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Zaffre's heart skipped a beat.

"Me? You're saying he picked me?"

The river otter pointed emphatically at himself with his thumb, even though he was on the phone and there was no one around to see him. He was excited, but wanted to be sure that there hadn't been a mistake. The last thing he needed was to receive an apologetic call in five minutes from a secretary who had dialed the wrong number from the list of applicants just as he was popping the champagne.

"Is that a problem, Mr. Brooks?" The feminine voice inquired, pleasant, if a bit prissy.

"No, no! No problem at all," he reassured her. "I accept. Thank you so much. So, so much. When should I arrive? Wha-what should I wear?"

He felt that he might tear up. This was a major step toward a career- a life- that he'd only dreamed of. He was most of the way through university and had been applying for every internship under the sun to secure connections for his future. Through an intense selection process involving more interviews and screenings than he could count, Zaffre was eventually contacted directly by representatives at EverTech.

EverTech was the world's leading technology development firm. Over the past quarter-century, that single company had been responsible for major leaps in scientific advancement and had reshaped modern culture around itself. It was because of them that varlets- cybernetically controlled slaves- were the norm among the upper class. These servants were a mix of those in severe debt, prison inmates, and (suspiciously) those who spoke out publicly over EverTech's ever increasing grasp on society.

Laguna Crale, the corporation's famous CFO, was in the market for a new personal assistant...and out of all of the applicants from across the country (if not the whole world) the badger wanted Zaffre.

The secretary rattled off the answers to all his questions and more. He swiped his arm across his messy desk, sending knick-knacks scattering to the floor as he searched for a pen and paper to scribble them down once it became too much information to keep track of in his head.

"We'll see you at 8 am, Mr. Brooks. Please do not be late," she finished. "Allow me to be the first to welcome you to the EverTech family."

The line went dead before he could respond.

The mustelid barely slept that night. Once he got bored of restlessly tossing and turning, he ironed his best suit a half dozen more times, then inspected every inch of fur on his sleek, brown body. He trimmed down any out of place tufts of fuzz, and practiced his greetings and introductions. He debated endlessly whether he should wear a tie, or his lucky, blue checkered neckerchief. He fretted over whether he should bring coffee or tea, or perhaps breakfast to his new boss. Would the company serve breakfast? There had to be a cafeteria for a building that large. But would the executives eat there or at a fancy restaurant nearby? Did they have personal chefs at home? Should he eat before going? Would it be rude if he was offered food but declined because he had already eaten? He didn't even know what the billionaire socialite liked. What if he brought him something, anything, and the badger hated it? How would that reflect on Zaffre?

Zaffre was so eager to make a good impression that he was worried he would sabotage himself by tripping over his own tail while meeting his coworkers. It was only by some miracle that he didn't become a complete nervous wreck by the time his alarm clock wailed..

His anxiety continued to plague him to the point that he nearly walked face first into the glossy glass doors of the EverTech skyscraper's entrance. He gazed at his reflection for a moment, shocked at how professional he looked. He'd gone with the neck scarf after all, which matched the blue hue of his eyes and tip of his tail, adding a splash of personality to his wardrobe. He was used to seeing himself as an awkward college student bumbling through life, but at a glance he looked thoroughly qualified to be stepping into a building full of professionals.

With that surge of confidence, he entered. The vixen receptionist immediately flagged him down and had him fill out a mountain of paperwork. While he had made sure to arrive suitably early, he didn't plan for a novel's worth of forms to drop in front of him before he even properly met his new boss. She took pity on him and quickly explained the premise of each paper so he could quickly sign and date them without actually reading each one.

Eventually, they were done and she directed him to the very top floor: Laguna Crale's office. Zaffre swore that the elevator ride up took longer than the subway and taxi combination he had taken to the building. The city sprawled out beneath him, a veritable jungle of glittering steel growing ever smaller as he climbed higher. It was a majestic view. He reminded himself that this is what his new employer saw every single day.

The elevator opened. As he stepped off he was ushered by a rabbit attendant into a waiting room and from there into a palatial office. The decor exuded class. It was refined. Intimidatingly so. Zaffre had never felt so out of his element. Behind a desk that the otter was certain wouldn't even fit inside his bedroom, in an equally imposing chair, sat a pink and white badger. He wore a stylish black suit with a vibrant tie that matched the fuschia on his pelt. His chin rested on his laced fingers, propped up by his elbows. He openly eyed Zaffre, sizing him up from behind his square, rimless glasses. He was just entering the early phases of being middle-aged, heavyset and handsome.

