FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Magick Harvest

Chapter 1: Start of the Season

By Draconicon

Lord Albus Masterson, head of the Grand Magick Harvest Corporation, sat at his desk with his head buried in paperwork. The fox's fingers flicked from one page to another, his ears occasionally twitching as he read the tiny details in ornate - and occasionally rough - handwriting.

"Georgina, age twenty, asking to be assigned to the dragons...Charming girl. Wouldn't last more than two rounds."

He chuckled, setting it aside. Likely, he'd end up letting her work with some of the gryphon boys. They'd be a little more suited to her, rather than the rougher, bigger males. He opened the next application, humming softly to himself.

"Samuel, age...no, no, that is most definitely forged identification. Maybe next year, my 'eighteen-year-old' friend."

"Sure that you need to make them wait, Albie?"

The fox's ear twitched at the familiar, older voice, and he slowly raised his eyes. He smiled at the sight of the old equine stepping through the door, and took his spectacles off. Letting them clatter to the table, he stood up and walked around to give the older male a hug. A hug that was eagerly returned, and tight enough to ruffle up his fur.

"Ah...little lighter, William. A little lighter."

"Heh, not my fault that you're a little guy, Albie."

"So says the stallion...And please, Albus, not Albie."

"Say that to the scientist that helped raise you? Helped you build your company? Helped you -"

Rolling his eyes, Albus placed a finger over the horse's lips. He was not altogether surprised that the digit slipped past them, getting sucked on, and he resisted the urge to pull back and wipe them off. The spittle would leave marks on his suit pants.

"Let's not get into that. I do appreciate everything you've done, William, but let's not get into the nicknames today, hmm? It's opening day, and we need to make a good impression on our new volunteers."

"Mmm-hmm?"

He took his fingers away, and the horse coughed lightly.

"I was saying, I understand...Albie."

"Old lecher."

"Little cock tease."

Despite the rough language, he smiled. Lord Masterson had long since gotten used to the horse's barbs and teases, and it was a rare day that it could actually get a rise out of him. The horse - once his guardian, to be fair - had been a good influence...or a bad one, depending on which aunt of his that you asked on a given day.

That said, he made sure that the scientist knew better than to keep up the nicknames in public. Certain styles had to be maintained, and certain inferences needed to keep from being drawn.

He walked over to the mirror by his office door, and picked a top hat off of the wall. A copper-gold one with a brown band around the base, it fit his darker red fur, and set slightly to the side, gave him just enough of that rakish angle that the ladies seemed to like the past few years. He tugged on his waistcoat, making sure that it was properly tucked in, and cast his eyes about for -

"Here, Albie."

"Ah, thank you, William."

Taking a decorative cane from the stallion, he leaned forward on it, posing back and forth in the mirror.

"What do you think? Lordly enough?"

"Lord of the brothel, perhaps."

He swished his tail, flicking the thick end of it against the stallion's face.

"What? You know it's the truth."

"As if I would run something so low-class. This isn't a brothel, my good man...it's a company."

He paused, his hand halfway to the door before he turned. He let some of the seriousness of his demeanor fade, and smiled back at his chief scientist, his best man, his first real employee.

"And I owe it to you. So, let's make another good year, huh?"

"Heh...Let's do it."

"I'll see you in the warehouse shortly."

The stallion ducked out the side door, and with one final adjustment to his hat, Lord Masterson stepped through his office door to the outer balcony. The smell of sea air, engine fumes, and the ever-present, half-burnt smell of steam and coal swarmed over him like a crowd of sycophants, and he clamped down on his throat before he could start coughing.

He took a moment to admire the city laid out before him. Though he had been to the grand metropoles of New Berlin, San Langles, and even New New York, there was nothing like the old city of London. It still gleamed with the copper and brass sidings along all the buildings, with the roofs blazing like liquid fire in the light of the rising sun. A thousand chimneys led to a thousand columns of smoke and steam, light and dark rising to the sky like angels and demons, with the sea of smog cut by the dance of airships and the occasional daring pilot on a messenger run.

