FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Four in the morning is not the time for calls, Luke Irons thought as he pulled his hands out from underneath his tented bedsheets. The phone on the second-hand night-stand buzzed angrily, vibrating and singing an annoying, repeated tune. One of Luke's hands scrabbled about for the phone; the other rubbed his scruffy, tired face.

He took a quick look at the phone's screen: it was Eamon Kelly, his boss at a currently two-man gardening company. "Shouldn't he be at the gym and not bothering me?" Luke wondered as he accepted the phone call. His ear pressed against the screen, and grunted a greeting into the phone.

"Sorry to wake ya," Eamon started too loudly, Luke's head jerking away from the phone to get away from the noise. The phone fell down, bouncing slightly on the mattress as Eamon continued, "Are ya interested in a big job? There's a guy on the landline - really rich - says he needs someone to come out today and his usual guys aren't available."

After replacing the phone back next to his head, Luke asked as he flexed his toes, "How much?"

"Twenty an hour, including driving times," Eamon replied.

"Fuck yeah, then," Luke replied. He should have suspected; Eamon wouldn't blow off his morning weight training for anything less than awesome.

"Good lad," Eamon replied, "I'll be around in ten."

Luke slithered out of the sheets, his slender, work-toned, bare frame sliding into a sitting position on the side of his bed. The landlord had put huge, sliding mirrors as doors for a long closet, so as Luke stretched to his feet, he got an eyeful of the smooth, small, shifting bulges of his muscles, the prominent veins running over his arms and legs, and the bouncing tip of his dick.

The reflection vanished as he slid the door open, grabbing the best set of work-clothes he had left for the rich client. Twenty pounds an hour was ridiculous; the guy must have been really desperate. Not even Eamon's richer clients paid them that much. Tossing the tracksuit pants onto the bed, he slipped the checked flannel shirt on, then fished around in the drawers of his night-stand for some comfortable boxers and socks.

Hoisting the boxers up quickly, Luke dashed into the bathroom; his bladder needed relief, and it was going to be difficult to manage with the morning wood, which aggravatingly was sticking around. Grumbling, he pushed the shower curtain aside and slipped his dick out of the front of his boxers, hoping as the yellowish stream started flowing that the landlord wouldn't be coming by today for an inspection.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Luke chanted. His morning piss was taking forever to end, and he still had to finish getting dressed. He squeezed his bladder as much as he could, until finally the stream turned into a trickle, and then into a few drops. Shaking them off his dick, Luke tucked it back into his boxers, then raced for the bedroom.

Jamming his legs into the pants he'd picked out earlier, Luke scanned his bedroom for the essentials: his keys, wallet and phone. The phone was where he left it - on the mattress - in his rush to get ready. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted again, as he could not see either of his keys or wallet.

Back out he went; this time to the living room. A quick pat down of the couch told him neither wallet nor keys were there, nor were they on the coffee table.

"Fuuuck," Luke groaned, slamming his weight against the kitchen door. Grocery bags, some still half-full from when he'd went shopping after work yesterday, sat on the kitchen bench. He quickly rummaged around, hoping he'd dropped them in there after shopping or fumbling with the doors into his flat. His vein-lined hands quickly rummaged through the contents of the bags, continuing to repeat his favourite curse word, until his fingers met with success. Out came the keys and wallet, just in time for Luke to catch lights swinging into one of the parking spaces in front of the flats.

Luke's hands plunged his keys and wallet into his pockets, racing back into the bedroom to get his phone and socks, which he tugged on just moments before the buzzer went off. Bouncing haphazardly between the walls, he slipped his unlaced boots on and opened the front door.

"Mornin'" Eamon greeted, the huge mountain of a man nearly filling the small anteroom.

"Mornin'" Luke replied, stepping through and shutting the door behind him. "Can we stop off for some breakfast on the way?"

"Sure," Eamon nodded, tossing Luke one of the company's baseball caps as he turned to walk back to the van. "I've already eaten, but we can pick up whatever crap you consider food on the way."

"Some of us still have a teenager's metabolism," Luke joked. "And I'm only interested in lifting up 'weights' if they have a pair of breasts attached."

Eamon noted, "Didn't here anyone else in there, so I guess you're not doing much 'weightlifting' at the moment?"

"Ha ha," Luke laughed sarcastically, walking to the other side of the van. At the click of the unlocking vehicle, he tugged open the door and retaliated, "When's the last time you had any, old man?"

"I get some when I want it," Eamon said, slightly mysteriously. "Besides," Eamon added, "I'm competing in a couple of weeks, I don't have time to go chatting up birds."

"Yeah, 'birds'," Luke thought, "that's why you have Grindr on your phone." He hadn't let on he'd discovered that a couple of days ago. It was awkward enough knowing anything about his boss' sex life.

After they were both seat-belted in, and the van's thrumming engine was pushing them along, Eamon explained, "The guy wants a couple of guys to do some finishing work. Most of the heavy stuff's done, just wants the lawns mown and the hedges trimmed. I want to try to get back to do our regulars if we can, so we don't have to reschedule."

Luke noted, "That's a pretty long day."

Eamon replied, "You could have said no."

"For twenty an hour, I'd... yeah, not going to turn that down," Luke said, his tired mind alert enough to catch himself from joking, "For twenty an hour, I'd let him blow me." Eamon, fortunately, got distracted by a bad taxi driver and was too busy cursing and honking his horn to enquire.

