FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Cove didn't imagine that he'd be going to an office building near Lenum Park, but that's where his rideshare dropped him off based on the address he'd provided. The Turello Insurance Tower wasn't really a tower, especially compared to the actual skyscrapers in downtown Grafton Bay. Nova Energy's building dominated the city's skyline at 80 stories tall, while Turello Insurance wasn't even half that height. But while a tower like Nova Energy's had the bay view, Turello Insurance had all 550 acres of beautiful Lenum Park to look down on--Cove glanced at the park entrance across the street, wishing for a moment that he could just take a leisurely stroll on the paved paths and sun himself by one of the lakes. Summer was just around the corner, and it was such a beautiful day out...

But he squared his shoulders and turned away from the lush and verdant park, instead facing the concrete jungle. He began walking along Ashton Boulevard towards the corner where it met with Elias Avenue. Cove turned on the corner and continued walking on Elias until he came upon the 34th Street alley that ran behind the Turello tower. Cove ducked into the alley, keeping to the side of the road in case any cars were coming through, and he soon saw that the alley led to Turello's delivery bay. A truck was currently unloading something, and there were a few people standing around to help with the delivery, but they didn't pay Cove any attention as he approached.

He checked his phone again, just to make sure which entrance his handler had told him to use, and then looked at the building again--there, on the far left side and up a small flight of stairs, was the blue service door he needed. Cove strode past the delivery truck and the workers, trying to hold his head up and look like he knew what he was doing...but he had no clue what to say in case anyone asked him why he was there or where he was going.

Fortunately, he mounted the stairs and opened the service door without being stopped, and the tiger shark entered a hallway with steps that led down to another corridor. A few workplace safety and door alarm signs adorned the walls, and Cove saw a CCTV camera pointing down at the entrance he'd just used. He paused, wondering again if he was in the right place.

His phone vibrated in his hand, and he looked at it to see another message from his handler: "Come on down, you're right on time."

Cove smiled, reassured--he then glanced up at the camera and waved before trotting down the steps in front of him and padding down the hallway, where he came upon a pair of nondescript black swinging doors. The tiger shark could feel his stomach forming a small bundle of nerves again; he had no idea what was beyond those doors, but if it was going to be related to his initiation activities, he had to be ready for anything. Steeling himself, Cove pushed one of the doors open and walked through...

To find himself in a dark anteroom. It took him a moment to adjust to the dim red lighting compared to the fluorescent white lights he'd just been under in the hallway; when his eyes had adjusted, Cove saw that there was a podium next to him with a small LED light clipped to it, like a club bouncer's station, another camera mounted to the ceiling, and a black curtain hanging in front of him. With nobody at the lectern, Cove decided it would be alright for him to proceed through the curtain, so he pushed through the heavy fabric barrier.

This time neon purple, green, and blue lights flooded his vision; the lights reflected off of the tiled floor, throwing vibrant glares and illuminating the room even more. To his immediate right, he saw a few plush couches and chairs grouped together to form a kind of waiting area, and then he looked across the space he'd entered to see what looked like a long row of bathroom stalls lining the far wall opposite him. Although the stalls seemed wider than the regular toilet stalls he encountered in other public restrooms; these all looked like they were disability compliant with extra room. Every door had an amber light mounted to it, and most of them hung slightly ajar, signifying that none of the stalls were in use, although one door was wide open--Cove peered inside to see that there was no toilet inside. Instead, there were padded holes cut into the brown leather-lined wall, small brackets surrounding the holes mounted at various positions, a light hanging from the wall above the holes, and a small padded step stool sitting on the floor. Where the toilet roll dispenser would have been mounted to one of the stall partitions, Cove saw dispensers for dry towels, wet wipes, condoms, and lube; mounted to the other stall wall, there was a clear acrylic case which contained an assortment of chains, clips, gags, blindfolds, dildos, vibrators, urethral sounding rods, speculums, and rubber gloves, all hanging from hooks.

Cove stared, astounded to realize that under Turello Insurance's offices, there was a whole basement devoted to nothing but glory holes.

"Back here, kid--door's on the right!" His handler's call was muffled as it emanated through the other unused glory holes through the wall.