The executive had been part of the interview process, although he spoke little at the time. When he did speak his words were deliberately chosen. Often so with a mischievous, knowing edge to his tone; a smile accompanied with a casual and unshakable confidence.

"We meet again," Mr. Crale drawled. "Obviously I was pleased with what I saw during your various interviews. Then again, I am quite biased toward otters." His new boss chuckled and motioned toward the corner of the room behind Zaffre with a flourish of his paw. The intern turned and was shocked to see another river otter, this one a little older, taller, and trimmer than he, standing silently at attention with his paws clasped behind his back. This otter was wearing a dapper waistcoat and pink bowtie, but was nude from the waist down. His sheath was locked in a compact, steel chastity device, and he had Laguna's personal ensignia, a black rose, emblazoned into his fur at his hip.

"Meet one of my most treasured varlet's: Callahan. You'll be working alongside him regularly, so I hope you two get along."

"Nice to meet you," Zaffre said. Naked, chaste servants weren't a terribly uncommon sight in the street these days, but the crowds that he ran in weren't nearly wealthy enough to own any, so he wasn't quite sure of the etiquette when interacting with them.

"A pleasure, Mr. Brooks," Callahan responded with a smile. His tone was friendly but held a sagacious tenor, like there was some nuance of this interaction that Zaffre didn't quite understand.

"Oh, just Zaffre is fine," he chirped.

"Well, Zaffre," Laguna stated, rising. He walked over and placed a paw on Zaffre's back to guide him once more to the elevator before continuing. "We have much to do today and time is money. I actually have a particularly important assignment for you, which I think will introduce you to your new duties perfectly."

The otter almost swished his tail. A huge responsibility right off the bat was just the thing he needed to show Mr. Crale just what he was capable of. Zaffre nodded enthusiastically. This slowed to a more professional gesture when he realized he should have some reservations. Disappointing his superior by failing a task on day one was not the best way to start a new job, and he wasn't sure just what he was committing himself to.

"First things first, we need to get you to a lab for a brief physical and some final tests. Nothing to worry about. It's just matters to take care of for insurance and safety. That sort of thing. It'll be over before you know it."

The badger engaged him in banter in the elevator, putting the otter more at ease. He quizzed him on unimportant matters like his favorite music, movies, and hobbies. Zaffre was still starstruck by the time they reached their destination, but it released some of his worries. He had made it through his first ten minutes in the stately anthro's presence without humiliating himself. That hurdle had been cleared, at least.

Callahan dutifully trotted along behind them at a distance of several paces.

A dark furred marten with a fluffy, vibrant orange crest at his throat in lab coat greeted them as they entered what looked to be a strange mishmash of a library, laboratory, and workshop. One of dozens, it seemed. This was unsurprising for a corporation with heavy investments in R&D, Zaffre supposed. Laguna found a plush chair and relaxed into it. His varlet stood silently beside him.

The doctor, or scientist- Zaffre wasn't sure which was technically more true- instructed Zaffre to undress and sit on an examination table. The otter's tinted pink with a furious blush.

"Undress? Like, completely? Underwear too?" He stammered.

"Yes Mr. Brooks. Underwear too. We are all adults here. I guarantee you don't have anything to be embarrassed about," the marten assured. He was professional, but a hint of smirk played at the edge of his muzzle when he saw how flustered his patient was.

Zaffre bashfully turned to the side disrobed while three sets of eyes bore into him. He folded his suit jacket, shirt, undershirt, scarf, and trousers into a tidy pile by the examination table, leaving him wearing nothing but just his omnipresent blue seashell necklace and some azure briefs with white trim. He hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband, and with a puff of composure, shimmied the last stitch of clothing off. The marten cleared his throat and nodded at the seashell charm on a thin strap around his neck. He relinquished it as well and added it to the pile.

Callahan gathered the clothes and scurried out of the way.

The physical did end up being relatively harmless, though more in depth than the otter had been led to believe. In addition to all of the standard examinations, they had him run on a treadmill and tested his lung capacity, as well as taking a blood sample. While it was embarrassing to have his junk on full display, flopping about as he jogged in place, it was the latter part that felt particularly invasive. However, he wasn't willing to walk out on an opportunity to work alongside the Laguna Crale. He'd give a semen sample if he had to, then dismissed the thought before it made him turgid.

