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"Alright, here's that gimlet for you," the thickset iguana bartender called over the thumping music. He slid the full glass across the red bartop before consulting his cash register. "I'll put that on your tab."

"Thanks!" the shorter, lean tiger replied gratefully before he took his drink in hand and stepped away from the bar.

Devon, tired and thirsty, took a sip of his refreshing cocktail; he loved how the sweet syrup and tart lime juice cut through the dry gin, it was like drinking a late spring afternoon, tangy and satisfying. He licked his lips and took another sip before he sidestepped through the throng of other men who had crowded around the second-floor bar. Nearly everyone there was scantily clad, wearing different variations of leather vests, harnesses, tank tops, or simply going bare-chested, while others wore tight shorts, thongs, or jockstraps that left nothing to the imagination; Devon caught sight of a few who wore nothing at all except chastity cages, their confined dicks visibly bulging and straining against the unyielding metal devices affixed to their groins. As he weaved his way through the crowd, he heard more than a few of his fellow club patrons call out to him, trying to get his attention.

"Heya cutie, love your collar!" said an oryx wearing a leather vest, bikini-cut underwear, and fishnet leggings.

"Hey Stripes, wanna meet up on the dance floor?" asked an otter wearing only a jockstrap.

"Mmm, looking good, boy!" an alligator in neoprene shorts huffed, touching Devon's leg as he passed by.

"Here, Kitty!" a Great Dane called, waggling his eyebrows seductively.

Devon smiled falteringly at all of them, grateful that he was getting some notice, but kept pushing past the hot, crowded bodies that seemed to press in on all sides, almost rushing to extricate himself from the overwhelming pack and all their attention. He'd known that the crowd here was going to be more overtly sexual--he lost count of how many times he was groped while shaking his tail on the dance floor--and, to be fair, that was the kind of experience he was looking for. But now that the adrenaline, his initial jitters, and the buzz of his first few drinks were all finally wearing off, the tiger felt like he was finally coming to the realization that this was so much more than he'd expected. When Devon at last broke away from the mass of men around the bar and claimed an empty spot by the balcony railing to gaze down upon the scene below, he had a chance to catch his breath for the first time since entering the club--he'd practically ran to the bar as soon as he'd entered a couple hours ago, and from there he'd thrown himself onto the dance floor. Now that he was here, up on the second floor with an opportunity to truly get a lay of the land, it was like the 26 year-old tiger was seeing everything for the first time.

Hightower Bar on a Friday night was in full swing, a total pit of hedonism. The dance floor, illuminated by strobes, lasers, and multicolored lights, was completely packed with men who were dancing, kissing, grinding, groping, jerking each other off, blowing each other, and outright fucking, all in the haze of artificial fog. Frenetic, bass-heavy music streamed from the speakers, setting the pace for the lustful revelers in the middle of the club's ground floor. Both sides of the wide dance/orgy space were lined with occupied slings, X-crosses, and suspension harnesses, their occupants on the receiving ends of gang-bangs, whippings, electrocutions, spankings, and sounding rods in addition to fists, dildos, dicks, and tongues. Cries and moans of pleasure mixed unintelligibly with jubilant yells and whoops and the thumping music, creating a cacophony of ecstasy that echoed up into the rafters of the old warehouse that had been turned into Hightower.

The stage at the front of the dance floor was currently hosting a cadre of go-go dancers who flanked the main act: two horses being fisted at the same time by a bison. The bison--burly and built like a tank, and nude except for the yellow G-string he wore and his sweat-drenched fur--punched into the horses repeatedly, making both equines--who hung from suspended shackles around their wrists, waists, thighs, and ankles--moan and nicker as their holes were violated with abandon. Pre oozed and dripped along the equine shafts and glistened under the glare of the stage lights, while excess lube leaked from the horses' gaping holes, forming puddles under their suspended bodies. The bison spread his charges' anuses wider and wider, obliterating any traces of puckering muscle and leaving behind two limp doughnuts that eagerly swallowed up his fists and forearms, turning them into nothing more than a couple of holes to be filled.

The whole place reeked of musk, body odor, sweat, and sex, tinged with the rich aroma of cigar smoke and the sweet scent of pot as men with stogies and joints shotgunned each other. Devon breathed in the heady mixture, the smell of raw, carnal activity undeniably arousing--he'd been in the thick of it when he had been dancing on the ground floor earlier that night, but the aroma was being carried aloft by the body heat that rose from the countless men below, making it even more potent here on the second floor. The tiger took in another deep whiff, letting the smell fill his nostrils and lungs.

His dick stirred in his sheath, aroused further by the smell--even though the frenzy of Hightower and the possibilities of all that could happen had made him somewhat nervous, Devon had been at a semi all evening, with just the tip of his cockhead poking out of the furred pocket in his groin. But now, as he had a moment to himself to take it all in--the smells, the sights, the sounds, the unfiltered sexual, kinky energy pervading throughout the entirety of Hightower, from the dance floor to the bar, from the bathrooms to the hidden darkrooms he hadn't yet visited--his arousal thickened and stiffened more. He could feel his glans sliding past the rim of his sheath, his shaft swelling enough to push the pointed, rocket-like tip of his member out of the protective housing; his cockhead pressed against the inside of his jockstrap under his shorts, as if making a bid for horny freedom.

Devon took another sip of his gimlet to quench his thirst and calm himself. He needed a breather. Everything about Hightower was almost verging on more than he could handle--he'd never fully explored this world of kink, though he'd been plenty curious about it. Seeing it being practiced so openly, so brazenly, so...extremely, like it was here was almost dizzying. Devon's heart skipped a beat when his gaze drifted to one of the slings on the side of the dance floor: A hyena had been strapped into the leather hammock, vulnerable and exposed, and a raccoon was yanking, squeezing, and smacking his balls while an orca powerfully thrust in and out of his mouth, the whale's massive cock forming a visible bulge in the hyena's throat every time the cetacean plowed into him. Devon was astounded that everyone in the area was either watching and stroking themselves as they enjoyed the show, or too busy engaging in their own debauchery to even notice the display.

He wondered, how could someone do that, put themselves completely at the mercy of not only the men they were playing with, but also the entire crowd? How could someone so easily relinquish all of their power, all their control, and let a bunch of perfect strangers do whatever they wanted to them? Devon had never had the opportunity to partake in such activities or submit to someone like that, and just watching it now from a distance was enough to make his stomach flip with anxiety, but still...he was curious. As nervous as he was, the tiger couldn't deny that he was intrigued to push his boundaries, to see how much he could take. That's why he was here at Hightower for the first time, after all.

He wanted to explore...he just wasn't certain where to start.

Devon shrugged to himself and took another sip of his drink as he considered the notion that maybe he just needed a different environment...perhaps something a little more personal and one-on-one instead of just diving into the anonymous, writhing assembly below. Maybe that was the way he should have done this; instead of coming to Hightower completely new, he should have gotten a little more individual experience under his belt and THEN he could eventually join the orgy on the dance floor and act like he knew what he was doing...

"Hey, you doing okay, bud?" a deep, resonant voice next to him called.

Devon jolted from his reverie--he hadn't even noticed the tall, strapping elk who had come to stand next to him.

"Ah, sorry! Didn't mean to startle you," the elk said apologetically, looking down at the tiger.

"No, no, it's fine, I was..." Devon trailed off for a moment, taking in the slab of beef standing by his side.

The buck practically towered over him--Devon was 5'9", and he guessed that the elk had at least another eight inches on him, not including the incredible rack of branching horns atop his head. The elk looked like he was in his 40s, with small hints of gray fur on his otherwise brown and tan muzzle, from which hung an excess of scruffy fur that resembled a short beard. Devon glanced down from the deer's facial features to the rest of him--the man was amazingly muscled, brawny with a residual thickness to him, from his wide, defined pecs to his firmly toned gut, both of which contributed to his barrel of a torso that snugly stretched the black leather vest he wore; from the open sleeves hung his beautifully sculpted, powerful arms, which ended with broad, hefty hands adorned with fingerless black leather gloves. From his cursory glance, Devon could tell that this deer (whose ensemble was completed with a pair of tight black leather pants that showcased the bulge of his crotch and the mounds of muscle packed into his legs) was clearly someone who lifted at the gym every day, not to be a bodybuilder, but to be legitimately strong--the tiger wouldn't have been surprised if the elk could bench 350 pounds without breaking a sweat, which was 150 pounds more than what Devon, toned as he was, could handle on a good day.

"...somewhere else," Devon finished, already captivated by the deer who was looking at him.

"Heh, were you somewhere nice?" the elk asked, smiling warmly.

"What? Oh, I...was just watching," Devon explained, gesturing at the undulating, sex-crazed crowd below. "Got a little lost."

"Ah...yeah, it's a madhouse down there," the elk observed, leaning against the railing for a better look at the dance floor. He then glanced over at the stage, where the bison was up to his elbows in the horses still suspended from their shackles. "Especially with Hector on stage," he added knowingly.

Devon followed the elk's gaze--the horses were crying out as the bison pummeled their prostates simultaneously. "What, you know him?" he asked, astonished.

"Oh yeah, we go way back. My name's Hollis, by the way," the elk said, extending his hand.

"Devon." The tiger shook with his free hand, savoring the warmth of the leather against his pads and the strength of Hollis's grip.

"Devon?" Hollis sounded as if he were tasting the tiger's name, sampling it with his baritone voice in a way that made Devon a little weak in the knees. "That's a nice name."

"Thanks...I like Hollis, too."

"And Hollis likes you."

Devon's heart skipped a beat and his eyebrows rose as the big elk winked at him.

Hollis smirked at the tiger's tongue-tied face before directing his attention back to the bison on the stage. "Anyway, yeah, Hector...he always knows how to rile up the crowd and get them in the mood for some fun."

Devon, recovering, nodded and looked again at the orgy happening on the ground floor. His gaze swept over the kangaroos spit-roasting a bear, the lion rimming a cheetah, the bull humping into the rottweiler, another tiger making out with a badger..."Yeah, looks like everyone's having a real good time."

"Is that what you're here for?"

"What?"

"Are you here for some fun?" Hollis clarified.

"Oh! Um, kind of..." Devon trailed off sheepishly, avoiding making eye contact with Hollis. But if he had looked the elk in the eye, he would have seen Hollis's momentarily puzzled gaze turn into a delighted twinkle and a sly smile.

"This is your first time at Hightower, isn't it."

Devon grimaced, and he could feel the heat rising in his face. "I...yeah."

Hollis chuckled and patted the embarrassed tiger on the back, as if to help him rally. "Hey, no worries! I figured, though...you've kind of got that 'deer in the headlights' look."

Devon guffawed as he looked up at Hollis, who rolled his eyes when he realized what he'd just said.

"Heh, oh I get the irony," the elk went on, amused. "But, bottom line, would I be right in saying that you could probably use a little help?"

The tiger felt like fireworks were exploding, as if what he'd been hoping for had suddenly materialized out of nowhere in answer to his prayers. "I...well, yeah! I mean, would you...do you mind--"

Hollis grinned down at Devon and waved away the younger man's half-formed asks. "Of course, it'd be my pleasure! Happy to take you under my wing," he said as he gave the tiger a once-over, appraising Devon's clothes. "And, I've gotta go ahead and say that you did a decent job of dressing for this place."

Devon looked down at himself--his white skimpy tank top, emblazoned with a gold wolf head, left little to the imagination, as it accentuated his own toned chest, moderately built arms, and his overall slim frame. His blue booty shorts rode low on his hips and left even less to the imagination, as they showed off the prominent muscles in his thighs, the round, firm buns of his ass, and drew the eye to the noticeable (though not overbearing) bulge in his groin, which was snugly secured by his jockstrap. Around his neck, he wore a navy blue leather collar, from which hung a chrome-plated tag that read "Kitten"--he'd agonized over the entire ensemble for a full hour before leaving for Hightower, wanting to appear vaguely slutty enough to get attention, but not excessively desperate to turn heads.

"You think so?" he asked, his tail twitching excitedly.

Hollis nodded. "Oh yeah--if you wanted to, I bet you could get at least 10 different guys bending you over and railing that ass." As if to emphasize his point, Hollis casually reached around Devon's backside and swatted one of the tiger's cheeks.

"Oh!" Devon gasped and jumped.

"Hehe, yeah, if they could bounce a penny off that butt, they're gonna take no time at all to turn you into a proper cumdump," Hollis snickered. "And that's what you want, right?"

"I...guess so," Devon said haltingly, as if convincing himself that what he wanted was to be filled to the brim and overflowing with countless sloppy loads from strangers.

Hollis winked down at him. "Hey, you don't have to go hog-wild your first night out, we can get you there eventually." The huge elk reached for the leather band around Devon's neck as he continued, "A sexy boy like you won't have any trouble getting to cumdump status, though...especially with a collar like this," he added, tugging on the collar to pull Devon closer to him.

The tiger, still holding his drink in one hand, stumbled forward, close enough to bump against Hollis's strong chest, and Devon could smell the intoxicating mixture of the buck's natural musk and the rich scent of his leather clothes. Devon couldn't help it, he was in awe of such a handsome stud being so forward and playful with him...so interested in him...he inhaled the aroma, drinking it in while he was practically at the mercy of this powerful man who had already smacked his ass and taken him by the collar, a much more dominating move than simply being groped on the dance floor. His cock twitched in his jockstrap as Hollis fingered his collar and throat for a moment before taking a closer look at the tag that hung from the metal loop.

"'Kitten'...that's cute, I like that," Hollis said, having read Devon's tag.

"Heh...um, thank you," Devon weakly replied with a smile.

Hollis smirked and renewed his grip on Devon's collar, possessively pulling him in even closer to his chest. "That's 'thank you' what?"

Devon paused for a moment...then his eyebrows rose as he realized what the larger elk was suggesting. "Thank you, sir!"

"Good boy...fast learner, too," Hollis observed. He shifted his grip so he held Devon by the throat instead of just by his collar. The leather of his gloved palm rubbed against the white and black-striped fur of Devon's neck, while Hollis's long, thick fingers clamped commandingly around the sides of the tiger's throat. He could feel Devon's pulse against his digits, the rapid beating of the young tiger's excited heart. "You enjoying yourself?"

Devon nodded in Hollis's hold, and his tail twitched as his cock throbbed in his jockstrap. "Yes, sir!"

Hollis snickered and tightened his grip, squeezing the tiger's airway ever so slightly as he raised his arm to force Devon up onto his toes. "What do we say when someone gives us a good time?"

"Thank you, sir!"

"That's right. Now, who's in charge here?"

"Y-you are, sir!"

"Damn right," Hollis huffed with a sadistic smirk. "You gonna be a good little kitten for me?"

Devon gasped and grunted and tilted his head up, subconsciously offering more of his neck for Hollis to grab. The pressure on his throat was so tantalizing, so dominating...he could still breathe, but he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the elk was the one in control of how much oxygen he could get. "Yes, sir!"

Hollis leered down at Devon, whose eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and desire. The elk clenched harder on the tiger's throat, still allowing him to draw breath, but now in short, plaintive gasps. "Mmm...you gonna follow my orders?"

The tiger could have dropped his drink and raised his hand to pry the elk's strong mitt off his neck. But the squeeze on his airway was almost...comforting, and so deliciously...intimate...not to mention the fact that he was now experiencing what it was like to be so utterly dominated in front of a crowd (not that he was paying much attention to the crowd still around the bar). He'd been so curious, and now that he was getting a taste...

His member had chubbed up further in his sheath, now halfway out of the pouch.

He wanted--no, he needed more.

"Yes, sir!" Devon wheezed.

"That's what I like to hear," the elk said, tightening his grip even more around the tiger's neck.

Devon gasped for air, feeling the initially gentle and comforting squeeze turn steely, as if an industrial clamp was compressing around his neck, now truly choking him. His gaze locked with Hollis's--the elk had an almost manic glint in his eye, as if he'd found a new toy he wanted to break as violently as possible.

Devon gulped, trying desperately to breathe now; his neck bobbed against Hollis's palm, and he could feel his heartbeat quicken, maybe in panic, maybe as a prelude to passing out, maybe out of nerves or excitement for what could be next...

Hollis's expression softened to a warm smile as he relaxed his fingers and lowered his arm, allowing Devon to settle down on his feet as he drew in a deep breath. Although he still rested his hand on the tiger's throat, a possessive reminder that he wasn't done with the cat in the slightest. "You nervous?"

"I--hooo...ahem," Devon coughed to clear his throat and sucked in another lungful of air as he caught his breath. "Ah...heh, am I that obvious?" he quipped when he felt he could breathe normally again.

Hollis chuckled. "Maybe just a little...but I'm pretty good at reading people, too."

Devon looked up at the large deer again--gone was the greedy, dominant, sadistic expression that he wore; Hollis's smile, the endearing twinkle in his eyes...he seemed so earnest, so trustworthy.

"What else can you read about me?" Devon asked.

A mischievous gleam surfaced in the deer's gaze, and Devon knew that the sadistic dom was still there.

"You want to be a kinky little fucker," Hollis said, his voice commanding and confident.

Devon chuckled weakly. "You got me there...sir," he made sure to add. "I'm...uh...just not sure where to begin."

Hollis smiled warmly, tenderly down at the tiger. "Aw, don't you worry, kitten, I've got you covered." He rubbed the sides of Devon's neck, massaging his muscles and tendons, as he continued, "Why don't you come with me?"

Devon chuffed at the gentle treatment his neck was receiving. "W-where to?"

"That's 'where to'..."

"Sir."

"Good boy." Hollis kept rubbing Devon's neck, helping the tiger relax. "I've got a darkroom reserved. I think you'll like it."

Devon's heart leapt in his chest. Hightower's darkrooms were legendary--they were incredibly exclusive and borderline impossible to reserve without serious connections, and the things that could happen inside...well, literally anything could happen in there. The only rule for the darkrooms was that there were no rules--Hightower had plenty of rules for the main space to keep everyone safe, but in the darkrooms, there was no guarantee of safety whatsoever. He'd heard stories about people going into the rooms and never coming out again, while others who did re-emerge had been altered in ways that defied nature and the imagination. But surely Hollis didn't have any ideas like that for him...did he? The deer seemed honest and good-natured enough...he was just going to show him a good time and introduce him to some kinks in private, right? Nothing permanent, nothing too painful, just a sample of what Devon could get into without being on display for everyone else, right?

Almost as if he were reading the tiger's mind, Hollis took up, "I think what you need is a little privacy, is all, a place where I can just show you the ropes and get you started. It's the best place to learn to be a kinky little fucker...and that's what you want, isn't it?"

Devon's heart--and any lingering resistance--melted at the sound of the deer's deep voice telling him what he wanted. He never stood a chance. "Yes, sir."

Hollis stopped rubbing Devon's neck and clenched on the tiger's throat again, not choking him as hard as he had before, but enough to make the younger man feel the squeeze once more. "Say it," he demanded, raising his arm again to lift Devon back up onto his toes. "Tell me what you want to be."

The tiger didn't hesitate for a second. "I want to be a kinky little fucker, sir."

"Say it again."

"I want to be a kinky little fucker, sir."

"Again, louder," Hollis said, raising his voice as his eyes locked with Devon's.

"I want to be a kinky little fucker, sir!" Devon called out, not caring who else heard him, having eyes only for the deer in front of him, the deer who had apparently claimed him for the night.

"Again!"

"I want to be a kinky little fucker, sir!"

Hollis grinned and released Devon's throat, but still held onto his collar, keeping him close. "Attaboy! Now, finish your drink and come with me."

"Yes, sir!" Devon obeyed, giddily chugging the rest of his gimlet before he set the empty glass on one of the balcony-mounted perches.

Hollis didn't waste a moment--as soon Devon was done with his drink, the elk started walking, dragging the tiger alongside him. Devon sped to keep up with the tall deer, walking fast to match Hollis's long, purposeful stride, all while the elk kept a hand wrapped around his collar. The tiger let Hollis lead him along the balcony, past the throng of men in leather and rubber and skimpy outfits who were alternately drinking, groping each other, and tipping the dancers at the bar. Devon followed along, allowing Hollis to part the clusters of other bar patrons as they walked through and made their way to the stairs. Under the flashing lights and thumping speakers mounted overhead, Hollis pulled Devon down the industrial steel stairs, descending to the ground floor--as nervous as he was, Devon managed to stay upright as the elk forcefully dragged him along in his wake.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Hollis turned to the left and began to stride along the length of the dance floor, behind the line of occupied suspension harnesses, slings, and X-crosses. Devon's eyes wandered as he and Hollis passed by every station; he'd seen them from above, but with an up-close view came a renewed voyeuristic interest in what was happening, and Devon couldn't look away from one station until he and Hollis had passed it and were walking by the next one. He saw an otter being ruthlessly fucked by a fossa, the chains holding his sling rattling loudly; he saw a Dalmatian being paddled hard, hard enough to make the canine howl in harmony with the music playing; he saw a wolverine getting relentlessly tickled while also rimming a tegu; he saw a kangaroo pushing an incredibly thick sounding rod into a horse's cock, stretching the equine's urethra to the limit; he saw a bear, a skunk, a fox, a moose, and a ram using as a wolf communal urinal, with the group's piss puddling around the drenched, acrid-smelling canine. There was more, more than Devon could keep track of as Hollis pulled him along, farther and farther towards the stage...

Until Hollis guided the tiger around the stage to a hidden alcove behind the raised platform. It was here that Devon saw a single door, painted red and illuminated by a dim light that hung above it; on a stool next to the door sat a boar, who wore a Hightower-branded shirt and held a tablet. Devon stayed still and watched as Hollis muttered into the boar's ear, unable to hear what the elk was saying over the loud music--after a moment, the bouncer nodded and tapped on his tablet, apparently confirming Hollis's reservation, before motioning for him and Devon to proceed.