The fox found it was action-packed and full of energy as the best of places, with all the comforts of home.

But there was only so long that he could stare out at the city. There was a job to do. Lord Masterson walked to the edge of the balcony and looked down. A crowd of locals were gathered below, each one dressed in one of the official labor outfits of his company, complete with the GMHC logo over their chest. Wolves, other foxes, cats, and even the old, dying off species of humanity were gathered below, over two hundred of them, and all of them staring up at him.

Chuckling, he leaned against the railing, his tail twitching behind him.

"So, you lot are this year's volunteers, are you?"

A series of mutters and grunts answered him, and he rang the cane between the metal bars of the railing, like a striker on a bell.

"I said, you're this year's volunteers, are you?"

"Yes, Lord Masterson!"

It was far from united, but at least it was an intelligible shout. The fox chuckled, lifting himself up until he was seated on the edge of the railing. His boots swung back and forth, and he hooked the edge of his cane into place to keep himself from slipping.

"Good to hear. You probably all know this already, but let me give the obligatory company speech before we get to work. Don't worry; I'm as eager for the fun as you are, so I'll keep it short.

"Ten years ago, a group of scientists sponsored by myself and my family were tasked with the problem of magical energy production. As you all know, while steam is our general energy, many of our greatest advances have been reliant on a hybrid between ol' reliable steam and the experimental mana-generators that are in the biggest airships, households, and Her Majesty's weapons. Not to mention that we all would love some of those lovely mana-tech inventions, like a personal fur dryer, or perhaps one of the walking automatons, hmm?"

The crowd nodded, though he had little doubt that most of them had heard the story before. He made it every year, or some version of it.

"Our neighbors have many ways of harvesting it; some work with the old idea of ley lines, and some slip down into the Old World wellsprings. I've even heard that some of them have tried devil pacts; not something I would want to do, let me tell you.

"But we have always had a problem. No ley lines, no well springs, and if anyone wanted to try making deals with the powers below, I don't think any of us want to hear from them."

He paused.

"Maybe the devils. Maybe."

That got the expected laugh, and he could see a few of them nodding their heads in agreement. And why not? The old texts that talked about them certainly didn't paint devils in a bad light, physically, and they'd probably be decent chaps, once one got to know them.

Lord Masterson gestured to the warehouse.

"My company, the Grand Magick Harvest Corporation, is the result of Professor William Xavier and his team's work. In little over six months, they discovered a way to harvest magical energy from a source that nobody had previously conceived. A source so rich, so common, that it has allowed our Queen's glorious empire to expand to heights not seen for hundreds of years.

"Ladies and gentlemen, today, you are here to continue the tradition that we started those ten years ago, and feed the coffers of the empire magical energy that would leave her rivals drooling. Welcome, everyone, to the Milking Season. Come on in."

At the prearranged signal, the doors of the warehouse started opening. They cracked in the middle before pushing wider and wider, and the crowd started running for it. Lord Masterson chuckled; he approved of the eagerness.

Slipping back in through his office, and then down the stairs inside, he made his way over to the cluster of volunteers. Several security officers had called them to a stop once they were past the doors, and for good reason.

After all, the last thing that the fox wanted was to see one of his volunteers charging down the mouth of a dragon.

He could immediately tell the newcomers from the veterans simply from the way that they looked around the room. About two thirds of them were completely at ease with the sight of centaurs, gryphons, dragons, werewolves, and other creatures being guided and dragged along through the room. The rest stared with their mouths open wide, their eyes bugging out - in the case of one reptile, almost literally - at the sight of such grand 'beasts' being held.

Lord Albus Masterson reached the bottom of the stairs and clicked his cane against the edge of it to get their attention. As they turned to him, he smiled.

"As I was saying, welcome to the Milking Season. I can tell that we have a few newcomers here, so, before I start the tour and dismiss you to your work, let's take a few questions. Yes, you, the elephant in the back?"