The marten eventually held up a tablet toward the badger and raised his brows with an approving nod. Its screen showed a complex series of charts, diagrams, and graphs. Laguna beamed in response to the blinks and buzzes on the screen.

"Perfect results! Please follow me, Zaffre," the scientist bade him, as he sauntered across the room and through a large, automated glass and steel door.

"Should I get dressed first?" The otter asked. He was seated on the metal table again, catching his breath from the most recent round of tests. He had his paw resting in his lap, modestly draped over his genitals.

"It'd be better if you didn't," the marten replied, not offering any further information.

Zaffre popped off the table and hurried to catch up. He forced himself not to cover his groin with cupped paws as he padded over. He wanted these furs to see him as their peer, not someone immature or lacking in confidence. The last thing he needed was for them to think of him as being as meek and shy as the last cub into the high school showers.

The next room over was a far cry from the chaotic mess of a laboratory that they had just left. It was a room lined with white tiles with a deep basin in its center. Electronic equipment straight out of a science fiction movie lined the walls, but there were no desks or stray tools. This area was tidy. Clean. The massive tub set into the floor held a churning pool of gray-green ooze, highlighted with motes of crimson that twinkled in and out of existence seemingly at random.

"What's this goop?" Zaffre asked.

"This 'goop' isn't actually liquid, as much as it looks, and most likely, feels like it. It's actually countless microscopic robots- nanites, as we call them. Even more sophisticated than the ones infused into the bodies of EverTech varlets," the scientist informed him. "Previously we either injected or had servants imbibe the nanites. Where this process differs is that the robots won't merely reside within a host and give their Master control over them like a puppet. They will instead go through a varlet's body and replace their cells one by one with artificial ones. Strong, malleable, self-repairing and -replicating machines. Although the metamorphosis should not result in any visual or tactical change to a treated varlet's body, they will actually no longer be flesh and blood, but rather a cloud of infinitesimally small machines given form. The varlet will become immune to illness, and instantly heal from grievous wounds, including regaining lost limbs. These things are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to this technology."

Zaffre swallowed nervously.

"The application that I, and EverTech's board of directors of course, are most interested in, is the fact that we could control a varlet on a cellular level. It isn't just controlling movements anymore, but compelling thoughts and sensations and desires. Now, as long as they know they are subservient to me, I prefer my private varlet's to retain their agency...for the most part. Isn't that right Callahan-" Callahan nodded- "But in addition to that, we could change the very genetic makeup of a varlet on a whim. They can change physique. Change species. Change size. Change sex. Change what they are actually made of," Laguna stated, retaining an air of sophisticated enthusiasm.

"It has been a very expensive and difficult endeavor," the marten added flatly. "Of course, it is still highly experimental technology and has to be applied practically before it goes to market. You seem to be a perfect candidate for our pilot program. This also means that you will remain in Mr. Crale's personal employ, rather than going up for open sale. Congratulations."

"As your first project as my new assistant, you'll be testing EverTech's newest product," Laguna told him. Even though it was delivered with a smile, it was an order not a question.

"Is it dangerous? Will it hurt?"

The marten responded with a dismissive wave of his paw. "Technically speaking, I do have to advise you that it could be dangerous. However, in my professional opinion, if the nanites don't react appropriately to your physiology, the worst that is likely to happen is nothing at all. You won't feel a thing."

Zaffre wasn't sure if what he should experience if the experiment was a success was purposefully omitted from the response or not, but it assuaged his apprehension enough that he didn't want to come off as pushy and standoffish on his first day by pressing for a better explanation. Despite being property, it was illegal to seriously injure varlets (the vague "serious" portion being added by kinky or cruel politicians who almost certainly enjoyed whipping, paddling, or ball-busting their servants), so the river otter expected they would be even more cautious with an intern.

He was anxious, but also excited. Not only would he hopefully impress his badger boss, but the benefits that had been explained to him sounded like a dream come true. Outside of multimillionaire furs, who could expect to never have to worry about getting sick or hurt again? Being able to change his body by quickly and easily reprogramming his innumerable robotic cells would let him indulge in all of his favorite foods while not having to go to the gym to keep trim. Could he swim forever without ever needing to come up for air? And could he simply choose not to be tired and stay up all night playing video games? He hoped that Laguna Crale wouldn't take that fact into account and use it as an excuse to pile extra work atop him.