Still outside of the stalls, Cove looked to his right, where he saw another black door next to the last stall--this one bore a label that read "STAFF ONLY".

When Cove walked through the door, yellow incandescent lights greeted him with a soft glow amid the black painted walls that were plastered with posters for drag shows, kink events, sexual safety, and pinup photos. To his right, he saw a few people milling around a kitchenette and lounge--some of them were dressed in black tank tops and shorts, while others were completely nude; Cove caught a glimpse of a hyena languidly stroking his cock while chatting with a shirtless horse. There were a few other closed doors further along, but to his left, there was a well-lit hallway that stretched the length of the glory hole room Cove had previously been in. He saw that there was a series of doors, which he guessed led to individual rooms, one for each glory hole. Someone from back here would enter a room and get set up in the glory hole, and then a customer would use the stall on the other side of the wall to get off. Cove figured his handler was waiting for him in one of the glory hole rooms, so he set off down the hall, checking each door. Nearly every door had a sign on it that said "EMPTY", although Cove saw that the sign could be switched to two other settings: "IN USE" and "NEEDS SERVICE". The only door that was marked "IN USE" was the very last one at the far end of the row, and it stood open.

Cove peeked past the doorframe to check if his handler was in the room...and his heart flew into his throat.

The giant Saint Bernard he'd met all those months ago at Hightower Bar was there, facing the door as he sat in a chair next to a narrow bed, and grinning up at him from his seat. He was wearing his cap in a way that the bill hid his eyes from view, a red tank top over his hulking, white and brown-furred frame, a pair of tan shorts that only went halfway down his thighs and showed off his enormous quads, and industrial chain bracelets on his wrists and a couple heavy rings on his giant fingers.

"Hey, kid," the giant canine rumbled pleasantly.

"Holy shit," Cove breathed as he stepped through the door. He clapped a hand to his head, trying to process the situation. He'd been hoping so hard that he'd made the right choice, that somehow, by some impossible stroke of luck, he'd cross paths with the man he'd been thinking of for so long, that there was even the smallest chance that his gamble on a familiar-feeling hand from last night would pay off...

And there he was, just as burly, masculine, and domineering as Cove remembered--even more so now, as the huge Saint Bernard seemed to take up half the room.

"Surprised?" A smile played on the dog's lips.

"Ha, yeah, that's a good way to put it," Cove guffawed.

"That's a good way to put it..." the Saint Bernard led encouragingly.

Cove glanced at him, puzzled for a moment, then caught on. "Sir! That's a good way to put it, Sir."

The Saint Bernard chuckled. "Good boy."

Before the tiger shark could say anything, the dog grunted and pushed himself up from his chair. He towered over Cove as he approached with an outstretched hand. "Guess it's time I introduce myself for real. Master Dozer."

Awestruck, Cove could only thrust his hand into the Saint Bernard's waiting paw, which engulfed his completely, and meekly reply, "Cove."

"Oh, I know," the canine replied as he shook Cove's hand. The tiger shark couldn't see his handler's eyes, but he was sure Dozer had winked at him. "Gotta say, I'm glad you took the hint and joined...I had a good feeling about you, kid," Dozer said as he released his grip on Cove's hand. "I think you're going to do real well in Domino. That smile, those chompers--like I said last night, real cute and hard to resist."

Heat rose in Cove's cheeks. "Aw, well...I do what I can," he murmured abashedly.

"You're gonna be doing a lot more than that by the time I'm done with you, that's for sure," Dozer said as he affectionately rested his knuckles on Cove's jaw. He used his thumb to gently play with the tiger shark's lower lip and pull it down, exposing his teeth again. Cove smiled and his heart fluttered--as tall and built as the tiger shark was, he loved being toyed with like this, having an even bigger, manlier, and supremely confident, but gentle, giant simply reach down and do what he wanted with him. "And I've got some work for you today to help you get there."

Cove's eyebrows rose, curious. "What kind of work, Sir?"

Dozer grinned and turned to stand side by side with Cove so they could survey the room together. "What kind of work do you think, kid?"

