FSE

Furry search engine

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Koben stepped off the gangway of the bedraggled trade ship and into the uncertain light of Perdition's infamous spaceport. He sniffed the air with his black nose, and quickly regretted it. Almost instantly, his grey-furred muzzle wrinkled up and he sneezed. He laid his ears back. The place was a pit of chaos.

He lifted the grey rucksack onto his broad shoulders, and moved aside to let the crowd of people pass while he planned his next move. He was supposed to meet his uncle Mohrgan here on Perdition, It was one of the merc company's favored stopping points, and not too many weeks out from the wolvan world of Gateway. To his disappointment, when he'd attempted to contact him at the orbital station, he'd discovered that Mohrgan's ship had been delayed. The Indeterminate wouldn't be arriving for at least three more days.

He'd been warned this might happen. Farren's Resolution Services, also known as Farren's Fixers, couldn't always maintain an exact schedule, especially if shooting was involved. His uncle had been serving with the merc company for longer than Koben had been alive, and had reluctantly agreed to bring him on as part of the crew. Mohrgan had given the young wolvan the address of a hotel to stay at if he arrived early, and had set up a credit account for emergency expenses for him.

Wolvan homeworlds didn't share a banking or economic structure with what they called the "Outworlds," so Mohrgan had fronted him a small stake to get started. Koben had a preliminary identity record set up until more permanent arrangements could be made. Frankly, he was confused by the bewildering allotment of rules and customs involved with spending credits for goods and services, or identifying one's self to prove that you were who you said you were when you made a transaction or took a job. Added to that was the fact that the line of work he'd chosen often benefited by being able to not be identifiable, at least to certain people. He'd kind of hoped that Mohrgan would already be here to explain things to him.

Well, there was no help for it. He was far from his homeworld and familiar culture, and he'd need to learn how to manage on his own and get used to new things.

He activated his headcomp and accessed an infostream. His pale grey eyes shifted back and forth, as his visual cortex received phantom input from the computer implant in his skull.

There was a bit of interference this close to the spaceport, so he identified the actual physical terminal for the stream, and moved to stand next to it. There were a couple of interrupts, but Koben put that down to high traffic mixed with substandard tech. It took only a few moments, but he got the directions to the hotel, a PanSolarBank info repository where he could get his temporary ID made more permanent, and some listings for places where he might find food or entertainment. He checked the balance on his account, and did some quick math to determine that if he spent frugally, he could probably live here at least a month, if something went wrong.

Most of the crowd around him were humans, although a high percentage of them looked like they deviated from the "textbook," norm for that species. There were also a lot of people who were either from gene-altered species, or had gotten themselves genedanced later on. There was a delphian lumbering cautiously through the crowd, attempting to walk it's eight-foot tall, grey-skinned bulk through a sea of smaller, certainly more fragile creatures. It looked like nothing so much as a huge, grey-skinned gargoyle. Koben could see the breathing hole on the back of its neck as it moved further away from him in the bustle.

A voice behind him said "Hey! Why don't you put that thing away!" as something struck his tail stingingly. When he turned, a human female with iridescent glowtoos glared at him. "Fuckin' animals," she muttered, as she moved a little further away. Koben wrinkled his muzzle at the rudeness, but he didn't want to start his stay on Perdition by trading arguments with a stranger. He just made an effort to keep his tail down. It was difficult to do, both as a matter of pride, and because of the oppressive clothing he'd had to start wearing since coming Outworld.

Apparently, nudity taboos were rather popular among the hundreds of cultures in the outworlds, although since most of these were human-based, that wasn't terribly surprising. Koben supposed that if he were a hairless primate with fragile skin, he might want to cover up too.

He'd settled on a utilitarian pair of grey shorts, made of a stretchy light material that hugged tightly to his body, and a loose, sleeveless shirt. He'd chosen a color similar to his fur, just because that seemed the easiest choice until he got a better feel for the custom.

He contacted the hotel where he was supposed to stay, and used their automated reservation system. In a few moments, the credits had been deducted from his temporary account, and he had a passcode to get into the room he'd been assigned. Seemed simple enough.

His stomach growled, and he decided that before doing anything else, he'd find something to eat that wasn't ship-food. He moved slowly among the crowd, being jostled frequently. He wasn't sure he could get used to this sort of thing. He'd never even seen a crowd like this before, and wasn't accustomed to being bumped by strangers.

Most of the snatches of conversation he overheard were in Panlingua, but here and there, his ears picked up bits and pieces of more exotic languages from the independent worlds. A smattering of Ixian, a golden-skinned man and woman arguing fiercely in old Esperanti, Catfolk joking in Mau. Koben made a note to install some linguasofts in his headcomp soon, so he could start to get the hang of languages other than his own and the ubiquitous Panlingua.

The young wolvan was just passing a place called "Happy Hour," which the grubby infostream feed listed as a "Fine drinks establishment." Cross-referencing that, he verified that this meant it was a place that served various sorts of intoxicant, not limited to those you drank. Probably not somewhere he'd want to visit.

He stopped as a group of apparent revelers staggered out the front of the place... it appeared to be a tall catfolk of the lion breed being supported by two somewhat smaller leonines. As he moved aside to let them pass, there was a brief sting at the base of his neck. He lifted a paw, finding something hard buried in his fur.

And then he was toppling forward, until something abruptly caught him. Dimly, he heard echoing voices up close, saying, in accented Panlingua, "It's okay bro, the car's right up ahead. No ma'am, our friend will be okay. He just had a little too much to drink."

Koben tried to make sense of this situation, but his head was swimming. He couldn't focus his eyes properly. He was being carried along between two large figures, his feet scraping along the ground. He didn't know what had happened to his bag. He tried to say something, but his tongue didn't seem to be under his control.

"Hey, great time, great times! Eh?" a voice seemed to ask, by his ear, "But now we gotta getcha home, bro... into the car... come on... there we go."

There was a hollow thump, and everything seemed darker. Koben felt a heavy weight land on him. He seemed to be in some kind of vehicle, surrounded by the smells of strangers. He was able to raise his head for just a moment, before his neck went nerveless again, and saw that the weight was his carryall bag, dumped unceremoniously on top of him.

There were two more thumps, and a sense of motion. After a moment, he heard voices.

"We clear?"

