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Absinthe Magazine Vol. 6

Founder's Interview with Hot House Owner "Cliff"

Interview by Moraine

"Cliff" is the creator of the Hot House brand of canine tailored sex shops. Being of the feline persuasion myself, I've never dared to enter, but any honest canine you know will absolutely swear by them. Though some of your less blunt friends may dodge the question, the market reports don't lie. Since its inception not more than four years ago, the Hot House franchise has opened 300 locations world-wide, more than any other sex-oriented entertainment service, and has had a net gain of x`70 trillion. To figure out what the cause of such fever is all about I sat down for an interview with the man himself.

He refused to be photographed or recorded, but I'm told that this makes perfect sense. I was greeted by a handsome and very gentlemanlike grey fox. Neither a single showy award nor diploma graced the walls of his high-rise office. It had a sparse design with a reasonably priced data terminal and a fine mahogany bookcase. I was quite pleased to see an issue of Absinthe wedged between some anthropology books.

Nice to meet you Mr. ---

Please, call me Cliff.

No problem Cliff. Thanks. Now, I've never been in a Hot House before...

Well, there is no feline process, but there may be one soon.

Oh! I know of some readers who will be very pleased with the news! Hell, if what my canine buddies say is true, you can count me in on that! Now if you don't mind, would you explain how the "process" for the entire Hot House franchise came to you?

Well the mating season is much the same for felines, but let me elaborate. Male canines are utterly stupefied by the scent of a female in heat. It really does a number on one's senses. Once they get a whiff, a male is driven like a madman to mate. The same goes for ladies as well, though to a lesser degree. They're a little more willing. There is, of course, a distinction between mating and sex. Sex strictly for pleasure and an expression of love, mating is a biological imperative. Mating just sort of happens whether it's an appropriate time or not and the resultant pup may not know who his father is.

Now this was quite useful in ancient times. Canines and felines were on separate continents, so there was no opportunity for the original contraception of a cross-species relationship, and everyone lived in small bands or alone. The distance between a healthy male and a receptive, non-familial female could be miles. So, while out foraging during the mating season, one might catch a whiff, search for their partner, copulate, and be done with it. There was no such thing as an exclusive, romantic relationship until the Middle Ages.

Interesting... but what of the modern outlook on "public matings"?

Now that's were I got the idea. It was mating season. I was a young lad at 22 years old and I was in a long line for a fast-food lunch. The place was really moving at a crawl like the workers were more distracted than normal.

Anyway, I was trying to focus on thoughts of my girlfriend back home waiting for me, but this bitch in front of me was driving me crazy. I knew that I normally wouldn't have any business with a woman twice my age, but... hey.... that's the mating season for you. I was able to resist, those Yse pills did the trick until they were banned, so I finally made it to the front of the line. And can you guess what I see there?

I've got an idea, but go on.

The fry-cook's dropped his pants and mounted the cashier, right in the middle of his shift. And even though the two are tied and both drooling on the counter, the girl still manages to give me some kind of greeting and take my order. I mean, the scent of seamen and heat was just wafting off of these two.

I ordered something basic, but it wasn't until I sat down with my spicy triple chicken sandwich with double tomatoes, extra mayo, and a bucket of onion rings, far too much food for myself and certainly not what I ordered, that I realized that it's really a societal problem I was dealing with. We're all living crowded in these cities, so I'm sure this scene is far too common.

I'm sure I'll be seeing it soon enough.

Right. Just a few weeks away isn't it? Anyway, it really got me thinking. As a bisexual, I know thing or two about women and I know a thing or two about men. How could I help both through the mating season?

Makes sense. Now I've heard all entrants to a Hot House are blindfolded to protect the "process" from any competitors...

There are no competitors. With the regulations, I don't have a monopoly on what we do. It's an activity, a play really, with specific props. The blindfold is merely for the aspect of mystery and privacy. Thought it would be very pricy, one would be able to build their own Hot House.

So, would you be so kind as to tell me how it all works?

Absolutely. It's no secret. Separate sides for men and women, much like a Japanese bath. Everyone gets blindfolded. I think the real "secret" to the whole thing is that it doesn't feel "real". It's completely different from what mating actually feels like.

Some say it's "better".

I like to think it is in a way. The men's room has a "dummy" of sorts. Now I don't want people thinking there's some kind of creepy mannequin in there, it's more or less an ergonomic cushion bent over in that classic "take me" position. They're strapped in with some really forgiving restraints. Uh... I know Absinthe has run a section or two on bondage, yes?

I'd hope that it wouldn't be an entirely unfamiliar subject to our readers.

Alright. Well, it's real silky, warm, namby-pamby bedroom stuff. Most don't recall being strapped in. It's really just to keep the worker safe from a stray kick. So once that's done, the worker uses a diffuser to spray a concentrated and synthetic "heat" pheromone. Took years to perfect that. The scent more than does its job.

How is it the worker is not affected?

All my workers are felines. Every single one.

Didn't know that...