Cove's eyes roamed over everything in the room. He saw that the bed rested on a large black box with gray panels cut into the sides; in addition to the bed and the chair next to it, there was a rack on the wall with chains, straps, and other bondage accouterments, as well as a mounted tablet that displayed different digital control panels. Cove looked up at the ceiling, where he saw an enormous white metal structure adorned with closed panels and ports--it hung from the ceiling and almost looked like a flying saucer. The tiger shark looked down again, his gaze falling on the far wall, but to his surprise he didn't see any cutouts for a glory hole.

"Well...I'd say glory hole work, but I don't see one here, Sir," Cove said, confused.

"You're close," Dozer admitted. "But you don't need a glory hole for random strangers to have fun with you." The giant Saint Bernard planted his broad hand on Cove's back and brought him further into the room, pulling the door shut behind them with his free hand. As he and Cove stepped further into the room, Dozer gestured at the featureless wall in front of them. "There's a panel on the other side of that wall with a bunch of different controls for customers to use, as well as holes for them to put a few things into. All of that is going to be streamed in here for you." He smugly looked down at Cove. "Great way to get you started with some good, old fashioned, anonymous fun, right Chomper?"

Cove couldn't help but crack a smile at the nickname. It was nice hearing it from his handler, although he was distracted by a pile of questions building up as he took in what Dozer was saying. "Are any of the other initiates doing things like this, Sir?"

Dozer shrugged and scratched his chin noncommittally. "They might be--initiation activities are unique, so they could be in the next room...or they could be somewhere else, licking feet and taking baseball bats up their asses as we speak."

Cove glanced down at the bed--it looked comfy enough, with white sheets covering the mattress. "May I ask what kinds of things will be done to me?"

"Ah, where's the fun in that, kid?" Dozer replied. "I think you'll have a better time finding out for yourself."

Cove was about to ask another question, but a sudden ping from the tablet on the wall caught both his and Dozer's attention.

"Time to put you to work," the canine huffed. He jocularly squeezed Cove's shoulder as he looked down at him again, and the tiger shark weakly smiled up at him. "It'll be fun. Besides, what did I say last night? One of my rules."

The memory of being wrapped up in a tight, furry, all-encompassing embrace with the Saint Bernard's crotch warm against his butt surfaced in Cove's mind. He wanted to be back there right now, having more sleepy conversations with his handler...but the tiger shark could recall the last thing they discussed before he'd nodded off.

"To trust that you're acting in my best interests, Sir...and not to question you," Cove added hastily.

"That's right. This is going to be good for you, Chomper. You wanted to push your boundaries, this is how you start," Dozer said approvingly. Cove nodded, smiling more sincerely now.

Dozer then instructed Cove to strip down and lie faceup on the bed, with his arms by his sides and his legs slightly apart. While the tiger shark got into position on the soft mattress, the Saint Bernard sidled around the room to the wall rack with chains and straps hanging from it; he plucked two pairs of leather cuffs from the hooks, which he then cinched around Cove's wrists and ankles. The fleece lining of the cuffs softened the bite of the tight leather around the tiger shark's joints, helping them feel good...bracing...secure. Cove held still, as the cuffs hadn't been clipped to anything to keep him in place yet. He watched interestedly as Dozer strode over to the wall-mounted tablet and plucked the device out of its cradle. The Saint Bernard tapped on the device, and soft synthwave music began to play on hidden speakers while Cove heard a mechanical whirring start underneath the bed. He couldn't see what the box under the mattress was doing, but it sounded like some of the panels on it were opening; within seconds, mechanical arms with hooks on the ends rose up to be level with the bed. Dozer tapped on the tablet again, and with laser precision, the arms snapped forward, locked the links on Cove's cuffs into place on their hooks, and retreated again, pulling the tiger shark's limbs outward. Cove's legs still remained on the bed, now shoulder-width apart; his arms were splayed out to the point where his forearms were held aloft off of the bed, but there was still enough slack in his extremities for his elbows to rest on the mattress.

Intrigued and aroused, as evidenced by the strain he was starting to feel in his groin, Cove experimentally tugged against the mechanical arms holding his cuffs--they didn't budge at all, meaning he was truly trapped. He glanced up at Dozer, his expression betraying both his nerves and excitement.

