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Two scrapes now adorned the wall of the tiny room, with Tsaro's claw digging the most

recent shallow divot in the metal of the circular space. Two days now according to the hands of

the analog clock on the wall. He had no idea he would have had to wait this long in

confinement.

His friend Rilt the pine marten was someone very high-up at the Vulcanis Corporation,

the makers of the most advanced nanotech and polymers in the world. Rilt had been dropping

hints to the lion over several weeks that they had made a huge discovery, and they needed

willing test subjects for the process. Tsaro had been told that his "personal tastes in play" would

be perfectly suited to what they had created, and since he trusted Rilt (and desperately needed the

money) he had agreed. Forty-eight hours had gone by now since he'd signed all of the exhaustive

paperwork of waivers and contracts, then been closed in the brightly-lit, sterile room.

His "cell" was circular in shape with concave walls, giving it a doughnut-like shape

like an airliner had been bent into a circle, the nose touching the tail. The continuous, smooth

walls were only broken by the sink, toilet, shower, food dispenser, and a large circular door with

no handle. During daylight hours, the room was lit from the ceiling, walls and even the floor.

Every surface except for the doors and fixtures were apparently made of organic white LED's.

The illumination was pleasantly warm, but nearly blinding in its intensity. Night time was

simulated by all illumination being shut off save for a small section of panel between the

exposed toilet and sink. His bed protruded from the wall sideways, leaving as much space as

possible in the center of the room for the cylindrical elevator shaft which he had arrived in. He'd

been escorted in with hardly a word from the lab coat-wearing eggheads after a long elevator ride

downward, and told to wait for his two-day confinement period. His cell phone had been

confiscated, not that it would work this far underground. All the items he'd brought to keep

himself entertained were also taken from him. Supposedly, they would be returned to him after

they had been disinfected and his confinement had ended.

With a heavy sigh he stood, and reached behind his back to clasp his paws together in a

stretch. His lean frame bending as he did his best to work out the soreness in his body from the

hours of confinement. His gut grumbled, and the feline threw a sidelong glance at the stainless

steel commode, hoping he'd finished his rather unpleasant time sitting there. The bland excuse

for food which the room's dispenser gave him obviously disagreed tremendously with his

bowels, and he'd been drinking plenty of the blue artificially-flavored liquid from the tap in the

room to counter the dehydration he would otherwise be experiencing. Next to nothing seemed to

stay in his system, and it made him feel completely flushed out and undernourished. His hunger,

strangely, was under control, so at least he didn't feel like he was starving.

With nothing better to do, he had gotten rather bored of push-ups, sit-ups, stretching,

jogging in circles around the room, and re-reading the three-ringed binder which he had in the

room with him. The cover merely read "Induction." But at least the bed was comfortable. He

picked up the binder one more time and laid back on the sheet-less mattress, his legs crossed at

the ankles and long tail coming out from under his rump gently swaying. He suspended the tome

above his head, peering down over his muzzle at its ridiculously simplistic and largely useless

directions.

INDUCTION MANUAL V. 1.9

REMAIN IN THE CONFINEMENT AREA UNTIL YOU ARE

RELEASED. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO OPEN THE HATCH

YOURSELF AS THIS MAY RESULT IN INJURY.

The process of preparation is not painful or

permanent by default, but both are available

at user request. Full processing (internal

and external) will require special

biological conditions be met. Be sure to

remain well-hydrated.

He kept skimming the type-written text as he'd done several times before already. The

binder didn't answer any of his questions, of course, but it talked at length about obscure longterm

affects. Things like "triggered mental control refocusing" and "inhalation deprivation

immunity" made him a bit worried, and at several points he pondered pressing the large red

mushroom-shaped button on the elevator shaft labeled "PANIC." And yet, he wasn't panicking,

nor was he overly afraid. He was a little on the angry side, though. Male lions did not like being

caught off-guard, and the fact he'd still not been told what was going to actually happen to him

was unsettling.

Something inside Tsaro's mind simply told him "There's nothing you can do about it,

whatever happens, happens." So as the door of the room began chiming, he simply remained

lying down, his head turned towards the portal and the binder dropped against his chest, open.

The circular door was more like a plug, and with a pneumatic hiss, it pulled away from the room

a few inches, then pivoted up into the ceiling outside his room.

He stared ambivalently towards the blackness behind the entryway for a few moments,

and then footfalls met his ears. He continued relaxing in his prone position, but felt his heart rate

climbing within his chest. The footsteps sounded as though they were made by boots, and there

were definitely two sets of them. The corridor outside his room wasn't lit at all, a start contrast

to his ridiculously bright cell. Therefore, it wasn't until the figures entered his room that he was

able to actually see what they looked like.

The sources of the footsteps were walking in perfect unison, almost as though they

were marching, emerging from the blackness as a coordinated pair. Upon seeing them, Tsaro's

only outward reaction was the lifting of his right eyebrow, and the pursing of his lips.

They looked like they had escaped from the most expensive fetish party he'd ever

seen. Both of them were covered entirely; every square inch of their bodies concealed beneath a

layer of what appeared to be thick latex. Their faces were concealed under sophisticated gas

masks which looked custom-made; their eyes fully blacked-out and glossy, just like their skin.

Twin hoses connected the sides of the figures' muzzles to compact, solid backpacks held to their

torsos with shiny leather and steel straps. Their breathing was audible and smooth, almost

mechanical. The tinny sound of gas regulators bounced off the walls each time one of the

figures' chest rose.

They stood there, staring directly at him as if they were waiting patiently for him to

make the next move. One was a dark brown color, easily ten inches taller and with a huge barrel

chest. The shape of his mask was clearly that of an equine's head. His body demonstrated that

he must be a serious bodybuilder, and the lion noticed that, strangely, despite the fact he was

wearing a full-body latex suit; a black latex thong was still tightly hugging his groin. The

seemingly redundant material still left little to the imagination.

The second figure was shorter and lighter, and sported a deep blue color to his rubbery

covering. His mask was more generic in shape and therefore difficult to pin down what species

he was underneath, although it was definitely some form of canine. He also, sported a healthy

muscle tone. The lion caught something behind "blue's" rump lazily swishing to and fro. The

tail curled upwards like that of an akita or husky. Like his taller companion, he wore an

incredibly tight-fitting teal jock over his loins; despite the suit he wore being clearly full-body.