"Alright, kitten, in we go," Hollis said, pulling Devon forward once more.

Devon followed the elk as Hollis pushed the door open...and led him into a dimly-lit, concrete-floored and subway tile-walled hallway bathed in a red neon glow. As soon as the door closed behind them, the sounds of the club softened to a muted din, though Devon could still feel the vibrations of the music's powerful bassline. He and Hollis continued down the corridor, passing by smooth, black doors on either side of them; every door was closed, and they were each decorated only with a plain brass number and a bathroom door-styled label that read as either "occupied", "reserved", or "open".

The tiger could feel his heart beating harder and harder against his ribs with every door he and Hollis approached and walked past, and his mouth and throat felt progressively drier every time he saw that they were drawing near a door with a "reserved" label. Were they going into room 3? Were they going into room 7? Were they going into room 9? Were they going into room 11? Devon almost couldn't stand the anticipation--what was behind each door? Where was Hollis leading him? When would they get started? What was going to happen? Would he go into one of those rooms and never come out again? The suspense, the waiting, the fact that he was being led towards the unknown, the fact that Hollis was entirely in control here...the tiger nearly wanted to whimper in equal parts sheer excitement and dread.

"Almost there, kitten," Hollis mused reassuringly, as if he'd sensed the tiger's apprehension.

Devon's tail twitched, while his cockhead continued to press against the inside of his jockstrap--the tiger's arousal hadn't waned one bit, but fear kept him from rising to full mast, holding him steady at a semi that poked halfway out of his sheath.

"Here we are," Hollis said at last as they stopped in front of room 16. He glanced at Devon, who stood meekly beside him. "Shall we?"

Devon nodded, feeling that he'd come too far to back out now. "Yes, sir!"

Hollis smiled. "Good kitten."

The elk pushed open the black door--Devon blinked in surprise as his eyes adjusted to the intense glare from the halogen spotlight that hung from the darkroom's ceiling, shining brightly on the cinderblock-walled chamber. Based on the name "darkroom", he'd been assuming that the room would be lit with the same red neon as the hallway, but the unfiltered, undiffused spotlight blazed with the radiance of a small sun, almost harshly illuminating every nook and cranny of the space.

As Devon stepped inside with his host, he saw that the room was practically empty, except for a chair, sets of brackets and shackles that hung from the wall, a collection of chains with hooks and associated pull systems that hung from the ceiling, and a table that stood next to one of the walls. Hollis released his hold on Devon's collar, allowing the tiger to walk freely on his own, and upon closer inspection, Devon saw that all sorts of tools and implements had been arranged in a neat line on the tabletop: a large coil of thick, blue rope, numerous paddles, floggers, and riding crops, a violet wand, accouterments for ball stretching, handcuffs, gags, collars, blindfolds, dildos, nipple clamps, scissors, speculums, nitrile gloves, catheters, sounding rods, an e-stim kit, leather cuffs, a spreader bar...and more, including a small, closed metal box at the far end of the table.

"Wow...that's a lot," he muttered, his eyes wide as he looked over the array of toys. "Are...are we going to use all of these, sir?" the tiger asked, glancing back at Hollis.

CLICK--the elk had just slid the door bolt into place, locking Devon in the room with him.

"Hm? Oh, no, not all of them," Hollis said absently, strutting over to the table to stand next to Devon. He playfully ruffled the fur on the back of the tiger's head, making Devon chuff contentedly, as he added, "I think we can work with just a few that'll be a lot of fun for you...I'll get you started, and then we'll go from there. How does that sound, kitten?"

Devon nodded eagerly, wondering where Hollis was going to begin with him. "Sounds good to me, sir!"

Hollis chuckled. "Good boy. Now, how about you lose the shirt and shorts for me?"

"Yes, sir." Devon backed away from the table to stand in the middle of the room, putting himself on display for Hollis, before he teasingly turned around, his back facing the elk.

"Heh, putting on a little show for me, kitten?" Hollis chuckled as Devon took hold of the hem of his tank top.

"Yes, sir!" the tiger answered, swaying his hips seductively and letting his tail swing from side to side. Devon could feel the large elk's eyes on his back as he slowly began to lift the hem of his tank top. He pulled up, revealing his orange and black-striped fur as he unveiled his hips, waist, and lower back. The tiger slowly turned on the spot as he continued, now showing the white fur of his stomach and his toned abs as he raised the shirt higher and higher.

Hollis watched from where he stood next to the table; he wore an almost patronizing smile on his face, though his eyes gleamed with intrigue as he watched Devon's striptease. He saw the tiger's chest appear from under his tank top, with the clefts of his firm pectorals and the targets of his visibly hard nipples illuminated by the halogen spotlight. He could also see the way the tiger's fur transitioned from the white of his chest, stomach, neck, and chin to the orange and black stripes of the rest of his body; it was a soft boundary of white giving way to color to form the tapestry of beautiful tiger fur that moved with Devon's twisting and turning. The tiger gyrated his hips gently, exhibiting his slender musculature, drawing Hollis's attention to the way his muscles subtly rippled with his movements.

"Very nice, boy," Hollis said as he watched the tiger raise his arms to lift the tank top off of his torso. The elk got a good view of Devon's armpits and his flexing biceps--he'd certainly seen them while he and Devon were in Hightower's main space, but now he was getting to watch the younger man's arms go through a full range of motion, and while Devon's limbs were half as thick as Hollis's own pythons, the tiger had evidently put some good work into his guns.

"Thank you, sir," Devon said gratefully, now totally shirtless; he balled up his tank top and tossed it into a corner, then continued swaying his hips as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his blue booty shorts.

Hollis chuckled. "Well, aren't you just adorable," Hollis chuckled as he stepped closer to Devon. "But I don't need you to tease me more, kitten."

Devon paused. Puzzled, he looked up at Hollis as the elk approached, but he kept his thumbs in his waistband.

"It's nice and all that you want to give me a little extra eye candy, but we're here for some fun, and I want to get to it already," Hollis went on, his voice low and commanding. By now he stood directly in front of Devon, and the large, strapping elk placed his hands on top of the tiger's, resting them there as he continued, "Besides, it's my job to tease you, not the other way around."

Devon's eyes widened for a moment when he realized what Hollis meant, and he grinned apologetically. "Oh! Ah...sorry, sir."

"No need to be sorry, boy, it's alright," Hollis said softly, comfortingly. "But let's get these shorts off, okay?"

Devon nodded, then hesitated. "Um, what about my jockstrap, sir?"

Hollis winked down at Devon. "Let's see it, then I'll tell you what to do with it."

The tiger nodded again. "Yes, sir."

This time, without any preamble, ceremony, or hip gyrations, both Hollis and Devon pushed the tiger's shorts down, sliding them over his thighs and revealing his jockstrap.

"Hey, that's nice...very stylish," Hollish remarked, making Devon blush slightly.

"Heh, thank you, sir."

The tiger's underwear was solid black except for a metallic gold trim, complemented by the metallic gold strip that ran vertically down the front of his jockstrap's pouch, which further accentuated the plump bulge that hung from Devon's crotch with the weight of a bunch of fat, juicy grapes.

"I think we'll leave that on for now," Hollis told the tiger as he took over pulling down Devon's shorts, getting down on one knee in front of the tiger.

Devon felt the heat rise in his face as he was further undressed by this man so much larger, stronger, and older than him; there was something about having the gentle giant (who had nearly strangled him earlier) be so dominant yet so...tender with him, just from the way he was helping Devon out of his clothes while also taking care not to hit him with his antlers. The tiger's heart skipped so many beats, Devon wasn't sure how he was still breathing, and yet...here he stood, letting Hollis tug his shorts down over his knees, down his shins, and over his ankles and to the floor. Devon quickly stepped out of his shorts, now clad only in his jockstrap, which hid his semi (though he could feel his arousal throbbing, wanting more).

"There, that's much better," Hollis said, tossing the empty shorts aside as he stood back up to survey the mostly-nude tiger. He lifted a hand...and traced a finger down Devon's furred stomach, down to his belly button. "Turn around for me, kitten."

Devon did as he was told, presenting his backside to Hollis...and he chuffed when he felt the large, gloved palm cup one of his bare cheeks and squeeze.

"Mmm, I could play with that butt for a good, long while," Hollis murmured, clenching on the tiger's firm glute. He sighed, almost regretfully, and gave Devon's ass one more squeeze before letting go. "But we've got more important things to do. Alright, kitten, turn around for me again."

As Devon did another 180-degree turn, he saw Hollis strut back over to the table by the wall. The elk stood at the far end of the table and placed a hand on the small, closed metal box, the last in the lineup of toys on the tabletop.

"Where to start, where to start," Hollis mused thoughtfully...before he lifted his mitt from the box and strolled along the table, letting his hand drift over the collection of tools until he reached...the handcuffs.

Hollis quickly snatched up the cuffs and came back to Devon, where he stood behind the tiger. "Hands behind your back, boy," he commanded gruffly.

Devon obeyed--his heart rate went up with nerves as he held his hands behind his back, and he felt Hollis's broad, strong palm smother his own.

CLICK--the hard metal ring locked into place as Hollis clipped one of the cuffs around his wrist, and Devon inhaled and exhaled deeply to steady his breathing.

"You okay, kitten?"

CLICK--the second cuff locked into place, and Hollis let go of Devon's hands. The tiger pulled against the cuffs, testing them, but the unyielding metal stayed locked, keeping his hands bound behind his back.

"Yes, sir," Devon said with bravado, more for himself than for Hollis--this is what he wanted, what he'd been hoping to try out and explore for so long. He had to be okay, he refused to back out, he was going to enjoy this no matter what...

Hollis huffed. "Okay...I'm gonna gag you, so you won't have a safeword to use, but if you need me to stop, no questions asked, just snap three times. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Devon replied, audibly relieved that Hollis had given him an escape. Not that he intended to use it, but still, better to have it and not need it.

"Show me you understand."

SNAP-SNAP-SNAP. Devon snapped his fingers three times in rapid succession.

"Good boy."

Hollis stepped away from Devon to retrieve a ball gag from the table before he returned, once again to stand behind the tiger.

"Open up, kitten."

As soon as Devon opened his mouth, Hollis brought the gag over his head and forced it into his muzzle, spreading his jaws with the red, apple-sized rubber ball.

"Hff!" was all Devon could mumble as he worked his jaw and did his best to adjust to the sudden invasion--the gag kept his mouth wide open and his tongue rubbed against its smooth, tasteless surface while his teeth bit into the tough rubber. He huffed through his nose as Hollis calmly and efficiently cinched the strap tightly around the back of his head, locking the gag into position.

"There we go...heh, that's a good look on you," Hollis said as he circled around to Devon's front. He poked the gag experimentally, feeling that it was secure in the tiger's jaws. "And how are we doing down here...oh, well hello there," Hollis said when he reached down and cupped the pouch of Devon's jockstrap--the elk felt the moderate heft of the tiger's balls and the stiffening pole of his shaft, which had finally begun to swell further out of Devon's sheath. "Enjoying ourselves, huh?" Hollis snickered, gently squeezing Devon's balls and smothering them with his broad hand.

"Mm frrr!" Devon mumbled wetly--drool was already beginning to pool in his open mouth, and he swallowed after his approximation of a "yes sir".

"Good boy. I think you'll really like this next part," Hollis said, his smile turning from warm and friendly to sadistic and conniving--a change that somehow made Devon want to be used by him all the more. "But first..." Hollis continued before he clenched harder on Devon's cock and balls in his jockstrap.

"Mmf!"

With the strength of a truck winch, Hollis started pulling down on the tiger's manhood, and he looked Devon squarely in the eye--there was no mercy, no kindness in his gaze. "...let's get you down..."

Devon instinctively bent his knees as Hollis pulled lower...and lower, forcing him into a squat, dragging him downward by the balls. The pressure on his nuts was more than the tiger had ever tried on himself before, the tug on his tender testicles too brutal for him to resist, the creasing pain in his gut too much to ignore. But Hollis kept going, kept pulling Devon down further and further, beyond a squat, beyond a crouch.

"...on the ground."

"Ufff!" Devon grumbled through his gag as he lost his balance with his butt only a few inches above the floor; he softly toppled down on his rear, his fur meeting the cold, hard, concrete ground, and Hollis, bending over now, at last released his grip on the tiger's cock and balls.

"Perfect," Hollis growled satisfactorily. He straightened up again, arrogantly looking down at the tiger sitting on the floor as he said, "You stay right there, kitten."

Catching his breath from the ache he felt in his groin, Devon settled into a more comfortable, cross-legged sitting position, and he turned his head to watch Hollis return to the table once more. This time, he couldn't see what implement the elk had chosen...not until Hollis had picked it up and brought it back over to him.

Devon's heart fluttered in his chest, his eyebrows rose, and his tail twitched excitedly when he saw the coil of thick, blue rope in Hollis's hands.

Hollis snickered when he saw how clearly thrilled the tiger sitting on the ground was. "Yeah, you want to be a little rope bunny, kitten?"

Devon nodded eagerly.

Hollis squeezed the rope tightly in his hands and tugged on the gathered coil from both ends, showing off how strong the braided cords were. He wrapped a loop around his hand and pulled, flexing his muscles as he held the cable taut for Devon's benefit, teasing the younger man with how flexible, yet durable the rope was as he played with it. As he did so, he watched Devon's eyes widen and gleam brighter, the tiger's gaze fixed pointedly on the rope--Hollis's eyes drifted down to the younger man's lap, where he saw the full bulge of Devon's jockstrap...and then an almost imperceptible twitch within the black and gold-trimmed fabric, evidence aplenty of the tiger's arousal yearning for more.

The mighty elk laughed. "Oh, you're really into this, and I haven't even started yet! Heh, well, in that case..."

Hollis trailed off as he stepped around to stand behind Devon, his bulky, leather-clad legs pressed securely against either side of the tiger's back. Devon shivered and leaned back against the elk's shins, relishing the sturdy support and stability the older, bigger, stronger man provided. He kept his eyes forward, though, unable to see what Hollis was doing as he stood over him, not knowing what the burly elk was going to do next...until he shivered again when he saw a long, open loop of the blue rope descend into view front of his face...and then felt it settle on his shoulders and chest as Hollis guided it into place.

"Mmmm," Devon moaned, pleased with how heavy, yet soft, the rope was. At half an inch thick, the blue, braided cable easily contoured to peaks and valleys of the tiger's topography; it lay on his shoulders and draped halfway down his pectorals like a brilliant, sapphire necklace that both complemented and contrasted with his white, orange, and black fur.

Hollis smiled approvingly as he looked down at Devon and saw the tiger's posture shift; where, just moments before, he had leaned comfortably against the elk's legs, Devon had now puffed out his chest and broadened his shoulders, as if to lean further into the rope, to make more of it touch him.

"Good boy," Hollis murmured as he heard the happy huffs and soft chuffs that escaped around Devon's gag and through his nostrils.

The elk gently swayed the rope from side to side, letting it glide against the tiger's fur and occasionally making it rub over the exposed flesh of his erect nipples. "I'm gonna tie you up with all this rope I've got," Hollis said, continuing to tease Devon with the thick cable dragging across his chest. Devon wriggled hungrily as the elk went on, "There's plenty of it...just imagine it wrapped around your arms...cinched around your legs...tight around your chest..."

Devon could see himself tied up just as Hollis was describing for him, bound with tight blue bands around his body, helpless and ripe for whatever abuse the elk had planned for him. Was Hollis going to hog-tie him? Would he be tied in a spread-eagle? Or did Hollis have some other position in mind for him? He didn't know...and it didn't matter, so long as he was tied up somehow. Devon huffed and whimpered as Hollis kept dragging the rope back and forth across his chest like a soft bandsaw. He wanted more, he wanted to feel it around his neck, he wanted it to dig into his biceps, to keep him safe and secure...

"You won't be able to move a muscle," Hollis continued, his voice low and gravelly, yet somehow honeyed and seductive. "And I've already got your hands locked up, so you couldn't stop me from tying you up...even if you wanted to."

Devon moaned through his gag in agreement--Hollis was driving him crazy with the rope still rubbing against his chest.

"I'm gonna have you trussed up like a cute little package, and you'll be all mine to play with," Hollis rumbled from above the tiger. "So...what do you say, kitten? Want me to get started?"

"Mm frrr...mmmfff," Devon whimpered plaintively through his gag in an attempt to whine "Yes sir...pleeeease".

Instantly, Hollis pulled the rope up and away from Devon's chest as he stepped back from the tiger, leaving Devon momentarily stunned by his sudden withdrawal...before the tiger relaxed again when he felt the elk's warm, humid breath on the back of his neck as Hollis kneeled down behind him.

"Lift your tail, boy," Hollis commanded gruffly.

Devon obeyed; as soon as he raised his tail, he felt Hollis tie a loop around the base of it. Hollis wound more of the cable around the tiger's tail, forming a bite in the rope before he inserted an additional loop and knotted it...then took the rope up to the chain of Devon's handcuffs. Devon huffed as he felt the elk tie the knots around the chain, effectively tying his handcuffs in place so the tiger had little to no wiggle room for his already-secured hands. From there, Hollis meticulously worked his way up Devon's arms, tying them together, cinching cuffs around his limbs and creating loops that became knots between his forearms and elbows, with another between his biceps--the taut rope stretched against his back, forming a brace against his spine.

Hollis continued, humming to himself now as he separated the ends of the rope and wound them individually around Devon's shoulders and under his armpits. He wasn't rough, but he wasn't delicate, either--he worked with the precise efficiency of someone who had honed his skill over the course of too many hours to count. His thick, yet dexterous fingers manipulated Devon's limbs as needed, to create space for him to work, before letting go again to concentrate on the next knot he tied, the next bite he needed to make. Devon simply sat there, breathing excitedly through his nostrils; he loved feeling the different textures of the rope, Hollis's leather gloves, and the elk's warm fingers, and he enjoyed listening to the tune that the elk hummed as he focused on his craft--it helped that Hollis's humming distracted Devon from the thumping of his own heart in his throat, the tingling throbs in his crotch, and the soft buzzing of the halogen spotlight overhead.

As the minutes passed, more of Devon's restraints began to take shape under Hollis's skillful fingers: Cuffs formed around the tiger's shoulders and merged into bands that crossed the tops of Devon's pectorals before meeting in the middle of his chest, and they twisted into thick, knotted cables that ran down his sternum and back under his ribcage to complete a harness that individually framed his pectorals, making the mounds of muscle protrude even further from his torso. More loops of rope knotted and wove together to create an additional collar that sat just beneath the leather band still around Devon's neck--Devon gulped, feeling his throat bob against the tight choker that Hollis had made. Hollis worked his way down, constructing an intricate, spider-webbing pattern that spread outward from the middle of Devon's stomach and wrapped around the tiger's sides before meeting in a rigid, sturdy lattice on his back.

Devon's arousal pressed hard against his jockstrap the whole time--he'd never been tied up like this before, never been so immobilized...and he couldn't get enough of it. The rope was firm, constricting, and strong, hugging his upper body like a long, intricately wound snake--Devon could see now why some people enjoyed the company of nagas; the feeling of being wrapped up so tightly in those serpentine coils was just sooooo delicious. And yet the rope wasn't tight enough to cut off his circulation; Hollis had expertly crafted his knots so they teetered tantalizingly on the boundary between comfort and pain, driving Devon crazy with lust. In his curiosity to push his boundaries and explore more kinks, the tiger had entertained the thought of being restrained before, so of course he'd been excited when the elk had first picked up the rope, but experiencing it now under Hollis's care...this was divine.

His dick throbbed and pulsed, now fully out of his sheath, and contained only by his underwear. If Hollis were to yank his jockstrap down right now, he'd get a good whiff of the tiger's musk and an eyeful of Devon's bulbous, barbed, raging hard-on pointing up like a missile ready to launch, ready to explode...well, maybe not quite ready to explode. Devon was enjoying himself, but not that much. Not yet, anyway--he needed a little more stimulation for that.

But Hollis made a point of avoiding Devon's groin as he wound and tied the rope lower. He criss-crossed and knotted the rope across the threshold of the tiger's hips, then just above his glutes, keeping to the feline's outer thighs, before pausing.

"Alright, up on your knees for me, kitten," Hollis instructed, holding the remaining length of rope in his hands--Devon had no idea how many feet of cable the elk had used already, and from a quick glance at what Hollis still held, there was still plenty of rope to spare.

Devon complied with the older man's command, awkwardly shuffling his legs so he rocked himself up off his rear. He wobbled for a moment before getting his balance again--it was hard not being able to steady himself with his arms, but they were tied firmly against his back, totally unusable. The tiger soon settled up on his knees, as upright as he could get.

"Legs apart, and hunch down, boy, squat as low as you can," Hollis told him.

Devon obeyed without complaint, sinking lower as he spread his legs...until his hamstrings and glutes made contact with his calf muscles and ankles, with the tops of his feet against the floor, leaving his toes and soles exposed.

"Good boy," Hollis murmured before he resumed tying up the tiger in earnest.