"Looks like. Wait til we're further from port, and then speed it up. That stuff don't last forever."

"Just shoot 'im again, then?"

"You know how much this shit costs? Fuck that. We hurry a little and we ain't gotta waste an extra dose. Once we turn 'im over to Scrim, he can pump more Nitrank or whatever out of his pocket."

"So... what'd we catch? Look like a good one?"

"Oh yeah, baby. Scrim's little analyzer here says this one's got some prime genes. Looks like an Aralia pup here."

"You shittin? Scrim pays extra for those, right?"

"Oh yeah."

An unfamiliar face swam into view in front of Koben. His eyes wouldn't focus properly, but it looked like a bald human. The face said "Yeah, you're worth a credpile to us doggy boy. Din't nobody tell you to be more careful? We scoped you quick. We're sort of like... talent scouts, ya see. Don't get many of your kind, and anything there ain't lots of is worth more. So we see a young doggy-boy, lookin' lost and outta place, like he just dropped into the real universe, and out tap on that infonet term says you ain't even got perm i.d. yet...way I see it, you deserve to get snapped up."

It was hard to follow the man's rapid-fire speech. He sounded like he was on some kind of stimulant.

"Quit messing with the merchandise, Spike. Call Doc Scrim and tell him we made a pickup, and we'll be there in six."

The face vanished. Koben tried to force his limbs to move, but he was paralyzed. There was a faint tingling sensation, almost but not quite an itch, all over his body. He couldn't even lift his head anymore.

After a few minutes, the vehicle abruptly slowed down, and the light dimmed. There was a dull booming noise, and then all motion ceased. Koben heard, but couldn't see, his kidnappers exit the vehicle. Then, for a few moments, there was rapid, muffled speech. It sounded like new voices.

Koben strained to move, but it was no use. He practically screamed at his paralyzed muscles and nerves, but all he got for his effort was that one arm slid bonelessly off the seat and onto the floor.

Then there was more light, and Koben felt rough hands pulling at his legs. He was dumped unceremoniously onto his side onto a hard plascrete surface. His left arm and hip caught most of the stinging impact. Wonderful, so he couldn't move, but he could feel.

A voice from somewhere said "If you please, try not to damage the merchandise? I don't pay you boys by the bruise."

"Aww... c'mon Doc. Lookit him. A little thump out the back of a hover ain't gonna muss up a big boy like this. Anyway, you might wanna get started quick. He ain't had a big dose, but if ya move fast, you won't have ta waste another one on him. We had him here seven after we zapped him."

"Standard dosage?"

"One dart. Four milligrams."

"Of course... well done. We'll have a few minutes. Now, gentlemen, I presume this concludes the business of the day?"

"Got the creds, you got your flea hotel."

"Yes, yes, splendid then. Don't let me keep you. Orion, let the gentlemen leave, please."

"Seeya, Doc. We're gonna head back to South Continent for a week or so, then we'll head back to find ya some more presents!"

"I shall look forward to it," said the other voice.

There were two thumps, and the sound of a badly-tuned hovercar starting up. A moment later, a shadow fell across Koben's unresisting form from behind. A pair of white-clad human legs, with shiny black shoes passed in front of his eyes.

The voice, from somewhere above him, said "Orion. Pick him up and let's have a look at him, shall we?"

Something gripped Koben firmly under his armpits and hauled him to a more or less standing position. It felt like huge fingers pressed into his sides, compressing his ribcage. Something grabbed the mane of fur at the back of his neck and held his head up. The young wolvan felt the tips of his toes barely brushing the ground.

He found himself looking down at a small, thin human, rather youngish-looking if he was any judge. Other than the somewhat disheveled, raven-black hair, Koben recognized the general build of a so-called Core-worlder. Blue eyes stared appraisingly at him from over a fine, small nose. The mouth smiled in a human gesture of warmth and hospitality, but the eyes were glittering in an unfriendly way.

"So happy you could join us, mister... let's see... Orion tells me that according to your temporary identification, your given name is Koben, no family or clan name recorded. So... Mister Koben. And we have... how long, Orion?"

"Nineteen minutes approximately, based on dosage, body weight, and muscle mass" supplied a metallic, deliberately artificial voice from directly behind Koben's ear."

"Nineteen minutes approximately, according to Orion, to get you settled in. More than enough time to get to know one another a little better, before we get started, eh?"

The voice was grindingly cheerful and exuberant.

"Mrnh," Koben managed to fumble out through his enervated voice box.

"Ah... yes. I do hope you don't mind if I just carry the conversation myself? So you are Koben. Well... my friends like to call me Doctor Scrim... or... just Doc."

The man walked around Koben, looking him up and down. There was something sleek and predatory about his every movement.

"So... you've been on Perdition approximately twenty minutes. You just stepped off a cheap border-running transport. You have a small bag with you, which appears to contain a few datachips, a change of clothing identical to what you are already wearing, some grooming supplies, and little else. We're so lucky we found you. Really."

The man looked him up and down. "And... according to my devices... a great good many of your genes have their origin in the laboratories of the famous Aunt Aralia. There's even subsets and secondary chromasets that I simply haven't seen yet. That so delights me. I assure you, as something of a student of eugenics, that I know fine work when I see it. And Aralia's is among the finest. Some would say that none can approach or even understand some of it!"

"And that means, of course, that it's very valuable, and hard to replicate."

"Come along Orion. Let's get our new friend comfy, shall we?"

Two more seemingly iron grips clamped down to either side of Koben's waist, and he found himself being carried forward, Doctor Scrim walking swiftly just ahead, with rapid, even steps. A door irised open in a nondescript plascrete wall ahead of them. The doctor stepped in, and Koben was carried right up alongside him. There was a brief sensation of downward acceleration, and then Koben found himself moving backwards, Scrim keeping right in step.

He found himself in a large chamber, lit seemingly from all directions by white wall panels. The room was filled with all sorts of huge metal and plasteel and chrome apparatus. There were modern holocontrols displays winking in the air above a lot of the equipment.

"Well now, let's have a look at you, shall we? It'll be like... he heh.. playing doctor. You can be the patient in for his physical. Won't that be fun?"

The human spoke with a theatrical, delighted urgency, as if he were a vid performer. He gave every impression of having a wonderful time. He snapped on a pair of thin, white rubbery gloves, and wiggled his fingers.