The pair of glossy figures continued standing motionless in front of Tsaro; the lion

eventually becoming aware of the fact that his jaw was agape from staring, and deliberately

closed it with a snap. He then swung his legs out and stood, and mustered all the courage he had

under the circumstances. Clearing his throat and raising his chin did little to combat the

nervousness in his voice.

"So. I don't suppose either of you are here to tell me where I am and why I'm here.

Are you?"

The reply was silence, permeated only by the hissing movement of air through

regulators.

"I thought not. So, are you going to take me somewhere?"

At last, they moved. Their masked heads turned towards one another, and then back

towards the lion, nodding only once. Still a nervous wreck, Tsaro felt a twinge of relief knowing

that at least now something was going to happen which broke the monotony. In a bizarre way,

he welcomed the apprehension which filled his mind. Without it, he would most certainly be

sporting a raging erection. Despite whatever doubts he was experiencing about this situation, he

had many fond recollections of days spent in fetish clubs, and nights tied up inside of gear

similar to what his escorts were wearing.

But he had to admit, the suits they wore were different somehow. They were obscenely

tight, and had no creases, seams or wrinkles whatsoever. It was as though they weren't suits at

all. Such accoutrements had only been the stuff of his dreams before today, and as the pair of

sculpted male rubbers turned and began leaving the room, the degree to which their outfits fit

became abundantly clear. Their "underwear" was of g-string variety, showing off latex-coated

asses which rivaled that of Greek gods. His eyes remained fixed upon those surfaces as he

followed them into the dark hallway. The movement of their legs didn't seem to phase the

stretchy material, and it filled in their clefts perfectly. The canine's curly tail bounced along

behind him, while the equine seemed to have his tail bobbed, giving it the appearance of a ball

which hung behind him.

His eyes were so focused on the flexing backsides in front of him that he walked past

two other rooms in the hallway without even noticing them. It wasn't until the trio walked past a

third room, and Tsaro heard a noise coming from within. His ear perked to the left, his large

leonine head following its turn as his gait faltered. The sound was akin to a squeaking gasp; it

could have been interchangeably interpreted as a moan of pleasure, or a whimper of fear. He

stopped walking and craned his neck backwards, trying to peer into the room. He noticed three

other "rubbers" in masks all standing around some kind of large table. An enormous brown hand

grabbed his shoulder firmly, and steered him back in the trio's original direction of travel. Just

before the doorway went out of sight, he could have sworn he saw some kind of rodent tail

squirming from the table. As he turned to follow his escorts, his feeling of dread grew. He

wanted to ask them what was happening in there, but he was fairly sure he wouldn't like the

answer. Besides, his captors hadn't exactly been the chatty type.

Tsaro became more observant of his surroundings after that. He favored peering

around every corner, nook and cranny he could rather than staring at the pair of buttocks taunting

him. He desperately searched for some kind of indication of where he was and what this facility

did, but all he could find was very generic lettering describing maintenance access panels in the

walls, and the pervasive presence of the Vulcanis company logo. The stylized 'V' was

everywhere.

His shoulder was roughly shoved, bringing him back to the present moment. "I'm

moving, I'm moving!" He walked in the direction of the push until they stopped in a room with

a stainless steel shower stall of some kind. It was cylindrical in shape, a large uninteresting drain

at the bottom, but with nearly a dozen spray nozzles aiming at the center. The lion was guided

inside, then two massive hands from the rubber-covered horse suddenly gripped either side of his

undergarment, and pulled rapidly, causing a loud ripping sound and exposing the lion's genitals

to the cold air. Tsaro began to protest as the arms retreated with his now-destroyed remaining

garment, but the cylindrical transparent door of the shower twisted shut in an instant, sealing him

inside. Immediately, all of the sprayers came to life and began dousing the angered feline with

steamy water, smelling of harsh chemicals. Tsaro kept his mouth shut to keep the stuff out of his

maw, and resigned himself to simply standing, arms crossed and glaring at the two motionless

figures which stood on the other side of the door, taking his humiliating washing in silent

protest. The nozzles were not stationary, and rotated and gyrated around his body, ensuring

maximum coverage of his pelt in all places, with several solid blasts right against his asscrack

from underneath. Through it all, he just stood with his nose wrinkled, growling between holding

his breath in the face of the barrage of water. The shower eventually became less smelly, as it

switched to pure water for the rinsing.

He hated stereotypes, but the big cat had to admit he hated water even more; and when

the door rotated open, the two rubbers standing outside it were met with a growling, naked,

sopping wet lion which was in an altogether sour mood. "That's just great. What's next on our

menu of fun?"

As if on cue, vents opened inside the cylinder, and the lion was exposed to a hurricane

of hot air blasting through his fur, sending his mane flying into his eyes and flapping his tail

around. With the brief drying cycle finished, the result was exactly the same sour lion, just

poofy.

"Wonderful." He growled, barely audible, but his ear perked as he could swear the

horse just nickered in amusement under the mask. "Oh, so you can speak!" Quickly, the two

shapes gripped him once more by both upper arms and began dragging him out of the shower

and into the hall once more. Tsaro grinned to himself for seeing one of them "break character,"

but his self-gratified smirk was not long-lived. Because he'd just been dragged into one of the

freakiest scenes he'd ever seen.

As the huge circular door sealed them into the room with a hiss, the lion's muzzle hung

agape in both awe and fear at what the space beheld. The room could only be described as a

mixture between medical machine room and laboratory. The main showcase being an enormous

contraption standing in the very center of the room, shaped roughly like an MRI machine which

had been squished and turned on its side. Towards the front of the machine was obviously where

Tsaro was about to be put. It had a shape of a standing figure, and metal locking cuffs which

were adjustable in size and placed at key points for immobilization. The person-shaped space

was slightly indented to fit the curvature of the average body, and where the rump would sit,

there was a large opening for the fitting of tails of any size. There was also no surface present

along the entire length of where the subject's cleft would sit, leaving whoever was tied there

exposed to the inner workings of the machine from beneath.

The back of the device was mostly covered, an artistically but functionally curved

casing concealing almost all of what went on beneath the cover. But off to the side, several clear

cylinders were visible, filled with various colors of substance he could not identify. The liquids

inside churned and moved, but did not appear to be being stirred, and while consistent in color,

he could see shimmering changing the way the light bounced off the containers, as if they

weren't consistent in composition, like an oily slick which constantly moved and reorganized

itself in a lava lamp.

