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"You will give me vat I vant hyorsey"

The stallion shook his head, slowly, as tears began to flow. He would not submit. He could not submit; he had his duty to consider. But the sensations...ahhhhh

"Poor hyorsey. Your balls...so sore yes?"

The stallion nodded, trying not to let the Russian bear see the torment in his eyes. The cruel ring gripping his cock and scrotum was sending wave after wave of pure pleasure through his body, making every nerve scream out a demand for sex, for fucking, for release. But the hideous device held him back even as it battered every nerve with pure pleasure, and the sensation of desperate need had long since built beyond his capacity to endure. Now it was pure torture. And the bear knew it too; he had his own cock, thick, dripping, unfettered by any unnatural restraint, and he was stroking for all he was worth.

The lewd stroking only needed one paw though, and Boris was not one to leave paw action wasted. His free paw was gently stroking the underside of Agent Stud Colt's sore and needy genitals, just barely tickling his scrotum with clawtips that felt like a hundred sexy demons to the crazed stallion. And still he was not allowed release. The bear was enjoying himself too much. And besides...a bet was a bet.

"Shtyud...shtyud...stop this madness my beautiful hyorsey. You know you can't resist..."

"No! Fuck you Boris! Fuck Russia! Fuck Putin! Fuck you allaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

The bear smiled down at the helpless bound stallion, then teasingly wormed one fingertip between cock and skin, playing in the dank depths of a musky stallion sheath.

"That's the spirit my hyorsey. All the beautiful English spunk...and I will have my English spunk as soon as you give up fighting me..."

"I already told you I know nothing about Operation Kardashian!"

"Hrumpf. I know that Shtyud. And you know I don't care about that any more. I want what I want...and you will give it to me Shtyud...I know you will..."

The bear's grin became feral, as his finger now hovered over the controls on his multi-tool. He pressed on the intensity control, and swiped upwards, raising the poor stallion's erotic stimulation beyond into the kind of levels usually reserved for those erotic dreams you have just before you wake up and really wish you could get back into it and not go to work. His balls rolled in their bag, and swelled to dangerous size laden with stallion cum. He began to drool, from muzzle and from his cock, overflowing with seed.

"Please..."

"Please vat hyorsey? Please..."

"Mercy..."

"Nyet. No mercy hyorsey."

"Please..."

"One last chance Shtyud, before I turn this up to the red zone and your big juicy hyorseyballs explode..."

"Please...let me fuck your ass..."

It broke him to say those words, worse than betraying his country, worse even than betraying the cold yet strangely alluring mother figure of his boss. He prayed she would never see this, ever...

"Vat vas dat hyorsey?"

"Please...*sob*...please, let me fuck your ass..."

The bear's smile showed all his golden teeth now, and he clapped his paws together in glee. "I vin the pool! Benny Goldberg from Mossad is going to be so fucking pissed, he thought he would be the one to make the legendary Shtyud Kholt beg for it."

"What the fuck?"

"Yes, everyone is here Shtyud, all the old gang. MI6, CIA, Mossad, KGB, the Chinese, the Belgians..."

"Oh fuck not the Belgians."

"Tell me about it. And we were all in a bar in the Bendlerstrasse when we decided to have a competition. Everyone put in their secret funds and whoever got you to beg for a fucking first won. And that Mossad fuck thought he had you...nobody should underestimate the Russian people."

"And their capacity for kinky homoerotic torture?" the stallion had a shred of pride left, and he decided to use it. He was on the brink of breaking though, and he knew it. He cursed the capacity of his fellow espionage agents for really kinky hazing.

"Yes, well that too. But also we are stronger...and so, now for my reward. Yes hyorsey, you may have my ass...nice of you to ask..."

"Fuck you Boris Ahhhhhhhh!"

The bear turned the stimulation up to just below the danger zone. Pleasurable pain coursed through the stallion, not unlike the feeling when someone tells you George Bush has been eaten alive by feral critters made homeless by global warming, and then you find out it was George Bush senior instead. His cock strained, pulsing in time with shameful stimulation.

The bear took his time, stripping off his trousers before straddling the helpless stallion. He fondled the thick horsecock lovingly. He had been waiting for this so long...too long. No more waiting; the bear sat down, hard, grunting out a curse as he felt thick flared horsecock plunge into his anus. He did manage a triumphant grin.

"Now that is what I call an invasion..."

Boris rode his captive, while one of the impassive bulls filmed for verification and blackmail purposes. The stallion cried, part in shame, part in pain as his balls felt like they were going to burst any second. At the last possible moment, the bear took pity, and pressed a button on his multi-tool. The cruel ring suddenly glowed green, and the nerves holding back a floodtide of stallion sperm were released to do their worst.

"AGHHHHHH!"