Devon watched the elk methodically wrap and knot the rope over his orange and black-striped thighs and shins, and he grunted when he felt the tight pressure of the cable against his muscle. Hollis kept going, weaving in between Devon's white-furred hamstrings and calves, binding the tiger's limbs individually so it would be impossible for him to extend his legs. The elk constructed more cuffs around Devon's ankles, tightly knotting them and then connecting them to the hitches he'd built into the rope he'd wound just above the younger man's glutes. Satisfied that Devon's ankles were restrained with enough freedom for him to still wiggle his feet, Hollis used the remainder of the rope to add more loops around the tiger's knees and shins, building in a multi-point harness system...that culminated in a single thick, knotted loop that lay on the floor between Devon's spread knees.

Hollis stood from where he'd been kneeling, and he loomed over the thoroughly bound tiger. "Well, what do you think?" the elk asked. He tugged experimentally on the rope harness he'd made, jiggling Devon back and forth for a moment. "You like this, kitten?"

"Mm frrr!" Devon's tail twitched again and he nodded vigorously.

"Heh, thought you would," Hollis said cockily. "And you look perfect with all that rope...but it's not just for show, you know. Here..."

Carefully, Hollis maneuvered Devon to lie down with his back on the floor, so his tied knees pointed upward--the elk cradled the tiger with his broad hands, steadily lowering him down to the hard concrete, until Devon's back rested on top of his bound arms and his head rested on the ground. The younger man was looking up at the spotlight and the chains that hung from the ceiling, while Hollis leered down at him, standing over Devon for a moment longer...before the elk stepped away.

Leaving Devon on the floor, Hollis grabbed one of the pull chains and started yanking down on it. As he did so, one of the thick, industrial chains with a massive, steel, self-locking hook began to descend, rattling as it came lower...and lower...until it landed on the floor with a solid thunk. Hollis locked the pull chain in place before he took up the hook and brought it over to the rope loop that now hung limply from Devon's knees. Devon watched, intrigued, as Hollis pulled the rope loop over the clasp of the hook--with a loud CLICK that echoed around the darkroom, the hook's clasp sprang back into place, locking behind the loop. Hollis dropped the hook back to the floor before he returned to the pull chain.

"Get ready, kitten--I'm gonna make you fly," Hollis snickered.

Devon's eyes widened as he realized what Hollis meant; the elk started yanking on the pull chain again, and the hook that Devon was now attached to began to draw upward, off the floor. With each pull, the hook drifted higher and higher...a foot...then two feet, drawing the rope up with it. Devon felt the tug of the hook when it was three feet off the ground, with the tension on the loops around his knees and shins. Hollis kept yanking the pull chain, and soon Devon's lower half began to lift from the floor. The tiger grunted in amazement when his legs and lower back hung in the air, while his upper back and torso still lay on the ground, but tilted at an angle. With more tugs of the chain, Hollis pulled Devon higher, making the tiger defy gravity as his abdomen rose up...then his chest...and in a matter of moments, Devon was completely upside down, with the top of his head resting on the concrete. His tail dangled down behind him, and his arms would have, too, were it not for the fact that they were handcuffed and tied securely in place by the rope.

Devon giggled playfully through his gag and wriggled in his bonds--he could feel the pull of gravity on his body, but here he was, mostly hanging in the air and tied up, as if he'd run afoul of some hunter's ingenious trap. Upside down, he looked at Hollis, whose muscles flexed and bulged as he hauled Devon further up, completely off the ground now...and another foot...and another...Devon gently began to spin around, unable to control how he hung from the hook. He saw the ground fall further away from him as he rose higher and higher...until his head was a good five feet above the floor.

"Mmmf! Mmmf!" he mumbled through the gag in his mouth as he continued to slowly spin around; his tail still dangled from his backside, while his legs hung widely enough apart that his ass was spread open and fully on display between his toned glutes. The bulge of his crotch hung downward, and even though Devon could feel the blood rushing to his head, his cock was still stiff and throbbing in his jockstrap. The tiger couldn't move a muscle, all he could do was helplessly hang from his tied legs while Hollis locked the pull chain in place again, preventing Devon from falling back down.

"Well, look at what we have here," Hollis said, strutting over to the tiger who dangled before him. "Seems I caught a cute little kitten, huh?"

"Mmmhmm!"

"What to do with him, though," Hollis sighed theatrically. He teasingly rubbed Devon's jockstrap, feeling the hard rod within the fabric pouch and eliciting a soft grunt from the tiger before his hand drifted downward, gently raking through the white fur on Devon's stomach. After hearing a few contented chuffs from Devon, Hollis playfully plucked at a few of the strands restraining him. "Maybe I should just leave you hanging here for a while, let all the blood rush to that cute little head of yours?"

Idly, Hollis pushed on Devon's side to spin him around a little faster; he watched the suspended, upside-down tiger rotate in the air before him, simply taking in every vulnerable inch of the younger man, from the pads on his feet to the target of his mildly-gaping ass, from the divot of his navel and the lump in his jockstrap to his nose and his eyes, which were wide and gleaming with excitement, wonder, and joy. Hollis chuckled, enjoying the view of the slender tiger who was trussed up and powerless to prevent him from doing whatever he wanted...like stopping his spinning and, after bringing the tiger to a standstill so he faced the elk's chest...

"Or maybe I should play with you just a little?" Hollis said as he began to flick and caress Devon's hard nipples, brushing them with his fingertips.

"Mmmff!" Devon moaned as he felt the elk's powerful fingers tickle his sensitive nips.

"Oho, you certainly seem to like that idea," Hollis chuckled; the erect nubs of flesh betrayed Devon's arousal, and Hollis rolled them between his digits, gently twisting them. "But how much do you like this?" he asked just before he softly pinched Devon's nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, making him shudder and writhe in his bindings.

"Mmm," the tiger groaned softly; hanging upside down, he subtly swung from side to side in front of Hollis, nothing more than a suspended toy for the big elk to play with. Devon bucked his hips in delight, and his tail twitched.

"How about some more, then?" Hollis pinched harder.

"Mmmmf!" Devon groaned louder at the increased pressure.

Hollis clamped down even more with his thumbs and index fingers.

"Mmmm! Mmmm!" Devon panted and grunted.

"That's it, boy, show me how much you can take!" Hollis said over the tiger's vocalizations, pinching harder still...for another moment longer...

"MMMMMM!" Devon arched his back in his restraints and shook from side to side, making the chain that he hung from rattle.

"A little more!" Hollis encouraged.

"MMMM! MMMM!"

"There we go," Hollis breathed as he released his grip.

Devon grunted at the sudden relief--his nipples felt like they'd been squeezed in a hydraulic press, and he panted as the stinging sensation receded. Meanwhile, the elk lazily stepped over to the table, allowing Devon a little more time to recover. Still hanging from the chain, Devon twisted his neck to watch the large buck linger in front of the table, obscuring the toys before him, most likely deliberating on what to do to the tiger next. Devon shivered with expectation when he saw Hollis grab something from the tabletop and slide it into his pocket...before the elk wordlessly picked up another toy...

And returned to Devon with a pair of chained nipple clamps in hand, which Hollis casually snapped into place on the tiger's areolas, practically flattening his tender nipples.

"MMMMMM!" Devon yowled through his gag--he winced and bit into the rubber ball stuck in his mouth, trying to work through the abrupt pain. The rubber-tipped, spring-loaded clamps bit down on his skin like a couple of alligators, refusing to let go, squeezing even harder than Hollis had pinched, threatening to bite his nipples clean off...and yet...

"Aw, too tight?" Hollis asked, mocking concern as he watched Devon wriggle like a fish on a hook. "That's too bad, you're gonna have to get used to it, kitten," he told the tiger matter-of-factly. Hollis reached into his pocket for the tool he had grabbed from the table...and withdrew the pair of scissors. He turned his attention to the black and gold jockstrap, which was now visibly straining with the tiger's arousal. "Besides, I've got a good hunch," Hollis went on as he now reached for the elastic straps with his free hand and the scissors, "that you like it a lot."

In three quick snips of the scissors, Hollis had cut through the straps around Devon's thighs and waist, and he yanked off the now-ruined jockstrap to reveal the tiger's member--a fleshy pink, bulbous rod at just over six inches long, Devon's cock sprang forward and flopped down towards his navel under its own weight, while his plump, cherry-sized testicles--exaggerated in heft thanks to the excess fluff of white fur covering his scrotum--nestled on top of the base of his sheath due to the pull of gravity. Devon, still grimacing at the prolonged stinging sensation he felt in his nipples, bucked his hips forward in his bonds, grateful to be free at last from the confines of his jockstrap--as much as the nipple clamps hurt, his dick was throbbing even harder, his pleasure balancing out and washing away the pain.

"Yeah, you're definitely enjoying yourself," Hollis chuckled, inspecting Devon's rock-hard erection. He breathed in deeply, getting a good whiff of the tiger's musk, before he reached with a finger to touch the short barbs that completely encircled the upper region of Devon's shaft, just below the rotund, pointed helmet of his glans. "Hooo, very nice...those barbs look like they'd feel good going into a tight hole, huh, kitten? Some folks might not like 'em, but personally I think they'd be a lot of fun."

Devon appreciated the comment--and he appreciated even more that Hollis's fingers wandered down his shaft, following the subtle taper of his cock before it bulged again as it met the sensitive connecting region of flesh that led into his sheath. The tiger bucked his hips again when he felt Hollis's fingers trace over his veins, brushing over his skin ever so softly...and then the elk cupped his balls, smothering them completely in his leather-clad palm. Devon chuffed at the comforting sensations, but they didn't distract him fully from the fact that his nipples felt like they were both on fire and being frozen at the same time; the pressure from the clamps was borderline excruciating. He managed to make it more tolerable by inhaling deeply, then exhaling, controlling his breath...he inhaled...then exhaled...

Hollis, his hand still cupping the tiger's testicles, noticed Devon's efforts and grinned down at him. "That's it, boy; you know you love the pain." He clenched Devon's nuts, squeezing them in his palm, making the tiger grunt through his gag before he slackened his grip again, giving Devon a small reprieve. "You might think it's almost too much..."

Hollis squeezed again.

"Mmmm!" the tiger groaned at the feeling of his nuts being compressed in the elk's strong, warm, leather-clad palm--Hollis was bearing down on them like a stress ball, and through the pain he felt in his groin and gut, Devon's his cock throbbed hard, his glans flaring and swelling as his shaft stiffened even more.

"But you can't get enough of it, boy. You want more of it, you know you do. You just have to breathe through it...submit to it," Hollis continued as he let his grip loosen again. "That's gonna help you with what's next." He gave Devon's balls one last quick, parting squeeze--earning a soft grunt and a wriggle from the suspended, immobilized tiger--before he released them completely and set the hanging man slowly spinning once more while he trotted back over to the table.

As Devon gently spun around from his chain, watching Hollis from his upside-down vantage point, he couldn't deny that the elk was right. As he breathed in and out, the ache in his balls subsided and the soreness in his clamped nipples incrementally became more tolerable...and he wanted more, just like Hollis had said.

And it looked like he was going to get exactly what he wanted--when Devon rotated again to face the table, he saw Hollis approaching with a black, leather-bound riding crop. He saw that the tongue of the crop looked especially thick and wide...and his cock twitched again. The elk beat the tongue of the crop against his gloved palm as he drew near.

Pat-pat-pat-pat...the sound of leather hitting leather beat softly against the walls of the room, and Devon gulped in anticipation.

"I think if someone wants to be a kinky little fucker like you do," Hollis began as he drew near Devon, still tapping the end of the riding crop against his palm, "then they need a taste of what kind of punishment they're going to get."

When he stood by the tiger again, Hollis used his free hand to bring Devon to a stop once more. This time, however, he faced away from the elk, his spread glutes exposed and vulnerable, with his open asshole laid bare before Hollis.

"You're lucky I found you first," he said.

Devon shivered as he stared at the wall opposite him. He couldn't see what Hollis was doing, all he could hear was the pat-pat-pat of the riding crop against the elk's glove and his host's deep voice as he continued speaking.

"If someone else were here instead of me, who knows what kind of terrible things they'd be doing to such a helpless and vulnerable kitten like you."

The soft beat of the riding crop on Hollis's glove fell silent...

Plat.

Devon gasped in surprise when he felt the cool leather tongue of the riding crop softly land on top of his taint. Hollis nudged it back and forth, rubbing the tiger's perineum and just barely tickling the underside of his balls.

"They could be beating your little boy nuts like a punching bag, or they could be literally eating you alive," Hollis pointed out. "Instead, I'm getting you started with the fun stuff--oh, I'm going to work you hard..."

Devon shuddered when he felt Hollis drag the tongue of the riding crop over his taint and down...to rest on top of his open ass, making the slightly gaping orifice pucker in anticipation.

"...but you're going to enjoy it," Hollis added. He rubbed the riding crop back and forth for a moment, teasing the rim of Devon's hole--the tiger relaxed at the sensation of worn leather gliding over his back door, and he sighed contentedly, which earned a soft chuckle from Hollis. "I think you're enjoying it already, though...but enough with the preamble..."

Devon felt the riding crop withdraw, and he heard the elk behind him take a breath...and hold it. The chamber was silent as the grave...the tiger gulped nervously...

Whap!

"Mm!" A short grunt from Devon sounded from around his gag when he felt the sting on his left ass cheek--Hollis had moved so fast that the tiger didn't even hear the swish of the riding crop through the air, making the slap of the leather tongue on his exposed ass even more surprising.

Whap!

"Mm!"

Hollis didn't give Devon a chance to recover, he'd immediately struck his right cheek, squarely in the middle of the tiger's glute, and Devon's cock had jumped and bounced in response to the sharp impact.

"Heh, is this kitten's first spanking?" Hollis asked as he withdrew the crop.

"Mm...mhm," Devon grunted affirmatively, drooling around the gag in his mouth.

The elk behind him chuckled. "Well, how about that...not every day I get to play with a spanking virgin...especially one with such a cute, spankable little ass."

Whap! Whap!

Devon gasped sharply and bucked in his restraints when Hollis slapped his left and right cheeks again in quick succession. He shuddered, then moaned as he felt the leather pad rub back and forth on his right glute, soothing the sting in his backside.

"Good stuff, huh?" Hollis asked before he used the tongue of the riding crop to rub Devon's left cheek. "Spanking a newbie like you is a real treat, I get to show you just how much fun it is to be on the receiving end." He continued teasing the tiger's ass with the crop, rubbing it in small circles over both cheeks as he went on, "It's how doms show their affection, how they keep you from being a naughty boy...they can spank you to make a point when you've done something wrong...it's a good opportunity for discipline and learning from your betters. And they can use spanking as a reward for when you've done something right...pain releases all those good endorphins in your brain...a good master knows how to make you enjoy getting whipped, paddled, or an old-fashioned spanking with their hands while you're laid bare-bottomed across his lap. It's a badge of honor to get your cheeks turned red by your master--it shows how much he cares about you, kitten. Now, I just gave you a little taste to get you started...and I'm gonna give you a little more..." Hollis added as he raised the riding crop again...

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

Hollis alternated back and forth between Devon's left and right cheeks, lightly smacking them, hard enough for the younger man to feel a flash of stinging pain that excited and aroused with each hit of the crop. Devon's cock throbbed and he moaned softly throughout his spanking, relishing the electrifying jolts that ran through his body every time Hollis struck.

Hollis snickered as he rested the tongue of the riding crop on top of Devon's taint again. "Atta boy...how's that for a start? You having a good time, kitten?"

"Mm frrr," Devon huffed quietly, trying to say "yes sir".

"Oh, what was that?" Hollis asked playfully as he lifted the riding crop.

Whap! Whap!

"Mmm!" Devon squirmed as Hollis struck harder--the elk now swung with enough force to send a ping pong ball flying.

"I couldn't hear you, boy, you have to speak up," Hollis said as if lecturing a disobedient pet. "Are you having a good time?"

Whap! Whap!

"Mm frrr!" Devon groaned more audibly--his tail twitched agitatedly and his hard arousal bounced against his stomach as he wriggled in his restraints.

"Louder, boy!" Hollis called.

Slap! Slap!

The riding crop hit harder, slapping the tiger's ass like a backhand tennis swing.

"Mm frrr!" Devon cried out around the rubber ball in his mouth.

Hollis snickered as he paused his smacking. "Is that the best you can do? I think you can get louder than that."

Devon's eyes widened for a second...

CRACK!

"MMMM!" The tiger clenched his eyes shut and yowled around his gag--Hollis had graduated to full-on whipping, and Devon felt as though his left cheek were on fire.

CRACK!

"MMM!" Devon jerked against the ropes holding him as the leather tongue snapped hard on his right cheek, matching (and momentarily distracting him from) the incredible sting in his left glute.

"Now," Hollis began, his voice steely and menacing, "I said"--CRACK!

"MMM!" Devon bucked like a restrained bronco as the leather bit into his left cheek again.

"Are you"--CRACK!

"MMMMFFFFF!" The tiger yowled for a moment before forcing himself to breathe through his nose, to push through the pain in his right cheek.

"Having a"--CRACK!

Devon wriggled and writhed in his rope bindings, making the chain he was connected to rattle again while he swung from side to side.

"Good"--CRACK!

"MMM!"

"Time"--CRACK!

"MMMMM!" Devon's grunt was guttural--he could feel himself retreating to a space he'd never inhabited before, a primal, animalistic place in his mind that roiled with hormones fighting against base instincts. His lust battled against the pain and his desire for self-preservation, mixed with it, transmuting it into...something else. Was it pleasure? Was it agony beyond anything he'd experienced in his whole life? No...it was a concentrated bliss, tinged with a newfound self-destructiveness, tied together with suffering and ecstasy. How much more of it could he stand? His ass was burning with the lashes he'd received, pre had begun to dribble from his throbbing cock and caught on his fur, and his whole body was alight with this new sensation. Somewhere in his conscious mind, he knew he could snap his fingers and put a stop to the torture; Hollis had begun beating him like a horse in a race, and Devon could make the elk put down the crop right now...

"Kitten!" CRACK!

"MM FRRRRR!" Devon bellowed through the gag in his mouth, emphatically and shamelessly crying out his rough "yes sir".

"Mmm, yes! That's what I like to hear!" Hollis crowed victoriously as he rested the leather tongue of the riding crop on Devon's taint once again. "Very good, kitten!"

Devon huffed raggedly during the slight reprieve that Hollis granted him; the elk rubbed his perineum softly for a minute, back and forth over the mound between his balls and anus...back and forth...back and forth...soothing him, helping him calm down from the rush of of adrenaline and exhilaration that the tiger felt in addition to his dizziness from having been hanging upside down for so long. The tiger subtly swung in time with Hollis's rubbing, as if the elk was gently pushing him with the flexible riding crop...before Hollis raised it again...

"Gonna push you a little more, kitten," Hollis grunted.

"Hmmmf!" Devon groaned with anticipation as he bit into the gag, bracing himself.

Whap!

"Hmm!" Devon jumped--while the impact of the riding crop was soft, Hollis had struck where he'd whipped the tiger before, and the delicate area was still raw and angry, making Devon feel like he'd still been hit with the full force of the crop.

Whap!

Hollis hit again with the same force, and Devon grunted.

Whap!

Whap!

Whap!

Hollis carried on, alternating between cheeks, striking different spots on them, going from the thickest regions of Devon's glutes to the thinnest pads of muscle and subcutaneous fat...softly at first...before he started going harder...faster...

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Slap! Slap! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

"Mmmmmmmmuuuuuufffffff..." Devon groaned in a continuous stream, his voice rising in volume as Hollis struck his ass harder and harder, gradually increasing in intensity from gentle slaps to forceful whip cracks once again. The tiger balled his restrained hands into tight fists and curled his toes before splaying them, then curling them again, trying to find a way to cope with the pain and pleasure that wreaked havoc in his mind.

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

"MMM! MMM! MMM!"

The sound of the leather tongue striking Devon's ass echoed off the walls and the concrete floor, and it mixed with the agonized and euphoric cries, wails, and gasps that escaped around the tiger's gag. Hollis snickered and grunted as well, watching as Devon writhed in his bonds with every crack of the crop against his ass--he could see a shade of red emerge amid the tiger's white-furred cheeks, the skin under the younger man's coat inflamed and tender from the prolonged spanking.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

"MMMM! MMMM! MMMHHMMMHMMMHMMM!" Devon choked out a sob around his gag, but he didn't snap his fingers. Even with tears forming in the corners of his eyes, it didn't occur to him that he should make Hollis stop; in his way, Devon had asked for this, and now he was getting what he'd wanted...and he wanted even more, to push himself.

"Take some more, kitten!" Hollis urged him as he kept up his beating.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Devon convulsed and floundered in his ropes as he hung from the hook he'd been clipped to. He couldn't tell if he was in abject pain or experiencing the most mind-blowing high possible--his member was throbbing and twitching as more pre leaked from his cock and dripped down onto his stomach, falling onto the underside of his chin, all while he felt like he was being struck by lightning. His tail thrashed from side to side, and he forced himself to breathe in...and out...in...and out...between his sobs and the strikes of the crop as best as he could. He lost track of how long Hollis had been spanking him; every smack felt like it lasted an eternity, yet happened in the blink of an eye...again...and again...and again...until...

"Alright, kitten, gonna count you down!" Hollis eventually called, his voice sounding as if he were a great distance away. "Here's the last 10, five for each cheek!"

"10!" CRACK!

"MMM!" Devon practically screamed through his gag and bucked hard--it was as if by entering the home stretch, he'd opened himself up to the pain completely afresh, and each strike was raw and soul-cleaving.

"9!" CRACK!

"MMM!" The tiger thrashed in his ropes, but there wasn't an inch of wiggle room.

"8!" CRACK!

"MMM!" Devon grunted loudly, determined.

"7!" CRACK!

"MMM!" Devon had curled his fists and toes so tightly, he felt like his hands and feet were going to implode.