There was an X-Ray-like apparatus hanging from the ceiling above the angled table,

and dozens of hoses everywhere, connecting here and there, dangling loosely from the ceiling,

lying on the floor in a heap... everywhere. Against the brilliant white wall to his left, there were

two rolling trays which were covered by cloth. Tsaro couldn't make out what shapes they

obscured, but they seemed to become gradually taller in order from left to right. He dismissed

the thought of them all appearing rather phallic as just his overly-dirty mind playing tricks on

him.

The rubbery figures holding his arms increased the strength of their combined grip as

the feline prisoner began to squirm and pull, his footpaws pushing against the stark white floor

tiles uselessly as he instinctively tried to back up and get towards the door. The motion was

utterly useless as the male found himself completely outclassed in strength by the horse, which

single-handedly began dragging him towards the angled bondage-ready surface of the machine,

and in a single, swift motion lifted him from his feet and dropped him down onto it. Instantly,

two metallic bands clamped shut around his chest and midsection, clanging shut loudly and

taking him utterly by surprise. The masked wolf now assisted the horse in pushing the lion's

arms and legs down into their respective restraining locations, and the machine automatically

detected the presence and size of each limb, locking down at his thighs, shins, ankles, arms and

wrists.

Tsaro's fangs flashed as he struggled against the unyielding locks, a loud snarling roar

flying from his wide maw. His fear-fueled rage subsided as he realized that the only part of his

body he could even wiggle was his head and his fingers. The poor lion bracing himself against

his terror and doing an honorable job at containing his panic and restoring what was left of his

dignified feline stature. That is, as dignified as one could be locked to a table naked, on your

back with your legs spread. The only outward indications of his fear which remained were the

rapid pace of his breathing, and the barely visible twitch of his lower lip.

For several moments, he lay there, locked to the strange machine and utterly silent.

The room's only sounds being the breathing of the three occupants, a humming sound from the

machine, and an occasional gurgle from the cylinders of thick liquid. Finally, the quiet was

pierced by hydraulics opening the door to the room once again. Unable to see down towards the

door in his bondage, Tsaro wasn't aware of who or what had entered. However, his nostrils were

immediately hit by the sweet, earthy odor of a mustelid's scent. Stronger than a ferret, but not

quite as pungent as an otter, he couldn't place the species until the individual loomed over him.

The pine martin beamed a wide smile of recognition, which was met by a bit of mild relief from

Tsaro.

The weasel was obviously amused by the lion's mix of confusion and puzzlement, and

was the first to speak. "Yes, it's me Tsaro. Rilt, remember?"

"Rilt! Of course I remember but what the hell is going on?" The big cat was stammering as he

grasped for words. "I think I'm uh... having some second thoughts... that panic button's still

nearby, right?"

"Never mind, don't trouble yourself with that now. Pretty soon you'll be unable to

speak anyway. At least for a while." The marten was putting on a set of gloves as he spoke, and

Tsaro began to wonder just how much of a friend Rilt was. "Let's put it this way: you're going

to undergo some changes. And I'm not going to lie to you, they're drastic. But here's a few

things which will help calm you down for them. First and foremost, you're not going to die.

Second, and equally as important, you're not going to feel any pain whatsoever. Third, what's

going to happen to you is not permanent." The martin paused for a handful of seconds before

proceeding with a wider smile. "That is, unless you want them to be. If you decide so, we can

arrange it. And fourth..." The weasel leaned forward towards the lion's face and almost

whispered. "...you're going to absolutely love it, I guarantee it."

While Rilt was speaking, Tsaro became aware of the machine churning to life as the

masked wolf tapped away at a touch screen nearby. Simultaneously, the horse stood near the

table and began to remove the hoses on his mask, and dropped the respirator from his back to the

floor. The mask over his head opened in three directions to accommodate the shape of an

equine's head, and as he pulled it away, Tsaro's eyes became as wide and as white as dinner

plates. The head underneath the jet black mask shone just as brightly as his skin, and of the

exact same deep brown color! The eyes turned towards him, pools of glowing liquid green

shone amidst black spheres where normally the eyes would be white. The irises radiated light

against the contrast of the black, and the pupils were alive and pulsating. Every feature of the

horse's face moved utterly naturally, from his flaring nostrils with his breathing to the curling

edges of his lips as he smiled down at the immobilized lion. It was though the horse was, in fact,

made of rubber!

It was all the more of a mind job to him as the equine chuckled and spoke. "By the

way, yes I can talk. And I can't wait to hear what kind of smartass one-liners you come up with

once this thing's finished with you" He quipped, nodding to the machine.

"You'll have to be patient Nors, he won't be able to speak until at least an hour from

now. The martin pulled a stool over from the wall of the room towards the "table" and cracked

his flexible paw knuckles. "Now, first things first. We're going to need a mask for you my

friend."

"Wait! Look, I don't think I've been clear, so I'm going to say this as plainly as I can,

Rilt. I want you to let me out of this machine right fucking now!" Tsaro was rather proud of

himself for sounding at least partially dignified and dominant despite his growing fear. Though,

he still wasn't above cursing under the circumstances.

"Oh. Oh I see." The martin wheeled the stool over towards Tsaro's head, scooting

along the floor on the casters whimsically, and stopping himself with a stomp of his bare feet.

Was he even wearing pants? The lion couldn't look below the line of the table to see. "And why

on earth would we want to do something like that? Moreover, why would you want us to do

something like that? You're the one who asked for this in the first place."

The feline's brow rose and lips fell at once, with absolute denial gradually being

replaced by utter confusion. "I would never have asked for this! I thought this was some kind of

thing like 'Here, put on this kinky shirt, can you move easily in it?' This is something

completely different!"

The bronze-colored mustelid leaned back towards the horse, gesturing at him. "You

don't want to look like him? That is, not like a horse, but like him. And him too!" he added,

pointing to the canine across the room, who now also had his mask off, and also appeared as if

he were a living blue rubber statue of a wolf. His fur was utterly gone and replaced by a liquid

latex sheen. Every feature of their faces was just as animated as anyone else's, simply replaced

with rubber. It was almost as though they had become moving statues. Living works of art.

Tsaro shook his head in disbelief. His mind said simply and plainly that what he was

looking at was not a living thing, that it was completely impossible, but his eyes told a

completely different story. No amount of robotics could simulate the nuances of the faces he

saw. And yet, there they were, without any kind of mask or second skin, their bodies being

simply made of latex. Or at least, what looked like latex. His thoughts rewound to the strange,

colored liquids in the vats of the machine he was now bound to. What was in them? Could it be

possible? Was such a process feasible? If so, would it be safe?

