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Ansley whistled to himself as he strolled down the hallway. Damp patches of sweat on his white polo shirt clung to his broad chest and musclegut, and the stains in his armpits had spread down his sides; more perspiration still clung to the fur on the back of his neck, knees, elbows, and brow. But as sweaty and tired as the muscular, 6'4" bull was from spending the afternoon on the field with his players under the blazing sun, Ansley walked with some extra zest in his stride--today's football practice had gone well enough to put him in an optimistic mood; he'd seen some great improvements in both his running backs and defensive ends, Landry had kept his attitude in check, and the whole team had taken his pep talk to heart after wrapping for the day. Ansley's tail swished from side to side as he reveled in the performance and fighting spirit he'd seen today--it was like watching a well-oiled machine at work, perfectly in sync. If his team brought that same kind of unity for tomorrow's big game, then they were going to whip the pants off of West Falman. He could see it now, the post-game parties across campus that would be sure to happen when the Prescott College Rams took the win thanks to his leadership--there would be booze, heaps of praise, requests for interviews, plenty of his players who'd want to spend some extra personal training time with their victorious coach....

Ansley's tail flicked especially at that prospect; while there were a few of his star players that he was already fooling around with--Jackson, DeLong, Martinez, and Tetch--he knew that there were even more on his team who were just trying to work up the courage to ask him for some one-on-one attention...he could tell from the way they ogled him when they thought he wasn't looking, from the way they subtly straightened up and adjusted their stances when he walked by, as if trying to catch his eye. Pearson was wanting him especially badly, making sure his ass was prominently on display every time he crouched down for practice. Ansley grinned, knowing that nothing made college athletes hornier than winning a game and earning their coach's pride and respect; he'd definitely be busier than usual during those post-game parties. But first they'd have to beat West Falman, and that wasn't until tomorrow. In the meantime, Ansley needed to get some fresh clothes, take a stop by the locker room to clean up, and then he was going home to crash in front of the TV for a while.

The bull jauntily strode down the hallway to his office next to the locker rooms, and he unlocked the door marked with his name before pushing it open. His office was just as he'd left it; team photos on the wall, couch and armchairs next to the wet bar, massage table in the corner, his desk, the lean Doberman sitting behind it--

Ansley, surprised, stopped in the open doorway when he saw the visitor. "Oh! I--how did you get in here?"

"Ah, the man of the hour," the Doberman said coolly over him. The canine wore a black, nondescript suit and rested his chin on his steepled fingers while his elbows were propped on the desk--he had been gazing at Ansley's computer monitor, but he now looked up at Ansley when the bull opened the office door; his lips curled in a faintly bemused smile. "It's about time you showed up."

Ansley hesitated, his hand still on the doorknob. "Can I...help you with something?"

The Doberman's bemused smile turned into a smirk. "Oh, I think you have to."

Before Ansley could ask further, the Doberman turned the computer monitor to face the bull; Ansley's eyes widened and his stomach dropped when he recognized the website that was on-screen and the video currently playing on it: SmutCentral.com was emblazoned on the page's header, and below the video window was the title "BIG BULL BREEDER COACH FUCKS YOUNG JOCK RAW AFTER PRACTICE". And there was Ansley, his hips thrusting hard and heavily against a hefty wolverine's ass--Jackson, his star quarterback, wearing only his sweaty jockstrap, was bent over one of the benches of a very familiar locker room, his hungry ass easily taking Ansley's beefy, 9-inch, uncut length like a professional sword swallower. Every time Ansley's thick slab of meat disappeared between the college jock's thick, dark-furred cheeks, the bull's ovular, low-hanging nuts swung pendulously between Jackson's spread thighs and smacked against the athlete's own testicles. The audio was muted, but Ansley could recall every moan, huff, and grunt of pleasure, every slap of his balls against Jackson's, every wet schlorp of his cock plunging in and out of the wolverine's loosened, sloppy hole, every pleading word from Jackson as he writhed and squirmed, every drip of the quarterback's pre splatting on the bench below him...the wolverine had been growling and snarling, loudly pleading for more of the bull's cock to penetrate him, to inseminate him, to make him his bitch...

"You filmed that in the locker room next door, right?" the Doberman said conversationally. "That's just one of the many, many videos you made on school property...and one of the many, many videos of you fucking your athletes on your SmutCentral account--BullCoachBreeder1 is you, isn't it?"