He lowered himself into the basin. While it looked like fluid it felt much more like very fine, loose, metallic sand enveloping him. It reminded him of youthful days spent at the seaside with his friends, where they would giggle as they had him lie still on the beach while they buried him to the neck with sand. Then his entire body began to tingle, like an incredibly low voltage of electricity was constantly coursing through it. His nerve endings were abuzz with activity that made him want to writhe like he was being tickled by enormous, ethereal paws.

"Working perfectly," the marten updated the CFO with a thumbs up as his eyes darted to and fro across a tablet screen.

Zaffre lifted his paw from the strange mire and looked at the nanites slip through his fingers. He didn't feel any different, but if what he was told was true, his fur would soon be (if it wasn't already) completely synthetic. He ran his paw pads the length of his forearm. It still felt like he had his normal smooth, oily-slick otter fur. He took a deep breath and let his body fully sink below the surface, head and all. The strange vibrating sensations seized him more fully. There were sudden fragments missing from his thoughts, like flickers of static on an antique television set. In an instant he felt like he was nothing, as if he had exploded into stardust and reformed. His head swam like he had just drained a bottle of tequila in a few big gulps for a few seconds, but then everything snapped back into place and he felt his thoughts come quicker and clearer than ever before.

When he surfaced an indeterminate amount of time later- mere seconds, seemingly-, he tested himself on a math problem. And answered it quickly. He tried a much more complex problem, thinking of random, complicated strings of numbers of and symbols. An answer popped into his head, calculated perfectly by his augmented brain cells. He stood, rising out of the metallic slime. It ran off his body and left him completely dry.

"Varlet program version 2.0 alpha test is a complete success," the marten announced cheerfully. "Pending testing, of course."

"What do you mean 'varlet'? I'm just supposed to be an assistant," Zaffre interjected, confused.

"Not according to the paperwork you filled at the front desk. As far as the law is concerned you have been my property for the better part of the last hour. You signed ownership of your body over to me. Always read the fine print!" Laguna told him, stepping forward to pat him on the shoulder. The flamboyantly colored badger looked over to Callahan who produced a sheaf of paperwork in a folder that Zaffre didn't realize he had been carrying. He shuffled through it theatrically, then straightened and replaced it. The other otter gave Zaffre a conciliatory shrug.

Zaffre was dumbstruck. His jaw hung agape. Had he really renounced his autonomy in his rush to make a good impression? Did the receptionist lie? Or did she assume he knew what he was doing?

"The new control module is completely digital as well. There is an analogue option for furs who wish to stay disconnected from the neuralink network, of course, but why not try out everything new?" The scientist encouraged his employer, thoroughly unperturbed by the otter's shock. "Find any glitches in the system."

Laguna gestured silently in the air with his paw. His pupils fixated on scrolling menus of text that flashed upon his eyes from within his own body. Zaffre had heard the rumors, that the badger was suffused with nanotech, albeit of the variety he had complete control over- not even his top scientists were said to know how to wrest control from him. His internal sensors read where his eyes focused and when he blinked and the motions of his fingers. He was operating a seemingly very complex program with ease.

"How much do you know about varlets?" Mr. Crale asked him.

He somehow mustered the emotional capacity to respond, "N-not much."

"For most varlets the owner can simply compel physical behaviors. We've long since mastered controlling fluid motion and even speech. With your very body made up of cell-sized robotic particles, however, you are fully modular. You have a pretty average build, I'd say. But what if I have friends over at my home who prefer a muscular physique..." Just as he finished talking, the otter felt his body twist and swell as if he were a wet rag being wrung dry. His body shook and distorted. He felt himself gaining mass. His shoulders widened into a broad chested, narrow waisted frame. His biceps and pectorals bulged and his body became that of a world-class athlete. He felt ridiculously powerful, but clumsy and heavy.

Zaffre finally understood the reality of the situation. His new body didn't feel like his anymore. His physical form being toyed with was like a tangible reinforcement that he no longer owned himself. His knee jerk reaction was to struggle against the control, but he was at a loss. How could he find a lawyer if Laguna could just freeze him in his tracks? He glanced again at Callahan, who held himself with grace and dignity.

He didn't seem to hate his lot in life.

"...or perhaps I am on the go and desire a servant who's more portable?" The badger continued, ignorant of his new plaything's musings.