"Mr. Master -"

"Lord, please. It's a small enough title, but I prefer to keep it."

"Right. Lord Masterson, um...why do you have all these...things here? And so...naked?"

"Are we dealing with a prude here, Mr...Engleton, I believe your name was?"

The elephant nodded, and his blush was enough of an answer for the question as the fox already going through what he remembered from the big man's records. Something of a mechanic, some work on the airships in Her Majesty's Navy. Probably not used to being around something like this, though. Albus nodded in understanding.

"It's all down to the breakthrough of Professor Xavier and his team. It was found that there are certain species that are born with a spark to them. A certain proclivity for magick, so to speak. I believe he came to the idea after making the link that most of those skilled in mana-tech and magick in the other lands were of certain species, and he came up with a number of tests that check his theory.

"The results were obvious. Dragons, centaurs, gryphons, pretty much any species that qualifies as something 'mystical' in the eyes of our ancestors has a connection to the magical energy of the world. I'm summarizing here, of course, but from what he told me, the magick energy works as a spark that is built up from further contact with the magick of the world. Should they never actually experience magick, it simply remains as an inert pool within them.

"From that, Professor Xavier found a way that we could draw upon that 'pool' of energy. Once he found that it primarily resides in the old idea of where one's energy was drawn from -"

"Wait, you're saying that they have magick in their balls?!"

Chuckling, Albus turned his attention to the rather shocked-looking mouse in the front of the group. He waved, and after a few repetitions of the gesture, the rodent stepped forward.

"What is your name?"

"Arthur, sir."

"Arthur. Well, Arthur, the ancients - from what little I've read - put a great deal of importance on a male's equipment, or as you would put it, his cock and his balls. It was considered an extremely important part of them, much as it is now, and some cultures held that the soul and greatest power of a man lay within them. Rather than the heart or other pieces, where we might consider the soul as residing these days, these cultures believed it was held between the legs.

"And perhaps they were right, because, as you say, they have magick in their balls. Not a substantial amount, perhaps, but it does replenish at a rate similar to the average male recovery rate. And this makes them a perfect resource to tap. Do you understand?"

"You...you mean we're...we're gonna..."

"Arthur, does this make you...uncomfortable?"

Albus put on his best fox grin as he leaned forward, his arms crossed behind his back. The mouse blushed, but the fox didn't let him off the hook.

"Surely it's not that bad. After all, all you're doing is harvesting someone's fluids. I'm sure that any farmhand could do it."

"..."

He chuckled.

"Don't worry. We'll find something for you to do if you can't do it. But let me tell you, you are missing out on the best part of the season. Any further questions?"

As Arthur ducked back to the group, some of the other volunteers raised their hands. The fox looked among them for a moment, thinking, until he spotted a white and gray wolf lingering at the edge of the group. She looked a bit shy, but he could see the hunger in her eyes. Her hand went up, and he waved at her.

"Yes?"

"How are we supposed to harvest this magick? By hands, or -"

"Excellent question, my dear..."

"Blaze."

"Blaze."

Quite the nickname.

"At any rate, let me show you. Follow me, everyone."

The fox walked past several machines being assembled, his workforce already putting the modular machines together. Different designs for different species, and there were many different species on display. Lord Masterson nodded at William as they passed by one of the bigger sets of machinery, getting a quick nod in return, before they reached one of the few already-built sets of copper and steel.

As they approached, the fox made a quick appraisal of the machine. It was built to resemble a large, reinforced armchair, with a series of leather cushions - and on other models, straps - in the arms, legs, back, and main seat. The seat was framed with bronze, copper, and the occasional bit of steel, making for a shiny piece of gadgetry indeed.

Looks like...Ah, yes, Sheimur.

He smiled as they rounded the seat, finding one of the two-legged dragons in the seat. The red reptile looked up from a book, wearing nothing but his scales at their approach, and smiled. Lord Masterson smiled back.

"Good to see you again, Sheimur. I was a little concerned that you wouldn't be coming back this year, after your absence last season."