"Orion," the man said, "That outfit just won't do. Do hold him up while I just get him out of that, there's a good fellow."

Koben felt a slight shifting, and the grip at his waist vanished, and reappeared around his biceps. Scrim reached up to the collar of Koben's shirt, and produced a small implement of some sort from a pocket. He zipped it down, in a fluid motion, and Koben felt the shirt fall open in front. Two more zips at his arms, and Doctor Scrim whipped it away from his body with a theatrical flourish. He balled up the fabric, and tossed it into a nearby cylinder.

He stepped in close to Koben, and pulled the waistband of his shorts away from his body. "I hope you're not shy," he said, "And please... do tell me if I have cold hands, won't you?"

There were two "zip" noises as the man flicked the small device down both Koben's legs, and a faint snap as the material parted, hanging down in strips from Scrim's glove. He dropped the little black cutter into a pocket, and tossed the ruined shorts into the cylinder after the shirt. He leaned over, and pressed a button with a pinky finger. There was a brief roaring noise, flames shot out the top of the cylinder, and then there was a sound of suctioned air.

"I assure you," Scrim confided, leaning close. "Once that's done cleaning your clothes, you'll never find a stain. Eh heh!"

He stepped back on one heel, rested an elbow in one hand, and his chin on the other, looking at Koben appraisingly.

"My. You are a big fellow. Quite a find, I have to say! Orion. How big would you say he is?"

The metallic voice behind Koben's ears said, "Approximately one point eighty three meters in height. One hundred four point oh one kilograms."

"Well now," continued Scrim, "From the look of you, you're hardy and strong. A big strapping fellow. Look at those bulging muscles. Good heavy frame, solid bone structure. I'm sure if we were to look under all that fur there'd be a fine washboard stomach hiding there. And what a handsome face. I do believe I know my horseflesh, and this big wolfy boy is, I'm sure, considered quite attractive back home."

Koben rapidly decided that the man was completely mad.

"And I don't feel my masculinity is the least threatened by me noticing," he continued, "but... I also have to remark that you are rather well-endowed. That naughty-minded old biddy Aralia has a habit for sneaking in the genes for that. It's practically a trademark of hers."

He clapped his hands together.

"So... Orion, let's put our guest in the comfy chair, shall we?"

Koben felt himself moving again as Orion, whatever the hell Orion was, carried him across the room, towards a complicated device, some sort of weird jumble of metal arms, rods, and cables. Some of the metal and plastic appendages on the confusing framework looked suspiciously like they were intended as restraints. The major feature was a huge curved arm on a swivel mount, that gave the impression of an archaic stand for a planet globe, only without the planet.

"I hope you like it," said Scrim. I assure you that while it is functional, a great deal of labor went into the aesthetic. So... while Orion gets you ready, how about I tell you a little about what we do here? Just shake your head 'no' if I'm boring you. No? Good!"

Koben felt terror rising in him, but he found that this made him angry. Koben wasn't used to feeling frightened, and it made him furious that this capering madman was enjoying his discomfiture. He tried again to move, and thought he managed some weak effort from his arms, but the grip that held him was implacable.

Scrim didn't seem to notice, or was confident enough to ignore this.

"Now... you see... there's a lot of interest, even with the ... official... moratorium on genetic manipulation of species in the central planets, in finding the best genetic traits possible, and fitting them together in useful ways. There is, you could say, something of an arms race in genetics, neogenetics, and bioware. I don't want to bore you with the technical details. But, well... you see... your people are becoming rather well-known for some of their work, and... as very forward-thinking creatures, you aren't afraid to improve your own overall species! I suspect that very careful and ethical testing processes are conducted so that, over time, foolish changes aren't unwittingly added to your whole gene pool."

Koben was brought over to the huge contraption while the doctor spoke. He heard the sound of metal and plastic on metal behind him, and some dull clanging noises.

"But ah... Aralia. Now she's shall we say, a cutting edge type. Not afraid to take a few risks. Set up her own moon to keep out of the way of fuddy-duddy types on the homeworlds, so she could devote herself to more...shall we say... unfettered research?"

Koben felt something pressed against his back. With a slight whizzing noise, something zinged across his shoulders, and under his arms, and met in the middle of his chest with the distinctive click of a powerful maglock. He felt something contract around his ribcage, and press against his spine.

"And that brings us to the creation of a very special, shall we say, cottage industry? Genetic acquisition. You see, it's quite against the law, in most places, to just go borrowing someone's genes. And believe it or not, Aunt Aralia actually codes cellular behaviors that make this nearly impossible with some of her work. And even among the... less hidebound corporate sponsors, there is still reticence about cloning or related sciences."

Something was pressed against the base of Koben's spine, and he felt it clamp around his sides, just at his hips. He thought that "Orion" had let go of him, but now he hung within the weird restraint contraption.

"But, you see... there's nothing stopping the transfer of, shall we say... old fashioned genetic material. You can, after all, grow your own, and with quite a bit of phenotypic diversity, from old fashioned sperm and ova. Also... since you need to be able to reproduce yourself, even those who are fussy about copyright, like Auntie in her moon, have to allow... some things to work."

Koben began to feel horror at what Scrim was saying. Was he serious?

"And I have to admit... I do have a little... grudge against Auntie Aralia, and your people in general. They raised a bit of a stink about some pet research of mine, and... I was forced to seek another line of work. I've settled on this one."

Koben tried to force his limbs to obey him. He struggled weakly, and discovered that his arms responded, at least a little. But shining chrome and plasteel caught his wrists and forced them into restraints, which clicked into place around them. He felt something clamp around each thigh. He looked down in time to see metallic, but dextrous robotic hands bending his lower leg up close to the thigh. Flexible magsnake restraints wrapped around, bunching both his legs into a tightly-folded position.

His arms were forced up against his chest, and the bonds maglocked into place. More of the automated armature swung around him. He felt his head grabbed roughly, and something gripped his muzzle. A heavy restraint fastened around his neck, tilting his head back, and his muzzle straight up.

"You don't have to worry about me draining out all your blood, or boiling you down for your RNA, or taking some gene samples and then dumping you down the incinerator. Let me put your mind at ease on that score. You'll be completely unharmed."

Koben tried to speak, but between the paralytic drug, and the muzzle tightly gripping his jaws, all he could manage was a strangled "Mmmmppph!" noise.

