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It looked like the kind of nondescript office building in a business park you pass on the way to the airport, which is exactly what it was. The only feature separating it from the many similar buildings in the surrounding area was the great polished stone slab outside the entrance with the words "K.H. Immigration and Naturalization Services" engraved on it.

Hogan couldn't believe they were finally there. Not the building -- he had come to realize that he passed it every day on his way to and from work. No, the young horse couldn't believe they had reached the final step of securing Nido's permanent residency card. It seemed like only yesterday that the High Court had narrowly struck down the ban on same-sex unions, opening the floodgates for people like himself to sponsor their spouses for residency. Then there had been the in-and-out wedding ceremony at the courthouse, the scramble to collect the necessary paperwork from a dozen different agencies, the marathon sessions to fill out endless form after endless form, and then --

Granted, there had followed several months of waiting, but now, standing in front of that office building, Hogan felt the same way he had that afternoon when the court had issued its ruling: giddy with relief that they would be able to continue their lives together, yet fearful that the opportunity would burst like a soap bubble if he thought about it too hard.

Hogan looked behind him and saw Nido still sitting in the passenger seat of the car, staring blankly straight ahead. He walked around to the other side of the car, cracked the door, and then squatted down so that they were at eye level.

"You OK?" Hogan asked, taking the ram's clammy hand on his own. "Let's go get you a residency card, yeah?"

Hogan's words seemed to pull Nido from his mental rabbit hole. "Yeah, OK," the ram said, blinking.

Hogan helped Nido out the car and up on his hooves. The ram stood there quivering as the horse shut the door and locked the car.

Hogan looked down at Nido and felt himself swelling with the feelings that had made him fall for the ram in the first place; Nido seemed to exude a kind of tender vulnerability that made Hogan want to protect and care for the ram. He wrapped an arm around the ram and tugged playfully on one of his dark, curved horns.

"Let's go," he said again. He grabbed a manila folder from the glove compartment, and then the two of them started making their way across the parking lot. Hogan looked up at the building as they walked into its shadow and felt suddenly self-conscious about having his arm around Nido, as though he were trying too hard to prove that theirs was not a marriage of convenience, but then he frowned and shook the thought from his head, reminding himself that he had nothing to worry about -- the two of them were actually in love, after all.

He pretended to hold the door for Nido only to slip inside the building just ahead of him, but the gag didn't produce the usually annoyed giggle from the ram. Instead Nido grabbed the handle before the door swung shut and followed Hogan inside the building, looking as pale as a kid being forced to attend a parent-teacher conference.

They showed their IDs to a guard right inside the entrance. The walrus pointed them to a waiting area. Just as they were about to sit down, a motherly-looking echidna waved them into a line for an elaborate security checkpoint that resembled something you might see at an airport. Apart from Nido triggering the metal detector (the ram looked close to passing out), they made it to the other side unscathed.

An orange line set into the linoleum guided them up a set of stairs into another waiting room. There they took their seats on threadbare chairs that stood back to back in rows in the middle of the room. Hogan looked around. The room was less crowded that he had expected. A few seats down from them, a family was talking heatedly in a language he didn't understand with what he assumed was an immigration attorney. The sight surfaced the question he had asked himself more times than he could count: Should they have hired an attorney? For the infinitieth time, he told himself: No. They knew the forms. They knew the process.

He looked up at an old TV mounted on a wall in the corner. The screen showed a promotional video that alternated between shots of beaming families and sweeping landscape scenes. He stared at it for a while until he realized that it had looped back to the beginning.

He moved his gaze around the room in search of the next thing to occupy his mind. There was a stand next to the door through which they had entered holding informational pamphlets about moving to the kingdom. He poked Nido in the ribs with an elbow.

"A little late for that, huh?" he said with a smile, nodding at the pamphlets.

Nido stared in the direction he was nodding, blinked, and then gave a closed-mouth smile.

Hogan felt the creeping sensation of having forgotten something, like when you pull away from your house on your way to the airport, creeping up on him. Breathing steadily, he acknowledged the sensation and calmly opened the manila folder in his lap. He flipped through the documents in it, including the letters they had received from Immigration and Naturalization Service -- crisp, heavy sheets of paper with "NOTICE OF ACTION" printed in large embossed letters at the top, each of which had notified them of a new development in their case.

Some indeterminable time later, their existence in immigration limbo ended.

