FSE

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Pavlor felt himself bound inside the webbing, being lifted and moved roughly. He was dropped into what felt like a small cart, and then other web-coated bodies were slung atop him. He could feel them shift occasionally, and moments later he felt dizzy and passed out.

The next thing he felt was the rumbling and vibrations of a vehicle. The subtle pressure and tilting of the floor as it went around corners, speeding up and slowing down making him turn and press against the small space keeping his cocooned body in place. Pavlor felt sick to his stomach, his face was sweaty and drool had soaked in around his muzzle, feeling wet and slimy. The webbing was far too tight and rubbery to allow him much movement inside the confines, but he had no one lying atop him, thankfully.

The sickness began hitting him in waves, forcing him to choke back the vomit ready to spill forth. He knew he had to prevent it; there was nowhere for it to go in the non-existent space around his head.

He couldn't remember how long he was awake, hours it seemed. Finally, the vehicle stopped and light filtered in through the crystal grey webbing. He heard the scraping sounds as the wrapped bodies were pulled out one by one, until finally he was pulled as well.

An orca stopped a moment, not because Pavlor wiggled and tried to get free, but because the orca's finger rubbed just above his belly. "This is the one. Boss' gonna be happy about this. Better let him know his special package arrived."

A muffled protesting growl came from Pavlor's throat, which instantly was squelched by a tight constriction around his neck. "If you weren't here special for the boss, slave, that kind of thing would give you a one way ticket to the milking room." A soft gag moment later and Pavlor felt his airways released.

The webbed cocoon he was in was shuttled along head first on what felt like a conveyor, moving several feet then stopping for a time, only to move again and stop. His heart was racing inside his chest; he couldn't hear a damn thing outside except the soft grind of gears and the sound of mechanical arms.

The light around him dimmed, and he felt padded feelers against his body, touching and moving around. They pressed and prodded until they zeroed in on portions of his body, specifically his joints, head, muzzle and feet. They pulled away and he heard something whirring to life. A slight pressure on the tops of his feet was suddenly met with cold air. The webbing was being cut and it quickly shrank back around him to leave his matted and wet fur in the open. He had no time to move his legs at all before clamps gripped his ankles and pulled them apart. As the webbing was removed, clamps kept coming up from the hard metal plate he was on, holding and positioning him and keeping his legs spread, preventing him from sitting up or moving. The little buzz saw moved up his torso and stopped.

He next felt pressure and the webbing released around his paws, which were captured and pulled out from his sides. When his shoulders were released from the webbing, the saw went back to finish cutting open the web along his chest. When his neck was free, a metal collar captured him and held tight, not that he needed any encouragement to remain still.

When his face was released, the cool gelling saliva on his face got suddenly colder, and he longed to wipe it away. He blinked at what he saw in the dim light, it was dull and seemed rather non-lethal. It pulled away and he felt himself move more into the machine he was inside.

He was positioned under hoses, which angled towards him and began spraying hot water without warning. He shut his eyes tight, feeling the slight burn of the heated soapy mixture, followed by a cold rinse and then hot air. He shivered against the metal plate he was attached to, keeping his eyes closed until the hot air buffeted and dried his once matted and wet fur.

He was moved down the line, waiting outside a small door he could see ahead of him, since he was heading down the conveyor head first. There were muffled sounds coming from inside, a small, fox-ish yelp, whimpering, a loud groan and discomfort. A yelp again, another moan, then strong whimpering sounds. This had an unnerving effect on Pavlor.

A loud click followed by metal sliding against metal preceded the opening of the door for him. Pavlor whined with repulsion of as the conveyor forced him inside. The door loomed over him as he was shuttled under it, closing and leaving him in utter darkness.

A bar of light came on above his head, spanning larger than the metal sheet he was restrained to. It moved down slowly to scan his body, passing over his face and shining briefly into his eyes. It scanned down his body, slowly over his torso and groin, speeding up past his knees. It went out, and the lights came on inside the small chamber.

The room was filled with all manner of mechanical arms, hanging from the ceiling above on angled, jointed metal poles. They moved before Pavlor got much of a look at them, a large one with a mask-shaped end slipped down and covered his face. Glass windows allowed him to see out, watching the dance of the machine as it began violating him.