He felt something grab his tail and curl it back behind him. He felt things clamping around the length of it, fastening it in place.

"Thank you, Orion, you can go now. I can manage from here. Doctor-patient privilege, don't you know."

Koben heard heavy footsteps retreating away.

Scrim continued his banter. "We will take a few standard cell samples, of course, and a little blood. But nothing dreadful. You won't even feel a prick. Oh... you poor dear. All you can see is the ceiling. It must be terrifying not to know what's going on where you can't see. How about we do something about that?"

Something that looked like a partial helmet, or heavy pair of goggles descended from somewhere in the confusing armature that held Koben. They settled over his face, locking onto the restraint around his muzzle, and for a moment, he couldn't see. Then, suddenly, they lit up from within, and the young wolvan could see... himself, from somewhere close up.

"There," Scrim's voice said from nearby, "Now you can see everything I see. And of course, I'll explain as we go along. I wouldn't want you to fault my bedside manner! First, I'll want you to... open wide. There we go!"

Something applied pressure at the back of Koben's jaws, forcing them slightly apart. He could see the doctor's hands pressing something to the end of his mouth. It felt like a padded, but rigid tube, forcing his jaws apart. With a click, it fastened to the muzzle, which Koben could now see was attached to a huge metal armature.

The doctor stepped back. Koben could see his whole body now. A bewildering array of shaped restraints and magsnakes held him suspended within the curve of the weird apparatus that Scrim called "The comfy chair." The thing bore no resemblance to a chair whatsoever.

His legs were clamped in place with his feet and shins tightly held against his thighs, and his thighs splayed out and up to either side of his torso, exposing his belly and groin. His weight was supported by a large and complex set of clamps gripping hips, chest and neck.

His body was held in almost a straight line, and he could see that at the ends of the huge curved armature were extendible posts or tubes. One pointed directly at his mouth. The other was aimed... under his tail.

"Ooookay," said Scrim, "Now. Let's see. First off, you're gonna be here for at least a few days. Depends on how... productive you are. If you're a real producer, I'll keep ya longer. A ha ha! But... anyway... ya gotta eat, and ya gotta poop, right? Well... we got that covered."

Koben felt a humming, and movement around him. He could see, through Scrim's goggles, that the ends of the huge arc were contracting slightly. Then, tubes extended from each end of the arc. He felt a near simultaneous pressure at his lips, and at his tailhole. The tube at the front pushed its way through the bit holding his mouth open, and over his tongue. It was smooth and rounded. Something seemed to extrude out of it, at the back of mouth, momentarily filling his throat. It was choking him! He couldn't breathe. He felt it forcing its way, like a living snake, deeper and deeper down his throat. Suddenly, something seemed to open up, and he could breathe.

Just as bad was the thing simultaneously forcing its way into his rear end. He felt it force its way past the tight ring of his anus, stretching it almost painfully wide, pushing deeper and deeper within. And then, when it seemed to stop moving deeper, and he thought he could relax, it suddenly expanded in width, stretching him wider, and locked inside him.

He couldn't even cry out.

"As you can guess... the one tube handles feeding and air. The other handles... well... there's more to it than waste disposal, but we'll get to that later. Meanwhile, you're almost ready to go."

The vision in front of Koben's eyes shifted dramatically around the room, as Scrim went to a counter and picked up a small handheld device of some sort. The man returned swiftly, and a moment later, the view was of Koben's unprotected groin.

He felt, at the same time as he saw, the man's gloved hand come up under his testicles. They seemed to fill the thin, nimble hands to overflowing.

Scrim said "If you don't mind, I'd just like to think of these as my little moneymakers. Or... well... actually, they're not too little. I wish someone in my race's eugenics projects had seen fit to endow me like this. Still... these days, money can buy happiness."

Koben saw the man's hand other hand come up, holding the little device. It looked like a smooth, slightly rounded white lozenge, with a flattened end.

Koben found enough muscle control had returned to let him squeeze his eyes tightly shut. Nothing seemed to happen for a moment, and then he heard Scrim say, "Uh uh uh... you'll miss out that way. I can tell you've got your eyes closed, you know. That's no fun. They say that according to the code of medical ethics, a patient must be informed completely about any medical procedures. Well... you've got a headcomp, haven't you? Visual inputs, certainly. Oh my... it looks advanced. Let's see if we can't network a little, okay?"

Koben's headcomp registered a broadcast anomaly. Something was trying to hack it from the outside. And then he got an idea.

A moment later, he found that he was again seeing through the so-called-doctor's eyes, even with his own pressed tightly shut.

"Ah, there we go. Clear as day, I'll bet. That wasn't so hard at all! Now, where were we? Oh yes. All this fur just gets in the way of some of the more delicate equipment. Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit, but I expect you'll feel... a draft. Eheh heh."

Koben's own groin seemed to hang suspended in front of his face. The white-gloved hands moved up again. One hand pressed the little handheld device against the skin next to Koben's furry scrotum, and as it moved, the fur fell away, leaving bare skin.

"Top of the line model. Made by your people, actually. One of my previous patients had it in their grooming kit. Nanotech... takes the base of the hairs apart right at the roots, and then foof! Smooth as a baby's bottom."

Koben watched helplessly, felt helplessly, as the shaver was worked across his flesh, removing the hair in long strips. Scrim shaved Koben's whole lower belly, up to the bottom of his ribcage. He worked from the outside in, circling ever closer to the paler fur of his genitals, and then poised the device by the heavy balls, which had drawn up against Koben's body.

"I like to save the best for last," he said, wiggling his fingers in exaggerated delight.

The man rolled the skin of Koben's scrotum this way and that, working the shaver over every centimeter of it. After he'd finished erasing the soft fuzz from the dark skin of Koben's scrotum, he paused.

"I've always wondered why there's so much pigment down here." As he said this, he bounced the aforementioned parts lightly up and down with one hand.

"Most of your type have darkly pigmented scrota. Maybe that's why you've been 'black balled' from working with so many of the Terranovan corporations. Some clerk heard about 'black balls' and got carried away. Eheh heh. You must forgive me. My sense of humor just gets away from me sometimes."

Koben wished he could growl. Or better yet. Get loose and feed this loon his own shaver.