I like to think it adds to that "all pleasure, no pups" sort of atmosphere. So he gets strapped in, and the worker retracts his sheath. No need for any massage unless the customer requests it. Now here comes the really expensive part. A mechanical "sleeve" type machine of my design is lubricated and moved into place. The interior is filled with nothing more than water heated to the exact temperature of a female in estrus. The entrance is a very strong inflatable seal.

The penis is inserted with an emphasis put on grinding the top of the male's knot on the air seal for that "it's-not-going-to-fit" feeling. The worker then uses a switch to loosen the seal and allow for the knot to pass into the interior of the machine. The seal is loosened for only a moment, like a shutter on a camera. Most men ejaculate right away, but if not, the pull on the base of his knot and vibrations of the machine take care of that. Anyway, that's that. A very boring explanation if you ask me.

Not at all. Now the policy that really interests me is how he's allowed to stay "tied" to your device for as long as he wants. Just how does that play out? Don't you have problems with guys staying on too long?

Hardly. Unless they have deadened nerves, half an hour is the maximum amount of time that anyone would want to stay hooked up. You'd get raw, you see. When he's done, he just flips a switch and the machine lets go.

Oh man. I'm sure you might have stories of men overstaying their welcome. Anyway, I'm sure you know Part Two of this piece.

Of course! I'm assuming your friend and fellow columnist is waiting downstairs?

Experiance by Keith

I've never tried a Hot House, but it's all in a days work. There was actually a small tiff in the office as to who would do a first hand until it came out that I was the only one who had never gone before. Moraine arrived with a man in a business suit. I wasn't really sure who he was. Moraine assured me that he was "the" Cliff I had been hearing so much about. I'd have to say that "Cliff" is a bit on the short side for a guy who owns a sex empire. I made my introduction before being hurried along to the nearest Hot House.

I went in alone as to not draw attention and to really get a feel for a typical experience. I was greeted at the counter by a nice feline who checked my appointment and pointed me to the men's section.

Once there, I was greeted by yet another feline. It's a rather odd coincidence. She blindfolded me and guided me to one of the rooms. I was expecting to hear mechanical hums and perhaps some delighted guests, but the entire building was remarkably quiet. There must be extensive sound-proofing and white noise pumped in through overhead speakers. I rather liked that aspect. It really made it feel like it was my show and I was the only person there.

A kindly voice instructed me to take my clothes off. It was obviously sent through a voice changer, so it was a tad creepy, but oddly comforting. I was a little shy (yes I know... a writer for what is essentially a high-brow smut rag can be shy), but I eventually got undressed. A gloved paw guided me to my destination and I was eventually told to "mount up" on a cushioned platform of some kind.

I could smell the faintest hint of a heat scent, but it was only enough for me to tell that it was there. Not enough to really do anything. However it intensified dramatically once I was "on board" for my ride.

Now kids, this is the fun part. That smell made me buy a membership on the way out. I can solemnly swear that I have never before smelled such an intense "come get me" scent. It was unbelievable. Every single hair on my body stood on end. I could tell that it was coming from in front of me and I gleefully stuffed my muzzle inside the hole or cone it was emanating from. I was practically choking I was so aroused.

It wasn't until later that I realized it was during this time that those gloved paws had extracted my pride and joy. I felt the tip being pushed into what (if you'll excuse my blunt language) had to be the tightest pussy in all of existence. However the machine wasn't painfully tight. It was just enough. The fact that it was well lubricated with either Slick Lovin's or Sexy Slide certainly helped.

I was allowed to ease myself in and out for a minute or two. I shouldn't really say "ease". I growled my best lusty growl and vainly tried to fuck the bajeesus out of that thing. No matter how hard I hammered my hips, I just couldn't get all the way in. I would throw myself downward only to have my knot satisfyingly smack against the velvety entrance.

I was actually getting a little tired. I gave one last shove and there was an immensely pleasurable *thud* as I finally got all the way in. I tried to hold back, but I immediately came as the tight and slick interior massaged away. The inside of that thing is magical.

I'm guessing that it went in to "phase 2" all on its own. Whatever I was tied to was allowed to hang as dead weight and milk me dry. The combination of the vibrations from the machine and scent drove me wild. Now kids, I don't think it's possible and this is open to debate, but I'm pretty sure I had an orgasm that lasted for more than half a minute. It wasn't just my crotch that was throbbing away, I'm pretty sure my abs were going at it too.

It was like being on the highest hill of a massive roller-coaster. I held on tight and screamed on the way down, but after about five seconds, I was also blown away by the fact that I was still falling. I suppose that's the best way to describe it. Just imagine the best masturbation experience of your life times about 50.

Once I had finally settled down and started to relax, a small button was pressed into my paw. That creepy voice changer told me that when I hit the button, everything stops and I'll be taken back to my clothes. I stayed as long as I liked, but I eventually got bored and hit the button.

Décor : 5/5 (Can't rate what I can't see, but silence is golden.)

Staff : 4/5 (Do they really have to use the voice changer? Can't it just be a recording?)

Experience : 5/5

Value : 5/5 (At only x`30, it's the most for your money)

Overall : 5/5