There wasn't much traffic on the road, but there was always taxis and delivery vans and trucks about. At least, that's what Luke vaguely recollected from coming home early Saturday mornings.

"Where do you want to get breakfast from?" asked Eamon.

"McDonald's or somewhere I guess," Luke shrugged. "Not much open this early." He could feel Eamon's disapproval oozing over him, but the car remained silent. There really wasn't much open at this time of day, at least that would be quick to go to.

Eamon turned on the radio; random songs popped on, interspersed with ads and lengthier interruptions when callers would come on to share their opinions about whatever the latest big "thing" in the news happened to be. Neither man was particularly interested in talking about politics, or at least not keen on sharing their opinions at the workplace.

Pulling into the drive-thru at the local McDonald's, Luke turned down the radio and leaned over to the window; any other time Eamon had taken him here he'd refused to, as he'd put it, "aid in the destruction of your body". As he ordered a coffee and an Egg McMuffin, Eamon became conscious of how awkwardly close he was to brushing up against Eamon's crotch, and pulled back with a jolt when he'd finished. Eamon eyed him quizzically.

Luke quickly made up an excuse, "Static shock I think." He groaned; he hadn't thought about it before he'd known about Eamon being gay, but now it felt weird leaning over him. At the window he had to do it again, fishing around for close enough to exact change to make the exchange as fast as possible. The second window was the worst: Luke nearly spilt the coffee on Eamon, who would have been fucking furious if that happened.

"Maybe I should just quit or something," Luke wondered, gulping down the coffee as they pulled out of the McDonald's, heading out of town to wherever Mister Moneybags lived. The work was fine, and Eamon was a fair boss - tough as shit sometimes, but not horrible like those of some of his mates - and getting another job at the moment might be tricky. But he was spending a lot of time alone with him, and he was pretty big. If Eamon wanted to try something on with him, he could; Luke was pretty fit from work, but Eamon's life was devoted to it. He turned the radio back up, shovelling the food into his mouth to keep himself from thinking too much about being taken into the middle of nowhere by some guy who could bend him over and have his ass if he wanted.

"What's up with ya?" Eamon asked. "You've been jumpy today."

"Short on sleep, I think," Luke answered, gulping down some more coffee a little too fast for comfort, but the pain didn't last long and was a bit distracting.

Eamon seemed to be satisfied enough with that answer, and Luke was preoccupied with downing his coffee, so the two sat in silence for a while. Luke watched the brick houses and larger blocks of flats grow into slightly larger houses, broken up by supermarkets and some warehouses and larger offices that were too big to be built any closer before emerging onto the motorway.

The summer sun was already up, but the overcast sky kept things grey and slightly foreboding; Luke yawned, bits of food dropping from the top of his mouth onto his tongue. "How'd this guy know to call you?" he asked, trying to take his mind off of being pinned down and fucked by Eamon.

"He knows me through one of me old mates from the gym," Eamon answered, "who was - maybe still is - his personal trainer. Besides, wouldn't be too many gardeners up at this time of day."

"The early bird catches the worm," Luke added.

"Exactly," Eamon replied. "I've been in business for a few years now, too, and everyone knows I'm an early riser."

The conversation drifted off; the two men went back to listening to the random selection of music, sales jingles and call-in debates coming from the van's radio.

Turning off the motorway, Eamon drove the van down a side-road, heading through a couple of old farming villages where cottages and estates occupied most of the landscape. Luke yawned again, and asked, "How far out is this place?"

Eamon estimated, "Probably another twenty minutes or so."

Finishing off the last of his coffee, Luke grunted, "Great." He'd started to perk back up, after the initial shock of being woken up had worn off, leaving him sluggish. Rubbing his teeth over with his tongue, he rested his feet in turn on the dashboard, finally remembering to tighten up the laces of his boots. Luke rested his head against the window, his hand cushioning his skull from the vibrations.

Eamon's loud voice jerked him awake. "Get up, sleepyhead, we're there," he exclaimed. Groaning, Luke opened his eyes as the van accelerated through the finally-opening iron gates. Either side was a chest-high brick wall that headed off in either direction, cleaving a line between the road where mere mortals travelled and the start of a huge estate.

"Definitely loaded," Luke murmured. The old mansion roosted on the top of a hill, looking to be kept up pretty well despite the old style. Red rose bushes lined the inside border of the front lawn, extra padding between the estate and the road beyond. The lawn itself wasn't too unkempt, but was a little uneven. The main thing that needed attention was the topiary. If they were supposed to be human, they were badly in need of a lot of some diligent sculpting; they were more likely to be some kind of weird upright animals from an old family crest or mythical creatures or something like that, but still in need of a good pruning.

Eamon switched off the radio, and gave himself a quick once-over; Luke followed suit, tucking in his shirt, even though he didn't think it would really make all that much difference. People who lived in houses like this had people to wait up at this time of the morning to meet visitors after all, he thought.