His body, thankfully, resumed its normal proportions, albeit with a strange and uncomfortable squashing and stretching sensation in all of his extremities. The relief was fleeting. Immediately afterward he changed again. This time he shrunk, falling inward and downward, as if everything were growing giant around him. He found himself naught but six inches from nose to tail tip, easily able to fit in the breast pocket of jacket. The legs of the other three furs were like massive, towering redwoods, stretching up into a yawning sky. Only that sky was a ceiling, no matter how far above him it now seemed. His boss...no, his owner...no, his Master - leaned down and examined him. He was small. Fragile.

"The replaced cells in your body can even transform into entirely different matter, creating helpful accessories on command," Laguna said in a hushed tone. Even with the lower timbre of his voice, Zaffre felt it as much as heard it. The badger motioned as if asking a crowd to rise. In doing so he allowed his newest acquisition to regain normal size. The sudden shift in perspective was dizzying and left the otter seeing stars.

"For example, with hardly a thought I could have my submissive plugged."

A fat, squishy buttplug took root in his tailhole. It started out feeling like liquid rubber gushing into his aperture seemingly from nowhere that swelled and stiffened into a stout, anchored bulb. It pressed against the sweet spot within him, throbbing rhythmically like it was being inflated with a pump. The pressure against Zaffre's prostate made the new varlet weak in the knees. Embarrassed, the otter self-consciously curled his tail downward to hide the toy. His ears drooped and face burned. Abashed, he dug at the floor with a toe and looked down to realize he had plumped and produced a shiny bead of pre on the tip of the scarlet knob entreating from his sheath.

Zaffre sputtered, failing to form words.

"If I choose to keep you, shall we say 'organic,' then you can be stretched and ready for me in a matter of minutes. Or perhaps I'll want you constantly needy and on edge as a reminder of your place." The plug slowly inflated further, until its girth far surpassed the thickness of an average male's shaft.

"It will be incredibly convenient to have you instantly dressed and ready for any occasion." Laguna's eyes glided over the controls on his spectacles. He snapped his fingers.

Wide, black cuffs erupted from the back of Zaffre's wrists as he looked down at his paws. They stretched and wrapped around, buckling tightly. Each was adorned with steel rings and studs. He felt his arms irresistibly compelled together and the cuffs connected with a clink of metal-against-metal. He was able to partially separate them again a heartbeat later, but with a six inch long length of chain tethering them together. A matching collar fastened itself about his throat. The otter experienced a similar feeling at his ankles, only instead of bondage cuffs, legwarmers formed just above his heels and rolled all of the way up to his upper thighs, accentuating the natural curves of his mustelid body. The plush garments were striped in the same shades of azure and cyan and cobalt blue as his favorite scarf.

Despite being marginally more covered up by the legwarmers, he felt even more exposed. Zaffre actually owned a pair not that dissimilar to ones that had materialized from his body. He enjoyed how cute that made him feel and would often furiously paw off shortly after donning them. Modest by nature, he had never actually worked up the courage to wear them in public. Heck! He couldn't even pull them on without blushing and sporting a hard-on.

This was something the astute badger quickly took note of.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I generally keep my varlet's chaste the traditional way-" a cage of cold, steel bars rose up out of the fur of Zaffre's ample sheath and clamped back down around his length, sealing his maleness away without need of a lock and key. It compressed his burgeoning erection. A metal ring formed behind his scrotum to hold the device in place, squeezing his hefty testicles. "But these little robots open up a whole new world of possibilities. The biological mechanisms that allow for pleasure and ejaculation are easily circumvented. We can simply leave the need, but eliminate the possibility of orgasm. Either through dissolving the inner workings of the body...or even by temporarily removing externalities."

The otter's eyes shot wide with fright. He stared down at his as his sheath and sac. Along with the cage encasing them, his genitals started to shrink. The process reminded him of downscaling an image on a computer, where it shrank in perfect proportion. He whimpered as he neared the point where his junk was half its previous size, eliciting unsympathetic chuckles from the scientist and CFO. Soon his bits were down to a miniscule nub with smaller than marble-sized balls. Not much longer, they disappeared entirely, sinking into the bulge of his pelvis and leaving nothing more than a rounded, bulging mound

"Let's try something even more intense-" Zaffre's heart thundered nervously in his chest when his superior spoke, unsure of what could be more intense than what he had experienced already- "I'm particularly fond of rubber." Laguna dragged out the final word. As he did so his toy's body prickled with an aura of intangible energy.