A sweet-cold air filtered in, making his muscles relax and his throat whimper pathetically. He was too scared to do much other than shake with fear and take what the arms were doing. Something thin and cold pressed up under his tail, pushing into his anus and buzzing firmly. His sickness was ebbing away despite the apprehension gripping his mind. The vibration in his anus increased its intensity until he felt nearly numb from it. A loud, uncontrolled yelp escaped him as an electrical jolt hit his prostate.

Without his consent, his penis pushed out from his sheath from the electrical current and stimulating hum. Something gripped the tip of his sore erection and another jolt of electricity hit him hard. His muscles contracted amidst a stronger yelp of pain, and he felt himself being jolted over and over until his cock was forced to eject a glob of semen. As soon as he produced, the probe and the suction released him. He whimpered softly to himself and began crying inside the mask.

Arms pressed in against his chest, searching through the fur to find his nipples. Cups suctioned quickly onto them once they were found, painfully pinching and pulling his overly sensitive nubs. Then the arms detached from the cups, leaving them on the whimpering canine.

A jab against his right arm, a painful cutting and then a sickening feel as something was pulled from under his skin. He nearly passed out, but the machine was done so quickly, it was already bandaging it before he could register what he felt.

The mask was pulled off him and a thin, rubbery collar with a metal lining on the inside was fastened and locked around his neck. There was a click, the sound of metal grinding as his feet were angled up, and his slid headlong down a chute.

He did his best to turn onto his front side, managing it easily. The walls of the chute twisted and angled, and he couldn't find any purchase against the waxy smooth walls to stop his descent. He heard metal clunking sharply ahead of him, and the tube angled gauntly to the left. He fell forward down a hole with a yell and landed on a padded floor.

Dazed, he looked up to see the hole closing above him, a metal door rolling into place. He had enough room to stand in the new cage, looking around.

There was a small bed on the floor, and a little toilet in the corner of the twenty foot room. Bars on opposite sides showed into other cages, one was occupied by a fox who was cowering on his bed and whimpering. He was as close to Pavlor's cage as he could possibly be. One wall was white brick, the other had bars and a door. The door was a simple block of bars on a hinge, with no apparent locking mechanism.

He took a moment to look down at his chest, finding the suctioned cups still quite firmly attached to his nipples. He gripped at them, tugging enough until he finally got them off, but now he was looking at a good bulge from where they had been forced to expand from the vacuum. He grunted and threw the cups on the floor.

Pavlor looked at the fox, moving closer to him. "Are you OK?"

The fox just cowered, looking on the verge of tears. He didn't respond to Pavlor's words, which weren't very loud to begin with.

"Are you OK, can you hear me?"

The fox slowly turned, looking pained and weary. He didn't speak; he looked as if he had been shocked into silence.

"What's wrong, you can tell me. What..." But something caught his eye, and he looked beyond the cage into the next.

A mass of red and white fur was crumpled on the floor, lying in an odd position. It was another fox, and his eyes were open and vacant. He was unmoving.

"Oh..." Pavlor gaped, "Oh my god... he... he..."

"NO!" The fox screamed, but there was no punishment beam to retaliate against the volume. "No he's not! He's just... knocked out! He hit his head... he's still breathing!"

Pavlor peered closer, looking at the fox's chest, but it did not rise or fall. His odd positioning, from where he landed, showed that he had no motion left in him. His lips were turning slightly blue as well.

He looked back and forth from the body to the fox. He felt sick, his legs weakening under the weight of his body. There was no doubt the other fox was no longer alive, but how could he bring himself to force the other fox to realize this?

A soft thud from behind him, and Feshar landed about as gracefully as if he had jumped from the ceiling intentionally. He looked around, spotting the bed and toilet in his cell, and Pavlor next to him.

"Are you OK?" Feshar seemed rather calm about the whole thing.

"I am," Pavlor responded, and moved closer so he could lower his voice. "There is a fox two cells over, I don't think he..."

Feshar nodded sadly. "Some do not survive the Widows. The spiders." His response was low and gentle. "This is my second time here, I was sold off once but, repossessed because my second owner did not pay. I saw two die last time I was in here."

"Die? You mean, they just..."