"How about that, I think he likes it," the Saint Bernard rumbled with a playful grin. "Now, let's finish getting you set up."

With that, Dozer tapped on the tablet again, and Cove looked up at the ceiling when he heard the flying saucer-like device spin around on hidden gears. It slowly revolved until one of the larger panel doors was aligned with Cove's head, and it came to a halt. The panel door above Cove's face slid open, revealing...

At first, Cove couldn't tell what was unfolding from the white metal housing. It looked almost like a glass, half-open bubble attached to another slender mechanical arm. The clear glass object's edges were encased in black rubber, and as it neared Cove's face, he could see that there were additional tubes attached to the convex side of the bubble.

With a start, Cove realized he was looking at a mask. A millisecond of doubt and panic flared within the tiger shark--he didn't know what this mask was for, what was going on here? But he took a breath, reminding himself of the rule that Dozer had told him to recall: trust that his handler was acting in his best interests. This was going to be something good for him, he just had to...lean into it.

The tiger shark dutifully held his head still as the mask descended and was applied to his face, the rubber sides forming a seal against his skin. The mechanical arm holding the mask released it, leaving Cove with the clear contraption over his face, with transparent silicone tubes attached to ports over his nostrils and mouth. The tubes led back up to the flying saucer, disappearing in the white metal housing and connecting Cove to the device; right now, he couldn't smell anything coming from the lines for his nose, and the line for his mouth was completely empty. He turned his head from side to side, testing the mask--the curvature of the glass over his eyes made him feel like he was looking out of a fishbowl, but otherwise everything seemed normal, and the mask stayed fixed in place.

Another panel on the flying saucer opened, and Cove saw a bundle of electrode patches descend on thin wires. He watched as Dozer selected a patch and pulled it downward; the sticky adhesive felt cool on Cove's skin when the Saint Bernard stuck the patch to his left pectoral. Within another minute, the rest of the patches adorned Cove's chest, upper abdomen, and neck.

And then Dozer sat in his chair as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

"And now we wait," he said, looking down at the tablet in his hands.

Cove sighed and flexed against his bonds for a moment, then relaxed as he stared up at the flying saucer hanging from the ceiling. There were a dozen more panels on the device, all of them closed except for the ones that had contained his mask and electrodes. Idly, the tiger shark wondered what could be behind the other small doors; was there more medical equipment? Other masks? What about an actual sex machine, or cameras to record him?

"First one of the day, here we go," Dozer suddenly announced, distracting Cove from his thoughts. He looked over at the Saint Bernard, who was intently watching the tablet...

And then Cove felt something push against his lips--the tube that was connected to the port over his mouth was sliding further into his mask.

"Glurck!" The tube caught him by surprise, and before he could resist, it inserted itself into his mouth, glided past his teeth and over his tongue, and rested on the back of his palate, just before entering his throat.

"Careful, Chomper, don't bite down on that--you break it, you buy it," Dozer warned.

Cove shook his head, not quite used to the sensation of something forcing itself into his mouth. The silicone tube was thick between his jaws, but he forced himself to let his teeth rest lightly on it without biting into the rubber.

Dozer then chuckled--Cove glanced over to see he was still watching the tablet. "Little early for that, but I guess he wants to get you loosened up."

Cove's brow furrowed in confusion.

Then the tube began to vibrate gently as a pump somewhere kicked into gear. The tiger shark's eyes traveled up along the tube to the flying saucer...and then he saw a line of fizzy, pale yellow fluid traveling down the tube, into the mask, and then pouring into his mouth.

"Grk!" Cove spluttered.

"Swallow, kid, you've gotta swallow," Dozer chuckled.

There was nothing else he could do--as Cove began to gulp the fluid down, he realized that he was drinking beer. Definitely not the best he'd ever had, but it wasn't terrible; probably something cheap like Lapland Lite. But hey, it was free beer early in the afternoon--if that's how this experience was going to start, then it couldn't be all bad, right? Cove continued drinking what he was given, gulping mouthful after mouthful that was directly deposited in his muzzle.

"There we go. Gonna be swallowing some other stuff later, but this is good for now," Dozer said encouragingly.