"Salas?" An elderly Bengal cat was scanning the room, looking for them above the edge of a clipboard she held close to her narrowed eyes.

Hogan got to his hooves, a feeling of relief in his stomach. He had hoped their immigration officer would be a woman. He didn't know why.

He stuck out a hand to greet the woman. "Hi, I'm --" he began, but the cat turned away from him, still clutching the clipboard tightly.

"Follow me, please," she said in a tone that suggested she had spoken the words a dozen times already that morning.

The cat led them down a hallway past several closed doors. She stopped in front of one of them and knocked twice. Hogan peered through the pane of frosted glass set into the door and saw a shadow moving behind it.

The door opened. Hogan found himself staring up into the face of a broad-shouldered tiger.

The tiger's eyes widened slightly as he peered down over his rimless glasses at them, as though he were surprised to see a same-sex couple standing there. He recovered quickly and stepped back.

"Come in, gentlemen," the tiger said. "I'm Officer Carver. I'm processing your case. Please, sit." He gestured in the direction of two chairs in front of a handsome desk of some dark wood.

Hogan considered for a second whether to pull Nido's chair back for him, but ended up not doing it. He sat down and watched as the tiger walked back around the desk and lowered himself into an office chair. The officer was wearing a gray herringbone coat and and a light blue button-down shirt. He had unbuttoned the top button, but the fabric strained around the second button.

There was something intimidating about the tiger, Hogan thought. The look of surprise that had flashed across his face couldn't be good news. Perhaps they were the first gay couple whose application he had processed? Did that mean he'd go easy on them? Or would he be particularly strict?

The tiger said nothing for a while. He extracted a thick manila folder of his own from a stack on his desk and flipped through its contents, his expression businesslike.

Hogan craned his neck slightly to catch a glimpse of the documents and felt a leaping feeling in the pit of his stomach when he recognized his own handwriting on one of the forms. The tiger snapped the folder shut, and Hogan jumped.

The tiger set the folder down between them and folded his hands. "Well, gentlemen," he said, looking at them in turn with his pale eyes, "welcome to this last step of the permanent residency process. I know you must have waited a long time for this day."

Hogan made a noncommittal noise, as though worried that admitting that the wait had been anything less than perfectly acceptable would negatively impact their application's chances of being approved.

The tiger looked at each of them again. He sat up a little straighter. "Let me explain to you how this process works," he said. "First, I will go through your documents to ensure that everything is in order. Then, I will ask you a series of questions about your relationship. Please answer them truthfully. If all goes well --" and he paused, which sent a chill through Hogan "-- I will mark your application for approval and order the production of your residency card."

Hogan caught sight of Nido's leg jiggling nervously. He wanted to reach over and place a palm on his husband's knee, but he remained in his chair with what he hoped was a pleasantly polite look on his face.

"Do you have any questions at this point?" Officer Carver said, his gaze moving from Hogan to Nido and back again.

They shook their heads.

"Very well," the tiger said. "As I said, I will now go through your documents."

The tiger subjected them to thirty seconds of excruciating silence as he inspected the contents of the manila folder a second time.

Hogan felt Nido's gaze on him, but he kept his eyes on the tiger, watching as the man meticulously examined each form and checked boxes on a piece of paper, mentally crossing his fingers in the hopes that everything was in order.

Officer Carver reached the end of the stack, and Hogan felt a leaping feeling in his stomach, like missing a step going downstairs -- but then the tiger frowned and flipped through the papers again, quickly this time, and whatever Hogan had felt in his stomach came crashing back down.

"I'm not seeing your AN-437-J in here," the tiger said, disapproval in his voice. He looked up and focused on Hogan, his stern expression demanding a response.

"AN-437-J?" Hogan said. The letters and numbers bounced around his mind, searching for something to connect with. He looked at Nido, but the ram only shook his head. "I -- I don't remember seeing that on the checklist."

Officer Carver's steely gaze seemed to penetrate Hogan. Just as the horse felt that his eyes were about to start watering, the tiger's expression cleared up.

"My apologies," he said, "that's an optional form." He collected the forms in the folder and set it in a different pile.

Hogan exhaled. He flashed a relieved smile at Nido, who had turned a pale shade of green.

"Now," Officer Carver said, "Mr. Samson, when was Mr. Salas born?"

"Uh," Hogan said, his mind temporarily blank from a bout of performance anxiety. The answer came to him easily. "February 17th, 1994," he said.