Luke, however, turned out to be wrong, when a shirtless, white-haired man in running shoes and shorts waved to the approaching van from the front steps of the darkened mansion. Walking down between a pair of short gargoyle-like statues, the man stretched his muscles. Despite possibly being as old as seventy, age or experience clearly having taken a toll on his skin, he was in pretty good shape. Not a patch on Eamon's huge frame, Luke observed, but he had a six-pack where most men half his age would have a paunch, and thick veins running up his tanned arms. The tan was authentic as well: the guy had spent a lot of time abroad, and it was ingrained into his skin. Luke did want to laugh, reminded of the times he'd seen Eamon "tanned up" for one of his body-building competitions, but he held his tongue: you didn't look like this in a place like this unless you owned the place.

Flagging them down, Eamon turned from following the driveway towards the back of the house, where the garden continued in the opposite direction, and headed over to stop near the front door. On prompting from the man, Eamon rolled down his windows after giving Luke a glance. Luke was equally as surprised that he seemed to want to talk to them.

"Eamon Kelly?" the man asked, the voice very upper-class British, but with a slight American twang.

"Part American, that explains it," Luke thought.

The man continued, "Glad I caught you before I left on my run. Still on Richard's routine." Richard, Luke guessed, was the common link between the two men.

After the two shook hands, the veins on both forearms bulging out, the other man reached his hand out to Luke, who took it cautiously while trying to kick the rubbish-filled McDonald's bag under the seat. "Sorry, don't know you; Robert Domville," he greeted.

"Luke Irons," he stammered. He hadn't been ready to deal with anyone so rich; no, it was the guy's overpowering confidence that really made him feel nervous. "No wonder the guy was rich," Luke thought.

"Thank you, Luke, Eamon, for turning up on short notice," Robert explained. "My usual guy had an accident, and I need a few things done before lunch today. Nothing too major, just a couple of things." Fishing in his pocket, he produced a key. After handing it to Eamon, Robert continued "Here's the key to the gardening shed, you'll find it out the back on the outer wall of the garage. There's a ride-on in there, should make mowing the lawns not too difficult. Only other thing that's not been done is trimming the topiaries, should be a photo album with pictures of how they're supposed to look in there too."

"Doesn't sound too difficult," Eamon noted. "Anything else need doing?"

"I don't think so," Robert said, "but while I run I'll keep an eye out for anything that might need doing. I'll have to trust your judgement on these kind of things, of course. I like it looking nice, but I'm not too fussed about how it gets that way."

Satisfied that the two knew what he wanted them to do, Robert gave the pair a two-fingered salute before jogging off down the driveway at a steady pace.

Eamon looked at Luke with raised eyebrows, clearly surprised at Robert's friendly demeanour. "We'd better get started," he said, driving around the side of the large house.

Luke asked, "How are you going to divide up the work?"

Eamon decided quickly, "Do you think you can manage the topiaries? You'd be lighter on the ladder, and if the mower gets stuck I'd have a better chance of pulling it out.

"I guess so," Luke answered, "It's just pruning shears to get any bits sticking out too much, right?"

"That's all I think he expects," Eamon agreed. "Just be careful and don't cut too much off and you should be fine. He can always ask for more if he's not happy."

Behind the house was a long garage, tucked away from the main building, hidden behind a large row of willows on the border of a small stream passing under the driveway. Eamon parked the van at the far end, away from the garage doors, and the two men climbed out. Luke followed Eamon to what had been described as the gardening shed; it was about the size of a small garage on its own. After unlocking the sliding door, Eamon lifted it up; the room was filled with tools and books about gardening, pots and bags of fertilizer and potting mix, as well as a few specimens that had been moved into a small climate-controlled area. The ride-on mower was parked in front; handing Luke the key, Eamon hopped on, starting it up and rolling it out. It smelled, unsurprisingly, of freshly-cut grass.

"Try looking for me when you're finished," Eamon shouted, his already loud voice being muffled by the lawn mower's engine.

"Okay," Luke shouted back. Once Eamon had moved the mower out of the way, Luke ducked into the shed. Robert had mentioned something about a photo album in there, it seemed a good place to start looking. Pocketing the key, he picked up the most likely book and started going through it after tugging on the cord for the light.

It was definitely a photo album with topiary pictures in it. But there was much more. Each pair of pages had eight slots for photos; the first slot of each pair would be filled with a photograph of a naked man, sometimes standing up, sometimes asleep. A lot were either buffed up like Eamon or at least toned like he was, although there was a few who were really thin or fat. Luke tried not to look too closely at those ones. The next ones would be of some kind of animal, followed by three that looked like the merging of the man and the animal into one body. All of these had the creatures awake and obviously horny, with one picture from the front, side and back for each mixture. The remaining slots would be filled in with photos of one of the topiaries based off of the three shots of the creatures, cocks out and everything.

"Fucking weird," Luke swore to himself.

"I'm pretty sure I mentioned them over the phone," the voice made Luke jump, dropping the book as he turned to face a slightly sweaty Robert, "and I was pretty sure Eamon would have done this job himself."

"Sorry, sir," Luke apologized, bending over to pick up the fallen book.

"Don't worry," Robert said, "just that I noticed Eamon on the mower. I figured he'd be okay with the topiary models but I wasn't sure if you would be."

Luke shrugged, remembering the twenty pounds an hour that was on the line. "Don't see why not," he said, "not my thing, but they're just plants to me."

Robert smiled, "Great." He turned to leave, then paused and asked, "Actually, while I have you, could ask you a couple of quick questions?"