He paused, letting Ansley absorb what he was saying for a moment; the bull kept staring at the computer monitor in a shocked daze, watching himself drive his cock deep into Jackson again and again from multiple angles...

"Can you imagine what would happen if all of those videos--and the ones on your hard drive--were to somehow go public?"

The implied threat was enough to snap Ansley out of his trance; he released the doorknob he'd still been holding, letting his office door swing shut behind him, and he finally tore his gaze from the screen to look pleadingly at the Doberman. "What do you want?"

The canine smoothly swung the monitor around to face him again, then stood from Ansley's leather desk chair; while he wasn't as tall or bulky as Ansley, the Doberman held himself in such an imposing and intimidating manner that made the bull believe they'd be evenly matched in a fight. "My name is Mason, and I have a potential offer from my employer that I think you'd be interested in."

As Mason spoke, Ansley glumly deposited his keys, clipboard, whistle, and hat on the wet bar, then stood between his armchairs. "I guess I can't really say no here, can I?"

Mason raised his hands noncommittally. "You can always say no--if you're prepared to live with the consequences."

"The consequences being?"

"While my employer isn't going to make your videos public himself, he'll certainly make it easier for the university's administration to find them, and he's willing to gather testimony from your players to give the athletic department a more...complete picture of what it is you do as a coach."

Ansley hung his head and sighed, then looked at Mason again. "Then I don't really have much of a choice, do I?"

Mason smiled thinly. "No, I'm afraid you don't have much of one."

Ansley rubbed the back of his neck, trying to soothe himself. "Ah...well, who's your employer? What does he want me to do?"

Mason shrugged. "He prefers to stay anonymous, and he's not going to have you do anything too terrible." The Doberman stepped around the desk and approached Ansley, coming to stand in front of him as he continued, "But the offer's not on the table just yet--first he needs confirmation of what you have."

Ansley quizzically raised his eyebrows.

Mason pointed a wagging finger at the bull's waist. "Drop your shorts, Coach."

Ansley did a double-take. "What?"

"Did I stutter?"

"B-but..."

Mason glared at him cockily. "After everything you've posted online, do you really have an issue exposing yourself in front of me? It's not like I haven't seen what you've got...not to mention all of your subscribers."

Ansley started to protest, but it died as a whimper in his throat--there was no point arguing, Mason had the power here...the bull's whimper morphed into a grumble as he rolled his eyes, then reached for his belt. Mason watched as Ansley unbuckled the belt around his waist, then unfastened the button on his shorts and pulled down his zipper. The Doberman smiled when Ansley spread his waistband open, revealing his green boxer briefs and the large bulge in his damp, sweat-soaked crotch.

"Very nice, hoofer," Mason murmured.

Ansley's face flushed and his heart pounded in his ears as he hooked his thumbs into the elastic of his underwear--this was just humiliating and insulting. Sure, he'd gladly strip for a video he was making with one of his athletes, he had the power and control in that kind of situation, and he was doing it for his own enjoyment. Plus he always loved seeing the thrill on his players' faces when they finally got to see the big monster they'd be riding or sucking. But being forced to disrobe like this in front of Mason, who watched him so commandingly and...almost appraisingly, like a butcher surveying a bull for how much beef he could get out of him. Ansley gulped, swallowing his pride and his nerves--if this was what he had to do to make sure his videos stayed private...

He pushed down his shorts and boxer briefs, bending to shimmy them past his groin and down his thighs, then to the floor, where they dropped around his ankles. Ansley straightened up again, giving Mason a full view; the bottomless bull stood in front of the Doberman, his shirt taut over his wide, keg-like stomach while his bare groin was dominated by his flaccid, drooping, beer can-thick cock, which hung over his low-slung, softball-sized, fuzz-covered testicles. Unrestrained by his underwear, Ansley's sweat and musk seeped out from his groin and seemed to fill the room with his pungent odor--the bull wanted desperately to take a shower and clean off from football practice, but instead, he was stuck here, his hefty nuts and dick on display and swaying slightly as he shuffled his feet out of his shorts and underwear.

Mason nodded to himself at the sight, a twinkle in his eye. "Very, very nice."

Ansley huffed and folded his arms over his chest. "Well, now what? You gonna fuck me or something?" he asked dejectedly.

Mason chuckled. "No, that's not what my employer wants. He had very specific instructions, and fucking you wasn't one of them." Mason reached into his jacket's breast pocket and pulled out his phone, and he held it up to take a picture of Ansley.