"Yes, that's my fault, I'm afraid. I was running high on funds, and I thought I'd be fine to weather a season without giving. I didn't quite take into accounts the tax penalties there."

Albus winced.

"Oh, dear. Are you going to be alright? I can schedule you for some extra time if -"

"No need, Lord Masterson. I'll be fine after this season; I just need to remember to file the paperwork for an exemption next time."

He nodded, thinking that it must have been quite a hit to the dragon's finances; without an exemption on their magick milking 'duties' (which they were, admittedly, well paid for), any of the magical creatures could be hit with a massive tax. Ostensibly, it was meant to keep the rest of the empire paid for in a way that the magick would otherwise do, but it was still somewhat on the cruel side.

Then again, he supposed that the incentives to perform were meant to act that way.

Putting a small smile back on his face, he gestured back at his volunteers.

"Everyone, this is Sheimur, one of our better 'suppliers' at the Corporation. He's been here eight out of our ten years of harvesting, and he's been remarkably helpful at every turn."

"You flatter me, Lord Masterson."

"Heh, no, but the thing between your legs does."

The dragon chuckled, spreading his legs a bit further. Most of the rest of the group gasped at the sight, but Albus had seen too many of the more magical shafts to be too surprised. He'd had enough occasions to see this one even closer, for that matter.

Still, he understood why they were so surprised. Even Mr. Engleton, with his species propensity for greater size, probably would not have measured up to the dragon's shaft. It was a good thirteen inches long, and as thick as the fox's fist. Something like that would be a little intimidating the first time someone got a close up look...or, he supposed, a yearly look, as some of the veterans still looked intimidated by it.

Not Blaze, though, he noticed, seeing the wolf's tongue drift across her lips. He'd have to keep an eye on her.

The pair of technicians - a feline and a canine - assigned to the machine had already started setting up their equipment, but with a wave of his hand, he dismissed them. They walked off to other parts of the warehouse, one heading towards a centaur, while another walked towards one of the anthro gryphons waiting for his machine to be set up.

Reaching down for the primary collection tube, Lord Masterson stepped between the dragon's legs and stroked his hand over the bigger male's red thighs.

"So, are you ready to give us another record-setting season?"

"I hope so, mi'lord. It's been a year, though, so I might be a bit off of my game."

"Well, we'll just have to see if you can get some encouragement, then."

Chuckling, the fox knelt down, taking the dragon's cock in hand. Even soft, it was a fairly heavy piece of meat, filling his grip and weighing it down a bit. Giving it a few squeezes, feeling the scaly flesh bunch up against his palm, he got a nice rhythm going before turning back to his crowd.

"Newcomers, I want you to pay close attention. This is how we set up the males that are about our size."

He glanced back at the cock in his hand.

"Rather, the males about our height; I'm not sure any of us could measure up to more than half of this."

A nervous giggle went through the group, though he was glad to see not a single set of eyes looked away. Whether it was shared perversion or fascination, nobody wanted to take their gaze away. He turned back, keeping his hand bouncing up and down.

"Most of our suppliers are very willing to be here, though some of them might be a little nervous. They're being paid handsomely for their seed and magick, and most of them are getting a tax exemption from the crown for their donation.

"That said, sometimes, they need a little bit of help to get ready for the machines. The first timers often are too nervous to get it up easily, and we don't want to traumatize them if we can help it. People like Sheimur, here -"

"Let's just say that I enjoy the extra benefits of this position, mi'lord."

"You like the benefit of getting someone far above your station to tease you."

"I can't say that is wrong, mi'lord."

Lord Masterson rolled his eyes, ignoring the few gasps and chuckles in his audience. Whatever they thought about a lord bending forward and tending to another, it was part of the job. And one that, admittedly, rather enjoyed.

After all, at what other point would someone like him have the free reign to play with so many different types of men? When would he have the chance to watch an endless display of climax and debauchery like this, without being publicly lambasted and mocked? Never, that was when; despite the company's somewhat lewd reputation, the service that they provided to crown and country did more than enough to make up for their...methods.