Luke cautiously assented, "Sure, you're better off talking to Eamon, though. He's the boss."

"Actually, my first question's about him," Robert elaborated. "I was wondering if he might be interested in being a model for one of my future topiary creatures."

Luke, not comfortable with the line of questioning, deftly avoided it by responding, "Well, I think he's gay, so if you're in for that type of thing you might want to ask him."

Robert chuckled, explaining, "Oh no, no, I've known that for years. Just that I know he likes posing, I just want to know if he'd do so in the nude."

Luke shook his head, "Sorry, I really don't know about that."

Robert nodded, "Fair enough. I just really didn't want to get on his bad side with such a request. My second question is aimed at you."

"I'm not gay," Luke stated quickly.

Robert smiled, "Have you ever taken an art class, or seen one on TV?"

Luke shook his head, "No, well maybe on TV, but I don't really remember."

"Ah," Robert explained, "Well, basically they get people to come in and pose nude for them. The artists then draw from that. This is kind of the same thing, only you're serving as a base model and not the final product. If either you or Eamon say yes, I will be very appreciative and very discreet."

Luke began, "Sorry, I don't think..."

Robert interjected, "I understand you probably don't get a lot of money. You usually get, what, nine, ten pounds an hour?"

Luke, not wanting to lie in case the guy had checked with Eamon or elsewhere, nodded, "Sounds about right."

"How'd you like to earn thirty thousand pounds today, tax-free?" Robert offered.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Luke thought. Having thirty thousand in his pocket was just unbelievable. "No sex though, right?" he asked to be clear.

Robert chuckled, "I'm just interested in you as a base. You won't be made to do anything sexual that you don't want feel like the time."

"Okay, then, sure," Luke agreed.

Robert eyed Luke over, and exclaimed, "Excellent! It shouldn't take long, but it'd probably work best if you weren't too dirty or sweaty beforehand - lighting and such - so I'll just go see if Eamon's interested, and I'll meet you by the back door."

Luke nodded, mumbling, "Okay, yeah." The old man disappeared out the door after another two-fingered salute, leaving Luke wondering what he'd gotten himself into. He reminded himself, "It's thirty thousand pounds. Thirty. Thousand. Pounds. There's probably models who get paid less to take their kit off."

He wondered what Eamon was going to say. He thought probably yes - that kind of money could mean cutting down on work hours around competition times, or buying some nice equipment for a home gym - and probably didn't mind getting naked in front of other guys. Luke then wondered if they'd be naked at the same time. That would make the trip home awkward. Oh well, at least with that much bank he could quit and move away if it too awkward.

Luke closed the book, leaving it on the bench in the shed, and turned the light off as he left. Waiting for Robert to return, he poked around a bit. He wasn't usually allowed in places like this, and it would be nice to see how the other half lived.

He couldn't see much in the garage - it was locked up tight, obviously - but he paced out a few steps in front of it to work out how many cars could be in there. Three or four, by his reckoning. "Fuck," Luke said aloud to himself.

He slowly made his way across to the back door of the mansion; it was still bigger than the main door to his flat building, but he guessed size was relative. The lawns at the back had looked recently mowed before they'd gotten out of the van; Eamon must have been out the front. Luke took the opportunity to try to peek in through the windows, but he couldn't make anything too well: it was much lighter outside than in, and the windows looked as though they might have been tinted. "Makes sense," he thought. Pacing on the crunchy gravel of the driveway, Luke checked his phone. It was still too early for anyone to be up, but it gave him something to do.

After fiddling around with it for a bit, Luke realised it would be a good chance to get some pictures of himself at an expensive house. He quickly snapped a few pictures, pretending to have a monocle and looking as dignified as he could dressed for gardening work.

He was just about to send some off before he heard the crunch of gravel. Luke pocketed his phone - he wanted it concealed just in case things got too weird and he needed to get help in a hurry - and managed to do so just before Eamon and Robert appeared around the corner.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting, Luke," Robert said, fishing about in his shorts pockets. "Eamon was down at the far end of the lawn." After fishing out his keys, he walked up to the back door, informing them, "Take off your boots, or my maid will have your balls."

Luke whispered to Eamon, "So, he roped you in too, huh?"

Eamon nodded, his face starting to grow a bit red. "He didn't pressure you too much, did he? I'd feel bad if I got you into this and you felt weird."

"It's thirty thousand for a naked picture," Luke said, "even if it does get out somehow, nobody'll hold it against me."

Eamon, relieved, replied, "Okay. Good."

With their boots off, they entered into the now-lit room. There wasn't much to it: even though it was fancy and contained vases, tables, paintings and other things that were probably worth more than what his naked picture would cost Robert, but the room seemed to serve mostly as an access point to the rest of the house. Doors occupied all three inside walls, and a pair of stairs curled upwards to an upper floor.

Robert opened one of the doors to the right, which led down into what was probably at least part of a cellar. "Sorry, the studio's kind of in an out-of-the-way place," he apologized. Luke and Eamon followed him down the dark stairwell into a chilly wine cellar. A dim strip of LEDs embedded in the floor showed a path passing along the right-hand side of rows of wine bottles, with small electronic displays at the end of each row stating the name, country of origin, and year for each bottle in that row. Amusingly, turned Robert's shorts and sneakers a fluorescent blue - Luke guessed there was a UV light in the floor as well - which made him quite easy to follow to the spot where he paused in front of a rack of wine, before they heard a click and it slid backwards and to the side, revealing a secret passageway.