"Want me to smile?" the bull asked, his tone sour.

"That's up to you."

Ansley's mouth was a grim slash as Mason snapped his photo.

"Yes, I think you'll do nicely," Mason said to himself as he reviewed the photo. He returned to the camera app and lowered his phone to focus the view on the bull's genitals. Ansley sighed and stood still, letting Mason do his work--the Doberman got pictures from the top, front, bottom, and sides, then closed in on his cock and testicles separately.

"Oh!" Ansley gasped softly when he felt Mason's hand alight on his cock--the Doberman's fingers were warm and soft, and cradled his dick in a way to show the size comparison between Mason's digits and Ansley's member. Mason took a few photos as he rolled Ansley's cock from side to side, then held it up, hefting the warm, limp meat.

"Hmm, how heavy is this thing? Gotta be a couple pounds of good beef right there," Mason observed as he gently shook the flaccid cock from side to side...and then began to gently palpate it; Ansley huffed at the stimulation, and he started stiffening in Mason's grip.

"That's the way, keep going," Mason muttered encouragingly as the cock firmed up in his hand and grew beyond his wrist, the foreskin-covered head creeping towards his forearm; his finger pulses soon turned into slow, methodical strokes up and down Ansley's swelling shaft, and before long the bull was fully erect.

"Um...uh..."

"No worries, you're doing great," Mason said in reply to Ansley's wordless questioning. After taking a few more pictures of the bull's now-throbbing erection, Mason moved down to Ansley's balls.

He first held them in his wide palm--Ansley's testicles were so large that they very nearly spilled over the sides of Mason's hand, and the bull huffed softly when Mason curled his fingers around the wide, sensitive, oblong organs. He continued snapping a barrage of pictures, getting views of Ansley's nuts from every possible angle; he documented himself gently squeezing the bull's substantial nuts one at a time; they were solid lumps of meat, with a certain amount of rubbery give, but Mason didn't clench too hard--he had to keep the goods intact, as per his employer's instructions. In fact, they almost felt like overstuffed dumplings, packed with filling and steamed to the perfect consistency.

He also lifted them with his palm, as if testing their weight; he guessed that they weighed at least two pounds apiece, which he made a note of in a message to his employer.

He tugged on them experimentally, gaging Ansley's reaction to having his burly testicles played with; the bull grunted and groaned, although he sounded more appreciative than agonized.

Mason took more pictures throughout his thorough examination; he rolled the fat nuts in his hand, he pressed to feel the spermatic cords, and he ran his fingers over every inch of the bull's fuzzy scrotum, seeking out any abnormalities and making mental measurements and observations for his employer; considering how clinically the Doberman was examining his testicles, Ansley had to admit that the canine's warm, strong, dextrous fingers felt good. If he closed his eyes and forgot for a moment that he was being blackmailed, he could even see himself enjoying this treatment...

"And now we wait," Mason eventually said after sending his pictures and notes. Ansley, now in a horny stupor, watched the canine store his phone in his breast pocket again. "My employer needed me to verify that you have what he wants before officially making an offer."

"What...what kind of offer?" Ansley huffed--even though Mason really hadn't done much to stimulate him, the bull's arousal was still enough to start distracting him. Usually when he started getting horny like this, he'd either have to jerk off or hump the nearest available and willing hole (and fortunately, all of the athletes he was already fooling around with were usually nearby and ready to play when they were on campus). Tempting and teasing like this without immediate relief was bordering on torture, and his cock was throbbing with need.

"Well, you don't want your videos to go public, do you?" Mason asked, cocking an eyebrow as he stepped closer to Ansley; he was now mere inches away from the large, bulky bull.

Ansley shook his head, trying to stay focused on the Doberman in front of him instead of his hard cock, which was begging for attention.

"My employer can guarantee that they'll stay private," Mason continued. His hand drifted down to Ansley's navel, patting the overhanging underside of the bull's stomach. "But he'll need something from you in exchange."

"What's that?"

"Well, it depends on if he likes the pictures of you I shared with him." Mason's hand continued downward, and his fingers rested on the base of Ansley's stiffly throbbing cock.

"Does he...want me to fuck him?" It was taking all of Ansley's self-control not to simply reach down and start stroking himself--he couldn't let this stranger know how badly he was already turned on from just a little teasing.