Returning to his task, Scrim's nimbly ran the thing up and down the length of the wolvan's long, heavy sheath, gripping it firmly in one hand to turn it from side to side, making sure he'd gotten it all.

After only a few moments, Koben's entire belly and groin had been shaved smooth. The white gloved hands fussily brushed away a few clinging hairs.

"Well, there we go. I see you do have that washboard stomach I suspected, but not so overdefined as to look grotesque. I hope you're not feeling that draft I mentioned?"

The hands vanished from view momentarily, and reappeared with a set of antiquated mechanical slide calipers. "Just going to take a couple of measurements. Won't take a moment. Let's see."

Scrim grabbed one of Koben's testicles, expertly, and wrapped a thumb and forefinger behind it, isolating it, and with the other hand, laid the caliper against it, pushing the slide with his thumb. He repeated this procedure with the other one, humming a jaunty tune as he did so.

"Ah... I tell you, you're looking better and better all the time. Quite a handful, if you'll forgive my little puns. I have high hopes for you. I think this will be a very... rewarding partnership. Heh. Eheh heh."

The hand reached up out of sight behind Koben, and swung a flexible armature into view. It ended in some sort of complicated cuff, divided into three parts. He pressed it up behind Koben's scrotum, and fastened two of the arms around the base of it. The third came up from underneath, dividing the two orbs. When fitted together, the opening for each testicle was rounded. The gloved hands pinched a small stud and the bands squeezed tighter. The white-gloved fingers tugged the skin and pulled it through the openings, as far as it would stretch, and then tightened the contraption a little more.

Koben watched dismayed, as the man pulled up yet another armature, which swung out from somewhere in the bowels of the weird restraint frame. This one had two arms with flexible magsnake loops at the end. The gloved hands delicately placed each testicle through a loop which tightened around it. When both balls were secure, the armature slowly extended, stretching them further and further away from his body in different directions. Koben felt his fingers curl into claws and his muscles tense up. By the time device had stopped extending further, the surface of the skin over each testicle was almost shiny with tension.

"Don't worry. You'll get used to the feeling in no time. All for sound medical reasons, I assure you. Well... mostly. Did you know that the optimal temperature for sperm production is different than what is optimal for the rest of the body? It's true. And well... call me a micromanager, but I like to make sure everything's just perfect. Now that our little ... excuse me, I lie... our big friends here aren't all crowded up against each other... each one gets their own private accommodations."

Two more weird devices, looking like tubes with split glass spheres at the end swung into view. Scrim closed the halves of one sphere around one testicle, and it became a globe encasing the egg-shaped organ. It sealed to the clamp stretching the testicle away from the wolvan's groin. A moment later, the procedure was repeated for the other ball. There was a feeling of suction, then pressure, and then the spheres filled up with some sort of slightly warm fluid, apparently pumped through the wide hoses.

"Individual climate control for optimum comfort!" said Scrim.

Koben had been trying to squirm against the restraints, unconsciously, as he regained muscular control, but with his balls tightly bound, he found himself now consciously willing himself to remain still.

Within his field of view, two more flexible armatures swung into view, this time from over his hips, passing between his sides and his trapped thighs. Each one had what looked like half of some sort of gripper. They stopped near the base of Koben's penis. The long, white-gloved fingers reached up. One gripped his penis at the base, and the other gripped his sheath up near the tip, and slid the heavy covering down as far as it would go, exposing the glistening thickness of the organ it had concealed. The rubbery clamps moved to grip tightly to the bottom of Koben's exposed penis, trapping the folds of his sheath down by the base. The organ now stuck out away from his belly, curving slightly downwards under its own weight.

"Not bad. Right now, you're as not-excited as you can probably get, and it's a chilly room... and you're..."

The hands came up with an old-style tape ruler.

"My my... Almost nineteen centimeters. And..."

The hands wrapped the measure across the middle of the shaft.

"Approximately... as thick as a baby's arm! But," he dropped his voice to a false whisper, "I'll bet you're a shower, and not a grower."

"I just want you to know. It's by no means prurient interest on my part. I need to know what size equipment to use for... well... your equipment. Your comfort, after all, is my utmost wish!"

The hands reached out of the way for a moment, and came back up with a transparent tube, puckered at one end, and with a flexible hose at the other.

"Just so you'll understand here. I've found that some of my patients... well... just aren't in the mood. You'd think that erectile dysfunction was a thing of the distant past, wouldn't you? But, this is very simple, and requires no dangerous chemicals at all... I put this tube over your gravy-maker, like so..."

Koben shuddered as his penis was forced into the tube. When it reached the end, he felt it squeeze tight against the delicate flesh.

"And it seals tight, and we apply suction..."

Koben felt his muscles bunch up all over his body, with helpless fury, as he felt inexorable suction drawing at his penis. He could see it swell, the canid knot at its base growing hugely, pressing against the walls of the clear cylinder. The head became almost spear-shaped, and the whole organ darkened as it became engorged with blood. Within moments, his cock was hugely, painfully erect.

"And now, we clamp tight, and remove daddy's little helper."

Koben winced as the clamp at the base of his cock tightened behind his knot. A moment later, the cylinder split in half and was taken away, leaving the bound and helpless wolvan with an enormous, pulsing erection sticking away from his body.

"And now, we're almost finished. We just fix you in place here so you don't wobble around..."

The hands swung another armature, ending with a rubber-coated, but rigid clamp up from under where his balls were stretched out from his body. It came up under the shaft of the wolvan's throbbing, forced erection, and Scrim clamped it around the center of the shaft, so that it was held perfectly straight out away from his body.

"Okay, now, we'll hook up this little canister of protein shake - fully nutritious in every way, I assure you, and you'll be set to go to my... wait for it... collections department. Billing and collections are an important facet of the medical profession, don't you know."

Koben watched helplessly as Scrim screwed in what looked like an eight-liter jar of grayish goo to a nozzle on the contraption that held him. Scrim ran his hand over a holocontrol, and the whole thing began to glide smoothly across the floor, carrying the tightly-bound captive with it.

A huge door slid aside and the restraint device carrying Koben slid through it, accompanied by the grinning, almost capering form of Doctor Scrim. Behind it was a long, dimly lit room. Koben, through the goggles, could just make out convoluted shapes that seemed to hold other figures. Some of the figures seemed to be twitching, strangely.