The tiger pivoted slightly in his chair. "Mr. Salas, what is Mr. Samson's birthdate?"

"Nine-eight-ninety-two," the ram said, as though he had practiced it all week (which he had).

Except that it was wrong.

Hogan tensed up at the sound of the first digit, his eyes on the tiger, holding his breath as he waited for Nido to correct himself.

The ram didn't.

The tiger did it for him. Officer Carver's brow furrowed slightly, and he made a noise of doubt.

Nido gripped the armrests as he realized his mistakes. "I-I mean August 8th," he said in a high-pitched voice. "I always mix those up...! Eight-nine, nine-eight...! In my country we say the day first, so --"

"And the rest of Mr. Samson's Personal Identification Number?" the tiger continued, his expression inscrutable.

"I..." Nido said in a hollow voice, "I don't know."

Hogan felt suddenly like a pupil who was about to be called upon in class. He didn't know Nido's Personal Identification Number either. They had never needed to know each other's numbers.

Officer Carver's expression barely hid his disappointment. "For future reference, it's 265 44 817," he said dryly.

Hogan clenched his jaw, waiting for the tiger to turn to him, but the officer remained focused on Nido.

"How long have the two of you been together?" he asked.

"Eight years," Nido said firmly.

"So you met in...?"

"2011." Nido seemed to have regained some confidence, Hogan thought.

"Mm-hmm." Office Carver turned to Hogan, who perked up as though electrified. "It is common for married couples to attach photos of themselves as part of their application, for example from vacations they have taken together, special occasions, and so on. You did not. Do you travel a lot?"

"Not really," Hogan said, mentally kicking himself for choosing in the end to leave a small collection of photos out of their application packet. "With Nido in grad school, we've been saving up for a down payment on a house."

"What was your wedding like?"

Hogan felt whiplashed by how the tiger was dictating the flow of the conversation. "Uh, pretty small," he said. "We just went to the courthouse, the two of us."

"Your parents weren't able to make it?"

"Actually, no," Hogan said. "It just felt wrong that only my parents would be able to make it."

"How so?"

Hogan sighed. "Nido's family isn't very, uh, supportive," he said.

Officer Carver raised an eyebrow in interest. "Is that so? Do they disapprove of your relationship?" he said.

"You could say so," Nido said in a small voice.

"In what way?"

Hogan shrugged. "In every way."

"Please be more specific."

Hogan made a frustrated noise. "What do you want to know?"

"How have they expressed their disapproval?" Officer Carver said. Hogan detected a note of dissatisfaction in his voice, as though he were disappointed that he had to elaborate. "For instance, do they use homophobic slurs?"

Hogan tore his gaze from the tiger's face and looked past him and out the window. The blinds were partially closed, but he could see strips of parking lot on the other side of the glass. He thought back to the night they had worked up the courage to call Nido's parents. How they had rehearsed what to say. And then --

"When we told them Nido was gay and that we were getting married... First, his mother started crying. Then his father yelled at us for hurting his mother. Then he called Nido an embarrassment. Then he said that I had corrupted his son and that we were both going to hell. Then he said he never wanted to talk to Nido again. Then they hung up."

What Hogan didn't mention was what had happened after Nido's parents had hung up: how the ram had cried and cried in Hogan's arms, and how the horse had held him and promised to himself that he would never let Nido feel that way ever again -- that they would build a life together full of love. He continued to stare out of the window.

Officer Carver was leaning forward on his elbows, hands clasped, his index fingers pointing up and resting against his lips, engrossed in Hogan's story.

Hogan expected the tiger to express his sympathy, perhaps even apologize for Nido's parents' behavior.

Instead the tiger said, quite plainly, "Describe your sex life to me."

Hogan leaned forward in his chair, not sure if his ears were playing a trick on him. He looked over at Nido, and the two shared a look of bewilderment. After a long, uncomfortable silence during which the tiger stared at them intently, Hogan stammered "Uh, it's healthy?"

The tiger looked unimpressed. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his folded hands.

"No, describe it to me," he said. "For example, approximately how many times a week do you engage in sexual intercourse?"

Hogan opened his mouth, but no words came out. Another excruciating silence followed. The tiger's pale eyes needled them.

"M-maybe one or two times a week?" Nido said at last. His face immediately turned red.

The tiger nodded. "And which one of you is the insertive partner? Or do you alternate?"

"He --" Nido began, but he trailed off. He looked over at Hogan, confusion clouding his face.