Rilt rolled his eyes, then took hold of two handles on the X-Ray-like machine, and

pulled it down lower in front of Tsaro's face, the lion entranced in shocked bemusement, staring

at the wolf. The martin noticed his fixed gaze and smiled, turning towards the blue canine.

"Looks like he fancies you Chris. Why not come over here and let him see you closer?" The

wolf did so wordlessly, and stood above the prone cat from the foot of the machine's 'table',

towering over him and wagging his curly rubber tail. The feline stared at him, still trying to

work things over in his mind. Rilt took advantage of the lion's stare and tapped a touch screen.

A laser light swept quickly over Tsaro's entire head, scanning it in an instant. The mustelid's

long fingers then casually tossed the gimbaled machine up and away and studied the workstation.

"Ahhh, magnificent. A perfect scan. Thank you for holding his attention Chris." The

wolf winked, then lifted one of his hands and sucked on a fingertip in the direction of the bound

prisoner, then pulled it free of his muzzle. Teasingly, he began moving it towards the lion's

helpless crotch. Tsaro fruitlessly pulled at the steel bands holding him down, then felt a cold

moist touch against his sheath's opening. His embarrassment radiated from his face as his penis

responded quickly. Disobeying his mental orders to remain calm, the pink lion male-hood rose

from its furry home to meet the sensual touch. As the slippery latex paw pad glided by, Tsaro

felt the distinct wet gooeyness of silicone lubricant, but from where? His teeth gritted shut, he

attempted a snarl of rebellion at the molestation from the wolf, but his protestations were quite

obviously half-hearted, and only elicited some laughs. Frustrated and betrayed by his own

desires, he turned his head to the side, away from his captors, for now content to simply flatten

his ears back against his mane.

"Don't think we don't already know Tsaro. We know everything about you." As the

weasel spoke, an oval-shaped pool of black maybe three feet across rose up from the obscured

parts of the machine alongside the lion's head. The inky liquid began becoming disturbed as it

sat next to him, and the big cat's heart began banging away in his chest once more as he turned

to face the unknown. There was a soft humming noise, and the surface tension broke around a

rounded object which began rising from beneath the pool. The rounded surface became

punctuated by two small lobes, and then a face and muzzle appeared. As he watched, the

understanding hit him: it was a black rubber mask in the shape of a lion's head. The glossy eyes

returned his stare as the surface of the mask hardened, becoming solidified but no less shiny.

Rilt reached for the mask and carefully lifted it from the pool it had risen from, turning

it towards the bound lion and holding its nose up to Tsaro's.

"Beautiful, isn't it? The interior has been shaped to fit the contours of your face exactly." The

mask stared back at him, reflecting his face in the tinted eye covers. The mask was locked in an

imposing expression. At the end of the muzzle, the lips were pursed around a threaded concave

opening, as though the mask were "sucking" on a non-existent cylindrical object, which could be

screwed into it. The darkness of the muzzle's interior obscured anything which might be inside,

but before the lion could look closer, the marten was pulling it away from him and placing it on

his lap. Rilt began working a set of leathery straps through slots at the rear of the mask.

"That mask...can I keep it once we're done?" The lion asked nervously, again

betraying his excitement in the midst of his fear of the unknown.

The marten smiled, not looking up from his work as he answered. "Of course you can,

it's for you! Can't you see the resemblance? This is what'll help your transformation along, and

it will fit your face perfectly. We have to make sure it's nice and comfy on you, because you

will be wearing it very frequently from now on."

The lion's heart rate remained at a high pace. The only thing changing was the reason

for the excited state he was in. Fear was mixing with a strange sense of anticipation. Arousal

swelled within him as he gazed at the jet black rubber mask that had been so quickly

manufactured from the contour of his face. He wasn't sure what Rilt meant by "from now on."

The marten was finishing threading through the straps and stood. He then walked up

to Tsaro's head once more, and held the mask open, moving to push it over his head. The lion's

breathing accelerating exponentially as the black void of the mask opened to reveal something he

hadn't seen before. At the end of the mask's muzzle, protruding into the interior, was the shape

of a lion's penis. Whoever wore the mask would have the cock in their muzzle at all times,

reaching all the way to the back of their throat. "H-hey! Wait a minute!! Don't put that on me!

What the fuck is that?!"

The marten began to get an exasperated look on his face. He nodded to the rubber

equine next to him, who took Tsaro's head into his enormous hands and held it still. The lion's

attempts to squirm away were weak and without motivation; his spirit already giving in to what

was happening as the equine's digits entered his maw and held it open. As the cat bared his

teeth, immobile but growling, Rilt fitted the mask over his face. Tsaro felt the cold slippery

object enter his muzzle, the toy sliding down his maw as all the light from his view evaporated.

The mask finally settled against his face, touching every single contour and fitting as though it

were a second skin. The poor cat continued to struggle even as the straps were closed around the

back of his head, and locked solidly. His ears tried folding back, but even they were now

manacled into position by the form-fitting mask, and the humiliating cock-shaped protrusion

now tickled at the back of his throat unendingly, filling his maw with the taste of latex. The

intruding toy was causing his saliva to pour down his throat, forcing him to swallow to keep

from choking.

The complete blackness was finally lifted, as the two eye covers suddenly cleared

before his vision, allowing him to see out, but with the room tinted slightly yellow. Unable to

speak, or even growl, the imprisoned cat now simply stared through his mask at the others in the

room. They were busily pressing buttons, attaching hoses and moving machinery. An

electronically-altered voice crackled in his ears, coinciding with the movement of Rilt's muzzle.

"Alright, now we're ready to begin. This process will be completely painless Tsaro, but I can't

say it's going to be entirely comfortable. The best thing you can possibly do is to relax yourself

as much as you can."

The words came just as the lion felt a set of slippery paws grasp at his privates. He felt

his erection being slipped into something smooth and cold, as if it was being guided into a

sleeve. His testicles were then gingerly grasped, and something was fitted over them which felt a

bit uncomfortable and stiff, and clicked shut around them, sealing them inside. The mask which

held his face was being attached to something outside his view, and he could now only look

ahead and slightly down. He could only just barely see his own body if he strained his vision,

and there seemed to be some kind of hose rising from his crotch and disappearing out of sight.

