he leaned in, burying his nose in the dense shoulderfur just behind the armpit.

Being molested by a mysterious creature from the dark was all it took to snap Eight out of his daze. Rather than go paralyzed with fear like his brother, he instinctively fought back, shaking his attacker off, then pivoting on his toes, flailing around at all sides with his elbows. He made the mistake of attempting an actual punch, only to squeal when he was reminded of the chain running through his nipple piercings. The ankle-chain and his sore heels made his attempts to kick far little better. Nevertheless, his bindings didn't stop him from trying, lashing out wherever he thought the monster was.

Grinning ear to ear, Artie skillfully dodged the attacks, every squeak of latex, every jingle of metal, every creaking joint betraying his prey's movements. He weaved left to avoid an elbow, then jumped back to avoid a clumsy kick, clapping or laughing along the way to let the flailing kangaroo know exactly where he was. Gracefully dancing around another thrashing elbow, he finally had the increasingly frightened kangaroo standing in front of his desk, exactly where he wanted him. Jumping back a step, he lunged forward, giving a hard shove, sending him flying onto the polished, wooden desktop, landing on his side, propped up by his tail. Cringing at the sound of his fruit bowl and its contents thudding to the floor, Artie stepped between the roo's legs to get him secured.

Before Eight realized what had happened, something grabbed his ankle-chain, harshly pulled it behind his neck, and attached it to his tail cuff, forcing him into a painful curl, his own footpaws only a few inches from his face. Whining with discomfort at the horribly stressful position, he tensed up, feeling the monster running it's claws through his thigh fur.

"Mmm, he said you'd be feisty..." Artie said, ominously looming over his pet. "You didn't disappoint... Shame I can't get to your pits like this. Oh well, this will suffice." Kneeling down, his shoved his nose under the kangaroo's nutsack, inhaled, and let out a high-pitched squeal of delight, overwhelmed by the unwashed musk. Snaking his tongue back out, he wrapped it around the musky orbs, giving them a squeeze as he moved up to inspect the chastity cage. He placed his mouth around the base of the cage, sucking on the roo's imprisoned cockflesh while alternately massaging or constricting around the clenching nutsack.

Once he got his fill he pulled off the writhing kangaroo's genitals, giving the balls a final tug as he drew his tongue back into his mouth. "Delicious... That little nub of yours tastes wonderful... I think you'll be wearing that for a long, long time..."

Eight was torn between crying and screaming, tormented with the reminder he wasn't allowed an erection, and for the foreseeable future, wouldn't ever be, all while a hot, unseen mouth soaked his poor, pent-up prick with saliva. Despite it all, he was desperate for an orgasm, forgetting his fear in favor of his building, unrequited lust.

Moving up the kangaroo's body, grabbed hold of the long, well-tenderized footpaws, clasping both around his muzzle. "Your heels are still warm... I can feel it... he whipped you, didn't he... Very nice..." Taking the left heel into his mouth, earning a whine from its owner, he bathed the sore sole with drool, happily sucking on the brutalized pad. Switching sides after a solid minute, he switched sides, grazing the sole with his fangs before sucking for all he was worth. When he pulled off the other foot, Artie was panting heavily, losing himself in his pet's scent. "So good... I'd love to get your toes too, but they sound busy, and it's time to see what the otter left for me..."

Artie slid down to the kangaroo's rear, grabbed hold of his tail-plug, and, with a single jerk, yanked the bulbous toy free of the mildly gaping tailhole. Driven wild by the aroma of spent cum now filling the air, he dove between the presented cheeks, feeding his tongue into the cum-slick tunnel until all twelve inches were inside. He huffed wildly against the roo's taint, wildly whipping his powerful, pink appendage inside him, aggressively sucking out every ounce of otter jizz he could find.