"Forgive me for leaping to conclusions, but I assume you --" he held out a hand, palm up, indicating Hogan "-- are the insertive partner, the 'top'?" the tiger said.

"I -- uh -- yeah," Hogan said, unsure of why he had offered up the information.

Officer Carver nodded. "Exactly," he said. He turned to Nido, looking him up and down. "And are you able to take all of him?"

Nido already red faced turned crimson. He dropped his gaze to the floor.

"Now, now, no need to be embarrassed," the tiger said reprovingly. "Are you or are you not able to take all of your husband during intercourse?"

Nido managed the smallest shake of his head, drawing a noise of interest from the tiger.

Hogan felt as though he were watching a recording of the conversation between the immigration officer and his husband. He felt powerless, even as Nido radiated embarrassment mere feet away from him.

"Perhaps the issue is in how you prepare for intercourse?" the tiger suggested, suddenly sounding like a sex therapist. "Do you use your fingers, or perhaps some kind of toy to loosen up? Do you incorporate it into your foreplay routine? I assume -- and correct me if I'm wrong -- I assume he is quite girthy, no?"

"He -- I," Nido began, trying and failing to string together words into a sentence. "Sometimes he --" he said, pointing at his mouth.

"Nido!" Hogan hissed, suddenly finding his voice.

"Patience, Mr. Samson," the tiger said, holding up a hand to silence Hogan but not taking his eyes off Nido. "We'll get to you shortly.

"Moving on: Which positions do you find most enjoyable? Do you prefer to be in control, for example with him on his back and you straddling him? Or do you tend to be more on the submissive side, for example in a traditional missionary position, or with him entering you from behind?"

Nido merely shrugged. His eyes brimmed with tears.

The tiger continued without missing a beat. "Do you use condoms? Since you are married, I will assume not. When he ejaculates, do you prefer that he does so inside you, or does he pull out and finish on your body, perhaps your face?"

"All right, all right, that's enough!" Hogan shouted. "There is no way these questions are part of the process!"

Officer Carver surveyed the horse impassively, letting Hogan's outburst wash over him. As the silence settled over them, Hogan again felt awkward and uncomfortable -- the tiger had assumed control of the conversation once more.

"Immigration fraud is a serious offense, Mr. Samson," the tiger said at last, his voice dripping with malice. "If convicted, you face up to six years in prison. Based on your application and your responses today, I have no reason to believe you are in a real relationship. In fact, I believe you have have entered into a sham marriage for the purposes of securing Mr. Salas permanent residency."

Hogan felt his vision narrowing to a point in response to the tiger calling their marriage a "sham."

"That -- that is not true!" Nido said from next to him, and Hogan heard the anger in his voice.

"Yeah!" Hogan said, piggybacking on the ram's energy. The tiger didn't know about their Saturday night taco tradition, or the way he loved to play with Nido's tail, or how Nido would always rush ahead to hold the door for him only to slip inside himself and let the door close in Hogan's face. "We love each other!"

Officer Carver sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his wide chest. "Prove it," he said.

Hogan gestured at the folder containing their application packet. "It's right --"

The horse broke off as Nido lunged toward him. He turned to face the ram, who planted a huge kiss on his mouth.

"There!" Nido said after breaking away from Hogan, who stared at Nido as though the ram had slapped him across the face. "Are you happy?"

Officer Carver had not moved an inch. "It would appear that Mr. Samson is not on board," he said dryly.

Hogan felt as though he had been pushed on stage. Both Nido and the tiger were looking at him as though expecting him to make the next move. He saw the muscles in Nido's neck flex, urging him to do something. "I -- I'm not going to play this game!" Hogan said in what he hoped was a defiant tone.

Officer Carver stood up, and Hogan flinched. Nido turned to face him.

"Very well," the tiger said. He took off his coat and hung it on the back of his chair.

From his seated position, Hogan felt dwarfed by the tiger -- or maybe he was shrinking in the man's presence.

Officer Carver walked around to their side of the desk and stopped in front of Nido, their bodies so close that they were almost touching. He looked down at the ram through his glasses. The ram looked up at him, apprehension on his face. An unspoken question seemed to pass from one to the other.

The tiger grabbed Nido by the horns and held his head in place. "Let's see if we can help your... husband," he said, placing a delicate emphasis on the last word. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He caressed the sides of the ram's face and tugged playfully on his beard.

Nido blinked and nodded, his eyes large and bright.