"Not exactly, but he may want to use your equipment for that," Mason said cryptically--the Doberman's finger pads dragged over the sensitive skin of Ansley's shaft, and the bull grunted as he felt Mason draw the tips of his fingers up and over the foreskin-wrapped head of his penis. Mason smoothly swirled a finger just inside the opening of Ansley's foreskin, pressing down on the sensitive glans and slipping his digit down into the tight fold of skin. "Now, while we wait...why don't you tell me about that video you made with your quarterback?"

Ansley's eyes slid out of focus as Mason slid his finger around his cockhead and teasingly dug into his frenulum. "Oh, I...uhm, that was..."

"That was with Cody Jackson, wasn't it?" Mason continued, his voice soft and low. With his index finger still in Ansley's foreskin, he wrapped the rest of his fingers around the exterior of the bull's heavy cock, which throbbed and twitched in his grip; he could feel Ansley flexing in his fingers, and he squeezed tighter before relaxing again. "Number 47 on the team...82% completion rate, he's averaging out at 35 yards per attempt..."

"You...mf, you did your...research..." Ansley mumbled; his cock tingled, as if an electric current was running through it just from the teasing on his glans. He flexed hard when Mason squeezed again, then slid his finger over his urethra, where the Doberman lubed the digit with the pre that was starting to ooze out of him. Mason resumed sliding his finger around inside Ansley's foreskin, the pre helping his digit make wet squishes as Mason tantrically circled his cockhead.

"I'm thorough with my work," Mason murmured. He sighed, then pushed two more fingers into Ansley's foreskin, stuffing it momentarily and eliciting a surprised grunt from the bull...before pushing further and further, sliding Ansley's foreskin backwards and retracting it to expose his warm cockhead to the open air. Ansley groaned at the sensation, and Mason wrapped his hand around the bull's shaft, lightly squeezing and stroking the bulging, rock-hard column. "I also know that he just turned 20. That's quite the age gap between you two--you're old enough to be his father."

Ansley flushed, but at this point he was more concerned with the Doberman's stroking. He didn't want to stop, it was so good, just the right speed and amount of pressure to tease him without making him want to go faster, slower, harder, or softer.

"Does he--or any of the others--ever call you Daddy?" Mason asked.

"N-no...they always--mmm--call me Coach."

"Hmm..." Mason lapsed into silence as he began to methodically lengthen his strokes; he pushed down to the base of the bull's swollen shaft, feeling the thick veins under his palm and the wall of Ansley's groin against the edge of his hand...then he dragged his curled fist up, pulling the foreskin over the football coach's glans before pushing down again, forcefully retracting the foreskin and stretching it taut on the downstroke. Ansley lowed softly, luxuriating in the expert teasing. "So, how does it work?" Mason eventually asked.

"Mm?" Ansley was slow to respond, and he sounded as if he were a thousand miles away.

"When you first start messing around with one of your players," the Doberman clarified while he kept up his stroking. "Do you let them approach you or do you talk to them first?"

Ansley grunted. "Hmmm...I...hunfff..." Mason began to subtly increase his speed, and Ansley needed a moment to clear his mind enough to answer. "I ask if they...want some one-on-one training...and then..."

"And then the ball's in their court," Mason finished.

Ansley nodded. "I only ask if they're...hmmfff...giving me the...uhmmmm...signs..."

"A wink here, a glance there?"

The bull nodded again.

"Ever get one who asks you outright?"

"A-a few," Ansley admitted. "Got cornered...hufff...in the locker room...last year by two of 'em."

"Heh, they jumped Coach's bones, huh?" Mason glanced over at the massage table in the corner. "Do you give your players a rubdown afterward?"

Ansley grunted and his cock throbbed--his hips involuntarily bucked forward. "S...somethin' like that..."

"Heh, seems someone's ready to hump for a bit," Mason observed.

The bull nodded--Mason loosened his grip and held his hand still, then glanced up meaningfully at Ansley, which Ansley took as his cue to start doing the work himself. He slowly rolled his hips forward, spearing his cock through Mason's open fingers and letting it rub over the canine's palm, before he pulled back, letting his foreskin draw snugly closed over his cockhead...

"This is Jackson's third season on the team, and I saw only a few videos of him on your site," Mason noted. "I take it you only started playing with him recently?"