The device that held him was glided over to a sort of raised pyramid. Behind the pyramid was a glossy black column topped with a transparent cylinder. As the restraint armature drew close, a complicated tube slid out of the pyramid, at a steep upward angle. It split into several sections. Scrim activated a holocontrol, with a gesture, and the whole armature holding Koben suddenly tilted forward, so that his trapped, erect penis was aimed at the cylinder. The entire apparatus leaned forward, until the gently throbbing organ was inside the tube, which smoothly squeezed shut around it, locking to the restraints at the base of his penis.

"And here we are. Collections. You'll be spending a few days, or longer, here. Meals are free, vital signs are monitored around the clock. And this nearly completes our tour. That device around your engorged penile shaft will carefully maintain optimum pressure to ensure adequate blood flow at all times, so no worries about your willy falling off. And if you'll glance at the glass before you... don't worry, I'll switch your display so you can watch after I've left, you'll be able to see how well you're doing. It'll... fill up, you see. I think people find visible signs of progress to be encouraging, don't you?"

Koben felt some of the things holding his cock release, now that it was locked into the collecting device. The inside of the thing seemed to move and shift, adjusting to the shape and size of his penis. He felt the suction pressure rise and fall as it made minor corrections.

"So... ready for a little test run? Ready? Ready? Go!"

Koben felt the restraints around his body tighten, gripping his limbs and torso even more. And then there was an explosion in his rear end and groin. It felt like a combination of electric current, and something directly stimulating his pleasure centers. He felt his body jerking and spasming, and then he was shooting, and shooting, and shooting. He felt like liquid heat was pouring out of the base of his spine, through his shaft. It went on for several minutes, his hips still trying vainly to buck in the tight restraints, before he finally seemed to run dry. A moment later, the machine stopped. Koben was breathing in short, sharp pants, sparks shooting through his vision.

When his vision cleared, the center of it was occupied by the collection jar on its pedestal in front of him. It seemed to be full of clear fluid, but part of the volume of it had been replaced by something cloudy.

"Ya know what that is? A good start for a first-timer!" said Scrim. "That nutrient bath keeps the little swimmers alive. As you... produce more, more and more of the volume is replaced. If you can fill the whole thing, you might get a prize!"

"Anyway, that happy little tickle will happen anywhere between a couple of times an hour to every few minutes, depending on feedback from my instruments. I'm sure if you just sit back and try to enjoy it you'll learn to get a kick out of it."

"By the way, you may be wondering what happens to you after I'm done. Well... never fear. I'm not going to keep you forever. I need to move my operation fairly frequently so that nosy people don't find it. And I'm not going to kill you and incinerate your corpse and hide the evidence. That would be uncivilized. In fact, other than a slightly raw feeling about your genitals, and perhaps a feeling of overall weariness, I'm going to do you no physical harm."

He felt the voice very close to his ear. "That's because when I'm done with my subjects, I sell them to slavers. They usually like the merchandise intact. Did you know that there's actually independent planets where you're allowed to keep certain kinds of sentient humanoid as property, as a sort of status symbol? You know... they seem to especially like the furry kind of person? Barbaric, no? But an additional revenue stream for me. If you have any other questions about what I'm doing here, or why I do it... well... I have two standard answers that ought to fit any of them. One: Some things I just do because I get a kick out of it. Two..."

Koben felt the man's lips almost by his ear, "Two... I really, really loathe you creatures."

The jolly tone came back into Scrim's voice. "Well... just so you won't feel lonely, I want you to know that you have company all around you. Please feel free to admire the various works of art, and as I check on some of my other patients on the way out, you may take the opportunity to get to know some of them."

Scrim left Koben's side. As the man moved through the chamber, individual contraptions, each holding a strangely-bound victim, were revealed in pools of light. All were male, of various species. There was a shunki, a coyote-kin, balled up in a tiny transparent globe. The poor male's penis seemed to have been bent between his legs, and was sticking up out of the top of the globe, into a collection tube. There was a tiger catfolk spread-eagled in a sphere-shaped contraption that slowly rotated. There was a pylon with what appeared to be three nearly-identical russet-furred wolvan, probably siblings, tightly bound, back to back. There was a hairless, charcoal-skinned heavy-gravver of altered human stock who was hung facing down from a flat platform. There was a row of what appeared to be different altered humans, fastened in kneeling positions. There was one more powerfully-muscled wolvan, with pure white fur, bound in a position as if standing on all fours, with a heavy armature gripping his neck, torso, and limbs.

After a moment, the view in the goggles shifted to show Koben the collection jar in front of him.

Ten minutes later, the jolt hit him again. Liquid fire poured up and down his spine, and he shot over and over again into the greedy machine.

But when it was over, Koben checked his headcomp. Inwardly, he smiled. He had a plan. People might have assumed that a big male like Koben would make a good fighter or a laborer. But as a matter of fact, the job he was signing on for with the Fixers was that of computer security and invasive procedures specialist. Koben was a hacker.

And the talkative, gloating, "let-me-show-you-what-I'm-doing-to-you" Doctor Scrim had left an opening when he tried fiddling with Koben's headcomp to force him to watch. And Koben had taken that opening. He had a toe-claw in the system, and all he had to do was dig his way the rest of the way in.

Between distractions, of course.

--

It took him four days to slink fully into the system. By now, he knew his uncle would have reached the planet and discovered he'd gone missing. He might even come to the rescue. He'd definitely come to the rescue if Koben patched into the system's communication array and sent a message. He'd be free.

His body ached abominably. His throat felt raw, and his jaw muscles burned. Despite efficient, gene-augmented muscles, his limbs ached and cramped from being held in the awkward position. The places that the contraption gripped him itched abominably, and the smell of his body, mingled with the smells of the other trapped prisoners was atrocious. Sexual pheromones and fear and various sorts of sweat, stink and odor combined, even though the building had air scrubbers. His invaded ass felt stretched and sore, and the dull ache from there was almost the worst of it. He could hardly even feel his penis any more, but in his mind's eye it felt stretched to three times its normal size. His balls ached and burned. Every bit of plumbing in his lower body ached and felt strangely stretched.

At first, the machine had hit him every few minutes. After a day or so, it dropped off to a couple of times an hour. And then, maddeningly, the rate had increased to three times an hour. He wasn't even sure how much of this treatment a reproductive system could take, and was sure he'd need medical attention one way or another.