Eight belted out a choking howl, bucking his hips, uselessly throbbing in his cage. He was being probed further than he thought possible, and still, there was nothing to push him over the edge into a much-needed climax. Everything else about his predicament fell away in that moment, nothing left but his need for relief. After a few torturous minutes passed by, just before it seemed like he was inching closer to release, the slimy muscle withdrew, once again frustrating him to no end.

Slurping up the pooled cum, Artie stood upright, his own cock threatening to rip through his pants. "That was wonderful, but I'm still hungry... What to do..." He turned his ears toward the younger kangaroo, who, despite a frantically pulsing heartbeat and rapid, shallow breathing, was standing perfectly still in the same spot as before. Despite his palpable terror, Nine's full erection showed no sign of flagging, bringing a smirk to his owner's face.

Sauntering over to the kangaroo, Artie grabbed his shoulders and guided him back toward his desk, forcing him to hop on his tiptoes ahead of him. Feeling the kangaroo quivering at his touch, he leaned down as they walked, putting his mouth next to his pet's ear. "Don't be afraid, little one," he said, keeping his voice more calm and level than before, "I'm going to give you a treat, and you're going to do the same for me."

Nine's ears perked up, confused by the statement, but too busy trying no to fall as they moved to notice. He came to a sudden stop when his thighs bumped into the wooden desk, followed by his prick jabbing against something slick and warm. Hearing a grunt from his brother, he instantly realized what the monster had meant; he had been released from his month of chastity only to have to fuck his own brother's ass. For the first time since he started his training, he snapped out of his submissive haze, launched into a muffled, pleading tirade, begging the bat not to follow through with it, even if the warmth of his brother's tailhole felt extremely nice against his cock-tip.

Reacting much the same way, Eight began shouting through his gag, tears welling up in his eyes, offering to do anything in exchange for not being forced to commit incest. Clenching his ass-cheeks to fight the unwelcome penetration, he made a last ditch effort to break his ankle-chains, free his legs, and kick his brother away.

"Now, now, little one, calm yourself," Artie said, speaking almost lovingly into the younger kangaroo's ear. "I'll be letting you get off whenever you want, but only if it'll be seasoning your brother, so unless you enjoyed your caging, you should learn to accept it." Lowering his hands, he cupped his pet's rump, giving it a firm grope before shoving him forward, plunging the entirety of the kangaroo's cock into his older brother's rump.

In unison, both Eight and Nine threw their heads back, belting out wails of despair, though in Nine's case, his cry faded into a distinct moan. Unable to stop himself from gyrating his hips, feeling his cock inside another for the first time since well before his caging, Nine begged his brother for forgiveness, getting nothing more than another despondent wail in response. With a firm hand pressed against his back, the monster bent him over until he was nearly nose to nose with the other kangaroo, both sharing a defeated, sobbing whine. It was of little comfort, but they were at least grateful that they weren't required to kiss.

Giving a couple shallow, subconscious pumps of his hips, Nine's eyes flew open as he prematurely ejaculated, reluctantly pumping weeks worth of cum into his brother's tailhole. He wheezed out through his nose, overcome with euphoria, bucking his hips while clenching down on his plug. The moment the pleasure faded and his afterglow set in, he went right back to begging for forgiveness, now hearing nothing from the other roo. Letting out another mewling wail, he abruptly yelped when his tail-plug was roughly yanked out of his ass.

"I said I was hungry, so you better have another round in you," Artie said, kneeling between the kangaroo's legs. "For now, a second serving of otter seed will suffice." Pressing his lips against the glistening tailhole, he shot his tongue past the tight rim, drilling it all inside far more easily than with the older roo.

As the monster's tongue swirled about his insides, sucking out the otter's load from before, Nine whined. The rhythmic pressure in his tunnel brought new life to his softening prick, quickly getting him hard and needy all over again. Completely against his will, he gradually began thrusting in earnest, pumping his length in and out of the gooey tunnel, incidentally working the probing tongue in and out of his own ass in the process. He nuzzled his older brother, wishing to apologize, absolutely hating himself for what he was doing.