"Towards the--mmm--end of--huff--last season," Ansley grunted. In his lust, he'd forgotten about his indignation and was now holding Mason's arm with both of his hands, keeping the Doberman's paw steady like a fleshlight that he continued to hump. His heavy balls swung back and forth, back and forth with every pump of his hips. Ansley wanted to keep teasing himself, to let Mason keep teasing him with his hand, and pre dripped in slimy, viscous strands from his urethra and onto Mason's jacket sleeve, wrist, and palm as he continued humping the Doberman's hand. For his part, Mason occasionally squeezed Ansley's shaft in his hand, feeling the delicate, hot rod of flesh push through the ring he created with his fingers before dragging itself out again.

"For the video I showed, did he know you were filming?" Mason asked while Ansley continued thrusting himself in and out of his hand. "From the way he was acting, I don't think he knew the cameras were there."

Ansley shook his head and huffed. "He...uhm...he knew I was gonna film sometime...but he just didn't want to know exactly when...wanted to keep things natural."

"Ah, I see," Mason replied casually. He could feel Ansley starting to speed up, but he allowed the bull to keep rutting into his hand. "And when he came into the locker room that day, did he know you were going to fuck him, or was it a surprise for him?"

Ansley grunted, and Mason could see fresh sweat forming on his brow; the bull was taxed to his mental capacity. Part of him wanted to just give in and furiously jackhammer the canine's hand, while another part of him wanted to restrain himself, to keep indulging in this the teasing torture to prolong his pleasure; at the same time, he was doing his best to focus on responding to Mason's questions, while simultaneously fighting the urge to simply shut down completely and get out of this whole mess...but he just couldn't stop, he had to keep going...

"Huff...I gave him a head's up that morning...he wanted it pretty bad," Ansley finally said.

Mason grinned as he constricted and relaxed his grip on Ansley's cock in pulses. "Just like you're wanting it bad right now, am I right?"

Ansley lowed again. "Uh-huuuhhh..."

Mason reached down with his free hand to cup Ansley's swinging balls, catching them in his grip. "Did you have a fat load saved up in there for him?"

"Y-yeah," Ansley breathed. His nostrils flared and his legs trembled as he got closer to the brink.

"He was begging for a big one in the video," Mason observed teasingly. "I take it you gave him what he wanted?"

"Ooh...oh yeah...huge one...right in his guts...flooded 'em," Ansley grunted, relishing the warm, snug confines of Mason's hand, now slick with the pre that was drooling from his cock. His foreskin greasily slid back and forth along his shaft on every thrust and over his head on every withdrawal.

"I'm sure you make a lot with these fat things, hm?" Mason prompted, squeezing Ansley's testicles.

"Unf...fuuck...yeah, I've always...mmmf...been a big shooter. Hit myself in the face a lot if I'm not careful..."

"I saw you do that in one of your other videos," Mason noted. "You had cum dripping from your horns by the time you were done...think you'll have another big one for me today if you keep this up?"

"O-oh yeah...no doubt...fuckin'...almost there," Ansley gasped.

The Doberman smirked. "Hmm, I don't think my employer would like that...he didn't want you to cum just yet if he made his offer..."

Ding!

Mason's eyebrows rose in surprise when he heard his text message tone. "Well, speak of the devil..."

Carelessly, Mason released his grip on both Ansley's cock and balls, leaving the bull halfway humping the air for a moment, while he reached for his phone in his breast pocket.

"Oh, come on!" Ansley grunted needily, disappointed that he'd gotten so close without getting his rocks off--he just needed a little more time, if Mason's phone had waited maybe 20 more seconds he would've hit the point of no return. His testicles ached from being teased, his cock throbbed hard...and Mason was simply standing in front of him, scrolling through a message on his phone...

"Patience, Coach," Mason admonished as he kept reading his employer's response. He smiled, then nodded. "Well, good news, hoofer," the Doberman said nonchalantly as he stowed his phone and looked back up at Ansley. "My employer likes what he sees, and he's ready to make his offer."

Ansley grumbled impatiently while Mason retreated towards his desk, where he picked up a leather briefcase that had been sitting on the floor. The Doberman brought the briefcase back to where Ansley stood and placed it in one of the armchairs before opening it and pulling out what looked like a thick metal cockring. "So, here's the deal," Mason began, holding up the cockring--Ansley could see that the silver band was infused with circuitry. "You put this portal device on and let my employer hold onto your dick and balls to use however he likes, and he'll make sure your videos are never seen by Prescott College's administration, faculty review board, trustees, concerned parents, or anyone else who might be able to have you fired for your activities with your athletes."