Every couple of hours, the tube in his throat would force something warm into his stomach. As he watched the container of nutrient paste food diminish, the other container filled steadily with his own semen.

But now, He was finally into the system. He could summon help. All he had to do was patch in and send the message. Scrim wouldn't know what hit him until a whole band of mercenaries suddenly blew in his door.

And then, the thing in his asshole and gripping his cock fired up again. He felt the molten lead sensation it now produced running out of the depths of his male organs, and shooting up and out his raw, abused cock. His exhausted body shuddered and spasmed, and as he lay there, panting through the tube, he watched the collection bottle in front of him make a little "gloop."

Koben's eyes narrowed. Through his pain and exhaustion, anger and humiliation poured up out of a deep well. The image of someone coming and finding him here, trapped, calling for help after being raped over and over by that twisted fuck and his machines made him want to vomit.

No. He was in the building systems now. This whole place was machines. Wired and networked for convenience. Even... Orion.

After he'd calmed down, the young wolvan hacker arranged a failsafe routine. If he goofed up, a message would be delivered soon after that alerted his uncle to his whereabouts he set the thing on a distant service node outside Scrim's system, and put a timer on it. He wouldn't bother with the local police force just yet. He'd rather have the mercs come.

It took another couple of hours. But then the last system in the complex was quietly subverted. Everything would look normal to Scrim, until Koben told it to stop being normal.

Scrim always came in at least once a day to check up on his "patients." Koben decided to wait until he was right outside.

Sure enough, he didn't have to wait long, before the short, fine-featured human entered the lift with his hulking construct.

Orion looked like some kind of custom design, like all the equipment in Scrim's little playground. All extra limbs, and gleaming polished metal and glowing, backlit plasteel. It looked somewhere between a seven-foot-tall reptile skeleton and a six-armed gargoyle.

And as soon as Scrim got off the lift, it injected him in the back of the neck with a powerful paralytic. The so-called doctor managed to look briefly surprised before crumpling to the floor.

Koben deactivated the collection machines immediately, and had Orion place a neural interrupter collar around Scrim's neck. He wasn't surprised the man had one about the place. The collars were designed to interrupt voluntary motor signals, and could keep most creatures with a nervous system paralyzed from the neck down indefinitely.

The robot dragged the doctor into the center of the preparation room and left him there, and under Koben's orders, proceeded into the collection room. Koben felt a sob of relief trying to escape his blocked throat. He had to force himself to maintain his concentration as the construct released him from the horrible device that had imprisoned him for days.

The tube around his cock opened, and the armature holding him slid smoothly up. The air felt like ice on his flesh as his abused penis slid out of the device. The globes filled with air as the system flushed the liquid from them, and clicked open, dropping away from his swollen testicles. The other restraints clicked open and folded back into the machine, letting his genitals hang loose.

The tubes in his mouth and rear end seemed to shrink in diameter, and withdrew slowly from his throat and ass. Koben gasped in pain and then took great gulps of air. He had Orion reach up with it's metal limbs and unfasten the other restraints, one by one, and keep him from falling. Under his instructions, it laid him carefully on the ground.

As he rolled on the floor, clutching his aching limbs, he sent the mechanical servitor to release the other prisoners. He spared a look down at his tortured groin. His balls were swollen to half again their normal size. His cock looked like a red spear, and even with the blood finally allowed to drain from it, the tissues were so puffy and swollen that it wouldn't go all the way back into his sheath.

Koben could barely walk. Some of the other prisoners were in much worse shape. The ones that were conscious and coherent though, were mostly very, very angry.

Koben's throat was still too sore to speak at first, so he used the building's computer system to address the freed prisoners. He told them what he planned to do. Nobody objected, although a couple suggested just killing the man.

Koben ordered the robot, once it had freed the other prisoners, to bring in the limp body of Doctor Scrim. The man's blue eyes glared up at him from where he hung in Orion's gleaming arms, or tried to. They were a bit wobbly in their orbits from the drug.

"Mmnhuuh," he said.

"What's that, doctor?" Koben said, through the room's speakers, "Feeling a little under the weather? Need a checkup?"

Koben forced his aching limbs to attention, rose, and walked stumblingly over to the apparatus that had held him. The robot followed. Koben watched as it pressed the human into the middle of it and deftly used it's extra limbs to shackle the man's body into it.

"Mmmrrph!" said Scrim.

Orion, under Koben's control, disconnected the feeding tube from the top of the apparatus, and forced it into Scrim's mouth. The device's automatic sequences did the rest, snaking down the man's throat. The blue eyes looked panicked, as the robot sealed it in place with medical tape.

Koben moved away out of the man's sight, saying, "Now don't you worry. I'll be right back. You just hang tight now."

A moment later, Koben returned, followed by a hovertray covered with short cylinders. He walked over in front of Scrim, and deliberately unscrewed the collection jar from the pedestal. He pushed the tray in front of Scrim, and very deliberately, his arms still shaking from his ordeal, emptied out the contents of one of the nutrient canisters onto the floor. And then, one at a time, he emptied the collection jars into it.

"You know, Doctor Scrim. I was just going to kill you. But I got to thinking. You did all this hard work. So I decided that you might as well get to have what you worked for. Now... if you're not okay with that... just let me know."

The blue eyes opened wide, in terror.

"What's that? You think it's a good idea? Well... if you don't, please just let me know," said Koben.

He screwed the nearly full container of jism from at least half a dozen species into place in the feeding tube input, and activated the system.

"You know doctor, a man of science like you should know that this is probably going to destroy your samples."

Koben leaned closer to his ear, and in his own rasping voice, said "Eat up quick though. I'm not calling the police. There's a bunch of really pissed-off mercenaries on their way though. Oh... and one more thing..."

He held up a large silvery disk, about three inches across, and half an inch thick.

"You know... I couldn't help but notice you have a well-appointed lab. This's a microwave scalpel, right? Don't worry. I'm not a twisted fuck like you. I just couldn't help but notice that you've got a really, really shitty headcomp. And you barely know how to use the thing. But there's always a chance that you might have a backdoor in your system that lets you do what I did to get free."

He placed the thing against Scrim's temple. "Let me just fix that thing for you. Now hold still. About half a centimeter into the temporal bone, right? Wouldn't want to aim wrong or anything."