Eight went numb, too tired to fight anymore, too broken to resist. Somehow, the worst of it wasn't the incest. While that, without a doubt, was absolutely awful, it was the enforced chastity being rubbed in his face that absolutely killed him. He couldn't blame his brother for what he was doing, if only because if their positions were reversed, he'd be doing the exact same thing.

After a few more minutes, Artie withdrew from his pet's ass, gulping down the last remaining bits of spooge with a wide smile plastered on his face. Giving the younger roo a chance to finish, he strolled away, content to listen to the chorus of sobs, moans, slick squishing, and slapping flesh. Moments later, as he targeted and retrieved his apple core, he heard another garbled moan followed by multiple spurts and one more regretful moan.

"Nicely done, little one," he said, grabbing the younger kangaroo's scruff before roughly pulling him back, wrenching his sloppily dripping cock free of his brother's tunnel. "But I'm finished with you until you're a little more... ripe." Guiding him back to the door, Artie reached up, grabbing a rope, and gave it a firm tug, setting off a series of chimes. While they waited, he took his apple core and placed it at the kangaroo's entrance. "I think I've decided to call you Apples," he said, applying pressure to the core until the widest part at the base popped inside. The kangaroo's hole pulled the rest of the core in as well, only stopping when it reached the thinnest part, leaving it dangling halfway out of his ass. "If I think of anything better I'll let you know. For now, that is the name you answer to. Do you understand?"

Nine, accepting his new name as Apples, weakly nodded, shifting uncomfortably due to his new, impromptu plug.

Opening the door, letting a small amount of light into the office once more, Dare stood in the doorway with his hands clasped together. "You rang, sir?"

Apples squinted his eyes, the dim light causing him pain after being in the oppressive darkness for a even a short time. Barely able to make out the mouse's outline, he turned away to spare his eyes, immediately regretting his decision. The monster was standing out of view against the wall, but Nine could see his blank, glassy eyes glowing, almost floating in the empty void. He could hear his own heart beating, nearly pissing himself at the demonic eyes staring his way.

"Yes, Dare. Please take Apples here and have the boys in the grove rig him up for hauling fruit. They'll be happy for the help, I'm sure."

"Very good, sir. Should I tell them he's hands-off, or is he free use?"

"Hm. Hands-off for now, give him a couple days to adjust to his new job. After that, I'm eager to see what kind of flavors we can get him to develop."

"Very good, sir," Dare repeated, stepping inside to drag the kangaroo out by his wrist chain, tugging on his nipples along the way.

Though Nine didn't love the rough treatment, he was delighted to be out of there, away from those empty eyes. He didn't even remember his brother was still in there, now alone with the demon, until he was out of the room, back in the light.

"Thank you, Dare," Artie said, letting the mouse shut the door as he eagerly returned to his desk, ready to enjoy the third course of his meal. Dropping to his knees once more before the bound kangaroo's unguarded rump, he hungrily dug right back in, pushing the tip of his tongue right back into the cum-leaking entrance. He sighed with joy, taking in the full assortment of tastes, from the remnants of salty, mildly fishy otter jizz, to the much stronger, strangely fruity kangaroo cum, wrapped inside the warm, pungent earthiness of the other kangaroo's insides. Rapidly working himself into a frenzy, he made a whirlwind of his tongue, licking every inch of the spasming tunnel, ravenously gulping down every bit of jizz he could hunt down.

Through it all, Eight whined and groaned, otherwise remaining relatively silent. His whole body, curled into an unnatural position, was screaming for relief, dwarfed only the unending throbbing inside his cage, made infinitely worse by the tongue returning to slobber all over the walls of his rectum. The best thing he could do was zero in on the weak shocks to his toes. Zeroing in on a single, predictable source of pain seemed to help him ignore the others. Unfortunately, as hard as he tried to ignore it, each impact to his prostate sent a white hot shard of pure need straight from his cage to his brain, drowning out all other sensations.