Robert disappeared into the darkness inside; bright lights were then turned on, catching Luke and Eamon unawares as both paused and flinched before their eyes readjusted and they walked into a small sitting room. A leather sofa - large enough to sit three people - was positioned along the left side after a wooden door. Another door - this one metallic, strengthened and equipped with a combination lock - was on the far wall with a red light sitting above it. The right-hand side had a large flat-screen TV and a small mini-bar.

"Welcome to my secret sanctuary, guys," Robert grinned. "I don't bring too many people in here. Feel free to sit in here, watch TV, and help yourself to the mini-bar, I've just got to get the camera ready. Then I think Luke, I'll get your picture first; Eamon's shots will probably take a bit longer. Just wait here until we're done, there's alarms and stuff in the house that you might set off." Opening the wooden door, he walked in, grabbing a robe from a hook behind the door before he closed it.

Whatever Robert was doing in the other room didn't seem to make a sound, and after looking at each other, Luke and Eamon dropped onto the couch. Quickly locating the remote, they switched in on: the room was suddenly filled with the sound of wet slapping and men groaning as gay pornography filled the screen. Luke and Eamon both grabbed for the remote; their hands meeting and retracting awkwardly before Eamon picked it up and turned it off.

The two sat in awkward silence, not looking at each other. Finally, Eamon spoke up, "So Robert told me you knew I was gay?"

Luke quickly replied, "Yeah."

After another heavy, awkward pause, Eamon replied, "How long have you known?"

Luke answered, "A couple of days. I saw Grindr on your phone."

Eamon sighed heavily, then said, "Look, I didn't say anything because I thought it would be awkward. I didn't want you thinking I was going to hit on you or make you do anything."

Luke lied, "Yeah, I know."

"I mean, I understand why you do well with the ladies and all, but you're not my type," Eamon stated.

Luke replied, "Good to know."

During the next period of silence, Luke heard Eamon grunting, then suddenly he burst out into a loud hearty laugh that Luke joined in on. With tears rolling down his cheek, Eamon grunted out in-between laughs, "Boy, when that porn came on, I thought you were going to look at me as thought I'd pop a boner straight away." This struck Luke's funny bone, and he continued to laugh.

Eventually, the laughter died down when Robert popped his head around. "Sorry to interrupt the fun, guys, but Luke, when you're ready."

With a heavy breath to bolster his nerve, Luke stood up and went into the room, closing the door behind him. Huge photography lamps were positioned on either side of a black sheet. A large, silky sheet hung on the other side, looking to conceal a poster-bed behind it. Luke was suddenly struck with the idea of Eamon and Robert fucking on that bed and gave a short shiver: he wasn't worried about Eamon any more, but still really didn't want to picture him having sex.

Robert, dressed in his robe, sat back over behind the camera and smiled at Luke. "Take your time," he said, "then just come stand in front of the sheet when you're ready. I'll get you into a good pose and then take a few shots. I'll pick a good one to keep for developing, then you can go out and relax."

Luke, reminding himself of the money he'd be getting, dropped his cap onto the ground, slowly removing his clothes, eyeing Robert warily. Robert seemed to be more interested fiddling with the camera, which made Luke nervous and he quickly stripped off the rest and walked in front of the camera, covering his privates.

"Hi, Luke," Robert said. "That's great. I'm just going to take a rubbish shot to keep you from getting too nervous like so." Suddenly Luke heard a click.

Robert then proceeded to move him about. Stepping forward or backwards, or nudging from side to side. Then Luke would be asked to turn around, bending over or backwards slightly, then slowly edging him around to get some full-frontal nudity.

"Do you have a girlfriend at the moment?" Robert inquired innocently, snapping the second shot when he had Luke facing the camera with his arms by his sides.

"Not right now, no," Luke admitted. "I kind of like playing the field a bit. There's time for stuff like that later." Now that the worst was over - being photographed by another guy with his cock and balls flopping out - he could finally relax.

Robert had him move into some frozen-action poses, after a few he'd take another shot. Finally, he added with a grin, "Well, why don't we take one for you to give to the future lucky girl? I know young people send their dick picks around nowadays, but if we pose it right and choose the right lighting it'll look bigger."

Luke shrugged, and said, "Okay, sure!" Robert took the time to adjust the camera's tripod around, carefully directing Luke on the best angle to stand.

"It'd be better if you were hard," Robert admitted, "but I'm afraid I don't have any porn you're interested lying around."

After a bit more posing, Robert seemed satisfied and took a shot. "Okay," he announced, "I hope that wasn't too bad."

"No, it was fine," Luke admitted. He actually thought it had gotten fun there at the end, now that his worse fears had been allayed, but didn't want to admit that.

"I'll sort through your photos, and send you the last one when I'm finished with Eamon," Robert informed him, "but I'll get his pictures first. Why don't you go sit down and take a drink from the mini-bar?"

"Sure, thanks," Luke said. Stepping out of the lamplight made him feel cold; the light had been surprisingly warming, even in the already quite warm room. He quickly pulled on his clothes, then stood by the door; through it, he could hear the sounds of the television going, with repeated moans of "Oh yeah" coming from the other room.

