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"Welcome to the Abertaur Distillery, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, we'll be sampling three of the single malts we make on site. My name is Nelson and I have been the master distiller here at Abertaur for the last three years. I will be your guide this evening."

Higham stared at the tall green dragon, his eyes already beginning to glaze over. What was he doing here? He'd never liked whisky, its signature burn being far too caustic on his throat, while the subsequent warmth in his stomach only caused further discomfort. It was no surprise that a dragon was its main advocate, he thought.

He looked at his friend, who was fully immersed in the presentation. He sighed quietly. Trawden had been so excited when he had been given the tickets for his birthday and he hadn't wanted to let him down. For weeks, the young fox had said it would be good to get out, for him to try something new. With constant needling, Higham's resistance had been worn down and he had reluctantly accepted the invitation.

He scratched at the cuff of his tuxedo, the formal attire only adding to his discomfort. He looked around the room; all ancient portraits and wooden panels. It was more like a drawing room in a stately home than the annex of a working distillery. It was certainly worlds apart from his usual haunts.

Interrogating his fellow guests didn't help either. He and Trawden must have been the youngest by at least 20 years, while most of them looked like they worked in merchant banking or stock trading. It wouldn't have surprised him if they all had yachts docked in the harbour down the road.

A clinking sound broke him out of his torpor. Looking down, he saw a couple of glasses being placed on the table along with an intricately carved crystal carafe. This was two-thirds full with a golden-brown liquid that shimmered mysteriously in the low lighting. He looked across at Trawden again, who had a wide smile on his face.

"Thanks for coming," he whispered. "I know this isn't really your thing, but trust me, you'll enjoy it."

Higham sighed, but more loudly this time. "It's fine," he said with more conviction than he felt. "I just hope you have a good time. I know how much you have been looking forward to this."

Their conversation was then interrupted.

"This is our first whisky," the dragon said. "Madadh-allaidh is our signature single malt, traditionally aged in oak casks. This is the unaged variety. As you can see, it has an inviting golden hue that really tempts you in. It's smooth on the palate with just a hint of afterburn, with nuts being the primary flavour. This is our best-selling whisky and I invite you now to sample it."

The room descended into a gentle hubbub as the guests helped themselves. Trawden picked up the carafe and decanted its contents into the two glasses. He then passed one to Higham.

"To friendship," he said, raising his tumbler in salutation.

"To friendship," Higham repeated, steeling himself for the first unpleasant drink of many.

He sighed as he brought the glass closer to his lips, catching a suspicious smirk from his friend as he did.

"What?!" he said incredulously. "This is difficult enough without you being a twat."

"Just drink," the fox replied. "And savour it."

With that, Trawden brought the glass up to his muzzle and sniffed deeply.

"You can really smell the wolf," he opined, eliciting a shocked response from his friend. Without saying anything else, he tipped the drink into his mouth in one fluid motion and smiled. "You can really taste the wolf too!"

Confused, Higham sniffed tentatively. It certainly didn't smell like whisky, having a much more mellow aroma than what he was used to. There was a slight tang too, but one he couldn't quite place.

"What is this?" he said. "What's going on?"

"Just drink," Trawden said once again. "And remember, savour it."

With that, Trawden nudged the bottom of his friend's glass, causing some of the liquid to spill onto his tongue. It settled there for a second before running towards the back of his mouth and down his throat. Higham braced himself for the familiar burning sensation, but it never came.

He looked over at his friend, who now had a wide grin plastered over his face. Before he could ask what was going on, the dragon spoke.

"Now you have sampled our finest wolf spirit, I trust you enjoyed the flavour. If you'd like more, then please help yourself."

With one deft move, he pulled back a curtain to reveal a toned wolf standing in a cage. His arms and legs were cuffed to the frame, while two straps around his stomach kept him secure. There was a funnel attached to his muzzle, into which a pipe had been fed from the ceiling. He was wearing a blindfold and collar, as well as a jockstrap with a rubber sheath. At the end of this, a tube led into a decanter. This was already half-full, with liquid clearly being added to it periodically.

"Our wolf here is very well hydrated and should have much more to give. As you can see, he has been trained to deliver and deliver he has! Please, if you'd like more of our famous wolf whisky, then be my guest."

The hubbub increased in intensity as Higham stared at his friend incredulously. Before he could speak, Trawden said, "I told you you'd enjoy it".