He made another swallow of saliva around the dildo lodged between his lips, the lion

still suppressing his panic. He began to feel something mechanical moving beneath him before

his bared ass was met by an object he couldn't identify. It slid through his asscrack repeatedly,

and with each pass he felt as though his rump was wetter, the device leaving some kind of

residue which was becoming more and more slippery. His poor exposed tailstar suddenly began

to tingle, and a strange warming sensation flowed up past his backside and into his body with a

capillary action.

He felt vibrations from everywhere around him as the machine he was fixed to worked

mysteriously, and like someone at the dentist, he was somewhat glad he couldn't see what was

moving outside his point of view. He quickly determined that the mask was somehow sealing

out almost all noise from his ears, which explained the need for the com link which Rilt was

using to speak to him. The marten once again entered his field of vision, and held a ribbed,

transparent hose which had a fitting on the end. He pushed it firmly into the mask's mouth, and

twisted the fitting into the threading; each motion transferring through the mask into Tsaro's

head, shaking it slightly. The lion's teeth digging into the latex toy lodged in his mouth, gritted

against the motion. The marten stepped away again, and the immobilized lion could see the

large hose coming from the end of his muzzle which wiggled every time he tried to struggle.

His struggling was suddenly renewed to full-force panicked squirming as something

cold and metallic touched his moistened tailhole, and without warning or preparation, began

pushing up into his ass with a mechanical smoothness, unrelenting and unstoppable. He tried

wailing into the mask but was utterly noiseless as his anus was violated with a steel object,

stretching his ring wider and wider until the thickest point went past, and the plug sank between

his furry buns with a soft slurping sensation.

As the pain from the stretching was gradually subsiding, (as was his desperate gasping

for air through the mask's breathing system), the marten re-appeared in his view and wearing a

smirk. "We're ready now Tsaro. We're ready to make you perfect. There are three steps to

this. The first step is easy. The second one is not, but only for a few seconds, and then the rest

is a cake walk. By the time we reach the third step, you're going to only barely be conscious, but

you'll be enjoying every second of it. There's no point in asking if you're ready, because we're

starting right now. So just relax."

Tsaro felt something cold against his rump, then his back, his legs, ankles, arms and

shoulders. The sensation was paired with the feeling that he was sinking somehow, confirmed

by the fact Rilt and the ceiling tiles were getting smaller. His body was descending into

something liquid and somewhat chilled, but all his limbs were still utterly unable to move. It

seemed his restraints were pulling him down into a pool below him. As the level rose, the cold

liquid began to cover every inch of his form, sending a gooey tingle straight through his fur and

onto his skin. The liquid was thick and heavy, and he was gradually detecting a tingling, almost

electric sensation beneath his pelt. As the goo touched his bare nipples, the tingling hit

instantaneously, making him squirm; his fur obviously having slowed the effect elsewhere on his

body. As the helpless lion continued sinking, his last view through the eye covers of his mask

was of Rilt with a shit-eating grin on his face, waving to him like the Queen of England, before

he vanished entirely under the black ooze.

Tsaro could now only feel touch and vibration with all of his other senses completely

cut off. His skin continued to tingle and tickle; and while the sensation was not painful, the lack

of knowledge of what was happening was unsettling. Thankfully, he was still being provided air

through the mask, and soon, his struggles began to subside once more. Submerged in the pool of

opaque liquid, he was unable to tell how much time had passed. There was hardly any sound,

and after a while, the tingling began to cease. It was not numbness, however, because he could

feel with great detail every tiny current and eddy of liquid that flowed around his body. As

though his skin's sensitivity had been amplified, or enhanced. The sensation was soothing, and

as he floated there, in nothingness, the lion began to relax and feel a bit light-headed.

He was filling his lungs with deep but slow breaths of the air which came to him from

his mask. Each little wiggle of his extremities caused some of the thick liquid to reach the areas

of his flesh which was normally covered by the metal shackles. Every tiny movement he made

worked the goop into his crevices and corners. The effect was so gradual, that he failed to notice

that the air he was inhaling was starting to smell different. His subconscious wrinkling of his

nose finally brought his attention to it, as he realized he was breathing in something smelling

similar to a shoe-polish. For a second he struggled in panic, but too late. The chemicals were

already reaching his brain and forcing him into a relaxed state. The voice of Rilt once again

clicked in his ear as his body went limp.

"OK Tsaro, you're doing well, but now's the hardest part. It's short, so bear with me.

You're going to panic when it happens, but stay with my voice. Everything is going to be fine,

and soon, what at first feels terrifying is going to feel fantastic. You just need to trust me."

The lion felt a jolt of movement from the hose connected to his mask, followed by a

vibration, immediately before the world went mad. The dildo gag stuffed to the back of his

throat suddenly gurgled to life and began to surge with a thick, syrupy liquid which pumped into

his muzzle so fast that it was filled to the brim in less than a second. His sore muscles sprang

into action and desperately tried to free him from the bonds harder than they ever had before, and

the poor lion was utterly convinced he was about to drown. Rilt's voice became loud and

commanding, but never angry. "Swallow Tsaro! Just swallow! All you have to do is swallow

and it'll end!" The liquid's pressure did not abate, and eventually it had to go somewhere. The

lion clenched his eyes shut and started drinking, but the pressure of the fluid pumping forced it

down his throat at a pace much faster than he could gulp anyway.

Tsaro put all of his trust in the marten's words coming to him, desperately taking

swallow after swallow of the thick material. For the first three gulps, his throat and belly

revolted, and he was sure that he'd vomit it back into the confines of the mask, but it never

occurred. Six gulps later, and the nausea was gone. A few more, and Tsaro began realizing he

wasn't suffocating, his lungs were not about to explode for lack of air, and his throat wasn't sore

in the least. What was happening?

"Now Tsaro, you don't need to swallow anymore, just relax. That's it. Let your entire

body relax. That'll also relax your throat, and the slurry will simply pump itself. There's

nothing to worry about, nothing to think about, just clear your head."

He might not have thought so at the time, but the relaxants which had been given to his

air stream had made the initial ordeal much easier for the lion, and now that it was passed, they

also made his relaxation come more easily. He was letting his muscles go limp, and even closed

his eyes under the mask. He felt his penis pressing against the confines of the sheath placed over

it as the phallic object forced into his muzzle continued gushing with liquid that was pouring

down his throat. He wasn't swallowing anymore; it was as though his gullet was simply stuck

open. He didn't care how it was happening. His mind began returning to the state of Zen which

he had while floating in the mass of fluid earlier.