There was a faint hum and Scrim's eyes clenched in pain.

"There. All better. Don't worry. Real low setting. Just fixing that headcomp for you. Looks like I mighta messed it up a little though. You might want to get that replaced. These civilian models are pretty vulnerable to EM disturbances, I hear."

The blue eyes turned in their sockets, glaring hatred. Then they widened as there was another "gloop" from the feeding tube.

"Don't worry, Doc. Fully nutritious in every way, honest. Almost pure protein," Koben rasped.

After seeing to the disposition of Doctor Scrim, Koben turned out the lights, and left the machinery humming.

--

The prisoners who were able to function were helping the ones that weren't. The heavy gravver was unconscious, as was the tiger who'd been held in the rotating contraption. Most of them were younger, all were recently arrived on Perdition, looking for work, or to see the universe. Several had come to the planet to sign on with mercenary groups.

The little golden-furred shunki was crouched down next to an olive-skinned young human who'd crouched into a corner and refused to look at anyone. He was arranging what looked like a sheet or tablecloth over the man's shoulders like a blanket.

Koben had managed to regain a little composure, and while the others tried to variously organize themselves and lick their wounds, he erased the timed message he'd prepared earlier, and then he called his uncle Mohrgan. He limped his way into a small side room, out of the way, panting.

The older, black-furred wolvan was nearly beside himself with worry. They'd just finished tracking the two South Continent guys who were working with Scrim, and were about to initiate a breach into Scrim's facility when Koben's call got through.

The voice of Koben's uncle sounded through his headcomp. "Holy crap kid. Are you all right? We're coming in to get you."

"I'm in one piece, Uncle. Not feeling too well, but I think I mostly handled it in here."

"I'll be right in. Anything I should know? I got a whole troop with me, ready for bear."

"There was just one bad guy in here. Place was mostly automated. I got loose, and he's... I got him locked up. But there were other prisoners. A lot of these people need medical treatment. There's a shunki here who says he's a doctor, but he's pretty ragged too."

"Sit tight then. We're coming in," he said.

"Hang on. I'll just open the door for you," said Koben.

A moment later, Mohrgan's voice said, "Damn. We were all set to set off those charges too. You know how to ruin a guy's fun."

"Heh... there's a guy hanging out in here that was running some kind of gene-farming, slaving thing, who will agree with you, uncle."

A minute later, Koben's uncle Mohrgan stepped through the door of the little side-office that the rattled and shaking young wolvan had holed up in for a little privacy. Koben was stretched out, still naked, in a huge, reclining, comfortable chair. The young wolvan's hands were holding a first-aid coolgel pack over his private parts. He smelled terrible.

The grizzled, muscular older wolvan looked down at his nephew. The grey fur was matted, and he stank, and he looked a mess. Mohrgan decided that despite the difference in fur color, height, and overall appearance, there was definitely a family resemblance.

Koben finally breathed out a long pent-up sigh of relief. Finally, it was really over. His tired eyes took in the nearly pitch-black fur of his uncle, starred only lightly with silver hairs. The older wolvan looking positively menacing in his indigo-colored light armor. The old wolf had bleached silver spots in the fur on his cheeks, and lines of silver studs ran through the outer edges of both ears.

The young wolvan looked up at the worried face, and managed to thump his tail a little in greeting. "Glad to see you, uncle," he croaked. "All that jewelry and facial marking kind of makes you look like a pirate."

"Hey, kid. You were late for our rendezvous. You know that worries your old uncle, right?"

Koben looked up and forced a wry, but victorious smile. "Yeah. I ran into some local color."

"You okay?"

"Not at the moment. But I will be. Don't worry. I'm tough."

"What happened?"

"Someone taking care of those people out there?" Koben asked.

"Yeah. The guys are taking care of it. So. What happened?"

Koben took a deep breath, and told him.

"What'd you do with Scrim," Mohrgan asked after he'd finished.

"Gave him a taste of his own medicine," said Koben, rasping through his raw throat, "Not sure what should happen to him from here on. Didn't think that far ahead. Maybe turn him over to the authorities, but they'll have to pump a lot of the evidence out of his stomach."

"Oh, my. What did you do?"

A voice from the other room shouted, "Chief. There's some guy in a labcoat hanging up in some kinda... thing. I'm assuming he's our target. Whaddya want we should do with him?"

"Leave him for a minute, Abirshan, I'm getting some information," said Mohrgan.

"So... what did you do?" repeated the older wolvan.

Koben told him.

"Nephew. You have a bit of a mean streak in you. Let's get you somewhere safe, get a doc to look you over. I'll stay with you the whole time, okay? The boys will clean up the rest of this mess."

Mohrgan activated his comlink. "Abirshan... leave Doctor Feelcrappy where he is for now. Let's get these people out of here, and to a hospital or something, and just seal the place up. I'll see if I can't arrange for civil patrol to come along in... I dunno... a day or so.. to sort things out here. Post someone to make sure that the place stays closed up and he stays put. I'll handle the details later."

He turned back to Koben. "Come on kid. You look a mess. Let's get you outta here."

"After I get healed up... I still have a job, right?"

Mohrgan looked at him, and then smiled, white teeth flashing against the inky fur of his muzzle. "Kid, if you still want it after this being your first experience off-planet, I guess so. But I gotta tell you, you need a keeper from now on. I mean really... you were only planetside like half an hour and this happened?"

"Do me a favor, uncle. Please... don't... I'd rather that nobody at home..."

"Don't tell your parents. I know. I know. I've got used to not telling my brothers and sisters stuff that happens out here."

He paused, and then, in a lower voice asked, "Listen... kid... are you okay? This was... this was some pretty twisted stuff."

"I think I'll be okay. I might be a little... I dunno... not put it together in my head just yet. I'm not gonna start staring and hugging my knees and rocking or anything though. I'm pretty sure of that," Koben told him.

"Yeah. Our line... we're usually made of pretty resilient stuff," the older wolvan said.

"Good genes, so I hear," the younger male said, smiling a little.

The older wolvan wrapped a blanket around his taller, bedraggled nephew, helped him stagger shakily to his feet, and they made their way out to the uncertain light of Perdition.

On the way out the door, Koben told his uncle, "By the way... dibs on that robot."