Then the tiger lowered his head slowly, bringing his muzzle closer to Nido, who raised his up as though drawn to the tiger by magnetism.

Hogan watched them breathlessly, his gaze darting from one to the other as the distance between them closed, waiting for one of them to break away, but then their mouths touched, and Nido's eyes widened, and he reached up to put his hands on the tiger's muscular chest. Hogan felt as though the bottom of his stomach had fallen out.

The tiger closed his eyes. Wrapping his big arms around the ram, he growled in satisfaction as he opened Nido's mouth with his own and forced his tongue forward.

Hogan watched, paralyzed to act as his husband's eyes bulged and the tiger explored his mouth with his tongue. But then the ram seemed to force himself to relax, and he pushed back against the tiger's muzzle. Hogan opened his mouth to say something, to stop them, but produced nothing more than a constricted whimper.

The tiger brought his paws to Nido's throat. Without breaking eye contact, he began to unbutton the ram's shirt, not stopping until it hung loosely from his shoulders. He traced a finger through the dirty white fur on Nido's chest and stomach, smiling as the ram continued to put up no resistance. Then he turned his attention to unbuckling Nido's pants, which he let fall to rest around his ankles.

Hogan's gaze was drawn to the back of Nido's shirt, which was fluttering wildly. The horse could picture the ram's tail beating furiously to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Officer Carver rested his chin on Nido's left shoulder and fixed Hogan with a sultry stare. Draping his arms around the ram, he placed his paws on Nido's ass and spread his cheeks apart, giving Hogan a clear view of his husband's tight, pink hole.

Hogan felt as though he were about to pass out from a lack of oxygen. Nido, too, looked like he hadn't drawn breath in minutes.

After a minute -- or perhaps an hour, for all Hogan knew -- Officer Carver sighed and released Nido. The ram stood there motionless, pantsless, seemingly with no idea what to do with himself.

The tiger did. His pale eyes still fixed on Hogan, he placed one paw between Nido's shoulders and the other at his hip, silently ordering him to bend at the waist.

Nido obeyed, resting his weight on the tiger's desk and propping himself up on his forearms. Officer Carver rattled a foot between Nido's hooves, and the ram spread his legs a little wider, his pendulous sack swinging free.

The tiger showed Hogan the ram's crack again, still fishing for a reaction. When he didn't get one, he raw a clawed finger across Nido's exposed flesh, causing the ram to suck in a gasp of air. Still nothing. Then the tiger dug the finger into the hole, and Nido squirmed in discomfort from the lack of lubrication.

Officer Carver whispered a quick apology in Nido's ear, but his attention was glued to the horse. The stripes in the fur on his face gave him the appearance of radiating intensity.

Hogan licked his dry lips.

All of a sudden, the tiger's face lit up. "Of course," he said under his breath, moving to stand between Hogan and Nido. "Allow me to prepare him for you." He removed his glasses and placed them carefully on his desk. Then he got to his knees behind Nido, spread his ass with his paws, and dove in enthusiastically, burying his muzzle in the ram's crack.

The ram gasped as the tiger began to lick and slurp and poke, lowering his head to the desk, the little nub of his tail twitching furiously, his fingers digging into the desk.

Hogan recognized the ram's body language; some part of him was enjoying this. A small voice in Hogan's head told him that he should be mad, that he should tear the tiger away from his husband, that he should fight the man, but he couldn't bring himself to stop him.

Nido was arching his back fully now, pushing himself back against the tiger, clearly enjoying the rimjob.

Hogan wanted to look away from the sight of another man eating his husband's ass, but the tiger was putting on an arresting performance, showing Hogan flashes of Nido's hole as he massaged and lubricated the muscle with his tongue.

Eventually Officer Carver emerged from the ram's crack and turned to look at Hogan. Nido gave a little disappointed moan.

The tiger frowned, his gaze on the front of Hogan's pants. "What's wrong, Mr. Samson?" he asked in the tone of a teacher interrogating a pupil in a foul mood.

Hogan didn't say anything. He remained frozen, his gaze on Nido, who was looking at him over his shoulder, breathing heavily. He hardly reacted as Officer Carver pulled him to his hooves, unbuckled his belt, and pulled his pants and underwear down to his ankles.

The tiger reached behind Hogan's sack and squeezed his package. "Having some performance issues?" he said. And just like that, the tiger stuck his tongue into the depths of Hogan's sheath, searching for his cock.