The tingling sensation he had felt over his skin was now traveling through his torso, and

his heart began feeling warm and heavy. Eventually, he felt a twinge of fullness in his abdomen

and loins. Immediately, Rilt's voice cooed to him, "No holding back, stay relaxed, that's it...

good lion."

Inexplicably, Tsaro didn't take any offense to the patronizing words, and instead, simply

followed their orders. He could feel a flow of warm liquid from his urethra filling the empty

spaces of the sheath around his penis,as the plug between his rumpcheeks began to pulsate

slowly, like it was lazily sucking something away. "The excess slurry has to go somewhere, and

trust me; you don't want your belly to balloon up. You're doing so well Tsaro, you're such a

good, good lion. Now keep relaxing, we're not finished, but we're going to move you."

The big cat's eyes rolled about, lazily opening and peering through the eye covers of his

mask as he felt himself being lifted from the pool of goo. The machine's shackles were still

firmly locked, but they somehow seemed much more comfortable than they were before. He

rose from the vat and was being pivoted forwards, until he was completely upright, hanging with

arms and legs held spread. His body was limp, except for the occasional rolling of his head to

and fro, the hose feeding his mask shaking gently with the pressure of the pumping.

Through his blurry vision, he could see a spider-like assembly appear, and from the ends

of those spider legs a blast of hot water began spraying. The liquid splashed against every part

of his body that wasn't covered by something; the view through the glass of his eye covers

looking like what you'd see under a windshield at a car wash. He could feel the temperature of

the water rising, and the sensitivity with which he felt the jets of water gave him a jolt of

realization. All of his fur was gone.

"Such a good lion." Tsaro guessed that the blur he saw through the washing was Rilt.

The figure was watching closely with his arms behind his back. As the water got hotter, Tsaro

could feel his skin contracting, tightening, hardening. The liquid was hot enough that it should

have been painful, but the only sensations that reached his brain were the tactile pressure of the

spraying, and a soothing warmth. All the while, he felt the thick goo flowing down through him,

filling his belly and torso and lazily draining through the hoses on his loins. "You're almost

there. Just a few more minutes and the transformation will be finished." The sprayers halted,

dribbling the remaining water from the nozzles as the whole assembly rose out of sight. His

vision clearing, Tsaro could see Rilt with his paws on either side of a tall rectangular object. The

weasel turned the full-length mirror towards the lion, and the image which appeared in its glass

made him shake with a start. He was looking at a sheer black feline form, limbs outstretched,

black rubber skin shining brilliantly under the room's harsh lights. His face was covered by the

beautiful mask, which his skin now completely matched in appearance and color; the ribbed hose

coming from his muzzle went around behind him and connected to one of the clear vats, which

was gradually draining. The fluid level in the fifty-gallon tank was almost empty; signifying just

how much had been pumped through his body.

Attached to his crotch was a metal assembly, consisting of a featureless, stainless steel

cylinder which covered his sheath and penis, and a pair of connected steel globes that imprisoned

his ballsac. A slender, smooth hose connected to the side of the assembly, draining away the

fluid that was still being pissed out of his member. A brief shudder under his tail kept him aware

of the third "attachment" between his now shiny asscheeks, and he noticed that a thick ribbed

hose was descending between his legs from the plug and going to the same place on the machine

as the thin smooth one, filling a previously empty vat with all of the black liquid which had

coursed through him.

Within moments, Tsaro felt his face no longer shaking from the pumping, as the vat

filling him finally emptied. Rilt reached up, taking the fitting in his paws and giving it a few

twists, unlocking and removing it from his mask. The cat burped, spilling globs of the black goo

which were quickly cleaned by the rubber wolf nearby with a garden hose-like hand sprayer.

Tsaro continued to drain, his loins still pouring with the stuff for several minutes before he could

no longer feel any liquid movement below. The mustelid was assisted by Nors in removing the

straps of his mask, while Chris typed on a keypad, apparently performing some miscellaneous

final duties with the machine.

"Alright Tsaro. We're taking the mask off now. You're going to drool a bit of the

excess from around the nozzle so don't worry about it. Your new mouth will feel very strange

for several days, but we'll help you with that. Are you ready to see the new you?"

After an exhausted nod, the marten smiled and gestured to the horse, who began to pull

the mask forwards. The lion felt the penis-shaped nozzle slip out of his lips with a wet *slurp*

and saw light in his peripheral vision for the first time in over an hour. When the horse finally

moved the mask away from him, he looked at the mirror.

One of the most shocking mental experiences anyone can have is to look in the mirror

and not see themselves. Tsaro's jaw hung open, black goo oozing from his lips as he stared at

the image of himself. His features were all there, but gone was his fur, and his mane had turned

from hair to a textured solid form. His cheeks shone in the light, nose brilliantly reflective, and

every facet of his visage was now made of pure, black latex rubber, moving with all the

musculature he ever had. His eyelids blinked over a pair of glowing yellow irises, emitting a

warm light that shone in the mirror like a pair of lanterns. He wanted to feel his face, to touch it

and make sure it really was his. But for now, all he could do was turn his head left and right,

presenting different angles of the new him to himself. "Oh...my gods...." His voice was fully

working, but sounded as if it had reverberation, with hollowness to it.

Rilt beamed a cheek-to-cheek smile, standing with a sense of pride and accomplishment

radiating from him, his fists placed on his hips as he leaned slightly on one leg. "I told you. We

were going to perfect you. And now you are precisely what we intended to make you. Perfect.

Although, we still need to check one last item."

The marten's agile little paws began to disassemble the steel surrounding the lion's

privates, giving Tsaro a second surprise. The device was not just a cover, it was a mold. The

substance which he had been urinating out had filled every bit of space in it, and then hardened.

His ballsac was now solid rubber, and easily a full fifty percent larger. The black shining globes

dangled heavily below his crotch, their weight pulling against him. "Those will take some

getting used to." The martin almost giggled under his breath as he spoke, and removed the

second half covering his lionhood. His cock was also bigger, but not by quite as much. In

addition, its shape was altered. He was wider at the tip, with a set of bumps in place of his barbs,

ribbing the area behind his cockhead. The sight of his new penis made him gasp, and elicited a

slight increase in its stiffness, as though it were hollow, and had had something pumped into it.