Higham stared at the fox for a minute before chuckling. "A bound wolf, a dash of piss and being with my bestie. Yeah, I guess you're right."

The fox's grin widened.

"You're still a twat though."

Trawden laughed.

"So then, ladies and gentlemen, now you are familiar with proceedings, let's move on to whisky number two. Fèidh is a more robust, hardier tipple, aged for longer for a smoother taste. This has a more earthy flavour, typical of the Highlands, and after a hard day's graft, it could be seen as the 'antler' to your problems."

The audience groaned as a second carafe appeared on the table, this one containing a much darker fluid. Higham poured it into the glasses, savouring the deep aroma as he did.

"This whisky is rather pronounced," he commented, expertly recalling some of the whisky terminology he had learned prior to the evening.

He then passed a glass to his friend, raising his up to propose a toast. Trawden followed suit, before bringing the liquid up to his lips. Stunned by the strength of the smell, he recoiled.

"Pronounced?" he said incredulously. "Pungent more like!"

Expecting the worst, the fox opened his muzzle and let the bitter flavour wash over his tongue. He shuddered.

"It's quite strong," he continued. "I think I preferred the wolf."

"Remember, savour it," Higham mockingly responded, winking at his friend. "Immerse yourself in the whisky, really get to know it."

Trawden laughed before taking another swig, swilling the liquid around in his mouth contemplatively.

"You're right," he conceded. "The bitterness does give way to a hidden complexity; this whisky is really rather thick, but no worse for it. It's really growing on me."

The friends drank some more, becoming more accustomed to the taste as they drained their glasses.

"I see this one has a more mixed response," Nelson said. "It is the most astringent in our range, but don't let the sharpness put you off. If you'd like a more mellow flavour, just add a drop of water."

The dragon then stepped up to a second curtain, pulling it back to reveal a red stag in similar binds to the wolf. In addition, his antlers were tied to the top of cage, ensuring his head enjoyed no movement, while again a blindfold prevented him from seeing his appreciative audience. Next to his decanter, there were a couple of pipettes and a small glass of water, while his receptacle was only about one-third full.

"Moving on to the third and final whisky of the evening," Nelson said a few minutes later. "This one is very special and my personal favourite. Iolaire is a premium small-batch whisky. We only make 500 bottles a year."

The audience gasped as a third carafe appeared on their tables.

"This one must be savoured - take small sips to really appreciate the flavour. It is far less earthy than the other two, with a lighter, fresher air. It's the perfect after-dinner tipple."

Higham stared at the straw-coloured liquid before him, concerned that it looked somewhat anaemic. Surely this wouldn't be the best of the evening, he thought, consternation etched across his face.

He glanced over at his friend, who shrugged and picked up the carafe, decanting two perfectly poured measures into the glasses. He nudged one over to his friend, before raising the second.

"Slàinte Mhath!" he said before bringing the liquid to his lips. As he did, a resplendent eagle was revealed from behind a third curtain, bound very much like the wolf and the stag. The audience were stunned into silence for a brief moment as they observed his ripped white chest and regal golden feathers before they returned to their drinks.

"No wonder it's rare," Trawden exclaimed. "It does taste quite creamy though, subtle. I like it."

"Me too," Higham agreed. "I could drink him all night."

The fox grinned. "In more ways than one," he responded, winking mischievously.

With the statement hanging in the air, the duo enjoyed their drinks, their sheaths tightening over their degenerate thoughts. Staring intently at the three bound creatures, Higham noticed their collars, upon which was written "Property of Abertaur Distillery" along with their species. This made his sheath twitch more.

They were only snapped out of their reveries by the voice of the dragon a few minutes later.

"So, now you've sampled three of our finest whiskies," Nelson said. "Which one is your favourite?"

An indecisive murmur came from the group, but the dragon seemed satisfied nonetheless.

He continued: "On behalf of everyone here at the Abertaur Distillery, I would like to thank you for coming out on this rather windy Scottish evening. We hope you have enjoyed everything you have tasted.

"You are welcome to stay longer and sample some more, while I'll be loitering at the back if you have any further questions. Don't forget, we have a shop where you can purchase these three whiskies and many more from the local area. And our gift sets make the perfect present for Father's Day, which is coming up soon. I've been Nelson, thank you all for coming."

The audience clapped and cheered as the dragon took a bow, shimmying off the stage to leave the three bound beasts fully on view. Higham looked between them and his friend, then back again. He smiled. It had certainly been a golden evening.