"6!" CRACK!

"MMM!" It was getting hard to breathe, and yet he was thrusting his suspended hips back and forth, as if humping the air. His cock was harder than he'd ever felt before, shamelessly erect despite such an inordinate amount of burning agony. If he'd been in a clearer state of mind, Devon would have wondered what the fuck was wrong with him for reacting this way, but right now he just couldn't get enough. He was terrified of the pain, but he need more to push him to the edge...

"5!" CRACK!

"MMM!" Halfway there, he was halfway there, he could get through this, he had to get through this for the big, strapping, handsome elk who had taken an interest in him, had taken him under his wing--he had to make Hollis proud.

"4!" CRACK!

"MMM!" Devon arched his back as much as he could, as if trying to push himself out of his own skin, the pain and pleasure were almost too much.

"3!" CRACK!

"MMM!" His eyes rolled as he felt the riding crop lash his cheek with the intensity of a red-hot brand.

"2!" CRACK!

"MMM!" Only one more to go...he could do this, he could do this, he could do this...

"1!" CRACK!

"MMMMMMMMMHMMMMMFFFFFFFF!" Devon shrieked--it felt like Hollis had whipped him hard enough to break the riding crop over his ass. He hung there limply, shivering as he grunted and sobbed like a pig, breathing through the untempered pain that radiated from his backside, unable to do anything more but lean into it and embrace the soreness that seeped into his every nerve.

He could only barely perceive that he was being spun around, that a firm hand had pushed his knee...and another hand was bringing him to a stop as he faced Hollis once again.

"Shhhhh...ssshhhh, it's okay, kitten," Hollis said softly, comfortingly.

Devon, taking shuddering, gasping breaths, blearily looked up at the large elk--Hollis still held the intact riding crop and was looking down at him affectionately. The tiger flinched when Hollis raised the crop...but not to strike him. Instead, Hollis gingerly rested it on top of Devon's testicles and began to rub the leather tongue on his nuts. Devon still breathed haltingly, beginning to hyperventilate as he rode through the throbbing ache that wracked his body.

"Ssshhhh...breathe, boy...listen to me," Hollis instructed, keeping eye contact with Devon. "Slowly...in...hold it...and out...in...hold it...and out..."

The tiger obeyed, focusing solely on his breathing, shutting out everything else except for Hollis.

"That's it, that's great, kitten," Hollis said encouragingly as Devon's chest rose and fell more evenly. "Just keep breathing like that...nice and easy."

Devon hiccuped, choking out another sob, but he worked past it, continuing to breathe in and out. His shivering abated, and he soon grew still.

"You're okay, you're safe, I've got you right here," Hollis told him, continuing to rub his balls with the riding crop; Devon's sobs quieted, and his breathing fell into a more steady rhythm. "Just come back...I put you through your paces, but you're alright..."

Devon coughed to clear his throat, then sighed as his heart slowed further, downgrading from a rapid, panicked hammering to a safe and comfortable drumming.

"Hard to believe you were a spanking virgin before tonight, kitten," Hollis went on, looking down at Devon like a coach appraising his star athlete. "You took that beating like a champ...I've seen a lot of other boys break way before this point, but you could've fooled me into thinking you're an old pro."

Hollis raised the riding crop and playfully tapped the top of Devon's balls as if ringing a bell on a concierge's desk--the tiger jumped at the soft, sudden pat to his sensitive nuts.

"Mm!" Devon whined.

Hollis smiled down at him as he rested the riding crop on his balls again and resumed rubbing them with the leather tongue. "I'm so proud of you...you did a good job taking all that pain. You showed me that you really wanted it."

Devon's heart rose in his chest at Hollis's words--he grinned as best as he could around his gag while his breathing began to return to normal.

"Yeah, I see that smile," Hollis chuckled while he continued rubbing Devon's balls with the riding crop. "Someone's glad to be a kinky little fucker, huh? Just like you wanted, right?"

"Mm frr," Devon chuffed through his gag in reply.

"Yeah, I thought so," Hollis said. "But being a kinky little fucker isn't all about just getting your ass spanked, kitten."

Hollis raised his riding crop again, and Devon's eyes widened when he realized the elk--who now grinned sadistically--was hovering just above his vulnerable testicles.

"I need to see how you handle getting your cherries beaten, too."

Thwack!

"Mmmrrrgghf!" Devon tried curling in on himself, but both gravity and his restraints prevented him from crunching his torso upward against his lower body, and he felt the full force of the riding crop striking him squarely on the nuts.

"Heh, adorable," Hollis muttered as he raised the riding crop again.

Devon didn't have time to prepare himself.

Thwack!

"Mmmmrrggghhfff!" The leather tongue slapped bluntly on his delicate gonads--it wasn't quite like getting punched in the balls, but it felt pretty darn close to Devon as he huffed and panted through the pain that began rising in his gut.

Thwack!

Hollis struck firmly, using the riding crop more like a paddle than a whip, letting the leather tongue sit where it landed for a moment before raising it again.

Thwack!

"Mmfhhhuumhuuumhuummmm!" Devon grunted, simultaneously winded and gasping for air as the pain rocketed through his body.

Thwack!

"Mmmm!" Devon's squeal rose in pitch--his nuts were aching and stinging, and they had to be bruised by now, right? He couldn't remember ever feeling so tender below the belt. And the truly ridiculous thing now was that the agony in his balls had begun to distract him from the lingering pain in his ass--he'd almost forgotten about Hollis thoroughly whipping him.

Thwack!

"How are you liking that, kitten?" Hollis asked over Devon's grunts and cries.

Thwack!

"Does it hurt?" Hollis asked, watching the tied-up tiger writhe and struggle.

Thwack!

"Mmm!" Devon squeezed his eyelids shut, trying to block out both the pain and the sweat that was threatening to drip into his eyes.

THWACK!

"Mmmmm!" Devon shuddered; Hollis had begun to strike harder. Before, it had been a soft smack--now, Hollis was outright slapping his balls with the riding crop. Devon clenched his fists and arched his back, straining hard to ride through the ache that stabbed him like a dull knife, sharp yet lingering and grating. But in spite of his suffering...

His dick was rock-hard and wagging stiffly with every move he made. It bobbed in the air and against his stomach as he bucked his hips; it swung from side to side as he shook in his restraints; it throbbed and stood proudly erect from his sheath, as if goading Hollis to do his worst.

THWACK!

"Mmmm!"

"I asked you a question, kitten: Does it hurt?"

THWACK!

"Mm frrrr!" Devon grunted in reply.

THWACK!

"Mmmmuuughfff!"

"Aw, that's too bad," Hollis said, mocking pity as he raised the riding crop again.

THWACK!

"Mmmmm!" Devon bit into the gag, locking his jaw as he groaned.

"A good boy takes what he's given..."

THWACK!

"Mmmmuugghhfff!"

"...he thanks his master for what he provides..."

THWACK!

"Mmmmm!" Devon felt like his nuts were going to explode, they were so sore and tender.

"...and learns to enjoy it," Hollis told the tiger in a superior tone.

He leered down imperiously at Devon, his gaze taking in every inch of the tiger suspended upside down in front of him. Devon's head hung limply downward, his breath coming out raggedly around the bright red ball gag in his mouth. His white-furred chest--his pecs bulging thanks to the tightness of the rope harness around them--was expanding and contracting rapidly, while his stomach fluttered under the cable webbing that Hollis had woven...and there, between Devon's spread, bound legs, his bulbous, veiny cock, looking so much like a swollen, dangerous lance with its engorged glans, pointed tip, and fully inflated barbs, throbbed and pulsated with lust.

Hollis grinned. "Seems you're enjoying it already, though!"

He raised the riding crop again and took aim at the exposed underside of the tiger's shaft, targeting the sweet spot just beneath the corona of his glans and right on top of his frenulum.

SMACK!

"FFFOOOOOOOOOMMMMFFF!" Devon jerked upward and howled around his gag as he felt the leather tongue slap the bare skin of his cock. The sting was unlike anything he'd felt before, like he'd been the victim of a giant wasp attack, concentrated solely on his dick...

Yet his arousal bounced with the force of the impact, not flagging one bit.

Hollis chuckled as he at last stepped back. "Well how about that..."

Devon panted hard, recovering from the shock and the pain still radiating through his member. Semi-delirious and dizzy from everything he'd been through, it took him a moment to catch his breath, properly open his eyes again, and focus his attention on Hollis.

By now, the elk had stepped away to lean against the end of the table by the far side of the room. He twisted the riding crop in his hands, the leather of his fingerless gloves softly squealing and rubbing against the leather-bound handle and stalk of the crop. Hollis gazed at Devon pensively as he spoke.

"Glad to see you could keep up with all that...might not seem like we did much, but I've had boys who screamed their safe word after the first five minutes. I'm proud of you for sticking through it, kitten," Hollis added. He sighed as he placed the riding crop on the tabletop again, then continued, "You've been taking to this pretty well--if we had more time, I'd really love to put you through your paces, push your limits...but I'm on a deadline here."

Devon, breathing normally now as the pain in his nuts and dick had receded to a steady ache, looked at Hollis quizzically. The gag prevented him from properly asking "what do you mean"--all that came out was a muffled mess of, "Haah hoo-oo hmmm?"

Hollis chuckled and shook his head...before he reached for the small, closed metal box on the table next to him. "Well, I said I'd show you the ropes and get you started in here," he replied as he picked up the box. He flipped open the lid, but held the box in a way that made it impossible for Devon to see what was inside. "But I didn't say what I'd do to you after that."

Hollis plucked something out of the box before closing the lid again, and Devon's eyes widened when he saw the large elk was holding a fully loaded syringe. Loaded with what, Devon didn't know, but he knew he didn't want it anywhere near him.

But it seemed he didn't have a choice in the matter. Hollis replaced the closed box on the table and began to approach Devon again, holding the syringe in hand, ready to administer whatever was in the vial. He'd signed up to explore some kinks, but being injected with some unknown drug wasn't one of them.

Snap-snap-snap! Devon snapped his fingers three times--Hollis would stop, right? That was the rule: Devon could snap three times, and Hollis would stop, no questions asked.

The elk kept coming, a wicked grin on his face.

Devon's stomach dropped, and his heart skipped a beat. "Mmf! Mmmf! MMMMF!" He yelled as loudly as he could through his gag as he started struggling against the ropes holding him. Someone outside had to hear him, couldn't they? And they'd be able to bust down the door...that was locked from the inside...shit!

"MMMMM! MMMMMMM!" Devon wailed as Hollis drew near.

But it was no use--no amount of violently pushing against the ropes binding him was going to make them budge, and in a moment, Hollis gripped the tiger with a strong, steady hand.

"Easy there, kitten, you'll be just fine," Hollis said, although his voice was cold and stern as he took aim with the syringe.

Devon whined and tried to pull away when he felt the sharp prick of the needle in his restrained bicep...but Hollis kept it inserted until he'd finished pushing down the plunger. Almost immediately, the room began to spin as if Devon were looking through a kaleidoscope...

His eyelids grew heavy, and his vision started to dim...

He had to get out, he had to get away from Hollis...

Hollis, who was standing in front of him now, smirking down at him, saying something that Devon couldn't hear...

The elk's form began to swim and waver, as if he were nothing more than a liquid painting on top of a rippling pond, swirling away down some invisible drain...

And Devon slid away into the darkness.

---

"...up to the standard I ensure for all of my products before they go out the door."

Hollis's voice sounded as if it were floating through a thick fog, echoing in a hazy and distorted miasma until Devon could distinguish what he was saying.

The tiger sluggishly opened his eyes, then winced--the lights above him were bright, practically stabbing his retinas. He squinted and blinked--how long had he been out? Was he still in the darkroom? Wait...no...as his eyes adjusted, Devon saw that this room was different. Green subway tiles lined the walls, there were halogen lamps hanging over him from adjustable stands...other things standing in the room, but Devon's eyes locked onto the far side of the chamber. There was a window with an open door next to it, and through the window, Devon could see Hollis leaning over something and moving his arms back and forth, as if washing his hands at a hidden sink--the faint sound of rushing water and soapy hands rubbing against each other confirmed that the elk was scrubbing his arms vigorously.

Devon looked closer, focusing as best as he could through the rage that was building up as he remembered that the elk had knocked him out, had apparently flooded him to the gills with a sedative and brought him to...wherever this place was.

Hollis was wearing green surgical scrubs, a far cry from the sexy leather outfit he'd been wearing earlier, and the elk also wore a headset that he was speaking into...was there someone on the phone that he was talking with?

"I understand, it's an important consideration, and I want to make sure you're satisfied," Hollis was saying as he scrubbed his hands.

Figuring that it was pointless trying to identify who the elk was talking to, Devon looked down at himself--he was still naked, his member flaccid in his sheath...there was a clear tube sticking out of his urethra and snaking down between his legs...Hollis must have put a catheter in while he'd been unconscious.

Then he saw that he was lying down flat on his back...no, not just lying down...Devon realized with a start that he'd been strapped down to a padded table, with thick leather cuffs around his wrists, forearms, biceps, ankles, calves, thighs, waist, chest, and neck, totally immobilizing him in a spread-eagle position. Sticky pads had been stuck onto his chest, hands, and neck--the electrodes that he could see were connected to lead wires that led back to the array of health monitors that stood on either side of the table he'd been strapped to.

He saw that an IV line had been inserted into his left side, just under his armpit, with surgical tape keeping the butterfly needle in place. The IV was connected to three bags of translucent pink, yellow, and green solution, as well as a fourth bag of transparent fluid; all four bags hung from the stand next to the table. His stomach flipped--what was being pumped into him? He could read the labels: Axolis-9T for the pink solution, CortistAmbulis on the bag of yellow solution, Devoxify-10Sd for the green solution...the only label he recognized was the one for the bag of transparent fluid, which was a saline solution. Every bag had its own drip chamber, and Devon could see all of the fluids dripping at their own rates...before they would travel down their individual lines, merge into the branching connector that had been set up, and flow into the needle and course through his veins.

Panic began to set in--he had to get out of here, right now. He quickly tried to pull up against the restraints...but Devon found that he couldn't move. Of course, he'd been strapped to the table beneath him, but more than that...his muscles weren't responding at all. He couldn't flex his biceps, he couldn't rotate his wrist...he couldn't even wiggle his toes or make his tail twitch. It was as if he'd been paralyzed from the neck down. All he could do was turn and raise his head, while the rest of his body was frozen, locked up. Even if the straps weren't in place around his torso and limbs, he wouldn't have been able to get up at all.

Devon gulped and his heart hammered against his ribs--in the background, the heart rate monitor beeped faster, matching his quickening pulse. What the fuck had Hollis done to him?

Still able to move his head, Devon looked around, checking his surroundings, trying to see if there was anything he could use to mount an escape, to get someone else's attention...anything at all that could help.

In the initial mental fog of waking up from whatever sedative Hollis had used on him, Devon hadn't noticed the industrial robotic arm standing nearby--painted bright yellow and chrome-plated, with its hydraulic system clearly visible, the heavy machinery looked like it belonged in a car manufacturing plant, not in...

An operating room.

The cold recognition hit Devon hard--how could he have not put it together before? Did the IV, health monitors, halogen lamps, and Hollis's surgical scrubs not clue him in somehow? The tiger looked frantically at the other furnishings in the room, confirming what he had finally figured out; a stainless steel stool sat next to the padded gurney he'd been strapped to, and there were additional tables within arm's reach of him. One of the tables had rows of medical equipment laid out neatly, and Devon could see a whole array of scalpels, speculums, retractors, clamps, forceps, syringes, sutures, suction tubes, and more. Another table held a collection of towels and metal bowls, while a couple other tables were completely empty; one more table, however, was covered by a green drop cloth, and Devon could only see the vague shapes of whatever lay beneath the thin fabric.

The tiger did his best to keep calm as his eyes roamed around the rest of the operating room. Devon saw a rolling cart with what looked like a power and control unit connected to a long, metal stylus of some kind; speakers hung in the corners of the room, and television screens lined the green-tiled walls, currently displaying a nondescript, pale purple wallpaper of an elk's head with a caduceus, circled by a ring that read "HC Surgical: To Create a Better Pet"--as Devon figured that this was probably Hollis's personal logo, an even more disturbing realization hit him: The elk was a surgeon who had probably built a business out of kidnapping and modifying people into slaves or pets of some kind...and now Devon was the one on his operating table.

The tiger wanted to vomit, but he was too terrified and too paralyzed to even do that--he hadn't asked for this, he'd just wanted to explore more of his kinky side, and now...

Devon gulped nervously, trying not to imagine what horrors awaited him under Hollis's "care"--the thought of having his flesh forcibly cut open, his body mangled and hacked by some knife-happy surgeon...it was just too gruesome. Instead, he tried to distract himself further, resuming his search for anything else he could use to escape. In addition to everything else he'd seen, there were two large, black and silver trunks, both of them emblazoned with a silhouette of a rhino's head and labels that read "HANDLE WITH CARE". Sitting on top of one of the trunks was a smaller box about the size of a briefcase, bearing the same decals and stickers. Devon tried to read some of the other labels on the trunks and box, but the descriptions were too small and too far away for him to make out.

All in all, there was plenty that he could use for an escape--just one of the scalpels laying out on the table of tools would be handy for cutting himself free of the leather straps holding him down.

If he could get to it, that is; Devon still couldn't move a muscle, no matter how strongly he willed himself to lift his hands and push against the restraints keeping him strapped to the padded table. Defeated, he stared glumly at the nearest scalpel, so close and yet so far out of reach...

The sink in the other room shut off, and Devon looked up again to see Hollis wiping his hands on a towel as he continued talking into his headset.

"I understand, and it's absolutely something I can do, although that will incur an extra 20% charge...yes, to the total," Hollis said as he finished drying his hands. He paused, listening to the voice on the other end of the line, then replied, "Personally, I wouldn't, just because they're more to my taste, but I'm here to cater to your tastes, not mine. I've done it before with no complications, and I can make it look like they were never there--just imagine what you saw in the photos I sent, but completely smooth, without any marks or lingering spots."

Devon watched Hollis saunter into the room--the elk loomed large, an imposing, dark form that traipsed carelessly around the tiger strapped to the table as Hollis checked over his surgical supplies.

"Okay, then I'll add it to the list of procedures and update the invoice to include that additional fee," Hollis said at last, sounding satisfied. He winked down at Devon as he continued, "It looks like he's awake, so I'll need to get started soon. Do you want to say anything to him before I get to work?"

Devon glared up at Hollis while the elk grinned expectantly down at him...and then nodded. "Alright, I'll tell him. I'll let you know when the procedure's complete and go over next steps with you then...likewise...talk with you soon...take care."

Hollis tapped the side of his headset, ending the call, then sighed. "Ah, these clients...always so demanding. Oh well...your new owner says hello, by the way, and he can't wait to see you in person," he said to Devon.

Devon huffed, which prompted Hollis to cock his head and grin down at him. "Oh, what's the matter, kitten? Another cat got your tongue?"

If he could have, Devon would have punched Hollis in the jaw right then and there--the elk looked at him so smugly, so confidently...what gave him the right to toy with Devon, or anyone else, like this?

"Why are you doing this?" Devon asked--or he would have, if he could have made a sound. When he opened his mouth and spoke, all that passed between his lips was a soft rasping of air; the tiger was completely mute. Devon's eyes widened as he tried to make sense of what had happened--where was his voice? "What...what's going...what have you done? Fuck! Fuck!" Devon mouthed soundlessly, getting more frantic as he tried to speak. If he could have moved at all, he would have been thrashing in his restraints by now, but all he could do was shake his head.

Hollis smirked and raised a dismissive hand. "Easy, kitten, easy...maybe I should start at the beginning...I could have put all this in a video for when you woke up, but honestly, it's a lot more fun explaining it in person every time and seeing your reactions...you're not the first pet I've worked on," the elk added in reply to Devon's questioning expression. "I've been getting boys for my clients and turning them into pets for years--there are a lot of buyers out there who want to modify and customize boys like you to their specifications, and I've got the training and equipment to do it, so it's a service I'm happy to provide for them."

Devon frowned angrily upon hearing Hollis confirm what he had figured out...but that only made Hollis chuckle and pat his head patronizingly. "Well, looks like you already put that part together, huh? Smart kitty--I had to spell it out for the last two boys who were on my table." Hollis shook his head to himself before he continued, "Anyway, to help with the procedure, I put all of my patients on a special mix of medications that I buy from a good friend of mine--he's a great chemist, and actually another tiger. What a coincidence, right?"

Hollis pointed up at the IV bags, directing Devon's attention to the pouches of translucent and clear solutions. "The Axolis normally is used for fast healing and regenerating complex systems--limbs, organs, muscles, that kind of thing--but I'm using a specially-formulated titration of it for just the healing factor," Hollis said, pointing out the bag of translucent pink fluid. "I'm not gonna lie to you, your new owner wants to have some bits cut off of you, and I can't have them growing back, but I also need to get you to heal up quick, so no full-strength Axolis for you."

The elk pointed at the bag of translucent yellow solution. "The CortistAmbulis is a two-part cocktail: Part one is a paralytic that inhibits all of your nerves below the neck--except for the regulatory nerves, like the ones that control your lungs, heartbeat, and other vital functions. So that's why you can't move anything below your neck, I need you to be completely still. The second part is a neurostimulator that blocks your pain receptors and heightens your sense of pleasure--think of it like an anesthetic that keeps you fully conscious, prevents you from feeling any pain, and keeps you a little calmer and makes you feel like you're enjoying everything, at least on a physical level."