"Your body no longer has blood per se, it's now a fluid mixture which lubricates and controls. It

also performs erectile functions, as you can see. Because the mutagen coming out of you bonds

and hardens quickly, we have to use molds over the places we want changed so it doesn't mix

with the latex skin bath. The same goes for the excess mutagen from your backside that the

machine collects. Speaking of which, we can take that plug out now Nors."

The horse nickered and took hold of the base of the plug, the lion bracing himself. With

a single, violent yank, the object popped free of Tsaro's tailhole, leaving the opening widened

and spread, leaking a copious amount of black goop before ever so slowly beginning to close up.

After nearly a minute, his anus finally sealed once again and was sprayed down by the wolf, who

was looking more and more excited to see the lion. The tickle of the water against his utterly

bared rubber skin made Tsaro squirm in the shackles. The pain which would have accompanied

such a ruthless stretching and removal from his rump was completely absent, and the lion felt a

bit empty back there now.

The cat's normally masculine marten friend suddenly made a supremely "fabulous"

gesture of glee, his arms going up in the air with a cheer. "Finished! Let's get you down from

there!"

All three got together and took hold of the exhausted rubber lion, supporting him as the

metal shackles opened simultaneously. The trio carried him to a soft bed-like table nearby, and

put his head under a pillow. Tsaro sighed deeply, a dreamy expression on his face as the weasel

peered down at him. His voice was low and soothing. "Now Tsaro, you are no longer a lion.

You are no longer skin, bone, and muscle. We've altered your entire biochemical makeup and

placed each cell of your body in a form a stasis. For all intents and purposes my dear friend..."

A soft paw strokes up from the lion's pubic area all the way to his chin. The soft touch amplified

immensely and making his chest rise up from the table in response. "...you are a toy. There are

many technicalities we will need to go over with you, but we will wait until the drugs have worn

off and you're more coherent."

As Rilt was speaking, Tsaro watched the two rubber creatures, now his brethren,

approached him, nude and shining. "But since you're so relaxed and still somewhat... pickled

by the gas, your two new latex brothers are going to give you a bit of a demonstration of what

your new form can do." The marten stood still, merely smiling down at him as the lion felt his

legs being lifted by a pair of enormous shiny russet hands. The feeling of rubber against rubber

sent waves of pleasure through his mind from just the touch on his new smooth legs. To his

right, the blue rubber wolf stood with a full, knotted erection made of the same rubber as the rest

of him, his own smooth latex paws now slid up and down the prone feline's chest, teasing at his

slippery nipples and soothing him as Tsaro's knees reached his chest.

The lion's head pivoted forwards with a mixed expression of fear, lust, wanting and

uncertainty, viewing the muscular giant below him, and the massive piece of mixed brown and

black rubber horseflesh that stood at attention between his legs. The flaring tip began dripping a

clear, thread-like liquid that pooled on the lion's belly. Rilt touched one of his pawpads to the

pool and worked it in circles around where the feline's navel used to be, then lifted his digit

towards Tsaro's face and held it to his lips. "Taste."

The lion opened his maw gingerly, letting the marten touch the finger to his tongue, and

the horse's pre filled his senses. The liquid was like silicone lubricant, with a thick, heavy taste

that reminded him of hickory. His focus shifted from his muzzle to his rump, however, as his

soft and exposed backside was greeted by the wet tip of Nors' shaft. He raised a paw in weak

protest; a tired voice echoing from his mouth. "Too...big! Can't...take a....horse!"

Nors showed a toothy grin, displaying his dental equipment to be pearly white, but also

shining rubber like the rest of him. "No lion can take a horse and survive. Luckily for you, you

are no longer a lion."

The blue wolf pushed his rubbery muzzle to Tsaro's ear and whispered. "It's only rape

if you don't want it." As if on cue, Nors' incredibly powerful hips heaved a forceful shove in the

direction of the poor rubber lion, and speared open the latex of his backside, quickly burying

inch after inch of the massive shaft up into the feline's bowels.

The sudden immense pressure and stretching electrified Tsaro's brain. The slippery

insertion took many seconds, and throughout it all, the lion wailed in ecstasy. Each and every

facet of the enormous phallus was known to him as his new body fed his mind the full brunt of

sensations that followed the forced entry into his vulnerable body. The horrible pain and ripping

sensations that the feline expected were all nonexistent. All he could feel was the most

incredible sense of overwhelming fullness he'd ever known. His latex anus was spasming

rhythmically around the three-inch girth that was vanishing into him; spreading open his tunnel

as it drove onwards. The member went so deep that the lion almost felt like it touched where his

ribcage was supposed to be as he felt the pair of orange-sized testicles pressed against his

backside.

With Nors hilted, the rubber toy lion finally stopped his yowl, his new latex teeth bared

as he held his breath, the horse leaning over him. "Hold on little kitty." The withdrawal felt

almost as intense as the entry, and as the rubber horse pressed back inwards, Tsaro felt a

smashing sensation within him that instantly sent stars into his vision, his cock jumping and

giving a squirt. Nors repeated, gathering rhythm and speed, using the lion's rump like the toy it

was, driving through the smooth passage with vigorous enjoyment. Thick spurts of the clear prelube

fired from the edges of Tsaro's opening as the rubber horseflesh plowed through it. Loud,

wet, squishing sounds emanated from between the pair as each thrust caused the lion toy's body

to slide several inches along the raised bed.

"This is what you'll be doing." The marten said, matter-of-factly as he stood alongside

the poor over-fucked rubber lion. "You're going to be fucking, almost whenever you're awake.

A perfect toy like you will only feel happy when you're either mounting, or mounted. No more

purpose or desire is within you. All you will ever want is this; over, and over and over again."

The marten's words swam inside the new toy's mind, settling into the crevices of his

psyche and over-riding his own desires and wants. As the enormous equine whinnied, spilling

what felt like an unending gush of thick latex cum up the lion toy's bowel, the lion let out a

passionate roar, spraying Nors' chin with his own new semen, smoky black and translucent,

leaving spidery trails dangling from everything it touched. The two rubber creatures panted, still

connected as they recovered together.

"Alright, my turn Nors, give the poor toy a chance to do more than one thing." The

excited wolf/husky hybrid's bare blue rubber ass shoved towards Tsaro's muzzle. "You want

this, don't you?" The latex lion licked his lips, already feeling a new surge of lust and energy

entering him. He nodded, feeling renewed and invigorated as the horse's ejaculate sunk into his

body, nourishing the symbiotic rubber that made up what he was now.