After a solid minute of guzzling beer, the line ran dry and the tube in Cove's mouth retracted wetly from between his lips, drawing out a thick glob of drool with it. The tiger shark, huffing for air, smacked his lips and swallowed the last dregs.

"How was that for you, Chomper?" Dozer asked.

"Not--uurrrrap!" Cove grimaced as he belched, expelling the aftertaste of hops and wheat. "Oof--not bad!"

Dozer chuckled. "Oh, you say that now..."

Cove raised an eyebrow, puzzled...right before the tubes in the ports above his nose shoved into his nostrils.

"Ah! Oh fuck, that feels weird," Cove grunted and winced, rolling his head back in a futile attempt to get away from the tubes in his nose.

"You'll get used to it, kid," Dozer told him.

As Cove adjusted to the sensation and breathed in through the tubes, he began to get a whiff of something...acrid. Not just sweaty, but musky and sour. As if sweat, cheese, and fish had been mixed together in an oven and left to sit next to a sewer.

"Ugh! Motherfucker, that stinks!" Cove yelled, his eyes starting to water--he squirmed in his restraints, trying to get away from the odor. He even began breathing through his mouth, but the scent was still being fed directly into his nostrils, assaulting his sense of smell. "God damn, what is that?!"

Dozer, however, simply laughed. "Yeah, I think he likes that you're not happy with that--he just gave you three jockstraps; I could tell they were ripe from here. Just keep breathing it in, kid."

"That's not ripe, Sir...ugh, that's fucking rancid," Cove nearly retched, feeling like the inside of his nose was being stripped away layer by layer.

"Is it? Too bad, you'd better get used to it," Dozer said casually, "because it looks like he's going to use your mouth again."

"What? Wait, I--ulp!"

The mouth tube re-entered Cove's muzzle, cutting off his plea, and in another moment, more fizzy beer began surging into his throat; there was so much that some of it flowed out between his lips and trickled along his chin and the sides of his face, but he managed to catch up quickly and swallow the excess. It was impossible to breathe through his mouth, and he instinctively inhaled through his nose between each swallow of beer. He wanted to gag, to yank the tubes out of his nostrils and stick his face into a pile of fresh laundry to get that disgusting, horrendously pungent stench out of his system. It was like a thousand sweat-drenched feet had been forced up his nose; the musk was so heavy and sickly sour that he was starting to get dizzy as he continued to breathe it in.

"That's it, just breathe...breathe..." Dozer encouraged absently, his eyes still glued on the tablet in his hands.

Beyond uselessly rattling his cuffs against the mechanical arms that held his limbs in place and twisting his head from side to side, there wasn't much else Cove could do except breathe and continue drinking the beer that was being funneled into his mouth.

Although now...

Cove's brow furrowed--he was smelling something new, something...enticing...or had he acclimated so quickly to the odor of thoroughly used jockstraps? No, it was definitely something new, something faint but still detectable, like whiskey mixed with sweet sweat and a hint of lemon...

"I was wondering when he was going to give you a hit of the pheromones," Dozer mused.

Cove's eyes widened as he kept gulping down mouthful after mouthful of beer. Pheromones? That's what he was smelling? Then again, if they were making the jockstraps more palatable...and he was starting to feel a tingling warmth in his groin while his cock started to shift and press against his chastity barrier...he wasn't going to complain about that...

But just as he was starting to get used to the new odor combination, the whiff of pheromones began to recede, growing fainter and fainter until all that was left was the scent of used jockstraps...although now Cove found that he didn't mind it so much. It was as if the initial shock had worn off, or the intensity of the smell had softened in his nose and he'd gotten used to the aroma. He was almost breathing comfortably while he kept guzzling the seemingly-endless flow of beer.

Then Cove smelled another hit of pheromones. Before he swallowed another gulp of beer, the tiger shark sucked in a lungful of breath through his nose, getting a heady mix of chemical agents and body odor. His back subtly arched upward from the mattress while his chest and stomach expanded with the breath, drinking in as much as he could. The scent was almost...intoxicating...