Luke blushed and jerked back, before loudly announcing, "Eamon? It's your turn," and slowly opened the door. He heard the TV set quickly getting turned off, and some muffled swearing and movement of fabric. Luke stepped through the door, avoiding eye contact and brushing up against Eamon's huge body, as they swapped rooms.

When the door had shut behind Eamon, Luke slowly breathed out while looking at the mini-bar. He could definitely use a drink, he decided, and opened the small refrigerator. The alcohol on offer was unfamiliar to him - he guessed rich people probably had their own preferred brands of beer and spirits - so Luke looked through, sorting out those he might want to try and picking from them at random. Returning to the couch, he noticed a couple of small empty bottles and one partially-filled one; Eamon, he guessed, had probably had the same idea.

Avoiding the dented cushion beside the empties, Luke sat down on the couch and unscrewed the top of one of the bottles he'd selected. His mouth stretched open in a huge yawn. Luke guessed that all the nervousness and weird situations had burned through the caffeine in his system faster than usual. Settling into the couch cushion, he sampled some of Robert's liquor; "Nice enough, I guess," he evaluated, "Not really something I'd want all the time though."

Sitting, yawning and drinking, Luke slowly felt the effects of the alcohol and his broken sleep pattern overwhelming him. There wasn't much for him to do: there was no way he was going to risk turning on the television, and a quick check of his phone showed that he'd get a lousy signal. With no way of knowing how long Eamon and Robert were going to take in the other room, Luke found himself nodding off.

* * *

Several hours later, Luke came to, head pounding and body numb. Off to the side, he could hear someone angrily pounding on something heavy and metal. Tilting his head, he tried to see who it was, but all he could see was blurry splotches of colour; as he did, he heard something metallic roll against something else. There was a big, pale beige mass on the far side of the room. Luke moaned.

The big mass changed shape and grow, and Luke heard Eamon saying, "Luke! Are ya alright, boy? Don't move too quickly, they've been giving you something to keep you knocked out."

"Eamon?" Luke mumbled, "What's going on?"

"I don't know kid," Eamon growled angrily. "That cunt did something to us! We're locked in."

As his vision cleared up, Luke was able to pick out more details. Nearby there was a bunch of medical stuff: an IV drip that was now leaking onto the floor, a monitor beeping along to his now-elevated heart rate, and a few other things he didn't recognise. He'd been laid on a medical bed, naked aside from a couple of bandages on his arm, and a heavy metal collar around his neck. Eamon had one too, and although he still couldn't see that far yet, it looked like there was a second set of medical gear in the room. The room's walls and any doors it possessed were a grey haze out of his vision. Luke felt like throwing up, but his stomach was empty.

Suddenly, the room filled with light, causing Luke to wince. Not long after, Robert's voice was broadcast into the room. "Eamon, stand away from Luke, please," he ordered, "You almost had a bad accident earlier and I really wouldn't want you to have another one."

Eamon sighed, and backed away, whispering, "I'm so sorry, kid." Eamon went and stood in front of what Luke could now see was a large mirror.

"Luke," Robert asked, "Do you think you can stand up yet?"

Still ill from the effects of whatever he'd been given, Luke shook his head.

"Alright gentlemen," Robert said, not seeming to address Luke and Eamon as he seemed to not be talking into the microphone, "as you can see, tonight's Topiary Auction will be a bit different, as we have an extra item. One of our helpers is feeling a bit off at the moment, so we'll give him a bit of time to recover. We'll start off with the original listing, then move on to the bonus item."

There was a pause, where Luke could hear something being said, but it only came through the microphone as a few spikes of sound.

Robert continued, "Assuming that the winning bidders agree, I don't see why not." He paused again, before stating, "No discounts for getting both. This is an auction, not some bulk order. Unless there are any other questions, I'll open the bidding on the first item at thirty thousand pounds."

Luke listened as the bidding price grew. Eamon went to turn away, only to suddenly seem to seize up, and Luke could hear the crackle of electricity.

"Eamon, could you show it off?" Robert demanded, interrupting the price at eighty thousand pounds. Eamon slowly began to flex and pose, showing off his muscles; he also seemed to fondle his dick, trying to get it aroused, but unsurprisingly he was too stressed out. Luke's heart sank as he could see tears streaming down Eamon's face.

The bidding continued, Luke amazed by the money being offered, sickened by what they were doing to Eamon, and acutely aware that he would probably be forced to go through the same thing. Finally, it ended with Robert announcing, "Sold for two hundred and fifty thousand pounds." This was followed by a murmur of muted voices, followed by the sound of keys clacking on a computer keyboard.

Eamon crumpled to the floor, moaning in pain. Luke stood up, only for Eamon to howl out, "No, Luke, stay back." He was further encouraged to stay where he was by a jolt of electric pain around his neck that left him gagging for air. Once he recovered, he only dared watch helplessly as Eamon thrashed and writhed on the floor.

"The next item in the Topiary Collection," Robert announced, "will be an anthropomorphised version of Panthera tigris."

The first thing that Luke noticed happening was the weird patchy tints appearing on Eamon's body: Eamon was thrashing about too quickly to get any real look, but his boss' fake tan was either darkening or lightening in patches, which quickly started to coalesce together as it became clearer that Eamon was growing a lot of hair over his body. His massive chest was sporting an equally large amount of short, creamy white hair that lightened after a while; the light hair spread over his chin and over his lips. His back, arms and legs stayed intensely orange, only now darker stripes formed in slashes across his body.