Devon silently whimpered and his heart dropped--did that mean that Hollis was going to keep him completely awake for everything that was going to be done to him? What about the parts that the elk was going to cut off, was he going to be awake for that, too?

Hollis, however, directed Devon's attention to the bag of translucent green fluid. "Now, the one that's keeping you quiet is the Devoxify, that's targeting your vocal cords to make them relaxed. I can't have you making a whole lot of noise and distracting me while I work, and you wouldn't really be comfortable with a gag anyway--I know you were enjoying it while we were in the darkroom, but I need to concentrate for real this time; all I want to hear is my music and any alarms while I'm working."

The elk paid no mind to the forlorn look on Devon's face as he noted the last bag hanging from the IV stand. "And this is just plain saline solution to keep you hydrated, and I'll be using it for additional medications as we go." Hollis glanced down at Devon again as he finished, "I'll probably talk through some more of the procedure while I'm working on you, but do you have any questions before I get started?"

A million protests leapt to Devon's tongue...but the defeated tiger realized there was no point in trying to say anything if he couldn't give voice to any of his pleas, insults, arguments, and objections. Instead, he remained tight-lipped and glowered with all the hatred he could muster up at the elk hovering over him. Hollis snickered and playfully tapped Devon on the top of his head.

"I didn't think so. Well, let's pull up what's on the menu," Hollis said as he strode over to the table of surgical supplies. He pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves as he said, "Opal, open the file on Subject 1241."

Out of the corner of his eye, Devon saw the wallpaper on the television screens around the room fade to black. He turned his head to look at the screen to his left, where he saw an at-a-glance breakdown of his vital statistics--height, weight, eye color, everything, all under a header that referred to him simply as "Subject 1241", reducing him to nothing more than a number. In the bottom right corner of the screen, Devon saw an available photo album--from the thumbnails he could make out, Devon could tell that all of the photos had been taken while he'd been unconscious, and they detailed every inch of him from head to toe. The tiger bristled at the invasion of his privacy--sure, he'd taken nude photos before, but this was way over the line.

"Show me requested modifications," Hollis commanded.

A menu item for "Requested Modifications" highlighted in the top right corner of the screen, and Devon watched as Hollis's virtual assistant displayed a checklist. Devon scanned the list, and his gut flipped more and more as he read each item:

Arm and leg amputation.

Neural link visor anchor implantation.

Obedience collar implantation.

Subincision.

Castration.

Sheath piercing.

Guiche piercing.

Chastity cage implantation.

Bullring piercing.

Nipple piercings.

Prostate stimulant.

Prosthetic limb implantation.

Visor connection.

Mental conditioning.

Devon was at a complete loss, unable to process what he was seeing on the list--he was supposed to have his arms and legs chopped off? And then...his balls, too?

"Opal, add 'penile barb cauterization' between 'collar implantation' and 'subincision'," Hollis requested as he pulled on a surgical mask to cover his mouth and nose. "That was a last-minute addition your owner wanted," he clinically told Devon while his virtual assistant added the new line item.

The tiger felt like he was going to faint. How could someone just decide to do all this to another person? Devon wanted to keep himself intact, the thought of losing even a finger was so disturbing and...unnatural...this was sick, this was the kind of repulsive mutilation that rapists and murderers deserved, not him! How could Hollis be so casual about what he was about to do to him? How could someone he'd never met before actually want all of this done to him? How...why...

"Opal, start playing Work Mix," Hollis commanded while he strutted over to the table that was covered by the green drop cloth.

Devon flinched when the speakers suddenly blared, "Shot through the heart! And you're to blame! Darling, you give love a bad name."

As the guitar solo took over, Devon watched Hollis pull back the drop cloth to reveal an assortment of devices that, to Devon, looked like they'd been taken directly from a horror movie, among them being a lethal-looking surgical power saw sat on its side, its circular, serrated blade glinting in the light of the halogen lamps. Devon could also see four chrome-plated collars, two of them wide enough to fit around his arms, and the two others wide enough to encircle his thighs. Four clusters of electrodes sat in neatly-arranged groupings, and the shocked tiger also noticed the drill and box of long bolts that rested on the tabletop.

Hollis picked up the saw and flicked the switch.

WHRRRR!

Devon's stomach dropped at the sound of the spinning blade, which stopped when the elk turned the saw off again...before he approached the tiger. Devon's ears flattened and he shrank back as much as he could in his restraints--all he could do was force his head back against the padding under him.

"Alright, kitten, let's get to it," Hollis said nonchalantly as he settled comfortably on the stool. He kicked with his feet, rolling the stool so he sidled into position adjacent to Devon's right armpit...then held the saw steady just above the tiger's orange and black-striped shoulder and flicked the switch once more.

WHRRRRRRRRRRR...

Devon's eyes widened as he watched Hollis bring the saw down, inching it closer to his shoulder. He would have been pissing himself in fear if it weren't for the catheter in his urethra--unknown to the tiger, a translucent yellow stream was already filtering down the clear tube sticking out of his cock and draining into the collection bag connected to the underside of the table. Devon was too busy to pay attention to that, though; he was frantically shaking his head and screaming at the top of his lungs, "No! No! No! Stop! Please, just fucking stop, I'll do anything! No-no-no-no-no-no!"

But it was no use--the tiger couldn't make a sound, and the saw kept coming down, the sharp blade spinning millimeters above Devon's shoulder. Hollis concentrated intently, using both hands to hold the power saw steady.

He couldn't look anymore. Tears welled up in Devon's eyes, and he squeezed his eyelids shut and shrieked in silence as he turned his head away, bracing himself for the pain, wishing that he could be anywhere else in the world right now...

WHRRRRR--GLRRRREEEEEEEEEE...

The power saw whined wetly as Devon heard it begin cutting through his flesh...but there was no pain. He silently sobbed and whimpered, feeling sicker and sicker at the fact that he was losing his arm. The high-pitched grinding of the power saw filled the room, almost blocking out the music, although Devon could somehow hear, "You give love a bad name! I play my part and you play your game, you give love a bad name...bad name..."

And yet, if anything, to Devon, it felt like a vibrating massager was pressing down through his shoulder, pushing harder and harder, but not uncomfortably. At the same time, there was a familiar pins and needles feeling radiating through his arm, as if a blood pressure cuff was inflating around his shoulder.

"Almost there, kitten!" Hollis called over the noise of the saw.

Devon breathed raggedly, choking through his sobs as the minutes passed. He could tell that Hollis was working carefully, precisely, taking his time...for all the good that it was going to do for the tiger. What kind of life was he going to live without his arms...without his legs...as a pet to some stranger...with no control over what was being done to him...

He clenched his teeth and growled mutely as he felt all sensation in his right arm fade away incrementally while Hollis worked, pushing the saw down further through his arm--Devon couldn't tell if the elk was cutting straight through his bones or cutting around them, couldn't tell how horrifically the mad surgeon was mangling his bicep and tricep as he sliced through his flesh...until he couldn't feel anything at all.

His arm was gone.

REEEEEEE--WHRRRRRR!

Hollis flicked the switch on the saw, powering it down, and the music on the speakers took over as the dominant sound in the operating room again.

"Alright, that's one down, three to go," Hollis said cheerfully, as if he were simply crossing something off of his to-do list.

Devon flinched when he felt the elk's broad hand brush over his shoulder, as if dusting him off...and then shuddered when Hollis's fingers grazed over a patch of bare skin that hadn't been there before. The tiger opened his watery eyes and sobbed again.

"Want to take a look?" Hollis suggested. "You're gonna see it sooner or later, might as well get it over with."

As the music on the speakers continued--"You're a real tough cookie, with a long history of breaking little hearts like the one in me..."--Devon took a deep, steadying breath. He knew the elk was right, he'd have to see what Hollis had done to him eventually...

Devon turned his head to the right again, avoiding Hollis's eyes watching him. He craned his neck downwards...and gasped in horror, feeling ready to pass out and puke simultaneously.

His disembodied right arm still lay next to him, where it remained strapped to the table by the wrist and arm cuffs. Covered in orange and black-striped fur, its toned muscles casting shadows under the bright lights...in his mind, Devon could still feel his arm, even though it was separated by a few millimeters of empty space...which was enough of a gap to make the tiger see that his limb had been completely severed from him and was now laying limply on the table, nothing more than a long slab of meat and bone and dead nerves.

There had been no blood loss--it was as if a knife had simply chopped through Devon's shoulder and cleaved it as neatly as a chicken breast he'd pulled out of the fridge and sliced up for dinner. Devon's eyes traced the subtle contours of the stump that barely protruded from his right shoulder; Hollis had taken care to cut through the joint of his shoulder, in between the top of his humerus, the bottom of his clavicle, and along the boundary of his scapula, leaving behind a pale pink, oblong ellipse of naked skin that was exposed to the open air. As disgusted as Devon was, he couldn't help but observe that the stump--his stump--looked as though it was fully healed, not freshly operated on.

"Gotta love that Axolis, keeps everything nice and tidy," Hollis mused as he rolled his stool down along Devon's right side, until he sat next to the tiger's hips.

Devon, stunned, continued to stare at his stump and his disembodied arm...he could imagine himself moving it, bending it at the elbow, articulating his fingers...and yet it was no longer a part of him.

He choked out another silent sob.

WHRRRRR--GLRRRREEEEEEEEEE...

The tiger flinched, distracted from his reverie and lament by the saw powering up again and the sense of pressure on his right hip.

Devon instinctively looked before he could stop himself, and he immediately grimaced, feeling sick to his stomach...but he couldn't look away.

"Oh my fucking god," he silently moaned in disbelief, dismay, defeat, and dread.

Hollis had already begun pushing the spinning saw blade into his pelvis, looking more like a lumberjack taking a chainsaw to a tree trunk than a surgeon...although perhaps the elk would be better suited as a butcher, remorseless and determined to make his cuts. Devon watched, transfixed and horrified, as the serrated disc sank into his flesh like a hot knife through butter, with Hollis carefully guiding the saw on its trajectory through his hip joint.

"Do you come from a land down under, where women glow and men plunder? Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder?"

Music kept playing on the speakers, and Hollis gently bobbed his head in time with the beat, his antlers swaying back and forth.

In spite of himself--maybe out of some sense of morbid curiosity--Devon craned his head forward for a better look. As Hollis cut downward through his restrained leg, Devon saw his flesh already knitting itself back together after the elk's saw passed through it. The wet, interior cross-section of the tiger's dermis, subcutaneous fat, and thigh muscle was all visible for only a few seconds before a fresh layer of skin generated and closed over the severed blood vessels and raw meat of Devon's leg. It was like watching moss sprout up from a forest floor within seconds to form corresponding seamless patches on the exposed ends of his leg and pelvis.

Still grimacing--and still unable to look away--Devon watched Hollis bury the saw blade in his leg, dragging it back and forth to make a smooth, even descent through his hip, before making a few choice, angled cuts to skirt in between the tiger's hip bone and the top of his femur. Devon, still teary-eyed and huffing with frustration, could feel the vibrations of the saw cutting through the thick cartilage padding of his hip...before Hollis was through the other side of it. Just like he'd felt with his arm, Devon could perceive the sensation in his leg receding into oblivion, bit by bit as Hollis kept going, until...

His leg sat uselessly before him, severed completely.

REEEEEEE--WHRRRRRR!

Hollis turned off the saw and surveyed his handiwork. "Halfway there, kitten! Trust me, this is the hard part, it'll get a lot more fun once I get your other arm and leg off of you."

As distraught as he was, Devon stared daggers at the elk. But Hollis went about his business, efficiently amputating Devon's remaining limbs over the course of another five songs from his playlist of 80s rock music. By the time the elk replaced his saw on the table, the tiger's torso ended in four neat stumps--if he'd had control over his body and weren't still strapped to the table, Devon would have had to rely solely on his core strength to sit up, he no longer had arms to prop him up or legs to use for leverage.

Hollis removed the straps from Devon's severed arms and legs before he carelessly picked up each limb and dispassionately deposited them on the empty table that stood by one of the walls. Devon felt ready to explode with rage and sorrow as he saw his arms and legs reduced to a pile of orange, white, and black-furred meat, his forearms resting against his calves, his hands lying on top of his feet--he'd give anything just to feel his pads again, to snap his fingers, to caress his thighs, to playfully flex his biceps in front of a mirror...

But he'd never get to any of those things again. No, Hollis (and the elk's client) had other plans in store for him. Plans which included, after having his arms and legs chopped off, getting outfitted with the four clusters of electrodes that Hollis had at the ready. As he prepared one of the clusters and stretched it out, Hollis took a moment to display it for Devon's benefit, showcasing the fine, mesh webbing that connected the bundle of electrodes and would act as a scaffolding for grafting the small, conductive plates to the tiger's stumps.

"The whole structure is coated with an adhesive solvent that will help the microwires seek out and integrate with your nervous system," Hollis explained. "I can basically just slap these on, and they'll dig into your skin, find the nerve endings, and then they'll help with the prosthetics that you're going to receive. Oh, you'll enjoy this--Opal, display future state renderings for Subject 1241."

As Hollis began affixing the first cluster to the stump where Devon's left arm used to be, the television screens brought up a side-by-side image: a frontal and profile view of a 3D rendering of Devon. But the tiger could hardly recognize himself in the images. Devon paid hardly any attention to Hollis pressing the cool metal mesh of the electrode scaffolding on his bare skin as he focused on what he was seeing...and it horrified him. The rendering showed him wearing a silver-tinted visor over his eyes and a thick, black, metallic collar around the base of his neck; however, the truly terrifying aspect of the images was that, in both the frontal and profile views, the tiger was on all fours, not on his bipedal hands and knees, but instead, he'd been modified with sleek, powerful-looking black and silver prosthetic limbs that mimicked a feral tiger's fore and hind legs. Granted, he wouldn't have the exact same stance as a regular feral tiger, but the effect was enough to make him truly quadrupedal.

"What do you think?" Hollis asked as he began grafting the next cluster of electrodes to the stump where Devon's left leg had been.

The tiger stared, bewildered and disturbed by the images on the screen.

"Beautiful, aren't they? Those legs are the most advanced prosthetics you can get on the market--well, technically off the market. They haven't been fully approved by the National Health Agency just yet, but your owner spared no expense to get the best for you--they're in those trunks over there right now," the elk added, nodding over at the two black and silver chests that Devon had observed earlier. Hollis checked that the electrodes were secure on Devon's stump before he grabbed the next cluster and began affixing it to the empty space where the tiger's right leg had been. As he pressed the electrodes into place, he continued, "I don't know how connected or wealthy this guy is--although that's not something I ask about when I work with my clients--but he must have some serious pull if he can get those directly from the developers."

Devon closed his eyes and let his head rest on the padded table under him again, doing his best to mentally block out the images he'd just seen...his future...which, as Hollis affixed the last cluster of electrodes to the stump where his right arm had been, was becoming increasingly inevitable.

With his eyes still closed, Devon breathed deeply, in...and out...in...and out...trying not to think about what Hollis was going to do next. He could hear the elk moving around the room, picking things up and putting them down again, placing them near his stumps...

BZZZT-BZZZT-BZZZT!

Devon's eyes snapped open in fear when he heard the sound of the power drill over the music playing in the background--he looked over at Hollis to see that the elk had picked up the drill and was holding it like a gun, having already squeezed the trigger to test the power.

"Got a little more prep work to do, kitten," Hollis said as he picked up one of the metal collars he'd brought over.

He slid the collar over Devon's upper right stump, snugly fitting it around the patch of bare skin, now adorned with the webbing of electrodes that were already integrating with the tiger's nerves. Devon looked closer to see that the inside of the collar was lined with a latching mechanism, effectively forming a housing for his prosthetics to be slotted into and locked into place. Once the collar was in place, Hollis picked up a long, thick bolt from the box that he'd also brought over...and held it steady in one of the openings that had been drilled into the side of the collar.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!

Devon gasped silently and flinched at the jarring sight and sound of Hollis driving the bolt in through the opening in the collar, down into his flesh--the tiger's teeth rattled with the vibrations of the blunt bolt drilling into the bone of his shoulder, creating an anchor for the collar. Once again, there was no pain, but a sense of pressure akin to someone holding his shoulder...which slowly dissipated as Hollis readied the next bolt and aligned the head of it with the drill bit.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!

"We've known each other for so long, your heart's been aching, but you're too shy to say it..."

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!

"Here I go again on my own! Going down the only road I've ever known! Like a drifter, I was born to walk alone..."

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!

"Rising up straight to the top, had the guts, got the glory! Went the distance, now I'm not going to stop..."

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!

With every whine of the drill, Devon grimaced as another bolt drove down through his flesh and into his bones. Over the course of another five songs, a total of 16 bolts went into the tiger's stumps, permanently fastening all four collars into place where his arms and legs had once been, and creating secure receiving sockets for his prosthetic limbs.

Devon would have been shivering in anger, despair, and shock if he weren't still paralyzed by the drugs circulating through his body. Instead, he laid his head back against the padded table and kept his eyes closed, silently whimpering, pleading with whoever would listen to free him...but there was no savior coming to his rescue, nobody to prevent Hollis from mangling him further...

"In touch with the ground, I'm on the hunt, I'm after you. Smell like I sound, I'm lost in a crowd..."

Hollis's music played on as the elk, now finished with bolting the collars in place around Devon's stumps, set the drill aside and rolled his stool over to sit directly behind the tiger's head.

Devon was too defeated, too tired, too broken to even try resisting when he felt a strap across his forehead. All he could do was open his eyes to look up and see Hollis gazing back down at him while the strong elk cinched a thick, nylon band tightly over Devon's head; Hollis pulled hard, securing the tiger's cranium in place and preventing Devon from moving more than a few centimeters.

Now utterly trapped, Devon watched as the elk sighed and stood up straight again from hunching over on his stool. Hollis popped his back and stretched for a moment before he sauntered over to the table that had once held the power saw and collars that now sat firmly around Devon's stumps. The tiger, exhausted and dizzy as he was, kept his eyes on Hollis--the elk picked up something from the table...a glass vial of some kind, from what Devon could see...and another tool that looked like a pipettor that lab technicians would use for testing, except this one had been modified with a small tank instead of a vial chamber...

Hollis strode back over with both objects in hand, and he sat back down on his stool, looming over Devon's head. He held up the glass vial, and Devon saw that it contained two long, transparent, tapering spikes, with their blunt ends capped by small silver domes, each the size of a dime.

"Neural link anchors," Hollis explained, rotating the vial in his hand to give Devon a good look at its contents. "They're for your prosthetics and the visor I'm going to put on you...see the spikes? They're like fiber-optic filaments that are going to broadcast signals directly into your brain from the microchips in the caps. And here's the cool part," Hollis went on as he opened the vial and tipped one of the spikes out into his open palm. He then loaded the spike into the end of the pipettor, slotting it inside as if he were pushing a bullet into the barrel of a gun...before he pressed the end of the pipettor to Devon's left upper temple, holding it steady. The tiger gulped nervously, but Hollis carried on like a tour guide describing a fascinating exhibit. "The spikes are modified with microscopic barbs like a porcupine quill, so they're impossible to pull out backwards without surgical intervention. Pretty neat, huh?"

Devon's eyes widened in horror.

SHPK!

Hollis pushed the plunger on top of the pipettor and, like a nail gun, a burst of compressed air from its tank fired the spike painlessly through the tiger's skull and into his gray matter. Devon screamed in silence as the spike penetrated the side of his head, yet all he could feel was the light pressure of the silver cap resting flush against his temple, like someone gently holding a finger against his skull. He didn't feel any different, there were no changes in his perception or senses...but the fact that there was now something lodged inside his brain that he couldn't pull out...

The tiger was too shocked and disturbed to even pay attention to Hollis loading the second spike into the modified pipettor...but the elk got his attention when he began speaking again. "You're probably wondering, 'gosh, why me, what did I do to deserve this.'"

Hollis held the end of the pipettor to Devon's right upper temple. "Really, from your perspective, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, kitten. But for me, you were in the right place at the right time."

SHPK!

Another burst of compressed air, and the second spike plunged into Devon's temple and penetrated his frontal lobe. The tiger flinched and soundlessly cried out, but it was over in a fraction of a second--with both spikes in place, Hollis sat back on his stool before he stood up again and sauntered over to the table once more.

"I've had clients ask for all kinds of pets--wolves, bears, dogs, rabbits, otters, lizards--you name it, I've probably had it on my table, just like you," Hollis said as he picked up a collar from the table.

Devon saw that the collar--a thick band of jointed metal--was adorned with a ring on its front, most likely for hanging an ID tag. But from the inside of the collar protruded a metal prong; if Devon had been wearing the collar, the prong would have extended into his neck, through his skin and into the musculature of his throat...and the tiger got the sinking feeling that that was the point.

"Big ones, small ones, older, younger...my clients give me their orders for what they want, most of the time. Although some of them actually provide the boys for me to work on after sourcing them on their own," Hollis noted while he stepped over to the table full of additional surgical tools. His tone sounded dreamy, distant, as he reminisced, "I had one guy who gave me a set of triplets to work on, three rats--I had them each in their own cages in here while I worked on them one at a time. I got them all pierced up, popped their nuts off, and did some mental conditioning--by the time I was done, they were begging to suck each other off, and you should have seen how happy and eager they were when their owner came to collect them. Ah, good times," the elk sighed before he shook himself out of his reverie and plucked a scalpel from the table.