The river otter felt it strongest first on his paw pads and nose and inner ears and tailhole (just about anywhere not covered by his sleek pelt), but the strange sensation spread until it coated the whole of his form. Zaffre's coat bristled. The fat plug buried in his cleft unceremoniously seemed to sprout tendrils of liquid rubber. The dozen or so inky tentacles slithered out of and around his backside. They wriggled over his body, stretching and flattening. They fused to themselves where they touched...and to his cuffs, cage, and legwarmers. The latter melded smoothly into the viscous material to become a part of it, changing substance to match the fluid latex. Once it engulfed his form from his paw-pads to his neck it pulled taut, fabricating a form-fitting, squeaky bodysuit.

The mustelid started to panic as the ooze continued to slurp up his throat and over his head. Once fully enveloped, it surged into his muzzle and down his throat. He tried and failed to cough.

"Don't worry, Zaffre," the doctor told him. "You no longer need to breathe to survive. The feeling of suffocation will dissipate shortly. Although it can be turned back on if a varlet's Master is interested in engaging in breathplay, but Mr. Crale and I decided not to make you feel deprived of oxygen on your first day. Just enjoy the new experience," the marten interjected in response to seeing him writhe with alarm. "This isn't only coating you in rubber. Soon you'll be actually transformed into living latex itself."

A finger ran the length of his rubber spine, starting just above his tail and reaching up to his nape. Zaffre assumed it was Laguna, but had no way to be sure. He could sense the pressure, but not the texture. He wasn't numb, so much as his senses were just incredibly dulled. He couldn't see or smell. Sound was horribly muffled. Taste non-existent. His latex tongue was clumsy and useless. He felt the disconcerting feeling of the goo sinking into his flesh and altering his DNA. His body was becoming, if only temporarily, a living mannequin that he inhabited. A putty over which his Master had absolute control.

"So far the tests have been a rousing success, Sir."

"We're definitely putting our newest 'hire' through his paces. Of course, there is always the final assessment..." Zaffre could barely make out the sound of a zipper.

He suddenly dropped down on all-fours, compelled to do so in a mechanical process he couldn't fight. His limbs didn't respond to his commands. Did he even have muscles anymore? He sensed the badger's frame kneeling behind him. His owner wrapped an arm around his rubber tail, hugging the squishy appendage against his body.

Zaffre felt the fat head of Laguna's cock prod and poke against where his tailhole should be. The CFO rubbed the tip of his shaft up and down the otter's seamless latex cleft. The pressure of the buttplug never dissipated, even after his transformation, leaving him with the strange dissonance of feeling stretched wide while also not even having an aperture. The badger's languid humping and grinding against his backside made it feel like the plug was being forced against his nonexistent prostate, setting off fireworks within him. He wanted to moan in pleasure at the feeling. He wanted to wriggle and to gasp and to roll his eyes and to arch his back and to utter obscenities at the pleasure. The worst torture he could imagine in that moment was not being able expressing the ecstasy his body experienced. At the same time, he had a growing, needy ache in his groin. It was a phantom pain in his nullified bulge, which felt all the worse when he considered he wouldn't get to cum, or even an erection.

Laguna paused and used his free paw to beckon beneath the otter's tail, as if he were going to finger his varlet. Without warning Zaffre felt a tailhole form where the badger touched him. His finger sank to the rubber which melted into a puckered ring. The new opening elongated to accommodate the invading digit, which slid in fully to the knuckle and twisted. The tunnel extended itself further, burrowing deep into his ass. It stretched his insides and made the pressure feel like he was being swiftly hilted by a well-endowed anthro.

"A self-lubricating, rubber fucktoy on command," the wealthy badger cooed with satisfaction. "With an endless array of textures to grip your shaft. Who could say no? Speaking of: How would you like to take a break and enjoy the other end?"

The scientist must've somehow shown his agreement, because Zaffre could just barely discern the attractive marten shucking some (maybe all) of his clothing and position himself in front of the otter's face. Seconds later, his warm hardness was spurting jets of pre, splattering the slave's muzzle.

"What would you like, Doctor? Bumps? Ridges? Vibration?"

"Surprise me."

Zaffre could hear the lustful smirk in his tone.