The fox leaned in a bit closer, giving the dragon's shaft a few licks under the head. He tasted bits of sweat, bits of juices, and he smirked as he looked up past it.

"You've been preparing yourself, haven't you?"

"Some edging here and there, mi'lord. I wanted to make sure that I was properly built up."

"I am sure you will be."

He set the tube down on the floor again, getting a grip on the shaft with both hands. His tail swished back and forth as he took on the challenge of getting that shaft fully hard, feeling the fleshy rod stiffening beneath his fingers...but not completely.

At a guess, he'd assume that the dragon was holding off his pleasure as long as possible, making the fox work to get him up. Lord Masterson smiled to himself; he was game for that.

Tugging on the stiffening shaft until the head was right in front of his lips, he blew a few warm breaths right over the tip. The little hole twitched, and the shaft throbbed heavily all down its length.

"You see, you'll often have to get very...hands-on...with our suppliers. They are eager to test you, and it's not a bad thing to give in and let them have a little fun. With some of them, you'll want them in restraints for your own safety, but people like Sheimur, here, will be safe enough to engage with properly. Isn't that right, Sheimur."

"Completely, mi'lord."

"Now, as you can see, he's mostly hard, but that's not enough for a proper harvest. We need to get our males completely hard before they're attached to the machine, or we risk an inadequate fit of the tubes. And we don't want that, as it might mean a potential loss of product, or worse."

He stroked his hands lightly up and down the shaft, shaking his head as it continued to droop slightly towards the tip, so close to hard, but not quite.

Should have known he'd make me do this.

"Sometimes, hands won't be enough. Blaze, I'm sure, already knows the next step, but I will demonstrate for the rest of you."

With a deep breath, he leaned forward and took the thick tip of the dragon's cock past his lips. It was hard, it was hot, and as soon as it slid along his tongue, it was wet. He could taste the bits of pre that were left from the dragon's edging sessions, and he had little doubt that there would be a great deal more for the machine to pick up in a little bit.

Squeezing the base as tight as he could, Albus started bobbing his head up and down. The taste of another man's cock, the feeling of such a thick shaft sliding down his muzzle, was something that he hadn't indulged in for a long time. Well, not indulged with anyone outside of William; the horse had certain appetites that didn't really go unsated, no matter what time of year it was.

Still, William was a familiar flavor, a regular sensation. Like having a sandwich for lunch, it was something he was used to. The exotic flavor and size and shape of a dragon...now that was something he didn't get often enough.

He felt the rod stiffening further and further in his mouth, getting thicker and thicker the further he went. Not daring to take it more than halfway, as his teeth already came close to raking over the shaft, he bobbed back to the head, lashing over it with his tongue.

He felt the shadow of a hand over his head, the need that Sheimur had to pull him down, but the dragon held back, to his relief. He paid him back with a faster licking, a deeper bobbing, pulling his head from just behind the cock tip all the way to the halfway point and back again.

It didn't take long for him to develop a bulge of his own, but he ignored it, instead focusing on the soft, fluid motions he made. He felt the tip of the dragon's cock bumping against the back of his throat, felt the length pinning his tongue down, and tasted the pre slowly flowing out. It was getting thicker, and thicker, which meant -

Lord Masterson slid back, looking at the slick rod, so stiff and hard, and chuckled.

"And that is how you make a dragon stand up straight."

The joke went over the heads of the stunned crowd, and the fox rolled his eyes. Just like always, the dragon's dick was stealing the show, standing up and proud with an additional few inches compared to what it had had when it was soft.

He reached for the tube and fumbled around for one of the bottles of lubricant. Grabbing one and emptying a quarter of the bottle into it, he slid the glass tube down along the dragon's shaft, all the way to the base. It made slick, slippery sounds in the process, wet and loud, until it reached the very bottom. The sheer size of Sheimur's cock kept it from having any space between scales and tube, and a trio of leather straps along the bottom, wrapping around the dragon's balls, kept it that way.