Scalpel and collar in hand, Hollis made his way back over to Devon and plopped down on the stool still positioned behind the tiger's head. He set the scalpel aside and pressed a hidden latch on the inside of the collar, disconnecting the section with the prong and ring from the rest of the metal band. Devon lay there, helpless, as Hollis threaded the open metal loop under his neck, letting it lie flat on the padded table just above his shoulders, before the elk casually set the disconnected prong and ring section on Devon's chest...and then took up his scalpel once more.

"Most of the time, though, my clients tell me what they're looking for, and then I go out and source their pets myself. In your case, my client was looking for a tiger," Hollis said absently as he leaned in close over Devon's head, close enough for the tiger to get a good whiff of the elk's natural musk and a view of the underside of the Hollis's muzzle and throat.

Devon ached longingly; what he would have given to have his hands again, to simply reach up and punch the elk in the jaw before choking him...

Hollis leaned further forward and down, hunching over as he placed a broad, steadying hand on Devon's neck...and held the blade of his scalpel just above the middle of the tiger's clavicle.

"I didn't go after you specifically...well, not initially, at least. I was just looking for someone who fit the bill. It could have been you or any other tiger I bumped into at Hightower," Hollis said, pressing down.

Devon gasped and winced at the pressure on the base of his throat, but there was no pain--it felt like Hollis was simply tracing his finger up along the tiger's neck as he drew the scalpel cleanly back towards himself, creating a vertical slit in Devon's throat.

"Although, to be fair, you seemed like an easy target," Hollis continued, watching the tiger's neck open under the sharp blade of his scalpel. He cut deeply enough to cleave through Devon's skin, muscle tissue, sinew, and cartilage, but not enough to penetrate his trachea, leaving his airway intact. When he reached the underside of Devon's Adam's apple, he withdrew his knife and set it aside before he picked up the prong and ring portion of the collar he'd set on the tiger's chest. He turned the segment the right way around--with the prong pointing inward, towards Devon's throat--and aligned the short, blunt tine with the incision he'd made...before he carefully pushed the prong into the opening in the tiger's neck.

Devon could feel the pressure of the invading metal, and he wanted to shudder at the sensation of it sliding against the wet underside of his skin. But the tiger couldn't move a muscle, and Hollis kept gently pushing, until the end of the prong met the fleshy outer lining of Devon's exposed trachea.

"Plus my client did state a preference for something small, young, and cute if possible," Hollis said as he finished setting the prong in place. "And I'd say you fit that criteria pretty well," the elk added as he pressed down on the metal segment still outside of Devon's throat...

Devon gasped in silence as he felt the horrible sensation of something expanding under his skin, pushing between the sub-dermal layers of his neck and encircling his throat, as if a wide claw was curling around the inside of his neck.

"Feels like a snake coiling around in there, right?" Hollis asked smugly, as if he already knew exactly what Devon was feeling. The elk chuckled as he reached for the open metal loop that still sat on the table under the tiger's neck. "That's a whole cluster of nanobots forming internal collars around your trachea, vocal cords, and esophagus, all connected to that prong in your neck--looks like your skin's already healing nicely around it, too." As he spoke, Hollis picked up the open ends of the collar under Devon's neck and fitted them into the sides of the metal segment that had been implanted into the front of his throat. "It's the control component of the collar your owner wanted for you--basically like a choker that responds to commands from the neural link. Your owner wanted to be able to control your voice, your breathing, and your esophagus...guess he's got some ideas for how much dick you're going to swallow," Hollis observed as he reconnected the collar, which hung loosely from Devon's neck for a moment...

Devon flinched when he felt the metal band contract and squeeze around his throat, automatically conforming to the contours of his neck.

"There we go...perfect," Hollis said as he traced a finger over the sleek collar that now permanently affixed around the tiger's neck. Devon winced indignantly--yes, he'd been wanting to try out being owned and controlled, but on his terms and with a collar he'd been comfortable with, not forcibly with some awful implant. This was more than just violating his body, this was a symbol of the fact that he'd lost even more of his autonomy...and it burned his insides with rage to know that Hollis wasn't done with him yet.

But Devon held still as Hollis released the strap around his forehead, allowing him to move his head again. The tiger experimentally rotated his head from side to side; the collar he wore now felt alien, totally different from the soft leather band he'd worn before when he'd gone to Hightower. This one seemed bulky, yet it moved flexibly whenever he swallowed or twisted his neck.

Meanwhile, the elk sat back on his stool and collected his tools as he called, "Opal, show me requested modifications."

Devon watched as Hollis's virtual assistant pulled up the list of modifications he'd seen before on the wall-mounted monitors.

"Check off limb amputation, neural link visor anchor implantation, and obedience collar implantation," Hollis instructed, and checkmarks appeared in the boxes next to each line item. The elk briefly read through the remainder of the list before he smirked down at Devon. "Alright, now we get into some more of the fun stuff."

Hollis stood from his stool and stepped over to the table of medical tools, where Devon saw him pick up a pre-set tray and two small, stainless steel bowls; the elk ferried the tray and bowls to a rolling cart, which he pulled--along with his stool--around to sit between the empty table extensions where Devon's legs had once been. From there, Hollis grabbed the additional rolling cart that sat in the corner; as he wheeled it over, Devon got a better look at the slim power and control unit connected to the long metal stylus. Once the elk had his carts and stool set where he needed them, Hollis sat back down, positioned directly in front of Devon's completely vulnerable groin.

"I'll get you prepped first," he noted as he picked up a fully-loaded syringe from the tray he'd brought over.

Devon grimaced when Hollis used his free hand to roughly grab his flaccid cock and pull it from his sheath, stretching his soft member as much as he could. As Hollis tugged to expose the base of his dick, Devon could feel a soft yank within himself, as the inflated catheter pulled against the opening of his bladder.

"Now c'mon, take a bottle, shake it up! Break the bubble, break it up..."

Hollis hummed along with his music as he took aim with the needle...and pushed it into the base of the tiger's shaft, just above the section of flesh that connected his cock to his sheath.

Devon couldn't help himself--he moaned in silence, but not out of the pain of having his dick pierced by the hypodermic needle...there was no pain in his member...only pleasure...the last kind of pleasure Devon would have expected to feel in his current situation. It was as if he'd suddenly seen and felt the most erotic thing he could possibly imagine...and as Hollis pressed down on the plunger to dose him with more of whatever drug was in the vial, Devon could feel his newfound arousal grow stronger and blossom into lust, beating hard hard enough to make the tiger blush and moan again.

Hollis chuckled when he saw the look on Devon's face. "Heh, having a good time, kitten? That's the CortistAmbulis; might have forgotten to mention that it's especially strong on erogenous zones, makes you feel like you're getting edged. And I just gave you," he added as he finished injecting the vial of chemicals into the base of Devon's cock, "another little cocktail that's going to partly counteract the Axolis titration and induce full arousal."

After Hollis withdrew the syringe and set it aside, Devon could already feel--and see--his cock stiffening and inflating.

"Yep, just like that," Hollis said, keeping an eye on the tiger's swelling member.

Devon's cock grew out of his sheath and inched along the line of his catheter tube, making it look like his member was a snake devouring a thick worm as more of the catheter disappeared into his urethra. His veins became more pronounced, his barbs flared outward, his glans began to engorge, and the subtly tapering bulges in his shaft began to take shape. Devon groaned mutely, feeling the pulses of pleasure surge along his length.

"I needed to counteract the Axolis here so the changes I make stay permanent without healing--can't have you growing anything back, your owner wouldn't be too happy about that," Hollis continued as he placed the empty syringe back on the tray and picked up a pair of sharp, thin-bladed surgical scissors. "But the counteraction won't last long--we've got a limited window of time, so I've got to work fast. Good thing is," Hollis went on, glancing at Devon's now fully erect, throbbing cock that stood proudly out of his white-furred sheath, "I'd say you're all ready, so let's get to it."

Devon couldn't believe how utterly horny he'd become in spite of how disgusted and angry he was by what Hollis had done to him. His cock visibly bobbed with every beat of his heart, his arousal dominating his focus...yes, he still felt rage and despair and wanted nothing more than to beat Hollis senseless and be restored to how he was before he ended up on the elk's operating table. But his fury and anguish...they'd been forced to the back of his mind, subsumed by the rush of lust that had overtaken him and filled him with...desire...

The same desire he'd felt when he'd first entered the darkroom with Hollis...the desire for more...

It sickened Devon that he could feel this way, still, after what he'd suffered through, and what he was about to suffer through. And yet, all the tiger could do was lay there, helpless and panting in a heady mix of grief, anxiety, and increased libido, on the table and watch Hollis grip the base of his cock with his free hand (eliciting another silent and heated moan from Devon) and angle his surgical scissors so the blades pointed down at the pointed tip of the his glans.

Hollis squeezed the blades open. "Fortunately, I won't have to clamp you for any of this," he said as he lowered the scissors. "The Axolis in your system is still going to prevent blood loss, so I can just get in here..."

Devon grunted soundlessly as one blade of the scissors slid smoothly past his meatus. The metal was stiff and cold, but Hollis pushed relentlessly into his urethra, in between the inner lining of his natural plumbing and the far side of the catheter tube, so the free blade hung open over the underside of the tiger's cock. Hollis kept going, until the tips of the blades were even with the midpoint of Devon's shaft.

"...and just a little cut here..."

The tiger groaned in silence and arched his head back against the padded table under him, nearly overwhelmed with pleasure. Hollis was squeezing the blades together, and Devon could feel the pressure of the scissors cleaving through his urethra, through the soft, spongy flesh of his shaft, clipping through the stiffer tissue of his glans, setting his nerves alight as the sharp metal cut vertically down through his frenulum, bisecting it....

Snip!

The scissors shut together, and Hollis withdrew them unceremoniously while he inspected the cut he'd made--it was a clean incision, perfectly straight and ending halfway down the tiger's erection. He gently fingered the cut with a gloved digit, splaying the newly-opened sides of the tiger's urethra; the moist, inner flesh glistened under the halogen lights (and Devon chuffed mutely as he felt the elk's thick finger trace over such an intimate part of him that had never seen the light of day before), while the clipped skin and tissue healed so perfectly, it looked like Devon had had this modification done years prior instead of only seconds ago.

"...and you've got a nice, new subincision!" Hollis declared, sitting back from the tiger's groin as he placed the surgical scissors back on the tray beside him. He turned to the rolling cart on his left side as he said, "Opal, check off subincision."

A checkmark appeared by the line item on the television screens while Hollis busied himself with the power and control unit that sat on the rolling cart. "Gonna use the electrosurgical pencil for this, it's great for cauterizing, and with the Axolis in your system, there won't be any marks," he said as he picked up the long metal stylus. Devon, still panting and chuffing, watched the elk flip a switch on the power unit...and the tip of the stylus began to glow red, then white.

The tiger's eyes widened in horror, dread, and (as much as he didn't want to admit it) excitement as Hollis, now armed with the electrosurgical pencil in one hand and a pair of tweezers in the other, scooted forward on his stool for a better angle of attack on Devon's shaft. The elk selected one of the barbs that protruded from under the tiger's glans, just next to his subincision, and gripped the tip of it with his tweezers. He pulled the barb taut, earning a silent groan through clenched teeth from Devon...and then pulled the electrosurgical pencil stylus through the base of the appendage.

Devon gasped without a sound while Hollis's stylus hissed and sizzled through his flesh. He only felt a soft squeeze around the base of the barb--there was no heat or pain as the hot metal cleanly sliced through his barb and cauterized his skin, but he could imagine the physical agony he would have been experiencing if it weren't for the drugs in his system; it would have added to the grief he was already feeling at the fact that he was going to lose his barbs (such wonderfully sensitive parts of his member that he loved dragging out of the asses and throats he'd gotten to fuck) one by one. And yet, he still felt a small twinge of pleasure as the electrosurgical stylus cleanly sliced off the small, fleshy spike, cleaving through it as easily as a chef's knife cutting through a ripe banana.

When the elk pulled the disembodied barb and the stylus away from the tiger's shaft, all that was left was a smooth, seamless, nondescript patch of skin; it was as if the protuberance had never been there at all. Hollis grinned as he dropped the severed barb in one of the collection bowls he'd brought over.

"Alright, that's one down...and a lot more to go," the elk said before he leaned in for the next barb. He grabbed the end of it with his tweezers and pulled while a guitar solo was playing on the operating room's stereo.

"Your cruel device, your blood, like ice..."

"Oh man, I fucking love this song!" Hollis said as he cut through the barb with the stylus. He dropped it into the collection bowl and began singing along with the music while he turned his attention to the next barb. "'My pain...your thriiiiiiiiiiill!"

Hollis carried on singing and humming as he went to work, diligently cutting through barb after barb and discarding each one in the collection bowl; he followed them first in neat columns, working his way down from the topmost barb positioned under the corona of Devon's glans to the lowest one situated a quarter of the way down the tiger's shaft. After finishing off one column of barbs, Hollis moved onto the next...and the next...and the next.

"I wanna love you but I better not touch! I wanna hold you, but my senses tell me to stop! I wanna kiss you but I want it too much!" Hollis sang along with the stereo.

He moved clockwise around the circumference of Devon's bulbous shaft, circling around from the underside to the topside as he went. He bobbed his head along with the music while he worked, settling into a groove that set the pace for how quickly and efficiently he denuded the tiger's erection.

Hiss-dip...hiss-dip...hiss-dip...

The sound of hot, electrified metal cutting through skin was punctuated with the soft "dip" of Devon's severed barbs hitting the metal of the collection bowl; Hollis diligently kept going, pulling a barb with the tweezers, slicing it off with the stylus, and dropping it in the bowl, and repeating as he rounded the topside of the tiger's throbbing shaft...and then back around to the underside...

By the time Hollis was done, he was halfway through singing along with the next song on his playlist, and the upper region of Devon's shaft was completely smooth and barren, save for the branching bumps of his veins and the wide slit of his subincision. The only evidence that there had once been barbs on the tiger's member was the small collection bowl full of discarded fleshy spikes, all of them still stiffly inflated.

"Alright, we're moving along!" Hollis said triumphantly as he set his tweezers aside. While he powered down the electrosurgical pencil, the elk instructed, "Opal, check off barb cauterization."

Devon paid no attention to the television screens on the wall showing the procedure as complete--he looked down forlornly at his smooth shaft, nearly unable to comprehend that he'd had such a defining feature of his cock taken away from him. It almost would have been better if Hollis had cut his dick off completely; without his barbs, his erection looked different, foreign, as if it belonged to somebody else. And yet it still throbbed with his heartbeat, still pulsed with his arousal, still sent signals to his brain telling him that he needed more of the elk's abuse...

Hollis, however, didn't give his captive more than a minute to come to terms with his loss. After switching off the electrosurgical pencil, the elk turned back to the tray he'd brought over and picked up a fresh scalpel. A powerful guitar solo started up in time with a strong drum beat over the speakers as Hollis used his free hand to wrap around the neck of Devon's white-furred scrotum and pull it forward, stretching the tiger's sac taut.

"Back in black! I hit the sack, I've been too long, I'm glad to be back! Yes, I'm let loose from the noose that's kept me hanging about..."

Devon couldn't look away when Hollis approached with the scalpel in his other hand. He remembered what was up next on the elk's checklist.

"Please...please don't," the tiger silently begged when the tip of the scalpel met the top of his scrotum, just under Hollis's fingers cinched around the neck of his sac.

But Devon's pleas went unheard and ignored; Hollis was focusing intently on pushing the blade into his scrotum...before he began to cut. Devon winced and gasped--even though it felt like Hollis was simply dragging a finger around the neck of his sac, he knew that the elk was methodically slicing through his skin, smoothly dragging the scalpel around the circumference of the pouch that held his balls. It was as if the elk was cutting off the bottom of a plump purse while taking care not to damage the valuables inside.

"No! No! Stop! Stop, damnit! Fuck!" Devon screamed in silence; he tossed and turned his head, but the rest of his body remained immobile, still paralyzed by the drugs in his system and the straps that held him down to the padded table.

Hollis kept going despite the tiger's fury, parting Devon's skin and membrane under the steel, razor-thin edge of his knife. He traced his way from the topside to the underside, and then around again to the top--he didn't cut in a straight line, but followed a wave-like pattern that created the troughs of the waves on the sides of Devon's scrotum, while the crests of waves were on the front and rear of the sac. When he returned to his starting point of his incision, he released his hold on the neck of Devon's balls...and then pinched the bottom of the tiger's sac.

"Alright, kitten, let's pull this off," the elk said as he began to tug on Devon's loosened scrotum.

Devon whimpered when he felt the sensation of wet skin sliding over his testicles--the pleasure that radiated through him was intense, as if someone was sucking on his balls and bathing them with their tongue, but he was horrified and disgusted by the fact that Hollis was pulling his severed sac off of him, like a butler pulling off a cloche to reveal an exquisite dish...

Except what Hollis revealed was Devon's raw testicles, dangling limply from his spermatic cords, from the exposed cavity of what had once been his scrotum, and down over his taint. The sides of his scrotum hung down, forming longer flaps of skin between the stumps where the tiger's legs had once been, and Devon groaned as he felt the open air on the sensitive surfaces of his balls for the first time.

Hollis discarded Devon's scrotum--now nothing more than an empty scrap of moist flesh and fur--in the same collection bowl he'd used for the tiger's penile barbs before he gazed for a moment at the treasures he'd just unveiled.

"Would you look at those--perfectly ripe and ready for picking, huh?" Hollis chuckled.

The tiger's cherry-sized nuts were pale pink and plump; they glistened wetly under the light of the halogen lamps, and they subtly throbbed with Devon's pulse. Devon couldn't stop wincing and grimacing in a mixture of ecstasy and dismay, conflicted over the sensations tickling his testicles and the fact that he'd been so thoroughly mutilated and was about to suffer even more at Hollis's hands...yet he couldn't get enough of the feeling of freedom that came with his balls being exposed like this.

But that freedom came at a price, a price that Hollis was getting ready to collect.

"Well, no time like the present to get neutered, right kitten?" the elk said as he approached Devon's balls, armed with his scalpel once again.

Devon flinched and silently whined when he felt Hollis's free hand wrap around his right testicle. The elk's palm was broad and strong and totally smothered his gonad, and Hollis's natural body heat had warmed his glove--the smooth nitrile felt strange and sticky against the moist surface of Devon's testicle, but it wasn't an unwelcome or unpleasant sensation...especially when Hollis tugged on his nut to pull the spermatic cord taut.

The blade of the scalpel glinted in the light as Hollis brought it up to the base of Devon's groin, in the hollow of his ruined scrotum, and rested it against the sinews and connective tissue of his right vas deferens. The tiger felt the cold, thin sliver of metal against his flesh, and he shuddered and choked out another silent sob.

"Ah! No-no-no-no-no, pleeease, don't!"

Not a single sound came from Devon's mouth, and Hollis sliced down through the cord in a quick, clinical swipe of his scalpel.

A momentary, soft pinch of pressure, and Devon's cock throbbed hard while the tiger gasped...and he couldn't feel anything in his right testicle anymore.

Devon hung his head and sobbed again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hollis pull his hand away from his groin and then hold it over the empty collection bowl...the short length of severed spermatic cord hung from his clenched fingers, dangling listlessly in the open air...before Hollis opened his fist.

Devon's testicle fell from the elk's grip, a lump of pale pink, veiny meat.

Splat.

The tiger heard the sound of wet flesh hitting metal, the death knell of his manhood. His stomach flipped and he felt as though he'd been hit by a bomb's shockwave--everything suddenly felt so distant and...meaningless. He was here, strapped to the table, the victim of these horrendous procedures, and yet...he was elsewhere, only distantly aware of the fact that, against his will, he'd had his limbs amputated, his dick had been modified, and he now officially had only one testicle...but not for long, as Hollis casually wrapped his palm around his left nut and pulled...and then swiped with his scalpel again.

Devon barely registered the music still playing on the stereo...barely registered the soft pinch and the sense of feeling that died in his left testicle...barely registered the soft splat of what had once been his ball dropping into the collection bowl...barely registered when Hollis began sewing the loose flaps of his scrotum together...

"...need the sutures for reconstruction and to tighten things up down here," Hollis was saying nonchalantly while Devon lay limp on the table, utterly defeated and in a semi-catatonic state of shock. The elk kept going, efficiently tucking away the severed stumps of his severed spermatic cords and sewing up the sides of the tiger's scrotum to close the loose flaps of skin and fur together. He continued speaking as if he were explaining a routine procedure to a patient who had voluntarily come to him for help. "If I hadn't counteracted the Axolis in your system, I could just hold the loose skin in place and let it heal together naturally, but then the initial incision would have regenerated almost as soon as I finished cutting. So I'll just use these dissolvable sutures to give your body a little extra help, and you should heal up in no time once the counteractive medication wears off."

All Devon could do was breathe and stare blankly into space--he was gone, off in some nebulous realm of mental limbo, somewhere far from this operating room, from the horrors that Hollis had inflicted upon him...and all the while, Hollis hummed along with his music as he closed the incision and tightly tied off the last of his sutures. When the elk had finished, Devon's scrotum had been reduced from a plump, defined sac that hung from his groin to a tidy, flat patch of white fur that smoothly extended from the bottom of his sheath and merged with his taint, featureless except for the neat, vertical line of sutures, which Hollis knew would dissolve and fade within a day; by that time, it would look as though the tiger had never had a pair of balls in his life.

After Hollis placed his tools back on the tray next to him, he stood from his stool and picked up the collection bowl that contained the tiger's testicles.