"This is a good choice for this particular base model," Robert informed his audience, "because tigers are the largest cat species on Earth."

The next obvious thing was the tail. Mostly black with orange stripes, it curled out from underneath his body, growing longer as Eamon continued to change. Regaining some control or finding some pool of inner strength, Eamon struggled to stand upright. Luke noticed a few other changes that he couldn't see while Eamon was moving, like the alterations to the bones and muscles in his face that were pushing it out into an open feline muzzle, or the long, sharp, ivory fangs that were dripping with saliva. Thick white whiskers had sprouted underneath the nose, pink nostrils facing forwards while ringed with black. His expanding skull had moved his ears up his head. Even his eyes had changed, the while replaced with an intense yellow as Eamon stared at him, begging Luke to do something.

Luke did the only thing he could manage then; warm urine flowing out into a puddle on the floor. "This is impossible," he thought, "this is fucking impossible!"

"Even though he'll be strong and look very dangerous," Robert observed, "we'll want to give him a fun, playful personality as well."

Eamon held his head, roaring and snarling. His fingernails had extended into sharp, curled claws. Confusion and horror filled his eyes as he tried to speak. Luke could see something draining out of those eyes as the huge tiger-man seemed to stop fighting what was happening in his brain.

"Naturally, of course, like all of the pieces in the collection," Robert added, "it will be anatomically correct."

Eamon snarled, flexing and posing his muscles as he showed off for the people on the other side of the mirror. Retracting his claws, he rubbed his furry, paw-padded hands over his still very muscular body in an erotic display. His cock emerged from its fuzzy sheath, a fat, dark pink, barbed cone that he groped eagerly, fondling the large bulging orbs hanging below.

"I think this will make for a very good addition to the collection," Robert concluded, breathing heavily over the microphone. "This is shaping up to be a particularly good evening. Let's take a short recess before we continue, while I settle up with our winner."

Robert's microphone cut off with a loud click. Luke whispered nervously, "Eamon? Eamon? Fuck! Fuck!"

Eamon didn't reply; the tiger-man seemed too busy masturbating and touching his huge, furry, muscular body to pay too much attention.

Luke looked around the room, his stomach in knots. They - whoever Robert's guests were - would be back and then the same thing would happen to him. The speakers were on the roof, far out of reach. The door, unfortunately, was past the horny tiger-man, and Luke had no inclination of going past him. Even if Eamon was still in there, and could control his actions, enough shocks from that collar could get him to do anything.

The wait was agonising; trapped here, too scared to do anything, Luke clawed at himself, pulling off the heart monitor attachments with a yelp as the attaching tape tugged on his chest hairs. Eamon had stopped masturbating, even though he hadn't finished. Luke tried not to think about what that might mean.

After what seemed like forever, Robert's voice appeared over the speakers as they crackled back into life. Luke had never known you could wanted to vomit just from hearing someone's voice, but did now. "Okay, make sure you're comfortable," Robert said. "Luke, could you show off the goods for us."

Luke refused to budge. He felt tears running down his face. With Eamon it had been terrifying, but now he knew what was going to happen. There was no way, he told himself, he'd let that happen.

The first jolt made him wail in pain, but he still refused to budge. The second stopped him from being to make any noise at all, and stopped him from breathing. Luke could almost smell the skin on his neck getting cooked.

"Luke," Robert commanded. Throughout the whole ordeal, he had been charming. Even throughout Eamon's auction and transformation he had sound creepily pleasant. His voice now was still pleasant, but the reptilian menace underneath was apparent to Luke. "Let's not upset the guests."

Luke reluctantly slumped off the bed, his feet landing in the cooling puddle of his own urine. Protecting his modestly, he stood in front of the mirror, his head cast downwards.

"The bidding starts at thirty thousand," Robert announced. Luke barely paid attention; there didn't seem much point to him. He just did what Robert told him to do: turn around, bend over and show his ass to whatever creeps were bidding on him, then flash his junk for them.

He didn't even notice how high the auction had gone. All Luke registered was Robert announcing, "Sold!" before the other room devolved into a discussion on his fate.

When Robert's voice returned, after a much longer gap than they had taken over Eamon, his voice was accompanied by rapid typing. "After a short discussion and an extra fifty thousand, I am pleased to announce a first for the Topiary Collection. But first, we have a more standard classic, and one we already have in our collection: Canis lupus. This one, however, will turn out sleeker than his garden-mate."

Luke's skin became itchy first, and he wondered if maybe whatever it is had gone wrong. Then a dizzying, nauseous feeling enveloped him and he collapsed.

On this end of the transformation, there was no mistaking what was going on. The bones and muscles in his body were being broken and rebuilt, slowly and deliberately, his body fizzing with energy pulsing through him.

The sensation of needles being pushed out over his body made him grip onto the floor and look down his body. Tiny, fine, gray hairs were sprouting quickly, covering his slender torso; he seemed to grow a thicker pelt than Eamon had, his pectorals particularly fluffy.