"These slave traders care not for life, only profit."

The fox behind Pavlor began to sob, whimpering the name of the other fox under his breath, "Lee, get up. Please Lee, get up. Its OK, I'm here with you. Lee... please..."

Feshar continued, "We are to be retrained and resold. It is a difficult journey. I remember my old Master, he was kind to me, but they kidnapped me from the house when he was away. I do not know where I am, or where he is. I miss him."

Pavlor was no longer sick from the spider's poison, but he still wanted to throw up all the same now. "Don't worry; I'm sure my owner... my owner..." Pavlor stopped and thought. What was his owner's name? What was his name? "I.. I can't remember his name... It was... it... what did it start with?"

Pavlor wracked his brains trying to remember. He could see his face, the way he treated Pavlor, the warmth he made him feel.

"They do that to us. Make us forget. Your name, its on your collar, Heshar."

Pavlor looked down at his collar. Indeed there was a tag, labeled 'heshar' there. It wasn't his name, that was certain, but he could not remember it any more than he could remember the name of the one who cared for him so much to fight off an impossible number of assailants.

Feshar cocked his head slightly. "It rhymes with mine," he stated with a slight amount of amusement. "Do you remember your owner at all, what happened when they picked you up?"

Pavlor sat down, trying to ignore the fox's whimpers and soft cries. "We were at a club. We went home early. There was a different driver for the car we had. It was a special car, I remember that. He fought for me... but then... then they caught me." He started feeling really depressed now, thinking about his owner. Something was sticking inside his head, an odd feeling that made him less scared. There was a hug he received, or he thought he did, before he left the club.

"Maybe he will come after you," the lizard asked, seemingly encouraged by the question. "Can he track you?"

Pavlor rubbed his arm, looking down at the small bandage, "No, I don't think so."

"Did he tell you he would come, when he fought for you?"

"No, not that I can remember. He just told me to run, to get away."

Another thud came behind the lizard, the bull Pavlor remembered came down, looking battered and bruised. He slipped up, moving to the bed and laying under it, as much as he could.

"We rest tonight," Feshar said, looking as if he was concentrating hard to remember. "Tomorrow, if I recall, is when they test our endurances. We should rest, and they will come to take away those that have expired in a short time."

Pavlor turned again to look at the fox. He was behind him and trying to reach through the bars to reach Lee. His voice soft and choked, begging his friend to stand, to move.

Pavlor made a mental note to refuse his name, knowing that he wasn't going to let his abductors rob him of everything. He sat on the bed, doing his best to block out the fox's tortured sobs.

After a while, an orca dressed in an orange suit walked along the cages, looking in to check on the pets that had made it. He stopped and looked inside the cage where the dead fox lay crumpled.

A soft chirp and a static hiss came from a headset the orca was wearing, he spoke, "Cage 43-A has a dead one," and clicked off his headset.

"You, you bastards!" The fox suddenly spat, loosing his tears and looking frightfully dangerous as his eyes gleamed. "I'm gonna kill you, you disgusting, sick, fucking bas..." The fox stopped talking suddenly, his collar was glowing a pale green and he stiffened. For a second his eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped down as well, twitching.

Pavlor looked at the orca, and couldn't stop himself. His tone came out low, however, and cautious. "What did you do?"

The orca gave barely a look at him, "Stunned, and he's being sent to the milkers. Best not ask stupid questions, slave, or you might just be there yourself too." He opened the cage and stepped in, picking up the fox and slinging him over his shoulder. A moment later the fox was gone, but the corpse the other cell over was still there.

Pavlor moved to his bed, just about getting to it when the lights flashed green inside the cage room. Feshar spoke, "That's the sleep alarm. They will make us sleep now."

Pavlor's collar began to vibrate slightly and glow. A moment later, his was unconscious.

---

Pavlor awoke to find himself being leashed and pulled out the door. He barely had time to stand up and gather his bearings as the tether led him from the cage. He was being taken in one direction, while the other abducted pets were going in the other. Each handler, it seemed had five pets leashed and were gathering them up. A few struggled, and each one was shocked by the collar as it beeped and glowed brilliant red. Not many had to be persuaded after the first two were shocked.