Ansley stared for a moment, his mind still clouded by the hormones running rampant through his system. He desperately needed to get off...if he just accepted this deal, he could do that and then let Mason and his employer do whatever they wanted. Mason had said it wasn't going to be anything too terrible, so sure, he could let a stranger have his junk with the portal device Mason held. His churning balls were begging to be emptied, demanding his attention, but there was one question that managed to surface to the top of his lust-addled mind.

"Why me?" Ansley blurted out.

Mason shrugged. "My employer has been in the market for a breeding stud, and I recommended you to him after seeing your exploits online. He's had his eye on you for a while, and he has big plans for you--primarily milking you dry as much as possible. I assume you have no objections to that?"

Ansley furrowed his brow. "Breeding stud? You mean like--"

"My employer reserves the right to sell your semen, although you'll be under no legal obligations--you'll simply be an anonymous sperm donor," Mason clarified. "Although you'll mainly be for my employer's personal use. I said earlier that you wouldn't exactly need to fuck my employer, but he may want to use your equipment for that...as a toy for himself."

Ansley's heart leapt in his throat--he could technically be fucking some stranger's warm, tight ass from across town while he was coaching his team, and getting his cum drained constantly without anyone else knowing? He wouldn't be able to really fool around with his athletes while his dick and balls were portalled away, but that was a small price to pay for making sure his videos stayed under wraps.

Mason held up the portal ring higher, getting Ansley's attention.

"Fuck, let's do it!" Ansley said, grabbing the ring from the canine's outstretched palm.

"I'm glad you're on board," Mason chuckled as he watched the horny bull guide the ring over the head of his penis--Ansley's foreskin had naturally grown back over his glans, leaving just the tip of his head and urethra visible within the fleshy, taut opening. "And here I was ready to give you the hard sell."

Ansley pulled the thick ring down his shaft; he winced when the cold metal occasionally dragged on the delicate skin of his cock. The ring was 55 millimeters in diameter, suitable for those with well-above average girth, but the bull's veiny cock was especially beefy and bulging. "I...uh...I guess I don't really have much of a choice, though, huh?" he asked as he slid the ring downward in front of his balls.

"No. No, you don't," Mason confirmed.

Ansley huffed, only partly paying attention--under the Doberman's watchful eye, the bull kept the portal ring around his dick with one hand while he used his other to cup his balls and lift them.

"Unf, come on, buddy..." He winced and stuck his tongue out in concentration as he focused on his left testicle first, squeezing the softball-sized nut and angling it into position under his meaty shaft. Ansley had to roll his nuts around in his hand first; when he got them lined up the way he wanted, he began pressing in on his left testicle, trying not to go too hard and hurt himself, but with enough force to work his fat nut between the ring and his cock, to get it through the loop.

"Mmf..." He clenched his jaw when he began to feel the dull ache in his gut as he pushed harder and harder...even though he'd taken quite a few hits to the groin in his day, Ansley always hated that queasy sensation that rose in his stomach and mixed with the pain of getting smacked in the balls, and this was starting to feel like one long, slow punch. But he was so close, he just had to work a little more, press and squeeze a little more...and then it slipped inside the ring and smushed up against the underside of his cock.

"Oof!" Ansley grunted as he felt the ample skin of his scrotum catch on the metal; he used his thick fingers to gently pull as much of his sac into the ring as he could get and ease the tension. By the time he was finished, the ring was about halfway around the base of his cock, with his left nut hanging a little more comfortably while his right testicle bulged like a rock against the taut, fuzz-covered skin of his scrotum.

"That's one, let's get the other in there," Ansley muttered, turning his attention to his right testicle while Mason, leaning against one of the armchairs with his arms folded over his chest, watched with casual interest.

Ansley's sausage-like fingers pressed and poked at his right night, trying to force it into the slim gap between his throbbing shaft and the metal ring that was now warming to his body temperature. He would have had an easier time of it if he had some extra room to work with, but the portal ring was unforgiving and his erection was stiff as a board. Still, he persevered, pushing and squeezing, rolling his nut to realign it, and wincing as he wedged it into the opening of the ring. Ansley stuffed his nut into every spare millimeter of give he could use, but it was tedious work...the fat organ bulged and threatened to squirm out of his grip, he had to keep applying constant pressure to it or he'd lose all the progress he'd made. He could feel his testicle was halfway inside, but he was at the upper limits of his dexterity, his fingers were starting to cramp from the strain...

"You--unf--couldn't have gotten a larger ring?"

Mason cocked an eyebrow. "I don't think you're in a position to be complaining."