"Your owner wanted me to save these for him, so I'm going to put them on ice," Hollis said to his unresponsive captive. The elk chuckled--he'd seen that blank look too many times to count, that blank look that meant he'd broken someone else on his operating table. It was a vacant expression that he'd come to cherish. "I'll be right back, so don't you go anywhere," he playfully warned before striding out of the room.

Devon simply stared up at the ceiling, past the glare of the halogen lamps. He vaguely heard the music still playing, he vaguely heard Hollis rustling around in the other room...but his mind drifted away, off into the ether. He floated aimlessly at first before following a wayward pattern that was, inexorably, drawing him towards the cold, stark realization that his body was no longer his own. He'd lost his arms, his legs, his manhood, his right to control or speak for himself...he wouldn't be a person anymore. The understanding that he was being turned into nothing more than a plaything for some stranger pulled on Devon like a black hole exerting its gravity on a lone planet, drawing his sense of self, everything that made the tiger identify as Devon, into the singularity within, stretching him apart and devouring him piece by piece...until there would be nothing left.

He was still staring up at the ceiling, lost in the fog of a dissociative state, by the time Hollis returned to the operating room; there were no signs that Devon was going to return to his body any time soon, not without more direct intervention.

"I made it through the wilderness. Somehow I made it throooooouugh," the elk sang along with his music as he cleared away the tray, collection bowl, and electrosurgical pencil he'd needed for Devon's previous procedures. "Didn't know how lost I was until I found youuuu..."

Hollis continued singing and humming while he prepped for the next set of tasks. From the table of medical instruments, he procured another pre-set tray, this one loaded with another full syringe, multiple thick needles, receiving tubes, and a pair of forceps. After placing the tray on one of his rolling carts, he picked up the black and silver briefcase-sized box that rested on one of the trunks and ferried it over to another cart he'd positioned near the operating table. Hollis opened the box to reveal a padded foam interior that held an array of girthy, silver piercing jewelry: a hook-shaped, curved barbell, three closure rings, a segment ring, and a chain.

The foam padding also cradled a metal chastity cage in the shape of a silver cylinder, with one end capped by a smooth dome and the other end open to fit over the penis that would be inhabiting the cage--in this case, Devon's. A short, threaded spout was embedded in the domed tip of the cage, which Hollis knew (from the schematics he'd seen) led to a built-in urethral tube.

Next to the chastity cage lay 18 short, dome-capped bolts, all threaded to screw into the 18 corresponding holes--arranged in three neat 2x3 columns--drilled into the sides of the cylinder.

After grabbing his drill again and placing it within easy reaching distance, Hollis set to work. He began with the full syringe on his tray--another chemical compound, this one a depressant to counteract the stimulant in Devon's system and reduce the tiger to a state of semi-arousal; Hollis didn't need him erect for what he was going to do next. After injecting the vial full of medication into the base of Devon's shaft (without the tiger even batting an eye), Hollis placed the empty syringe on the tray and took up his forceps and one of the thick piercing needles, then took up a position next to his captive's chest.

Devon lay still, his face frozen in an expression of blank bewilderment, as Hollis reached with the forceps...and gripped his right nipple, clamping it hard and pulling up on it. The tiger didn't flinch, even though Hollis knew that on some level, the younger man was feeling basic, instinctual, physical pleasure at his nipple being pinched. But the elk proceeded onward with clinical efficiency; he carefully aligned the sharp piercing needle with Devon's nipple before he pushed the tip in, spearing the fleshy nib in the middle of the tiger's areola.

As Hollis pushed the needle forward, Devon still didn't stir, nor did the tiger move at all when the needle punctured through the other side of his nipple.

Hollis released his grip with the forceps and plucked one of the wide-gage closure rings from its foam padded cushioning in the box nearby--after prepping the ring, he pushed it into the newly-made piercing behind the needle in Devon's nipple, catching the needle in one of the receiving tubes. From there, he secured the captive bead in place, letting the ring hang from the tiger's nipple like a small doorknocker.

The elk repeated the process with Devon's left nipple, easily piercing it without any fuss at all from the tiger. After both hard nubs had been pierced and Hollis was satisfied with how the captive rings lay on Devon's chest, he connected them with the chain that his client had provided, creating an easy handle for anyone to simply grab and lead the tiger around by his pierced nipples.

By this point, Devon's shaft had begun to soften and flag, but it still hadn't fully retracted in his sheath; the top third of his shaft still poked out of the rim of the fleshy, fur-covered pocket. To give it more time, Hollis busied himself with the other piercing above Devon's waist that his client had requested.

Taking up his forceps again and a fresh piercing needle, Hollis reached for the tiger's nose, confident that Devon wouldn't move his head.

He was right; even with the tips of the forceps in his nose, Devon remained still, totally lost in his trauma-induced fugue. He still breathed faintly, his chest (now adorned with his nipple piercings and chain) rising and falling evenly, but the tiger was otherwise motionless as Hollis squeezed his septum with the forceps, punctured the thin membrane of cartilage with the thick needle, and slotted the wide-gage segment ring into place. By the time Hollis was done, Devon had a new bullring hanging from his nose...

And the tiger's erection had shrunk down to a soft chub--it was still engorged enough to fill out the white-furred sheath, but only the tip of his pointed cockhead peeked out from the pouch's opening.

"Some of them want to use you, some of them want to get used by you, some of them want to abuse you..."

Hollis's playlist kept going as the elk stepped into position in front of Devon's groin once more. Armed with the forceps and another needle, Hollis gripped just inside the rim of Devon's sheath, beneath the underside of the tiger's cock. Hollis pulled up, stretching the sheath, and he clamped hard enough to nearly crush the tissue...yet Devon still didn't stir, not even when Hollis pushed the five millimeter-wide piercing needle through from the inside of the fleshy pouch and out of the underside of his sheath. Using just one hand, Hollis adroitly fixed the hook-shaped barbell piercing into place so it protruded outward from Devon's sheath, giving the tiger another anchor point for someone to clip him to a leash or a chain.

"Alright, now comes the more labor-intensive part," Hollis said more to himself than for Devon's benefit--the tiger continued to lie still in a state of shock. Hollis glanced at Devon's vacant gaze and chuckled; he was fine for his captive to slip away into some mental retreat for now, it meant that Hollis wouldn't have to ignore the younger man's silent protests and vigorous head shaking and grimacing in response to what was going to happen next. Besides, Hollis was confident in the knowledge that when Devon eventually returned to his senses--and there was no doubt he would return--his awakening would be quite the sight to behold.

The elk always loved seeing his new creations come back to earth; watching the pets he operated on struggle afresh with their mixed emotions and the physical sensations that wracked their bodies was almost as satisfying as watching porn.

Until then, however, Hollis would labor over Devon and modify him to his client's specifications...which now meant implanting the chastity cage.

It began with a series of piercings up and down Devon's sheath. As the music played on the stereo, Hollis dug his forceps into the tiger's sheath, sliding one blade between Devon's cock and the lining of his fleshy pocket, while keeping the other blade on the outside of the pouch. Hollis then clamped the skin before stretching the sheath open, giving himself enough room to work with as he slid a four millimeter-thick piercing needle down along the tiger's soft shaft...and then angled it to pierce outward, through Devon's sheath. Hollis repeated this process meticulously, working in columns of two and rows of three, with one set of piercings running along the middle of the underside of Devon's sheath, a second set of piercings running along the left topside, and a third set running along the right topside, until a total of 18 needles stuck out of the tiger's sheath, making it look like a weird, furred cactus that had also been given a hook piercing.

The whole time Hollis worked, Devon was mentally elsewhere, dimly aware of the pressure of having his sheath clamped 18 times, dimly aware of all 18 needles puncturing his skin one after another, and the pleasure that sparked through his brain as his dick's protective housing was mutilated and modified further...but he was still too distant, too numb, too shocked to react or make any protest.

After finishing the last piercing, Hollis attended to the catheter still lodged in Devon's urethra. He used a syringe to deflate the balloon that kept the tube secure in the tiger's bladder, and then pulled it out, easily extracting it from Devon's insides like a magician pulling a never-ending bandana from his sleeve. Devon didn't react to the catheter being roughly pulled out through his prostate or rubbing slimily against his urethra, and inch after inch of clear tubing exited from Devon's urethra--now opened wide thanks to his subincision--as Hollis kept yanking it out of him...until the blunt tip at last appeared, dripping with the last vestiges of urine as it pulled away from the tiger's meatus.

Hollis set the catheter aside and picked up the chastity cage from the cushioned box in which it rested. He held it so the open end aligned with the pointed tip of Devon's smooth, semi-flaccid penis...and then began to push the cage inside the tiger's sheath, expanding the pocket of flesh and fur and sliding it over Devon's member in the process. The elk twisted the cage from side to side as he pushed it down deeper into Devon's sheath, coaxing more of the tiger's cock into the thick metal cylinder; Hollis felt some moderate resistance, which he figured was probably because the urethral tube inside the cage wasn't aligned with Devon's meatus. Hollis wiggled the cage back and forth, feeling around for the orifice he needed as if he were picking a lock, trying to push the pins into the right place...there! The elk grinned victoriously as the urethral tube entered Devon's subincision and fit perfectly into the tiger's natural plumbing. Hollis resumed pushing, easily sliding the cage into place with one hand and using his other hand to pull Devon's sheath up over the metal dome like a potter pulling a cylinder of clay up into shape. The cold, unyielding metal forced its way past the smooth inner lining of the tiger's sheath, separating Devon's member from its warm, fleshy housing as every inch of his cock was covered by the cage, until the open end of the cylinder could go no farther inside of him.

When Hollis felt he couldn't push any more, he rotated the cage slowly, methodically...until the 18 holes drilled into the sides of the metal cylinder aligned with the 18 holes the elk had pierced in Devon's sheath--the 18 holes that were still occupied by the thick, blunt piercing needles. Hollis began with the column of holes that ran down the middle of the underside of Devon's sheath; still holding one hand on the cage to keep it in place, Hollis used his free hand to pull out the first piercing needle with a pair of tweezers, discard the needle on the tray next to him, and pluck one of the 18 bolts from the box on his other side. He pushed the bolt through the hole in Devon's sheath...and then into the corresponding hole in the side of the cage. Hollis twisted the bolt to begin screwing it into place temporarily, then took up his drill and fitted the bit into the domed head of the bolt.

BZZZT!

In a flash, the bolt sank into the threaded hole in the cage, tightly pinching Devon's flesh in between the bolt's head and the outside of the metal cylinder lodged in the tiger's sheath, securing it.

"As he came into the window, it was the sound of a crescendo. He came into her apartment, he left the bloodstains on the carpet..."

Hollis worked as if he were on autopilot, listening to his music while he repeatedly pulled out a needle, replaced it with a bolt, and drilled it into the cage to attach it to Devon's sheath...pulled out a needle, replaced it with a bolt, and drilled it into the cage to attach it to Devon's sheath...

If Devon had been in a right state of mind, he would have shivered at the cold metal filling his sheath until it began to warm to his natural body temperature; he would have grimaced and glared angrily at Hollis for locking his cock away like this, for allowing the tiger to keep his member but denying him any chance of orgasming unassisted or without permission; he would have struggled with the pleasure of having such an incredible sheath piercing and the fury of being mutilated and modified even further; he would have wondered what it would be like to wear a chastity cage under different circumstances...

But the tiger continued to stare off into space, his mind adrift.

Hollis, meanwhile, kept going until all 18 holes had been filled, and Devon's sheath was adorned with 18 bolt heads that shone under the halogen lights and secured his dick's protective housing firmly into place against the cage. The thick sides of the cage filled out the pocket of flesh and fur even more than the tiger's member had, making it look like Devon was carrying a short seltzer can in his sheath, while the domed end of the silver cylinder, with its urethral spout embedded in the tip, poked out of the white-furred rim.

After setting the drill aside for the last time, Hollis consulted his list of requested modifications to remind himself of the final piercing that his client had asked for. Humming along with the music playing on the stereo, Hollis picked up one more piercing needle and, with a steady hand and practiced eye, aligned the sharp tip with the spot just beneath where Devon's testicles had once hung.

Devon was still too far gone mentally to register the point of the needle pressing against his taint, too lost in a distant sea of numb shock to pay attention to the fact that Hollis had punctured one side of his perineum and was sliding the thick metal shaft expertly through his flesh. The tiger wasn't able to form a coherent thought, wasn't able to react to the outside world--he couldn't, it would mean submitting to the pain, to the pleasure, to the indignity, to the sheer hopelessness of his situation. Here, in this bubble of white noise that couldn't even be penetrated by the piercing needle that had now emerged from the other side of his perineum, he was safe, immune to the awful acts that Hollis had inflicted upon him and had yet to perform...

Hollis, however, was preoccupied; after confirming that the needle stuck through Devon's taint was satisfactory for the piercing, he picked up the last piece of jewelry his client had provided for him--the thick, silver segment ring. After prepping the ring, Hollis pushed it against the blunt end of the piercing needle and smoothly slid it inside and through Devon's perineum, removing the needle as he did so. Once the ring was in place, he closed and secured the segment before surveying his handiwork--the new guiche piercing completed the tiger's ensemble of body jewelry, and it glinted nicely amid Devon's white fur under the bright lights of Hollis's operating room.

"Opal, mark line items 4 - 11 as complete," Hollis instructed his virtual assistant.

As checkmarks appeared on the television screens next to the procedures that the elk had called out, Hollis strode over to the table of surgical supplies and picked up one more loaded syringe, this one filled with a translucent, pale blue solution. He returned to his position in front of the tiger's groin and rubbed over Devon's taint with a thick finger, just below where he'd placed the guiche piercing. Hollis traced up and down along Devon's perineum, feeling...until, with his well-trained sense of touch, he felt the subtle, almost imperceptible bump he was looking for. He took aim with the hypodermic needle and pushed it into his target, sinking it down into the dense fibers and tissues of Devon's prostate.

"Alright, kitten, let's see how you like this," Hollis murmured, keeping an eye on the tiger's face as he injected the chemical compound into the walnut-sized gland. The elk watched for any sign of change in Devon's expression--he'd seen plenty of his patients who had been mentally broken come back to themselves in full force as he'd administered this particular drug, due to the heightened state of pleasure and increased libido it induced in subjects. Had Devon returned already, Hollis would have explained that he was giving the tiger a dose of Protazein, a stimulant that would bind to the tiger's tissues on a molecular level and wouldn't be metabolized; it would permanently alter his prostate's chemistry for seminal fluid and hormone production, to the point of making Devon constantly aroused and leaking, and as long as the tiger wore his newly-implanted chastity cage, he'd be straining against the unforgiving metal forever and dripping precum from his urethral spout like a leaky faucet.

But Devon's expression remained unchanged--he was still staring vacantly at the ceiling, only minimally registering the state of euphoria that began to careen through his body. Hollis looked down at Devon's groin; he saw the cage in the tiger's sheath twitch as his member was already starting to react to the Protazein and push against the inside of the metal cylinder, and clear pre was already starting to well up in the urethral tube. Yet Devon was as still and quiet as the grave.

"Hmm...guess it's going to take more than that, huh?" Hollis mused as he withdrew the spent syringe from the tiger's prostate. "Alright, time for the big guns, then."

Hollis remained where he stood in front of Devon's groin. "Opal, activate the MedArm and pull over Trunk 1."

The robotic arm next to the padded operating table hummed to life--after running through its startup sequence, the machine swiveled on its bearings and extended its pneumatic shafts towards the two black and silver trunks. Hollis's virtual assistant directed the clamp on the end of the robotic arm to grab the handle for the trunk on the right, and it pulled forward; the trunk glided smoothly on hidden wheels across the floor, and the arm pulled it to rest beside Hollis.

The elk unlatched the top of the trunk and swung the lid open to reveal the two black and silver prosthetic legs resting in their foam cushioning; the right and left limbs were plated with sleek, polished plates and strands that mimicked the topography of rippling muscles under fur and hid the advanced joints, power supply, gel insulation, and wiring beneath. Where the thigh would have ordinally met the pelvis, there were slightly convex indentations covered in small electrical receivers and encircled by heavy-duty latching points. The broad thighs then tapered slightly as they curved down to the knees, and the wide shins met elongated ankles, which naturally lifted the feet so the wearer would be forced to walk on the wide, metallic toes that supported the whole assembly, while the toes themselves were cushioned with soft, black rubber-skinned, gel-filled pads. All in all, it appeared as though Hollis had just unboxed a feral tiger's disembodied hind legs, given form in metal and carbon fiber, and ready to attach to the collars he had bolted onto Devon's stumps and integrate with the electrodes that had been grafted onto the tiger's smooth skin.

"Opal, use the MedArm to hold the left leg for connection."

Hollis's virtual assistant obeyed; the robotic arm gently picked the left leg up from its foam housing by the thigh and rotated to hold the limb at the ready, millimeters away from the receiving collar around the stump where Devon's left leg had once been.

Devon paid no attention to Hollis carefully maneuvering the leg closer to the receiving collar; he paid no attention to the elk twisting the surprisingly flexible leg's pelvic joint to align with the latches in the collar; and he paid no attention to the loud CH-CHNK that sounded as the leg locked into place. He still couldn't feel anything, still couldn't receive any sensation, still couldn't move, even when the robotic arm released the leg that was now attached to him and was stuck in a slightly raised, splayed position that left his knee and ankle bent with his toe pads on display. Devon didn't bat an eye when Hollis repeated the procedure for his right leg either; he continued to stare vacantly up at the ceiling even after the limb was attached, leaving him lying there like a feral dog with his legs in the air.

After stepping around the padded table to stand by Devon's shoulders, Hollis directed his virtual assistant to procure the second trunk, which contained thick, stocky forelegs made in the same black and silver style of metal and carbon fiber plating as the tiger's new hind legs, and ended with gel-padded paws as wide as his feet. The elk used his robotic arm to hold Devon's new forelimbs in place as he attached them, locking them into the latches within the collars bolted around the stumps that used to be the tiger's arms. When he was done, Devon effectively resembled a feral tiger lying on his back, motionless, with his silver and black front legs bent at the elbow and his paws resting against his chest.

Devon was once again whole, after a fashion...save for his mind, still adrift in the cosmos of whatever mental realm he'd floated into for refuge.

"And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack, and you may find yourself in another part of the world..."

Hollis hummed along with the next song on his playlist as he reached into the second trunk--next to the empty, foam cavities that had once held the tiger's forelimbs, there were two additional objects: a wide, curved, Plexiglass visor adorned with metal contact points on either side, and a touchscreen control unit the size of a phone. Hollis pulled out both items and settled the visor in front of Devon's eyes; the metal contact points connected with the neural link anchors embedded in the tiger's upper temples, magnetically clipping into place.

The visor remained blank and clear, doing nothing to obstruct Devon's numbly shocked stare at the ceiling.

Hollis turned on the control unit--from the startup screen, the menu appeared, and Hollis navigated to "Connection Settings", where he read that all six connection points (Devon's four limbs, his collar, and the visor link) were hooked up and ready to use.

"Alright, kitten, time to wake up," Hollis said as he tapped "Activate Connection".

Devon's neck spasmed; he curled up as much as he could before flinging his head back against the padded table under him, his mouth wide open in a silent scream. If the tiger still had control of his vocal cords, Hollis would have heard a high-pitched, keening yowl, a shriek that rang with pain, loss, humiliation, and sheer agony mixed with unbridled rage. But all the elk heard was the thump of Devon's head against the cushioned gurney and...

"She drives me crazy, like no one else! She drives me crazy, and I can't help myself..."

Devon felt like he'd been struck by lightning and hit by a train; his nerves were on fire, turbocharged to the point of nearly overwhelming him. The pleasure he felt was borderline unbearable, it was so intense as he strained against the cage that had been stuffed and pierced into place within his sheath; his cock throbbed, desperate for a freedom that wasn't coming, on the verge of exploding; his hole sporadically gaped and puckered, twitching hungrily for something--anything, a finger, a tongue, a dick, a toy, a whole fist, a beer can, even a pencil--to fill it; his prostate ached as precum bubbled up out of his cage's urethral spout like an oil well, with clear sticky seminal fluid beginning to leak back into his sheath and dribble into his lap; every piercing on his body brought him such immense joy and ecstasy, he felt almost on the brink of orgasm already.

And yet all of that wonderfully erotic pleasure collided and mixed with the neural feedback he was receiving from his limbs. He had no idea--and he was too stimulated to care--how he could feel air passing over his legs, how he could feel the warmth of the room on his paw pads (let alone how he could feel the soft, artificial beans in the first place), how he could feel the simulated muscles within his new prosthetics, how he could remember what his old arms and legs felt like while simultaneously perceiving these limbs he had been forcibly given...but he could feel it all, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he struggled to cope with the flood of sensations.

On top of the raw physical data that his brain had to process, Devon had been thrown into an emotional maelstrom as he came to grips with the reality of what had been done to him. It was like something out of a nightmare--all sense of agency and autonomy had been stripped from him, he'd been turned into a freak, into some unnatural abomination of science by a deranged surgeon, and he was going to be used, violated (in every sense of the word) and owned by someone he had never met...he was going to be somebody's property, and they had ordered that he be modified like this. He couldn't get out of this situation by waking up or running away, there was no escape...and he could have avoided all of this if he'd just stayed home instead of going to Hightower, if he'd just said "no" to going to the darkroom with Hollis. If only...if only...