Agent Colt whinnied, he screamed, and then he flagged his tail and unloaded a massive pent up load of sperm right into the Russian. It poured out and kept on going, while the bear rode his captive to a shattering orgasm of his own. Bear seed splattered over Stud Colt's face and into his mane, decorating his agonised muzzle with jizz. The stallion was too relieved to care. His balls hummed with it, suddenly empty for the first time since Q had applied the evil protection device.

The bear leaned down for a kiss, and the stallion was too dazed to stop him. He tasted male muzzle, vodka, fish...it tasted good...

"Hmm you have no idea how long I've wanted that my beautiful hyorsey..."

The stallion nodded, feeling the incredible warmth of bear ass. It felt...good. Hot...tight...

Suddenly there was a grunt, and the bull holding the camera fell with a pair of red flowers blossoming in his chest, as two bullets tore through muscle sinew and organs. The second bull followed before the first hit the ground.

Boris had time to look horrified, and then stare down into the eyes of his beloved adversary with infinite sadness.

"The Deathcock...looks like it has been to anti-discrimination training hyorsey. Should have known better than to override OH&S..."

The next bullet tore through the bear's chest, and he toppled off the stallion, falling to the ground with a well ravished ass still leaking stallion cum. He was leaking more than that though, and his paw was unable to staunch the flow of blood. His eyes began to glaze.

The stallion had to think fast.

"Psst...Boris...the password..."

"Vat?"

"The password...for your multi-tool...at least I can control my cockring if you help me...please..."

"Fucking...I am dyink here and all you can think of...

"Please, Boris, I'm begging you..."

"For our love, Shtyud? Is that it?"

"You owe me Boris...for making me fuck your ass like that."

The bear nodded sadly, partly for how long this death scene was taking. If fucking hurt.

"Khorosho. It is "putinsucksballs", all lower case. Be careful, if you get it wrong twice, it blows up."

"Nice..."

"Oh, and Kholt..."

Whatever the bear was about to say however was lost for all time, as a second shot thudded into his head and he jerked, and lay still. The stallion sat tied to the chair with his cock exposed and twitching, testing his bonds. He tried to calm himself, waiting for the next shot. The three Russian agents lay about, but for once he had no part in their deaths. Except perhaps the bear...

Somewhere deep inside, Boris' pained expression resonated.

"The Deathcock...looks like it has been to anti-discrimination training hyorsey..."

So, he couldn't even fuck guys now? This was some serious fucked up shit right here...

"Psst...English..."

The dazed stallion looked over to the far wall. Next to the abandoned office, he could see a small trapdoor had opened. A figure had emerged, one he could not make out just yet, but the figure was looking at him through a pair of sparkling eyes. As it came closer, he saw the figure was clad all in black robes, and it's eyes were visible only as it's face was concealed by a mask. The figure walked calmly over to the shackled stallion and stood just before him for a moment, looking down at him with frank curiosity. Eventually it spoke.

"Well Colt...I must admit I was a bit surprised by your little performance, but it was...enjoyable..."

He recognised the voice, and it made him wish he could see what was under the ninja outfit. For the voice belonged to his sometime enemy, sometime friend, the always sexy Lin Zhang Li of the Ministry of State Security of the Peoples' Republic of China. And he had never been as happy to see her as he was now, except...

"Lin! What did you do that to the Russians for..?"

"Wasn't me Ponykins. You know my orders...at least as well as I know yours..."

"Then if you didn't do it..."

The stallion noticed a small red dot then, crawling across the concrete and approaching the figure, just as it bent down to examine his shackles.

"Lin! Watch out!"

There was no time though. The figure tensed, but a split second too quickly Stud Colt acted. Bound as he was, his options were limited, but he still had raw strength. Using his hooves, he managed to flick his companion's legs out from under her, and both went sprawling with the stallion still tied to the chair just as another restrained shot went 'phut' and slammed harmlessly into concrete. He knew it could not be long though before they were done for, and he was about to yell an order when suddenly things went very hazy indeed.

His assailant had been on alert, and when the stallion suddenly yelled and moved, she was ready. Though brought to ground, she had rolled and taken shelter behind the prone British agent, flicking her own multi-tool into her paw. With a quick press of a few buttons, she had dialled up a smoke bomb, and as the red dot flicked across the wall seeking her out, the room was bathed in obscuring smoke. While it lasted, she managed to untie the stallion and lead him out through the disused office, though not before he managed to salvage something from the wreck; his hand closed on the Russian's multi-tool, and he stuffed it in his pocket as the ferret led him towards safety.

Stud Colt was too thankful to ask questions for now, though he knew he needed answers. Just what his old nemesis was doing here he didn't know, but he was grateful for now. As they stumbled into the street, he caught sight of her transport, a motorbike; they climbed aboard just as the multi-tool left behind in the factory reached the end of it's smoke discharge, and went into self-destruct mode.