"Huff...well, it's just a little tight in there," Ansley quipped.

"I think that's the point," Mason returned coolly. "Although--"

"Whuff!" Ansley grunted as his testicle finally popped through the ring to join his left nut--some of his scrotum remained caught between the ring and his dick, and the bull began pinching and pulling his sac to pull the rest of it through.

"It looks like you managed well enough," Mason chuckled.

As Ansley continued pulling the rest of his sac through the ring, he used his other hand to drag the metal band down further around the base of his cock, working it to settle comfortably--though tightly--around his shaft and scrotum...before gripping his throbbing erection and then quickly running his hand up and down the beefy column of flesh. "Just gotta...make a few adjustments," Ansley mumbled while his other hand worked on pulling his nuts further down.

"A few adjustments, hm?" Mason asked sarcastically, watching the bull's fervid stroking and pulling.

"Gotta...make sure it...sits right..." Ansley was so close to the edge already, he just had to stroke a little more, another few seconds and he'd be in the home stretch...

"Oh, I think it sits right already," Mason told him as he leaned forward and pressed on the ring around Ansley's cock.

Ansley grunted when he felt a swift, swooping sensation in his groin as the portal activated.

"Ah--hey!" he yelped when Mason roughly yanked the top half of the portal ring away from his crotch, swiping the hefty cock and balls out of the surprised bull's hands. All that was left on Ansley's groin was the bottom half of the portal ring, with a glowing, pale blue cross-section of light rippling and warping within the metal loop. In his shock, Ansley stumbled backward and toppled onto the sofa behind him. He was too tired, too stunned, too lust-addled to do anything but just sit there and stare up at the Doberman who literally had him by the balls--Mason was holding his junk aloft by his large testicles, letting his stiff, throbbing, leaking cock dangle by the skin of his scrotum.

"Damn...even heavier than I thought!" Mason smirked as he inspected his prize--he clutched Ansley's oversized testicles tightly in his hand.

"Oooh fuuuuuck," Ansley groaned at the sensation. "Please...please let me..."

"Oh no, my employer doesn't want you getting carried away just yet," Mason said, still holding Ansley's disembodied genitals while bent to pick up his briefcase. Ansley watched the Doberman shake open the top flap of his briefcase, then hold his large assets--the cock he'd used to fuck so many of his athletes, the balls he'd used to produce so much potent cum for his football players to slurp and gargle, to beg for, to hold in their asses and stomachs after he pumped them full, the balls that were the very essence of his manhood--over the open satchel...before he dropped them inside the leather bag. Even though Ansley's severed erection and testicles disappeared from view, he could still feel them slide against the smooth leather sides of the briefcase--

"Oh shit!" Ansley jolted and shivered on the sofa and squirmed; he kicked his legs, trying to get away from the cold sensation that bit into his hot flesh, but there was no escaping it as his cock and balls landed solidly on the frozen ice pack Mason had evidently kept in his briefcase. All the bulky bull could do was curl in on himself, trying to power through the freezing agony blazing through his genitals.

"Yeah, just a little something to calm you down so you don't make a mess inside my briefcase," Mason snickered with a wink. He flipped his bag closed and secured the latches on it as he continued, "Don't worry though, you'll soon be cumming more times than you can count."

Ansley, still huffing hard on the couch, glared up at the Doberman, who was buttoning his suit jacket as if he'd just finished a productive sales meeting. "How...how long do you need me for this?"

Mason shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it if I were you--my employer will be in touch, though." As he stepped towards the door, he casually said, "Good luck against West Falman tomorrow--should be a good game."

"...thanks," Ansley called half-heartedly after the Doberman, but Mason was already out the door, taking his manhood with him without a backwards glance and leaving the bull with a painfully cold case of blue balls that he couldn't even attend to.

Ansley sighed and wearily leaned back against his couch as the initial shock of the ice pack began to wear off--while it was helping his arousal simmer down (and he could even feel himself start to soften again), there was still the numbing pain to contend with. Hopefully it wasn't a long drive from here to wherever Mason's employer was, or maybe the Doberman would pull out the ice pack out of his briefcase to let Ansley's genitals recover...he didn't know how much longer he could take the frigid chill to his poor, aching nuts and cock, and if he wanted his videos to stay private, it didn't look like he'd be allowed to take off the portal ring anytime soon...