"As you can see, this will maintain a secure link between the dragon and the milking tube. Now, we connect the main tube to the suction machine...and then that to the storage tank..."

Getting Blaze and Arthur to help him with that, they soon had the machine completely set up. Albus looked down, glancing over some of the more penetrative toys, and picked up the smallest of them.

"Do you think you need it this year?"

"Um, let's leave it out, to start, mi'lord. I'd prefer to keep it for later, if I can."

"I understand. Just make sure that you keep us updated; if you haven't gotten to the quota -"

"I know, I did read the contract, mi'lord."

"Good. Now, Blaze, if you'd push the bottom button on the suction chamber?"

The eagerness on the wolf female's face was perhaps a little unsettling, but he supposed that there were always those more into it for the sexual reasons than the business reasons. Which was completely fine, as long as they were still able to accomplish the business side of things. He wasn't sure if Blaze would...

I'll have to make sure security keep an eye on her. Don't want her fucking the suppliers and not getting the seed where it needs to go...

As soon as the button was pressed, the machine came to life. A deep whirr filled the air, and Sheimur immediately tensed up, arching his back as the machine started syphoning all the air out of the tube on his cock. The shaft within seemed to inflate, pressing against the sides of the tube, getting darker and redder.

It didn't take long for pre to start running through the tube, the constant suction and inflating pumping feeling likely driving the dragon mad. Lord Masterson leaned on the dragon's shoulder, patting him.

"As you can see, the milking process has begun. We have a number of these tubes, some of which are better for the initial milking - like this - and others which are better when the subject has been sensitized and softened up a bit. Sheimur always works better with a good dose of the sensitizing initial milking, and then moving on to something more padded and slick. Isn't that right?"

"Mmmph...fuck...Yes, m-mmmph. Yes, mi'lord."

"Good. I like to remember my suppliers."

He patted the dragon's shoulder a few more times, and turned back to his volunteers.

"Anyone that has been here before, feel free to go around and pick your milking partners. You already know your restrictions - and that means you, Henry; I don't want to pick you up after nearly drowning in gryphon cum again."

"Awww."

"The rest of you, please wait until the others disperse."

The veterans of previous years slowly wandered off. Some of them went towards those that they had helped milk in the past, while others went on a meet and greet, getting to know some of the other males while the machines were still getting set up. He watched them for a moment, enjoying the sight of the two groups getting along.

Then he stuck out his cane, stopping the lady wolf from walking off.

"I do not believe I dismissed the newcomers yet."

"Oh, um, I was here last year. You just didn't see me."

"I saw everyone, Blaze, but nice try. Please, back in the group."

The pouting wolf rejoined the others, and Lord Masterson turned to address them all, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Here at my company, I strive to make things as enjoyable and workable for everyone as I can. The crowd gives me a large grant every year to make sure things go as smoothly as possible, and for the most part, everyone is here of their own free will. For the most part.

"For the rest, I would have prepared a demonstration, but one's coming now. First rule for newcomers. When you hear an order from me, Professor Xavier, or one of the supervisors, follow it immediately."

He let that sink in, and then threw himself to the ground.

"Hit the floor!"

Most of the newcomers followed his lead, and the two that didn't suffered a rather extreme kick. They went flying over the ground, skidding across the floor before coming to a halt, and the sound of a neighing, kicking, fighting equine filled the air.

Trust someone to bring a centaur behind the newcomers, he thought as he brought himself back to his feet. The handlers were red-faced as all hell, starting to apologize, but shut up as soon as he turned his attention to them. A quick glance was all he needed to tell them that they'd be left with a warning, on record, for that sort of carelessness.

He waited until the equine was dragged out of reach before he gestured for them to stand up.

"As you can see, not all of our suppliers are completely willing to be here."

"But...I thought you said that you paid them?"