Pavlor found his courage and spoke, "Where am I going." He feared repercussions, but they didn't seem to come.

"To learn your new place," was the response, and they walked out a sliding door into another room.

There was a set of chairs facing a mirrored wall, which had two pets already there, the fox that had been crying the day before, who had more than a bruised eye and a split lip, and a panda, looking somewhat round and just as equally bruised. They both remained slumped in their chairs, looking down and breathing heavily. The chairs were a few feet apart each, and their leashes locked to small hoops in the back.

Pavlor was placed in one as well, his lead clipped to the back. "Don't stand up," was all that was said to him.

The orca left the room and there was silence. Very little time passed before the mirror lost its lustrous reflection, becoming a window into a large room. It was huge, with rows of pets strapped to tables, angled up and strapped down. Each one had a bulky facemask on, hoses going to and from were compressing and expanding as they breathed. Most where looking relaxed, though a few had a large arm coming down from behind their heads, stroking their cocks as matter-of-factly as if they were pulling water from a basin. Some were wiggling as they approached climax, and one of them that was close did. A clear tube running the length of the milking arm was showing the fluids being harvested, pulled away and down back behind the tables. The arm pulled off once it had done its job, leaving a glistened otter's genitals tensing slightly. Some seemed to be beginning their sessions, the arms moving and precisely slipping down into a sheath or over a flaccid penis. The arm moving slowly, working in a rhythm that seemed unique to each captive.

An orca with a blue suit on came walking in. The air about him was sickening to Pavlor, he looked as if he had no reproach for what was going on, and everything was meant to be his way. "You are here," he began in a throaty voice, "because your only purpose is for our needs. And you are in this room," he opened a hand, waving his arm slightly, "because you are not worthy of anything but being milked. Before you go in, I want you to know this. And know the only way out, is through the garbage chute." The orca gave a superior smirk.

The otter on the end jerked a little, gripping his chair a moment before the floor opened up and he fell in, chair and all. The door slammed shut fast, and there was the sound of mechanical workings going on under the floor. A minute later an empty spot on the floor was taken up with the struggling otter, a face mask stuck over his head and the tube hanging loosely along the side. He was positioned next to another otter, the table angled up.

"And here you will remain, milked until you have no more use."

Mechanical arms moved and grabbed the hoses, attaching them under the table and they began to force the otter to breathe at a certain pace. His chest resisted, but whatever it was doing, he became acquiescent quickly. The milking arm came down after, gripping his shaft and making him tense up against his restraints. In the room of a hundred pets, he was the only one really moving much.

The machine was toying with him, it seemed. The milking arm did not stroke as it did the others, but instead twisted, slid, stroked and pounded in random, rapid successions.

The floor beneath the fox opened, and he looked around with a sudden, deadly fear. As he dropped down below, he screamed and cried, begging in the few seconds he had left for release.

Pavlor sunk against his chair, watching the room. It was torture, sheer, sadistic torture this orca was putting them through. Making them see what they were forced to become, taunting them with the inevitability of their fates. Pavlor looked over, seeing the orca look back in such as way that burned Pavlor's ears.

The fox appeared, his chest heaving strongly as his lungs struggled to regain control from the panic driving the fox's mind. He was forced into a calmer breathing rate when his tubes were hooked up.

As the milking arm came down for the fox, the otter hunched sharply against the arm and strained in his bonds. Pearly fluid could be seen draw away, but this arm did not relent as the others did. The otter was not spared the relaxation the others got. He jerked and twitched as the stimulation kept him going. He calmed slightly as he recovered, and was being forced to produce more semen so quickly.

"You monster," Pavlor spat, his head down and his eyes blazing at the orca, who merely smirked.

"Oh, puppy, you aren't for the milkers. Oh no. You're to be broken. A prize such as you, the sweet revenge it brings, that's your fate. Break easy or the hard, its your choice. Either way, you belong to me now."

"I'll die first," Pavlor retorted.

The orca laughed, and something seemed odd about him. The way he laughed, his mouth seemed to stay mostly closed as he allowed the comment to tickle him.

Beyond the window, the otter and the fox were now part of this machine, both locked in forced sequential orgasms. Pavlor only wished that, at some point, he will be able to extract his own vengeance.