Time crept by; heat rose in Cove's face, and he saw a thin, translucent layer of condensation start to form on the glass mask he wore. He breathed in and out...in and out...more and more pheromones mixed with the thick scent of the jockstraps and filled his lungs, almost filled his entire body...before the pheromones faded again. Cove found himself relaxing more fully on the bed, actually going limp in his restraints while he continued drinking his beer and inhaling the...soothing...stink of the jockstraps. Did he actually like it now? The odor wasn't putrid at all, it didn't have the bite to it that Cove felt when he first smelled it. There was something almost...calming about the stench, something that made Cove want to rub his face all over the jockstraps and the crotch that they'd adorned...he wanted to get a jockstrap in his mouth, to taste it on his tongue, to suckle on it...

No, that was...those jockstraps were disgusting, filthy, soaked with sweat and musk from countless workouts. He'd never even rubbed his face in an armpit, how could he now want to shove his nose into a stranger's crotch and huff deeply into it like some depraved dog? And yet, with each deep breath the tiger shark took, he wanted it even more. He almost needed it...

The flow of beer finally came to a stop, and Cove felt the tube in his mouth retract again.

"How're you doing there, kid?" Dozer asked, glancing down at the tiger shark lying on the bed.

Cove drew in a deep breath through his nose, still getting a strong whiff of the jockstraps, then exhaled through his mouth, a smile on his lips. "I think...better..."

Dozer grinned smugly. "Yeah, a lot better. Just needed a little extra encouragement. Those pheromones are something, huh?"

Cove nodded agreeably. "Mm, yes, Sir." The tiger shark belched again, and he only just realized how uncomfortably tight his stomach was--not only his stomach, but his bladder, too. He was getting close to needing a pit stop. "Oh, damn...I don't think I'm going to drink beer again for a long time."

Dozer laughed. "I feel you there, but that's not up to you, Chomper."

Cove's eyes widened in surprise when he understood what Dozer implied. "You mean there's going to be more? But...what about bathroom breaks, Sir?"

"Oh, already got you covered, kid," the Saint Bernard said reassuringly. He tapped on his tablet, and the crate under Cove's bed vibrated into action again. This time, a panel on the far end of the box opened, and a mechanical arm extended to hover over Cove's slit; the tiger shark saw that the arm was equipped with a thin, silicone tube tipped with a metal adapter. Dozer stood from his chair and reached over Cove's body to the mechanical arm and dragged the silicone tube downward with one hand; his other hand spread the lips of the tiger shark's slit apart, revealing the exit port in Cove's chastity barrier. Cove squirmed as his handler's thick fingers held his slit open, his paw pads rough but warm against the smooth inner lining of the orifice. He then felt metal twisting against metal; in a moment, the Saint Bernard had hooked up the silicone tube's adapter to the exit port. "There we go--just let it fly whenever you need, Chomper," Dozer said, satisfied with his handiwork. "No need to be embarrassed or get pee-shy; you've got nothing to hide from me."

Cove nodded, then paused, debating with himself. He really did have to urinate, but...did he really have to do it in front of his handler? There was just something so innately shameful and almost guilty about blatantly pissing in front of someone else, especially when they were the ones to hook you up to a system to enable you to piss...but Dozer did say there was no need to for Cove to get embarrassed or pee-shy...and the Saint Bernard seemed so understanding, too...

Cove took another deep breath through his nose--feeling almost emboldened by the still-present odor of the jockstraps--then exhaled and relaxed his bladder.

"Aaah," he moaned as he felt the heavy rush of water flow through his cock and into the tube still lodged in his urethra. Transparent, faintly yellow piss streamed into the silicone tube attached to the exit port on Cove's chastity barrier, and a wash of relief rolled over the tiger shark as he simply let go and let the urine flush out of him.

"There we go, atta boy," Dozer said, patting Cove's shoulder with a heavy hand. Cove smiled gratefully from under his mask up at his handler. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Incredibly gooooood."

Cove simply lay there on the bed, still smelling the thick, filling odor of the jockstraps through the tubes in his nose, while he continuously pissed for a whole minute until his bladder finally felt empty. The Saint Bernard whistled low when he noticed that the flow had abated.