The explosion was satisfying, he had to admit. Though of course, he feigned nonchalance. Real studs don't look at explosions; they don't react either. They also don't get ruffled mane. He gripped the ferret tight just as she kicked the starter and sped off into the Stuttgart evening at a safe and responsible 50 kph.

"Welcome to Stuttgart Stud."

"Thanks Lin. So what the fuck are you doing here, and what the fuck just happened?"

The ferret turned and gave him a searching look.

"Stud...I was hoping you could tell me..."

They put as much distance between them and the carnage as possible, while emergency and police vehicles sped in the opposite direction.

As the two agents weaved through the night, back at the now somewhat destroyed factory another very different pair were taking stock. They had been taken by surprise when the ferret's multi-tool had gone off, and had been knocked off the pile of packing crates they had been concealed on when they shot the Russians through an open window. Now they had to split before they were found, either by the Germans or any surviving Russians.

Still, all in all it had been a satisfactory evening. Not entirely successful, but satisfactory.

The albino tiger rapidly dismantled his sniper rifle, stuffing components into a silver case. His friend, a walrus, had been slightly injured in the explosion, and he was applying an improvised bandage to his head which had taken a knock and was bleeding onto the concrete. The walrus watched his lover with admiration, and not a little arousal. Killing always made him horny.

"That was quite a show Mister Wint."

The albino tiger gave a grunt just as the sniperscope found its appropriate spot in the case and he shut the lid with a click.

"It was indeed Mister Kidd. I think Boris may have found it...unbearable..."

The walrus nodded as he stood up, brushing off his trousers.

"Yes. Like a bear with a sore head, Mister Wint..."

The two smiled a sickly smile as they held hands and walked towards their car, just as the first fire truck arrived at the scene of the carnage.

*****

The Director of MI6 sat at her desk, smiling grimly as her section chiefs yelled at each other over the teleconference line. She remained impassive; it was part of her persona. Only an ice maiden could command these cretins; and if any of them became uppity, she had a secret file of their every vice and failure to use as required. They knew it of course; the recriminations were mostly for show.

"Ladies and Gentlemen...thank you for your input, but my decision is final. There will be no follow-up for now; get your people to lie low, and await further orders. That will be all..."

She took great satisfaction in cutting off the comms line with a petulant smack of her paw, then she turned her office chair to the window and stared out over the Thames. It calmed her on days like this, when the shit had hit the fan.

"Ma'am."

She turned to look at the figure standing at her doorway. It was her executive assistant and right hand woman, Miss Honeybadger. The Director needed her loyalty right now, though she could do without the look of judgement coming from her assistant.

"What is it Honeybadger?"

"Nothing Ma'am...far be it from me..."

"Spit it out Honeybadger." The wolfess let out a sigh, just enough for tension release.

"You got what you wanted Ma'am."

"Yes. A little too well."

It was true. The Director had been tracing a hundred tiny fragments of meaning for years now, all hinting and nudging and winking but remaining strangely mute when she interrogated them. Always the same name though; MURR. The sound haunted her nights, insinuating into her dreams, or at least the ones that didn't involve riding a pretty unicorn over fields and then cuddling it in her bed and...

Anyway, MURR. The meaning was always indistinct, but over time it had begun to harden into something sinister, something evil. So when the latest intel had come in on this Operation Kardashian, she had decided to see if she could bring them into the open. Even Gunther, that old bastard of a goat, had been unconvinced.

He probably knew he was being set up, did Gunther, she mused. Not Colt though. The stupid horse would never have realised he was her bait to flush out MURR. And it appeared to have worked. A little too well...

And now all hell had broken loose. Agent Colt missing, agents from at least six secret services murdered in one night, everyone pointing fingers at everyone else. The Russians had already threatened vengeance, though the Director knew they were pointing in the wrong direction. She knew who had done it; MURR

So now she knew. They were real, and they had taken the bait. It was worth it, she knew, but still there were too many questions to be answered.

Such as what were they up to, and why had they orchestrated such a scheme to get all the secret services at each other's throats. And what the fuck was Operation Kardashian? It must be big to be worth this...

"You knew what you were doing Ma'am."

"Yes Honeybadger. I knew...and I sent him in there to die."

"He was an Agent, Director. They all die."

"I know Honeybadger. Still, this one was special. And I did it anyway."

The secretary knew the signs.

"Ma'am...shall I get the..."

"Yes...I have been very, very bad Miss Honeybadger..."

The Director allowed herself a small smile. Sometimes only a really hard session would assuage the guilt. Until the next time...

Miss Honeybadger placed a call to Selfridges food court. It would be a jumbo order this one, she could tell. And then she dialled the guard station.