Hogan inhaled sharply as he felt the tiger's rough tongue scraping along the tender head of his cock, but he kept his eyes on Nido.

The tiger kept it up, his skillful tongue exploring the folds of Hogan's sheath, but the horse's body remained unresponsive. Realizing this, the immigration officer finally sat back on his heels and clicked his tongue, the fur on his muzzle damp with spit. Then he rocked forward and got to his feet.

Hogan looked up at the tiger, suddenly fearful of where he might plant his mouth next.

"Come," the tiger said. His hand closed around the horse's package and pulled on it gently, making him step forward.

Hogan let himself be led to the desk. He looked down at Nido, who was still bent over the desk, his face as bloodless as when they had pulled up to the building.

The tiger unzipped his slacks and pulled out the semi-hard, red, uncut slab of his cock. Its length in no way rivaled Hogan's, but there was a grown-up heft to it. Hogan wanted to reach out and see if he could close his hand around it.

"Go ahead," the tiger rumbled.

Hogan jumped. He looked down and realized his hand was trembling. He accepted the tiger's invitation.

Yes, he could close his hand around the tiger's cock -- barely, his thumb and middle finger just brushing past each other. He marveled at the heat as he ran his hand along the length, feeling it swell with blood and curve upward, pushing the sensitive-looking, crimson head out of its foreskin.

Suddenly a wad of something clear landed near the fleshy part of Hogan's hand where his thumb and index finger met -- Officer Carver must have spat on his cock -- and Hogan found himself spreading the makeshift lubricant on the tiger's thick shaft, watching as the veins shifted under his grip.

Something about the way the cock was framed by the opening in the tiger's slacks, capped by that shiny belt buckle, made Hogan deflate with inferiority. He looked down at his own shriveled sheath, feeling like a boy standing next to a man in a locker room.

"Guide me in," the tiger said, and Hogan snapped out of his own thoughts. "And pay attention."

Hogan pointed the tiger's cock down.

Officer Carver pushed his hips forward.

Nido grunted deeply, and he shifted where he stood.

Hogan blinked, and then all he could see was his hand squeezed between the tiger's clothed form and the gray fur of his husband's naked ass.

Officer Carver grunted as he bottomed out. "At this point," he said, stopping to catch his breath, "your husband's body will still be struggling to accommodate your girth. I recommend starting with a series of long, slow strokes to relax him."

And he did just that, pulling out until the partially exposed head of his cock just slipped out of Nido's hole. The ram let out a trembling breath that caught in his throat as the tiger speared him.

Hogan felt the tiger's cock grow slippery in his hand as Officer Carver alternated between sinking and withdrawing the length of his cock into and out of his husband.

"If you pay attention to the level of friction," the tiger said, still pumping away, "his body will tell you when he's ready for more. Look."

Hogan was already looking, and the tiger was right; Nido's hole was putting up less resistance now, closing up when Officer Carver pulled out but dilating with ease to receive him.

Then came the "more" the tiger had mentioned. Digging his claws into Nido's hips, Officer Carver suddenly increased the speed and force of his thrusts. Hogan winced as his fingers were crushed between the two men, and Nido let out a sound that contained more pain than pleasure, but neither said anything to slow the tiger down.

Hogan felt as though he were jerking the tiger off while he were fucking Nido, and as soon as the thought occurred to him, he tightened his grip.

It had a near-immediate effect. Officer Carver drew a shuddering breath, and just for an instant, Hogan thought the tiger looked unguarded, vulnerable. A second later, he was back in control, gritting in teeth and pounding away, even as he began to climax.

Hogan's eyes went wide as the tiger filled his husband with cum -- he could feel in his hand each pulse shooting down the man's urethra. Not content with merely planting his load deep inside the ram, however, the tiger continued to pump in and out of him until his cock, Nido's crack, and the side of Hogan's hand were coated in the thick, milky stuff.

The tiger's thrusts slowed and then eventually came to a halt, but Hogan kept his hand wrapped around the tiger's deflating cock, afraid to let go until he was given permission.

Breathing heavily, Officer Carver leaned forward and picked up his glasses. He breathed on them, buffed the lenses on his shirt, and then placed them on the bridge of his nose. He looked over at Hogan, and upon seeing the hard, mottled cock jutting from his sheath, smiled for what seemed like the first time that day.

"Everything here seems to be in order," he said with a sigh of satisfaction. "You should have your residency card in three to five weeks."