It was hard to concentrate on just one thing, though; even with that happening, he could feel other changes. His fingernails feeling like they were being yanked out, starting to grow thicker and rounder as he clawed at the ground. His dick stiffening as he felt something - a bone maybe - being grown inside it, the hypersensitive skin tickled by the thickening protective sheath that was growing around it. The horrible yanking that accompanied each sickening spurt as the fluffy tail drooped further down between his sprawled legs and tickling his puckered hole

Robert continued to talk, but it was just noise now; the worst part of the whole experience was the changes in and around his head. Luke suffered from a continually piercing headache as his brain was reshaped to fit into his changing skull. He panted, his lengthy pink tongue lolling out, saliva dripping from his fangs. His new muzzle inched out, shoving his nostrils forward. Strengthened scents invaded his brain as the skin blistered and blackened. The cartilage elongated in his ears as the furry pointed tips pushed out from his head.

New thoughts invaded his brain; Luke tried fighting them off, but he was already weakened, and accepting them brought some moments of relief. The first one came free - a burst of endorphins that dampened a lot of the pain - along with the promise of more if he got up. Struggling onto his feet, he looked down; his legs were changing quite drastically, more than Eamon's had. As his calves shrank, his feet widened; the new structures made him stand on the balls of his feet as they reshaped into giant wolf paws.

Luke looked in the mirror; his reflection was that of a wolf-man. His muscles felt more pronounced and tired after the continual contractions caused by his transformation, but it was only a slight toning, enough to make them visible through the fur.

"I look good," he felt the new thoughts in his head saying, "Sexy. Hot." Luke wanted to disagree, but accepting them came along with the promise of more relief, and he had already burned through the last shot he'd been given.

A red tip appeared out of the white-furred sheath; Luke hadn't really noticed the growth in the area but the cock that popped out was surprisingly massive, as well as red and lined with thin, blue veins. The source of the new thoughts didn't need to tell him to touch it; Luke was curious enough about it.

He whimpered - he hadn't even known he'd lost the ability to speak - and then squeezed it. His claws had darkened, and paw pads had grown on his palms but the new parts of his brain compensated enough for him to slowly jerk off without hurting himself.

Luke panted, his mind filling with lusty thoughts of sex. Suddenly, the pornography Eamon had been watching came to mind. He looked over. "Fuck, what a stud!" he thought.

"No wait," Luke tried to argue with himself, but he felt his asshole twitching, yearning to have that huge tiger-stud slide that thick barbed shaft filling him up.

"I'm straight, aren't I?" he thought. His collar zapped him, and he whimpered as his head pounded. Focusing on anything but getting that cock into him was getting difficult.

He heard someone talking, but the words were just a distraction. Scents were leaking in from the other room: manly, musky scents. His stomach rumbled, wondering what it would be like to have a cock spilling its load into his mouth.

The tiger, who had just been standing there, in a dull frozen state, suddenly snapped back to life. He growled, and Luke felt a thrill as the two approached each other in the middle of the room.

Luke lowered his face, breathing in heavily. He knew the tiger from before; he was having a hard time remembering though. The scent was new, but very enticing. He buried his muzzle, sliding it open. The tip of the tiger's barbed cock slipped up against the tip of his mouth and Luke ran his wet tongue over it.

"Fuck," Luke thought, over and over. The tiger's muscular forepaws gripped his shoulders as he started thrusting his cock into the wolf-man's stretched jaws, leaking and squelching as flesh pressed against flesh.

Sucking on the dick, though, was too difficult with the length of his muzzle, so Luke quickly bent over; dropping on to all fours felt almost natural. The thick hands that clasped around his waist as he lifted his tail were reassuringly strong.

The first thrust stung as the barbs scraped his insides, but Luke's transformed body had been rebuilt for harsher punishments in mind. The prickly cock in his ass, poking him in the prostate made Luke's own throbbing red erection drool in excitement.

Grunting and snarling, the tiger fucked the wolf, Luke content to being used as the creature's sex toy because it felt pretty damn good. The scents of the other males nearby excited him even further; one in particular seemed to be strongly attractive to him.

The tiger, already pretty pent up, didn't take too long to reach orgasm. Luke's intestines filled with hot fluids as Eamon's feline cock fired enhanced quantities of jism into the wolf-man's tightened anus.

The tiger's dick was still pumping when one strong hand left Luke's waist and started pumping his hard shaft. Luke whimpered, feeling a huge bulge suddenly pop out of his shaft; even though it was the first time this had happened, it felt normal.

Luke whole body now felt like it was pulsing with arousal. The tiger's meaty hand squeezed his knot, bending his shaft backwards. He grunted, and wetness trickled from his vacated hole as the tiger finally pulled out of him. A large, hot, fang-filled mouth slid over the end.

The last of Luke's human thoughts were gone; he was now just a sex beast. Howling, he clawed at the ground as his body tightened up, feeling his load building him up driving him into a bestial frenzy.

A huge long squirt of spunk squirted into the tiger's muzzle as he made the last few final tugs on the wolf's cock. The wolf's long tongue lolled out as he panted happily, his own juices mixing with those dripping from his hole.

He hadn't finished cumming when the door was finally opened to the room. A male came in; the tiger stood up and had a lead attached to his collar, the huge muscled beast following his owner as they left the room. Another one came over - one that the wolf instinctively recognised as his own owner - and attached a lead to his collar as well, leading him out as he sniffed the wonderful scents as his cock oozed and slid back into its sheath.