---

Mason pulled up in front of the brick townhome--at one point, it had been part of a storefront, but the entire building had been remodeled into a row of houses that still retained the old establishment's charm and character. Mason sauntered up the walkway to his employer's front door, his briefcase swinging from his hand as he strode along the pavement. He let himself inside with the key fob he had been given and stepped into the foyer, where the industrial lighting glared down on him. The Doberman made sure to close the door behind him before making his way down the hallway towards the back of the house, bypassing the upgraded kitchen, the modern living room, and the powder room. He continued padding softly down the hallway until he finally came to his destination: a closed, dark wooden door on the left, just before the staircase. Mason raised his hand and knocked.

"Come in," a muffled voice called from the room inside.

Mason opened the door and stepped into his employer's private den; the room had much of the same charm and character as the rest of the townhome, with exposed brick walls, a fireplace, and an old wooden floor, accented with modern and industrial touches, from the black metal bordering the window panes and the artistic wallpaper serving as a focal point to the angular light fixtures and furniture. And there at the desk in front of the windows sat his employer; the tiger--a tall, muscular feline wearing sweatpants and a thin, comfortable shirt--was hunched over a pad, writing notes.

"Sir?" Mason asked tentatively.

Charn, his focus still on his writing pad, absently waved the Doberman over to the desk. "Mason, come in...I'm just finishing up here..."

The Doberman padded over the floor to stand behind the tiger, where he waited patiently for Charn to finish his writing. After a minute, the tiger laid down his pen and turned in his chair to face the canine, an eager smile on his face. "So, you've got it?"

"Yes, sir," Mason replied, reaching into his briefcase and producing Ansley's now-flaccid cock and low-hanging balls that seemed to spill out from the tight portal ring around his limp shaft.

"Oh, well hello," Charn murmured excitedly as he stood from his chair for a better look. "He didn't give you any trouble, did he?"

Mason shook his head. "He was pretty easy to convince."

"Good, good..."

"If you'd like to check it for yourself?" Mason suggested, holding up the bull's genitals like a sacrificial offering, which Charn accepted with a reverent gleam in his eyes.

"Mmm it looks even better in person," the tiger chuffed as he hefted the substantial package. He gently played with the bull's softball-sized, ovular testicles in his palms, cupping them and lifting them one at a time, weighing and squeezing in his hands them as he fondled the fuzzy scrotum before turning his attention to the beefy, veined slab of meat nestled on top of Ansley's fat nuts. He delicately extended a claw to tease the opening of the bull's foreskin, gently tugging the wrinkled curl of flesh before pressing a finger into the loose orifice and pushing on Ansley's glans. He chuckled and withdrew his finger, then began gently gripping and squeezing the shaft in pulses--Charn's eyes lit up with joy as he watched and felt the cock begin to grow firm in his hand. "Oh, I'm going to have fun with this one," he mused. He glanced down at Mason and grinned. "Well done, Mason."

The Doberman nodded respectfully. "Thank you, sir."

Still holding Ansley's disembodied cock in his large hand, Charn turned back to his desk and plucked a thick envelope from the tabletop and handed it to Mason. "For your trouble."

Mason gratefully accepted the envelope; while Charn continued to palpate the stiffening bull cock and hefty nuts in his hands, the Doberman opened the envelope and counted out the bills inside, tallying up the total in silence. Satisfied with the final count, Mason closed the envelope again and deposited it into his briefcase. "It's always a pleasure doing business with you," the Doberman said cherrily. "I'm available anytime you need my services again."

"Oh, I expect I'll be calling you very soon," Charn said reassuringly--he had been teasing and flicking the now-stiff and twitching erection in his hands while Mason had been counting his payment. With the bull's hefty equipment paid for and firmly in hand, Charn strode over to the wall, where Mason saw a collection of five photographs hanging with straps and empty rings beneath them--one of the photos was a headshot of Ansley. Mason watched as the tiger reached up to fit the bull's portalled cock and balls into the empty ring beneath Ansley's picture frame, and then stepped back to admire his new wall ornament.

"Perfect," the tiger sighed to himself.

"May I ask what you're planning to do?" Mason queried, looking up at the tiger's trophy that was throbbing and twitching on the wall--a bead of pre had formed in the divot of Ansley's urethra and was threatening to drool out of the taut opening of his foreskin.

"Oh, I have a few ideas," Charn noted; his gaze lingered on the low-hanging testicles that adorned his wall like a large door-knocker, and his stomach growled hungrily. "But for now, doesn't it make a wonderful art piece?"