"We do, Arthur, we do, but sometimes that's not quite incentive enough. Some of our suppliers are convicts from the local penitentiaries, allowed to earn time off with their donation here. Some of them are raiders, like the centaurs, who were captured during their illegal activities. We can't keep them in prison, due to the rules of war, but we can take 'payment' for their act by milking them and releasing them afterwards. Consider it a bit like a fine.

"But all of them are a potential danger to newcomers and old hands alike, so we make sure that you know what you're getting into when you're around them. If you would take a look at the centaur's neck?"

They turned, and he made sure that they all got a good look at the bright red band around the creature's neck. It ran a full six inches up and down, and was dyed so brightly that no one could miss seeing it.

"Those red collars are a danger mark. If you're new, I don't want you going within ten feet of those 'suppliers' without a security guard and a veteran volunteer with you. There's been incidents in the past before we set this system up, and I don't want anyone getting hurt.

"That said, there are plenty of willing people to work with, and I'd suggest getting started finding your partners."

"Wait. Not partner, but partners?"

Does her eagerness ever stop?

"Yes, partners. We have a good number of suppliers for the season, and on average, each of you will be dealing with at least a half dozen males. Some have considered their partners to be a personal harem, of sorts; I don't think that's quite right, but if you want to think of it that way, don't let me be the one to stop you.

"So, remember these two rules. Always obey an order from me, Professor Xavier, or one of your supervisors immediately, and always have backup if you're dealing with a red collar supplier. Do you understand me?"

They nodded.

"Good. Then you're dismissed."

Shaking his head as the mass of volunteers split up across the vast warehouse, Lord Masterson took a moment to lean against the vibrating machine Sheimur was in. They were all eager - well, most of them - but he always worried about the new people. They never seemed to be quite as ready for this as they thought, and he wondered if perhaps he should add some more training in.

Something for next year, maybe.

"Are you going to be okay for a few hours, Sheimur?"

"Mmmph...yes...I think - AH! - ooooh...'

"I'll take that as a yes."

Patting the orgasming dragon on the thigh, he walked down one of the aisles between the machines. Already, a good number of them were put together, from the pen-like shapes for the centaurs, to the more altar-like constructions for the feral dragons. They were coming together quickly, and a good thing that they were, too. The suppliers would be eager to get started, particularly the red collar ones.

He walked past a big blue dragon, half asleep as he was getting worked to hardness by a wide-mouthed snake under him, and tapped William on the shoulder. The horse turned from his project - a gryphon noble that was on his first season - and blinked.

"Something wrong, Al-"

"William..."

"Lord Masterson?"

"No, no. Just making sure that things are good. No surprises? No sudden dumps from any of the prisons, with lizards dressed up as dragons or something like that?"

"Heh...No, we made sure that they wouldn't do that again, after last year."

"So...everything is on schedule?"

"Yeah, for once."

"Thank heavens..."

He turned, looking around his warehouse. The vast place, perhaps a mile from one end to the other, was stuffed to the brim with people. Whether they were his technicians, his volunteers, or his suppliers, they were all there for the same purpose. He could already imagine the end result at the end of the season, when all of that milked goo would be processed, and everyone would go home...

And he sighed at the thought of it.

"Post-season depression, Lord? Already?"

"Can you blame me? Everyone's already so happy."

"Well, they'll stay happy, then. And then they'll just look forward to next year all the more."

"I guess..."

William sighed.

"Take over...Alright, Albie, come on."

The fox was about to protest as the horse's arm wrapped around his waist and lifted him off of his feet. He was carried along - despite the stallion's sixty-plus years - towards the stairs at a surprisingly rapid pace.

"What are you doing?"

"Distracting you the only way that seems to work..."

And as he looked back around the stallion's hips, at the growing bulge, Lord Masterson realized he was likely to be 'distracted' for a fairly long time...

Here's hoping this year's volunteers don't try anything stupid like last year, he thought, remembering when one over-eager elephant had bet a lady he could take a feral dragon's cock up to the hilt. The resulting medical bills...It hadn't been good.

Then they were in his office, and his mind was most definitely on other things.

The End