Before long, Artie had cleaned out both loads, noisily guzzling it all down as he slurped his tongue back into his mouth. Pressing his nose against the spit-soaked pucker, he took one last whiff, inching up to the balls and drooling cage, shuddering with desire, driving himself wild from the pungent, unwashed aroma. He gave the cage one last lick, cleaning up the smeared pre-cum, then shot upright, hastily stripping off his dress shirt, popping the buttons added along the sides in order to accommodate his wings. After unbuckling his belt, he pulled his suit pants down, finally freeing his beastly three-inch thick, foot-long shaft. Licking his lips again, he leaned over, hovering above the kangaroo, and fed his tongue into the bit-gagged mouth, sharing the blended tastes of fruit, cum, and ass. He eagerly tapped his cock against his pet's backdoor, barely able to contain his excitement. Though he had sated one hunger, his other was growing louder and more insistent.

"I hope you haven't gotten too comfortable," he said, releasing the kangaroo's ankle-chain from his tail cuff, letting him stretch out once more, "because I'll be taking you up to my roost for this next part." Pulling his pet upright, he detected the scent of an orange, realizing that the roo had landed on a discarded piece of peel from earlier. He flicked the peel away, then leaned in to slurp the lingering juice and oils, sending a palpable shudder down his pet's spine. "Follow me, Oranges," he said, grinning at his pet's new name, guiding him through the utter blackness from behind, "and be careful not to step on the rest of the fruit."

Gingerly shuffling on his tiptoes, Eight, now apparently known as Oranges, kept walking, never sure where he was heading, wondering if the monster was about to shove him off a cliff, ending him right then and there. He wasn't certain, but he could swear that the more terrified he got, the faster he seemed to get pushed along. Regardless, he found it difficult to think of much else besides what had to be an unreasonably large dick slapping his right ass-cheek as they walked.

"There," Artie said, stopping the kangaroo just before he walked into a wall. "Wait here a moment."

Oranges was tempted to run when the monster let go of his shoulders, but without being able to see where he was going, there hardly seemed to be a point. If his captor was like this when he was pleased, he didn't want to know what anger would bring. He jumped, feeling a tug at his ankle chain, following by a loud, metallic clank near the floor, between his feet. A few feet away, he heard a faint click, after which some kind of an engine began to hum in the walls. His heart racing, Oranges took a tentative step back, promptly getting yanked off his feet by something pulling his ankle-chain upward.

Yelping, he braced himself for impact, relieved that the monster was merciful enough to catch him by the shoulders before he could hit the ground. His relief was short lived, however, as the motor continued pulling his legs up, first out of the monster's grip, then further and further off the floor. He hadn't the faintest clue how long the pulling lasted, the engine's humming getting more distant by the second, but by the time he came to a stop, he was certain that he was thankful he couldn't see down. Swaying upside-down by his ankles, fighting gravity to keep his wrists close to his chest, he groaned, unable to do much else.

Locking his winch in place, Artie craned his head up, twitching his ears, targeting the reinforced bar - more or less his bed - sticking out of the rock, right next to where the kangaroo was hanging. Extending his wings, he launched himself up through the air, flapped closer to the bar, then pivoted his body, deftly grabbing hold of it with his lengthy, dexterous toes. Happily sighing as he hung upside-down behind his pet, he wrapped his massive, leathery wings around the startled kangaroo's body, cocooning them both together.

"Mmm, you do smell so very wonderful," he said, rubbing his nose through the kangaroo's headfur. "You'll smell so much better in time." Reaching down to grab his shaft with both hands, he gave it a double-fisted pump before pressing the tip against the roo's slick backdoor. "I hope you don't mind the position. It's really the only way I like to fuck, so you'll get used to it... eventually... when you're not busy pulling carts." Biting his bottom lip, he wrapped his arms around the kangaroos waist and pulled their hips together, increasing the pressure until he his cock-head popped inside.