"FUUUUUUUUUUCK!" Devon screamed at the top of his lungs, but only empty air passed between his jaws. Tears welled in his eyes and he struggled harder, craning his neck, willing himself to freedom, to get away from what Hollis still had yet to do to him. "FUUUUUUUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"

Hollis watched unashamedly, a smug smirk on his lips and a sadistic gleam in his eyes, as the tiger thrashed his head from side to side and back and forth. Devon's motor nerves below his neck were still incapacitated due to the drugs in his system, preventing the black and silver limbs that Hollis had attached from flailing wildly...but just seeing the horrified, twisting expressions of pain on the tiger's face was enough for the elk. While Hollis knew that a large part of Devon's reaction was due to re-acclimating to his body after returning from a fugue state, the elk also saw this as the final struggle of the man that Devon had once been, the last violent farewell to everything that he was before it disappeared forever. The elk had seen it countless times before in every man who had been on his table. Even the most stoic bear that Hollis had operated on had broken down into hysterics before the end. It brought Hollis a certain level of satisfaction knowing that he was watching a person fight tooth and nail to retain their identity, to make their final (though futile) attempt at resisting before he sealed their fate as nothing more than a pet, an object to be played with at their owner's leisure.

"Yeah, that's it, kitten, come back and feel everything before I wipe that little brain of yours blank," Hollis murmured as he leered down at the spasming, sobbing, furious tiger.

Meanwhile, the Plexiglass visor covering Devon's eyes illuminated white before it displayed a welcome message and its software version information. As Devon gasped, winced, and did everything he could to escape, he passingly saw lines of code filter down the visor as it performed a systems diagnostic...before the glass screen in front of him flashed green with a message that read "All systems nominal."

Hollis received the same message on the control unit he held, and he navigated through the device's menu to the "Programs" page. His fingers hovered over the option he was about to select.

The elk paused, then glanced at Devon once more--Devon, who was still thrashing on the table and silently cursing him out, Devon, who had looked so cute and innocent back at Hightower...Devon, who had once been so eager, so curious, so trusting...Devon, who would soon make Hollis's client so pleased...and would make Hollis quite a pretty penny for his work in the process...

"Alright, Devon, time to say goodbye," Hollis said softly as he tapped the program option on the control unit.

A new message flashed on the visor: Initiating training protocol.

The visor went black.

Bold red letters blazed on the dark visor: PAY ATTENTION.

Devon's eyes snapped to the middle of the visor, giving the screen his undivided focus. Still furious, still despairing, and still on the edge of climax, he thought he'd looked at the screen of his own free will. But unknown to the tiger, electrical signals had bolted directly into his gray matter through the neural link anchors, commanding him...and they would continue to do so throughout his training, forcing him to obey and rewiring his brain in the process.

The message remained on the screen for a full minute, keeping Devon fully captivated and forcing him to lie still. Even though the screen was translucent and he could vaguely see his surroundings, the outside world began to slide out of focus and lose relevance for him...there was only the command on his newly-implanted heads-up display, his objective to pay attention...

Which eventually changed to a new command: BE HAPPY.

Devon felt a sudden upswell in his chest, and his heart fluttered. Utter joy filled him from head to toe, threatening to explode like fireworks from his chest. The training program fed its messaging into his mind as signals from the neural link anchors began disconnecting synapses and forging new connections within his brain.

"You're excited for what comes next," a voice that only Devon could hear crooned. It was spellbinding, seductive, all-encompassing. "You're interested in what's in front of you, interested in what your owner finds interesting. You will be playful, loyal, and loving..."

As euphoric as he felt, Devon winced--a part of him wanted to resist, wanted to remind himself that he wasn't loyal, that he wasn't excited for what came next, that he wasn't happy with the way he was now...

Devon's whole body tingled with pins and needles before he spasmed with an electrical shock generated by the collar implanted in his neck. He wanted to cry, wanted to howl in pain, it hurt so much...he'd do anything not to feel that agony again, he'd be loyal...

"You're proud to be a good pet," the voice told him.

And Devon, his mind being rewritten by force, believed the voice. He felt pride in his new station.

BE SAD appeared on the visor.

Abject despair weighed the tiger down from the high of happiness he'd felt earlier. He sank so low, felt so much regret, felt such intense guilt in his gut.

"You're going to feel shame," the voice told him as he absorbed the message on the visor. "You'll be sorry and remorseful when your owner raises his voice or beats you as punishment."

A small, defiant shred within Devon's heart reared up. He wanted to fight back, to yell, "No, absolutely not, I have nothing to feel bad about after what's been done to me! Go fuck yourself!"

But the moment he opened his mouth, the collar around his neck contracted, squeezing his trachea and cutting off his air supply. The tiger choked, trying to resist...but he failed...and he would feel that painful grip around his throat and lose his oxygen if he failed again in the future, if he failed his owner.

"You'll strive to learn from your mistakes and do better," the voice told him.

The mental rewrite happening in his brain was too strong to overcome, and Devon conceded...accepted...willed himself to do better for his owner.

BE AFRAID appeared on the visor.

Anxiety and dread gripped the very fabric of Devon's soul; his heart raced, his lungs seized, and his breath came out in short, terrified gasps.

"You'll be loyal and obedient for your owner," the voice told him. "You know you're worthless, you know you're inferior to him, and it's your place to submit. He is in charge of every aspect of your life, and he deserves your respect and fear."

One last blossom of hope bloomed into being within Devon's core. Part of him knew that he had self-worth, that he was a person who deserved respect as well...

He squirmed as his collar electrocuted him and constricted around his throat again, and the neural link signals rooted out the tiger's sense of dignity...and snuffed it out permanently.

"You are nothing compared to your owner--your place is at his feet, worshiping him, adoring him," the voice told Devon.

The tiger accepted his imprinted humility without question.

BE SURPRISED appeared on the visor.

Devon's fear morphed into a sense of wonder, of amazement, as if he'd seen the most inspiring vista or witnessed an incredible act of devotion.

"You will be in awe of your owner, excited and eager to perform for him," the voice crooned, filling the tiger's head. "You'll be ready to obey at any moment, no matter what your owner commands."

Devon found himself nodding in agreement and smiling, grateful for the opportunity to serve his owner.

The words on the visor faded, leaving the tiger with just a dark screen...before...

Devon moaned silently; pleasure unlike any he'd felt before radiated through his body, and his cock pushed hard against his implanted chastity cage, straining against the bolts pierced through his sheath. He had to hump something, he had to rub against something, he needed release...he needed someone to fuck him senseless, to simply yank up his tail, bury their dick inside him, and breed him without mercy. This was a euphoric bliss that made him ready to burst out of his skin in an orgasmic eruption; he couldn't believe he'd gone his whole life without feeling this kind of pleasure until now...he needed more...more...more..

As the visor's program raised Devon's libido and engineered a more compliant, pliable state of mind in the tiger, images began to fade into view on the glass screen, and the voice in Devon's head started up again.

"You are a pet...a pet must obey."

On the visor, a tiger was obediently sucking his anonymous master's cock, lovingly licking it before bathing his master's balls with his tongue.

"You are a pet...a pet must obey."

The tiger sat up on his haunches, mouth open while his master shot a thick, gooey load over his face and hanging tongue.

"A pet who obeys receives treats and rewards."

The faceless owner was rubbing the top of the tiger's head...petting the tiger's belly...removing the tiger's chastity cage and stroking his erect, barb-less cock and fingering his subincision...and the tiger was grinning happily.

"You are a pet...a pet must obey."

The tiger was licking his master's feet...drinking his master's piss...eating his master's ass...getting fucked by his master...

"You are a pet...a pet must obey."

The tiger was getting his ears pierced...patiently receiving piercings on the flat patch where his balls used to be...

"A bad pet gets punished."

The tiger was getting spanked...getting whipped...getting choked...getting beaten...having his legs removed...

"You are a pet...a pet must obey."

Devon so desperately wanted to be a good pet and to obey...he needed his owner.

"A pet doesn't cum until ordered to."

Devon moaned softly, blissfully, committing to the promise to never climax without his owner's explicit instruction, and unaware that his brain's circuitry was being altered to the point of an orgasm being dependent on the command signal being given by his visor's neural link.

"A pet is given a name."

The tiger on the table suddenly realized he had no name, he hadn't been given one yet...he wondered what it could be...whatever it was, he knew he would love it, because that was the name his owner had chosen for him...

Hollis, meanwhile, went about cleaning up the operating room, putting away his tools and dropping used syringes, scalpels, and needles into the proper disposal units. He glanced every so often at Devon, still lying on the table and totally lost in the world of his mental conditioning.

As he slowed the IV drips to a stop and removed the tiger's straps, Hollis watched Devon occasionally grimace and wince before silently chuffing in pleasure--it was clear to see that, for all his resistance and protests during his earlier procedures, the new pet had easily succumbed to his training and conditioning, just like all the others who had been on Hollis's operating table.

Soon the tiger would be compliant enough to follow Hollis's commands; the elk would order him to get down from the table, to lithely slink to the floor on his newly-implanted limbs. Hollis would then instruct the tiger to climb into his specially prepared crate for shipping; after securing the large cat for transit in the padded cushions (which prevented all movement) and connecting him to the crate's life support systems, Hollis would use the neural link to put him into sleep mode. The tiger would be in stasis, unaware of anything, totally unconscious except for the parts of his brain that would continue to accept his visor's neural imprinting. And then Devon would be ready to ship off, never to be seen again, not as he was. By the time he woke up, far away and under the ownership of Hollis's client, there wouldn't be a single trace of Devon left, only an obedient, submissive tiger in his place, ready to follow whatever directive he heard from his owner and subsequently appeared as an objective on the inside of his visor for him to complete.

"Welcome to your life...there's no turning back...even while we sleeeeep...we will find you..."

Hollis sang along with his music while he finished cleaning up, and he glanced down at the tiger's groin as he removed the electrode patches for the monitors. Precum leaked freely from Devon's urethral spout, and the elk could only imagine how hard the tiger's cock must be while locked away in his cage. Hollis snickered--the only chance Devon (or whatever he was going to be named by the time he finished his mental conditioning) would have for relief would be if his owner decided to take pity on him or reward him for good behavior...but from what Hollis could tell of the man, that wouldn't happen for quite some time.

---

"Ah, there's Gatito," the rhino said as he gently patted the tiger's head.

Gatito closed his eyes blissfully and chuffed at his owner's rich baritone voice and his warm, comforting touch; his visor had taught him everything he needed to know about the beefy rhino who sat in the cushy leather armchair before him. His name was Tiago Morales, but Gatito would only ever call him Master, if and when he was permitted to speak; he was 6'7" and 280 pounds of muscle, but to Gatito, no matter the rhino's stature, he was a god, the epitome of perfection; he was a rich, powerful, influential man, and Gatito knew that, to Tiago, he was just another piece of property, one who would gladly obey any order the rhino gave without hesitation; he knew that the lightest touch from his master would bring him nothing but pleasure, and he knew that he would listen attentively to every word the rhino spoke; and Gatito knew that he wasn't his master's only pet--the rhino had a feral pet boerboel named Rio, who Gatito knew was above him in the pecking order of his master's household.

What more did the tiger need to know to settle into his new life?

Nothing at all.

After being taken out of his crate and shown his master's home, Gatito was happy to merely sit, perched, on his prosthetic legs, his hind legs folded under him and his forelimbs supporting his front, while Tiago, wearing a loose polo shirt and white linen shorts, sat comfortably in his chair and continued affectionately petting him.

"Such a good kitten. You like being my little pet, don't you?"

Gatito chuffed and nodded before he leaned into Tiago's hand, grateful for the broad palm stroking over his head and the thick, dexterous fingers scratching behind his ears. His tail twitched contentedly and his cock throbbed in his cage, straining hard against the solid metal tube that contained his leaking arousal.

"Yes, that's right...of course you do," Tiago murmured before he removed his hand from the tiger's head and leaned back in his chair.

Gatito held still, knowing he wasn't allowed to seek out his master's affection--a good pet could only receive his owner's love and attention, he didn't pester his owner for it unless given permission.

"And I think you'll like seeing what I'm about to do," Tiago rumbled. He smirked down at Gatito before his gaze locked onto a spot behind the tiger, and he raised his voice as he called, "Rio! Here boy!"

Beyond Gatito, in front of the large fireplace set into the far wall of the living room, the large boerboel stirred and rose from where he had been lying on the plush, oversized dog bed. He lazily ambled over to sit next to Gatito in front of Tiago's chair--the tiger couldn't help but notice the hefty dog's prominent, fat sheath hanging between his legs and resting on the floor, the tip of his pointed canine cock already poking out of the fleshy, furred pouch.

"Good boy, I've got a little treat for you," Tiago said, which made Rio perk up excitedly, wag his tail, and lick his chops in anticipation.

The rhino reached for the small, brown paper bag on the side table next to his chair, and pushed his hand inside. Gatito heard him rustle around inside the bag for a moment before Tiago withdrew his hand again...from his clenched fingers, still attached to their cut spermatic cords, dangled what Gatito recognized as a pair of testicles that had once belonged to him--but he didn't need them, didn't deserve them...so they had been taken away. They were still pale pink and moist, looking as if they'd just been freshly plucked from his now-nonexistent sac.

"Ah, you know what these are?" Tiago said when he saw the tiger's raised eyebrows behind his visor.

Gatito nodded enthusiastically, while Rio's eyes were glued to the nuts that hung from his owner's hand.

"Well, time to put them to better use," Tiago said, grinning. He swung his hand back and forth to make the tiger's testicles sway, building up momentum as he aimed them towards Rio.

The boerboel sat at the ready, watching intently, and he licked his lips again.

"Eat up, boy."

Without any further ceremony, Tiago released his grip, tossing Gatito's useless balls...and in the blink of an eye, Rio snapped open his jaws, caught them out of the air, and shut his mouth again with his prize inside. He chewed loudly and wetly, his jowls smacking as he thoroughly masticated his meaty snack, and drool dripped from his muzzle...and then he swallowed, wolfing down what had once been the tiger's masculinity before he licked his chops and nose with his large tongue for the last traces of any remaining flavor.

Gatito, however, couldn't have been happier for the dog--his better, his superior--to gobble up his testicles. He grinned widely, thrilled that Rio enjoyed the meal of his meat, ecstatic that it would help nourish the canine, all while knowing full well (and relishing) that this was a display of power, a demonstration of how low Gatito was compared to his owner and his dog. Of course, the added bonus was the tiger's excitement when he saw that the act of devouring his nuts had apparently made Rio aroused, as the first few engorged inches of the dog's cock had slipped out of his girthy sheath.

Tiago wasn't surprised by Rio's arousal though. "Ah, there he goes again," the rhino said to Gatito, chuckling. "He usually gets horny after eating. No clue why, but he does."

As if to prove that his owner was right, another couple inches of bulbous cock inflated out of Rio's sheath, and the boerboel whined softly.

"Ah, I know, silly boy," Tiago chuckled again. "Ordinarily I'd get him to hump my leg or just a pillow if I'm busy, but now that you're here," the rhino went on, a devious gleam in his eye, "I think it's time you serve one of your duties as my pet, huh?"

Gatito nodded without hesitation; he was always happy to serve his master, no matter what.

"Good kitten," Tiago rumbled, his words like an aphrodisiac to the tiger. "Go ahead and present, Gatito. Give Rio a proper hole to use."

On Gatito's visor, a new objective flashed before the tiger's eyes: PRESENT FOR BREEDING.

The tiger stepped back, turning and sauntering on the soft, gel pads on his paws, while the servos and motors in his prosthetic legs went into smooth, silent action. Gatito positioned himself before Tiago and Rio with his front on the floor and his ass in the air, his tail raised slightly to expose his rump. He held still, waiting expectantly while his cock pounded hard in the confines of his cage, and pre began to drip from his urethral spout.

"Alright, boy, give it to him," Tiago commanded as he sat back in his chair and placed a hand on his crotch.

Rio didn't need to be told twice. He immediately stood and trotted over behind Gatito's raised rear and sniffed and licked the tiger's gaping hole experimentally. Gatito shuddered in pleasure at the warm tongue lapping over his entrance...before Rio huffed, satisfied...and reared up on his hind legs to mount the tiger. Gatito held steady while Rio lunged on top of him, supporting the heavy boerboel who began eagerly humping the air, thrusting with his hips to coax more of his cock out of his sheath. Gatito kept his ass open and waiting, an electric thrill running up his spine every time the tip of the canine's cock touched his hole, lightly kissing the rim before swinging away, then back to quickly meet again...

"Ah, here he comes," Tiago announced as he watched--the rhino had been groping and squeezing his stiffening cock through his shorts, fondling the growing bulge.

Gatito chuffed and groaned softly when he felt the engorged, pointed tip of Rio's cock make contact with his hole...and forced its way past his loose ring of muscle, sliding inside. The tiger wiggled his rear and pushed back against the dog's erection, impaling himself on Rio while savoring the sensation of his ass widening with the girth of the bulging canine shaft. He felt the subtle taper from the wide upper region to the narrower middle, and then the beginnings of another outward flare as Rio sank more of his arousal into him, all the way to the stretched rim of his sheath, which still covered his inflating knot.

Rio's cock filled him, spreading Gatito's innards as it plunged into his guts...before the dog pulled back...and quickly thrust forward again, immediately accelerating to rutting speed. There was no slow build-up to Rio's rapid tempo; he humped vigorously, animalistically, brutally. His hips pumped back and forth, a carnal engine that had revved up to full power, racing to unload the contents of his balls in Gatito.

"Mmmm...ah-ah-ah-ah-ah," the tiger wordlessly moaned and grunted, accepting every inch of hard, throbbing canine meat that Rio had to give him.

Gatito clenched sporadically around the member penetrating him, doing his best to milk Rio's cock, to give him a warm, eager hole to dump his load...and his efforts didn't go unappreciated. The dog on top of him panted and whined in obvious pleasure, and his warm, humid breath puffed over the back of Gatito's neck as he desperately rammed his cock home again and again. The hot, bulging rod slid in and out of him like a piston, satiating Gatito's appetite, yet making him hungry for even more...more...

"Good boy, Rio...give Gatito a proper welcome home...pump him full of puppies," Tiago murmured encouragingly as he watched his pets copulating.

Rio grunted and growled as he fucked in earnest, locking his forelimbs around Gatito's chest while his pelvis slammed repeatedly against the tiger's rump. Gatito dropped his back to offer up his ass even more to the canine.

Plap-lap-lap-lap...

The dog's plump balls swung up against the flat patch where Gatito's own nuts used to be...which now provided the caloric fuel for the boerboel to breed him. Rio humped furiously, burying his bone with gusto in Gatito's ass, utterly dominating the tiger beneath him with his brute strength and powerful fucking.

"Mmmrruuuuuuooooowwwww..." Gatito released in a long, continuous moan, arching his neck and throwing his head back in pleasure. As Rio continued plowing him, the tiger's cock pressed even harder against the steel of his cage, painfully (and futilely) struggling to stiffen to full mast, but the chastity device kept him firmly at a short, throbbing semi locked away in his sheath.

Gatito's eyes rolled back in his head while Rio pounded his prostate--the dog's thick cock squeezed the gland deliciously on every inward thrust, pressing it like a ripe grape, juicing it to the point that excessive pre dribbled freely from the urethral spout in Gatito's cage. The viscous, clear pre dripped to the floor under the tiger, making a small, sticky puddle on the hardwood...but Tiago didn't seem to mind the mess that Gatito made.

"Heh, seems my new kitten likes being put in his place," the rhino observed as he reached into his shorts. He pulled out his stiff, girthy member and began stroking methodically; Tiago flicked his fingers over his blunt glans and squeezed around the wide base of his shaft, teasing himself as he enjoyed the show before him. "That's where you belong, Gatito...under me, and under my dog...a real pet's pet, huh?"

Gatito groaned in agreement, fully embracing his position at the bottom of the pecking order. He knew it would be an honor beyond imagining to get bred by his master, and he was already grateful beyond measure to be nothing more than a breeding mount, a cumdump, for Rio, who was slamming himself into the tiger even faster now.

Schlop-schlop-schlop...

Rio's knot, now out of his sheath and fully engorged to the size of a baseball, banged against Gatito's hole, slapping wetly against the battered entrance and pushing insistently against the rim. The canine growled dominantly in Gatito's ear as he kept roughly fucking him, ensuring the tiger's continued submission.

Gatito relaxed as much as he could, desperate for Rio to plunge the large bulb into him, to pump him full of hot puppy batter and mark him as his territory.

"Mmm, look at you, taking that dog cock like a champ already," Tiago said approvingly while he continued stroking his own throbbing member. "That's what I like to see in my pets..."

A warm, fuzzy sensation surged within Gatito, and he chuffed--he was so glad to please his master like this, to show him that he was a good kitten, a good pet...his master's praise was all he wanted. And he could get more if he could just take Rio's knot...

The canine was pushing harder, bracing himself with his hind legs and pulling with his forelimbs locked around Gatito's torso. Rio panted needily, shoving his knot against the wet orifice, so close to sinking it in...

"Mmmhmm," Tiago sighed blissfully. He smirked as he said, "You know Gatito, you're so cute I might just have to take Rio's sloppy seconds...wouldn't be the first time he's left me a warm load to use like that."

PLOP!

"Guuuuuuh!"

Rio's knot audibly popped into the tiger's ass, stretching Gatito's sphincter to the limit before it closed again around the root of the dog's cock--Gatito grunted loudly and panted at the sensation of being so wonderfully full, and Rio yelped and whined as his member began to spasm, forcefully shooting spurt upon spurt of hot, thick seed into the tiger's guts.

At the same time, Gatito's heart leapt in his chest at what Tiago had said; he'd get bred by his master in addition to Rio? As the boerboel on top of him continued humping, growling, and flooding his insides with more cum, Gatito knew without a doubt that he was a very lucky pet indeed.