A thin seam appeared across Zaffre's muzzle, forming his mouth. The latex maw was promptly pried open by eager fingers, revealing the soft rubber semblance of teeth and tongue. The otter silently gagged and choked as a knobbly tunnel of a fuckable throat materialized.

Both furs lined themselves up with their respective holes, their thrumming rods guided by their paws. Their entries were slick, like the varlet he had been stretched and prepared from behind by talented, well greased fingers and had a wet maw enthusiastic to receive a pent up load. The thin sheen of oil made it easy for the badger and marten to glide in fully in unison with a single thrust.

The badger's cock pressed against the uneven circular walls of Zaffre's tight aperture. The powerful hilting in his rump made him want to shudder with pleasure all over again. Somehow, Laguna had managed to keep the sensation of his prostate being massaged programmed into him. A needy whine escaped him. He wasn't sure where it emanated from, since his vocal chords were nonexistent and the scientist shaft was buried where they would go anyway. Maybe the pair of furs using him just wanted to hear his reaction for a brief moment?

They each pulled out and thrust back in. Both were earnestly rutting with their own personal cadence. Laguna favored supporting himself with a paw on Zaffre's lower back and making long, powerful thrusts, while the marten grabbed his synthetic ears and humped his face in a feral frenzy.

Zaffre lost the understanding of time as they fucked him. His dulled exterior senses made the grinding of cocks against his rubber interior all the more blissful, like how an anthro becomes much more attentive to scent and sound while blindfolded. He needed desperately to have an orgasm. More than he had ever desired in his whole life. In that moment, if his penis hadn't melded into his own body, nothing would be able to prevent it from erupting in a deluge of river otter cum. The other mustelids' breathing grew ragged. Nearly at the same time, they climaxed. Their sacs drew tight, Laguna's slapping hard against his rump and the marten's resting against his chin. He felt their members pulse within him. Both unleashed a torrent of mustelid spunk.

When their weakened, spent panting was through they withdrew their softening erections and miked out the last remaining vestiges of their seed from their lengths. They smeared it on Zaffre's cheek and ass to clean themselves off. They then casually chatted for a moment as they dressed themselves again. The otter lamented that he didn't get a chance to see either of them naked or even in their underwear. Although, as the bliss of sex evaporated he quickly realized he would get no shortage of opportunities given his new station.

He'd have to sort out his emotions on that matter later. He was still too addled and aroused from his inability to orgasm.

"I think it's about time to change him back for a little while," Laguna announced.

The latex of Zaffre's body seemed to liquify and ripple. Tufts of fur started to rise out of and replace the oozing rubber while it gradually thinned and disappeared. He hurriedly looked over his body. Everything seemed to be as it was before he had been transformed. He sighed with relief when this included his penis. He was even wearing the collar, cuffs, and legwarmers. And, to his disappointment, the chastity cage. His swollen sheath fought tirelessly, but ultimately unsuccessfully, against its unyielding bars. He could taste the marten on his tongue. Feel his sticky cum in his throat and matting the fur of his cheek and snout. He was no longer plugged at least, but that allowed Laguna's ejaculate to leak freely from his recently abused hole and darken the fur of his inner thigh.

"You've done excellent so far on your first day, Zaffre," the CFO complimented him, patting him on the shoulder.

"I-is there any chance I could have the cage off?" Zaffre ventured meekly, wanting to solve his immediate problem of his arousal clouded mind. This was a sensation that had only increased since smelling the fresh scent of sex in the room. And himself.

"I suppose that wouldn't hurt," Laguna responded, surprising his varlet. He tapped the cage. At the touch of his fingertip it sank back into his sheath like it never had existed. The otter bit his lip in embarrassment as his shaft immediately started to rise from its fuzzy confines. The rosey peach flesh of his erection was at its full size within seconds. It throbbed, twinging as though he had been edging it endlessly.

Just as Zaffre reached down to grip himself and finally force himself over the edge of orgasm with a couple pumps of his paw the CFO continued:

"Play with yourself all you want today. It won't do you any good beyond riling you up more, though. Unfortunately for you, you'll never be able to achieve orgasm again. I do hoped you enjoyed whatever the last one you had was." Sure enough as he stroked he couldn't so much as get a drop of pre to form at the tip of his trembling shaft. He got hornier and more needy with each pass of his knuckles over his maleness, but without any relief. "I have some work to attend to, but Callahan here can show you the ropes. Welcome to EverTech, Zaffre. I think you'll fit right in."