"Damn, you really had to go, huh?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good, make some room for more beer," Dozer told him as he moved around to the end of the bed, between Cove's feet. The tiger shark raised his head to look down at the foot of the bed, where he watched the giant Saint Bernard kneel down...then he heard the click of a panel opening. Dozer pulled something out, then shut the panel again, and when he stood up again, Cove saw that he held a 32-ounce glass of slightly bubbly, pale yellow water...which the tiger shark recognized as his own piss.

"Cheers," Dozer rumbled, grinning as he saluted the glass towards Cove.

Taken aback, Cove watched the giant Saint Bernard lift the glass of urine to his lips, tilt his head back, and loudly gulp...gulp...gulp...his thick throat bobbed and bulged with each mouthful he powerfully swallowed before he lowered the now half-empty glass again with a satisfied, "Aaaah, that's good." He licked his chops, his large tongue rolling along his thick lips, before he grinned at Cove's dumbstruck expression. "Like I said, you've got nothing to hide from me--you think I'm going to let my boy's perfectly good piss go to waste?" Dozer sauntered back over to his seat next to the bed.

"You...you think it's good, Sir?" Cove asked, surprised.

"Hell yeah, Chomper. You've got a perfect flavor," Dozer chuckled, lightly swirling the piss in his glass. "I had a hunch you'd make a good brew." He swigged down another huge gulp of Cove's urine before he continued, "Besides, even though I'm your handler, I need to lead by example sometimes. How can I expect you to be trained to drink your own piss and others' piss if you don't see me do it first?"

Cove simply stared, at a loss for words. Dozer, in the meantime, took another sip before he picked up the tablet he had set aside and looked at the lit screen again. "Man, he's been hitting the fleshlight for a while now...think he's getting close, though."

The tiger shark, still taking deep whiffs of the pungent jockstraps, asked, "Can you see everything he's doing out there, Sir?"

Dozer nodded. "Oh yeah--every stall's got cameras, more for security, but it helps a handler like me see what's being done to my boy. He's got a whole panel of controls and ports for shit he can give you...in fact...looks like he's just about done..."

No sooner had Dozer spoken than the mouth tube once again pushed past Cove's lips. Although this time, instead of going all the way to the back of his mouth, the end of the tube rested at the halfway point of his tongue. The tube vibrated from a hidden pump in the flying saucer mounted to the ceiling, but nothing came down the line just yet.

"Yep, there he goes, just popped," Dozer muttered.

Even though Cove couldn't see the screen of Dozer's tablet from his limited vantage point, the tiger shark could imagine that the glory hole patron, whoever he was, had just finished furiously humping a fleshlight mounted into the wall and was slumping against the barrier. Cove looked up at the flying saucer where his mouth and nose tubes connected, and he saw a shot glass-sized squirt of white fluid descend along the wider mouth tube. He gulped in anticipation--this was going to be the first load he'd ever swallowed. He'd eaten his own before, but this was the first real wad of cum he was going to get from someone else, and it was from a complete stranger. His heart thumped in his chest as he watched the cumshot approach, and he closed his eyes and kept his mouth wide open, ready to receive.

The load was warm, gooey, and ropey--it felt like a lump of fresh snot on his tongue when the tube deposited it in his mouth. Cove could taste the musk, the salt, the semi-sourness; he swirled his tongue through the viscous cum, spreading it on his palate and flattening it against the roof of his mouth. It was so slimy, so thick; there was an acridness to the flavor, a soft bite to it that added to the essence of potent male that was in his mouth. The taste and texture together were...the perfect combination...and he wanted more. Cove's stomach flopped excitedly when he thought about how all the sperm in his mouth had been in a complete stranger's balls only seconds ago, and now he was going to swallow it, to send it down his throat and let the cum digest in his belly. It was as easy as just tilting his head back, gathering up the salty wad of cum that was mixing with his saliva...and then he gulped.

"There you go. Like that little snack, Chomper?"

Cove opened his eyes and looked over at Dozer while the mouth and nostril tubes began to retract. Even though he couldn't smell the jockstraps any longer, Cove's nose retained the memory of the scent, while the taste of semen still lingered on his tongue and breath. "Yes, Sir!"

"Good boy--there's plenty more coming your way," Dozer said encouragingly, still holding his glass of Cove's piss.