With a satisfied nicker, Nors slowly pulled backward, dropping his semi-flacced cock

free of the lion's abused ass, letting a thick clear flow of his cum gushing from the stretched

hole, pouring down the lion's cleft and over his rubbery tail, pooling at the floor. The

withdrawal caused a low yowl from the lion toy, exciting the wolf further as he climbed onto the

bed with Tsaro. The blue canine toy bowed low, pressing his rump into the air, and keeping his

tail hiked up against his back, presenting himself to the lion with his chest lowered to the

mattress, an impish grin on his face. The curves, the smooth latex surface, and the scent of

rubber mixed with some kind of noxious musk all worked together to bring the lion to his

haunches, and climb up over the prone canine. His mind didn't ponder anything he was doing,

he simply acted. He mounted the submissive dog toy and wrapped his arms around him. Their

latex skins squeaked as they cavorted, thick cum-lube dripping down over Tsaro's new genitals

from his backside as he touched his throbbing rubberhood to the wolf's bared hole. "Waiting for

something?"

The lion growled lustfully, finally putting on a smile of his own and tensed his abs,

sliding forward into the wolf, making him bark loudly from the entry. Tsaro had never felt sex

like this before... he felt less like he was fucking and more like he was combining with the wolf,

his member sinking all the way into the perfect blue backside and spurting his pre deep within

him. "Is this.... How it always is?" He barely managed to ask through the heavy breathing as he

began thrusting through the infinitely smooth latex walls of the wolf's passage. The frictionless

motion was still filled with more sensation than he'd ever known; the wolf was so tight around

him he felt like he was stretching open a corgi. The new amplified sensitivity of his skin sent

glorious waves of pleasure through every cell of his body. The two latex creatures moaned in

unison as the lion thrusted into the willing canine.

"Ooohh...yeah.. at least it is for me-GLUK!" Chris' answer was cut short by Nors, who

began feeding his already wet cock to the wolf, holding behind those blue pointy ears and

pulling. As the equine turned the wolf into a spit-roast, he chuckled between moans towards

Tsaro.

"One of the many advantages to this body... you don't need air anymore." The equine

ruthlessly force-fed the submitting wolf the enormous cock, making Chris' throat swell as the

shaft descended down his gullet, easily demonstrating how stretchable their bodies were.

Tsaro ground his way through the slickened ass beneath him, his entire mind overtaken

with lust alone, his only purpose to cum, and cause others to do the same. In the corner of his

eye he spotted the weasel, pants-less and with his lab coat open, stroking his fully erect pink

cock with slitted eyes as he watched the trio's slippery encounter. The rubbery creatures were

squeaking, slurping, thrusting and moaning as they fulfilled their mental programming to the

fullest. And within moments, Tsaro felt his mind flickering into bliss as he let out a powerful

lust-filled reverberating leonine roar, spraying deep into the wolf whose belly began to sag as he

received slippery fluids at both ends from the pair over him. The knotted canine's penis

forcefully sprayed translucent blue goo onto the mattress below them as they rode out the

moment together, a slight splash of white weasel cream hitting their shining bodies as Rilt bit his

lower lip and came alongside the bed.

It was several minutes before the collapsed pile of rubber could begin to move again,

and Chris moaned heavily, gurgling as he poured thick synthetic cum from both ends onto the

mattress. Tsaro attempted to rise and stand, and found himself being caught in mid-fall by the

quick movement of Nors and Rilt, his knees having slipped right out from under him. "You have

to be careful when getting up. Every bodily fluid we produce is a form of lubrication, to ensure

we're the best toys we can be. But it also means you can slip and fall really easily." Nors spoke

with care but seriousness, adding with a lighthearted chuckle, "We tend to make a rather

significant mess of ourselves."

Chris looked up at Tsaro with dreamy glowing latex eyes. "You..." He said, pointing

at the lion's smiling rubber face, "are absolutely wonderful!"

Rilt put his paw on the lion toy's shoulder, a tiny bit of white smearing from his pads.

"So, tell us Tsaro." He paused to catch his breath a bit. "Do you like being a toy? Is this

something you could get used to?"

Tsaro turned and looked at each of the smiling faces in the room, turning back towards

the marten. "Please, let me be a toy lion for good. I can't think of anything I'd want more."

Rilt patted the lion toy's slippery black back. "Well, we'll talk more about that soon.

But for now, how about you get some rest, yes?" Tsaro had to admit, he was incredibly drained,

and nodded tiredly. The group helped one another down from the elevated bed, which, once it

was empty, sank into the floor automatically to be cleaned. The three rubber toys walked with

Rilt to the showers where everyone washed themselves as much as possible. Nors handed out

what appeared to be some kind of futuristic sandals to Tsaro and Chris. As the lion placed them

on his hindpaws, he felt that he could grip the floor once again. "These make it possible to walk

safely. You can never quite make your skin un-slippery" Nors said before lifting his mask up

and putting it back on. The lion toy got a closer look this time around, and saw that both the

wolf and horse opened their mouths as they returned their masks to their faces. Each of their

masks had a gag in the shape of their own species' penis inside. Chris' even sported a small knot

at the base. Rilt handed Tsaro his mask. "Rules are rules. You have to wear it when you're not

in use as a toy." The lion blushed through his rubbery skin, and as the marten pushed the

covering closer to him. The lion opened his lips obediently and let the lioncock-shaped dildo

slip into his maw as his form-fitting mask closed around his face once more. He turned and bent

lower so the shorter marten could put a backpack over his shoulders, and felt a cool, sweetsmelling

air fill his nostrils as he took deep breaths from the respirator which was now connected

to his mask.

"This mixture helps rubbertoys in many ways. I'll go over it more once you're fully

instructed on your new body. But for now, why don't you follow your new brothers to your

dormitory?"

The blue wolf quickly sided up to Tsaro, grasping his paw in his own and started

leading him down the corridor with a spring in his step, almost skipping, with the masked lion in

tow. The enormous horse clopped along behind them as the circular door to the showers closed

with a hiss.

Rilt smiled in satisfaction and swished his musky tail. Despite having pawed off, the

situation still had him quite riled up, so he touched a control pad on his wrist, summoning his

favorite toy to join him in his dormitory. He tossed a towel over his shoulder as the door

opened. "Gods I love this job." A happy whistle echoed down the corridor as the already horny

nude weasel strode to his room.