Grunting at the overly large intrusion, Oranges looked up, or rather, down toward the floor, distracted by his search for an opening between the folded wings to get some clean, fresh air. It quickly grew uncomfortably warm in the tight wrappings, causing him to sweat, his body odor growing thick within their confines. Finding a small hole where the claws atop the wings met, he stuck his nose through, relishing the rush of cool, clean, slightly musty air. Just as he got his second deep breath, he felt the monster - who he only now realized must be a bat - pressed deeper into his tailhole, spreading him unpleasantly wide open. He recalled the massive thing spanking his rump as they walked, shuddering at the thought that he was going to have to take the whole thing.

Taking advantage of the kangaroo's position, Artie alternated between bathing the presented throat with his tongue and grazing his fangs through the fur, along the flesh, tormenting his pet with his possible intentions. At the same time, he continued pulling them both together, gradually adding a thrust here and there wherever he met too much resistance to press onward. Reaching a hand toward the roo's junk, he pressed his testicles against his cage, giving them a rough massage, earning a shuddered groan in exchange.

Once he got just shy of halfway inside his pet's tunnel, Artie met too much resistance to continue on deeper. It was hardly a surprise, all told; he could tell that the roo, despite his size, would be a tight one back during the rimjob. As much as he wanted to give in to his increasingly frenzied desire and keep going, he much preferred keeping his new toys around for as long as he could. And, with any luck, improve upon his fruit production.

Overwhelmed by the thoughts of all the delicious fruits to be hauled by his pets, as well as the steamy raunchy odors filling his senses, he drew his hips back and promptly slammed back in, breaking into a series of rapid thrusts. He made sure to mind his depth, never inserting more than half his cock, which was thankfully still more than enough to drive him wild.

Oranges made a wheezing grunt with each thrust, feeling like his guts were being rearranged from the inside out. He was almost getting used to the nonstop shrieking coming from his cage, the need turning into a kind of white noise over time. His balls getting rubbed against the small, metal cylinder as they dangled upside-down over it did manage to make it all so, so much worse. He ached for release, the repetitive pounding against his prostate edging him closer, while the mild pressure against his testicles pushed him further away. Whining, his fur growing damp with sweat, he took another fresh breath through the gap in the wings, doing everything in his power to bury the agonizing tortures afflicting the lower half of his body.

Rapidly huffing, intoxicated by the sweaty humidity growing within his wings, Artie pounded his hips faster, working just shy of seven inches inside his pet before getting as deep as he was willing to risk. For now. Moving his arms up, he clutched around the kangaroo's hoof sleeves, moaning as he wildly pumped his hips, clenching his toes around the bar to keep from falling. All at once, he was struck by the rush of an earth-shattering climax sending him into an intense fit, hammering into his pet's rear at a fully blurred pace, injecting the wonderfully hot tailhole with a flood of bat seed.

Letting out a long, shuddering sigh, Artie let the best afterglow he had felt in ages wash over him, maintaining his grip on the roo as he craned his head up to nuzzle his cheek. "Mmm, this was such a delightful surprise," he said, his voice lowering to a calm, unsettling whisper. "Since you've been a good boy, I'll give you a choice: Would you rather get put out to work with your brother, or would you rather stay in here to rest with me?"

Initially confused by the question, wondering if perhaps the blood rushing to his head was making him hear things, he promptly shook it off, weighing his options. On the one hand, he would love to get out of the sweaty stink-prison the bat trapped him inside, but on the other hand, he was too pained and tired to even think of working, and he didn't want to begin thinking of how they'd punish him for slacking off. Better the devil he knew, he decided, slurring out "Shgay eeer" to answer the question.

"Good choice," Artie said, feeling his cock twitch within his pet's flexing tunnel, knowing a second round wasn't far off. "I knew you'd be my favorite," he said, chuckling.

Aching, sweaty, pent-up, and frustrated, Oranges could do little more than whine, dreading whatever the bat had planned.