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Eric wasn't sure how much more he could take.

He laid prone on the not-vinyl floor of his hardlight cage, clenching his jaws against the burning, itching, overwhelming sensations which lashed about within his trembling body. Every breath came in a desperate panting, punctuated now and then by a bone-deep groan. Every inch of him was soaked in sweat, adding the bitter spice of his masculine aroma to the sour-sweet smell of feminine arousal wafting from between his legs. His groin felt swampy and humid, soaked through with the slick fluids pouring from the pulsing, throbbing lips of his pussy.

He had gone into heat, far more deep-set and intense than anything he'd ever felt before.

Days, weeks, months had passed since Eric had been brought into his new life of semi-comfortable almost-luxury. Again and again he'd been fucked by Nilon, the linalisk that had become his breeding stud, constant companion, and dearest—only, really, but details—friend; and more, the human couldn't help feeling in the quiet moments after a hard rutting, when he and the beast would lay down together while trading soft rumbles and tender affections with one another. He had settled into a routine—wake up, get bred, breakfast, grooming and a walk to relieve himself, get bred, lunch, get bred, playtime, get bred, another hour or two of exercise, dinner, and then a nice, long breeding session before he and Nilon settled in for a night of peaceful slumber—interrupted only by the biweekly auction of the eggs which developed in his belly. But a while before, after he'd grown used to—even come to enjoy—that new life of his, something had changed.

A fever had taken him over. He found himself dribbling from the nether lips every moment of every day, and the insistent fire in his belly flaring into a raging inferno. He'd had to be separated from Nilon as the pheromones from his female genitals had driven the poor linalisk into a near-constant rut; and the separation had come with its own anxiety, the pair pressing against the hard-light wall which divided their cage into two—as it had on the first day Eric had awoken there—in desperation to feel, smell, and taste the other once more.

At last, during a solo grooming session—Eric sitting on the table listlessly while his hair was brushed and his intimate areas were soothed with a cool, wet cloth—Mr. Rask had explained what was going on. Every two years or so, linalisk females would experience a spike in ovulation, fertility, and sex drive; in other words, they would experience a season of heat far more intense than normal, wherein every single drop of sperm pumped into their wombs would fertilize the eggs their bodies would produce in overdrive. It was completely natural and normal, a quirk of linalisk physiology. And lucky Eric was experiencing it firsthand, the genitalia 'donated' from Rila—the linalisk bitch owned by Mr. Rask's wife—putting him into his first season of 'super-heat'.

The wolf-man had scowled, glancing away and muttering to himself about 'both bitches' making things more difficult than they needed to be; from what Eric could gather, his owner's wife had left out the petty little detail of Rila approaching her season before taking the female for her annual shows. When the surrogate breeding bitch had ducked his head, however, Mr. Rask had ruffled the hair atop his head with a quiet sigh and reassurance that it wasn't his fault. It would take some time, the wolf had told the human, but he would make the proper arrangements to have Eric taken care of.

And so, Eric laid on the floor of his cage, trying not to put his focus on anything but his own heat-wracked body. Anticipation sparked through his limbs and chest with every heartbeat. A few trembles ran up and down his spine as worry—not quite fear—swam lazily through his clouded mind. And what was worse, he couldn't press himself into Nilon's soft, furry underbelly to quell the shivering of his soul. The hardlight wall between them remained immovable, and so he could neither hear nor feel the strong, quiet, gentle rumbling of his linalisk companion soothing away his doubts. For an occasional moment it almost seemed like he was back in the human kennels; separated from the comfort of home or contact, caged and awaiting an unknown fate which loomed large and oppressive over him.

At last, after he'd fallen into a fitful and restless doze, there was movement. Sound. One wall of his cage—not the one between him and his breeding stud—shuddered and faded, and Mr. Rask stepped in.

“Alright, Eric. It should be all set." The wolf-man moved over, and Eric sat up. He reached out, ruffling the human's hair—like one would a dog—and the breeding bitch stayed still for the gesture. There was just the slightest upward curve of his lips; not a smile by any stretch of the imagination, but also nothing like the impatience and frustration of their first encounter. Over the months of his service, Eric had proven himself to be a very effective—even enthusiastic—breeder; and while there was no affection in Mr. Rask's eyes, the human had earned himself at least a smidgeon of approval.

It was the closest Eric could get to being treated like a person, and he'd learned to take it with gratitude.

The breeding bitch pushed himself up, legs trembling underneath him, and let out a soft chuff at the heavy hand settling upon his shoulder.

“Much like the heat you've been dealing with, this session is going to be a little intense. But I know you can be a good girl and handle it."

Heat bloomed in Eric's cheeks and ears at being called a 'good girl', but he managed to keep his lips set into a straight line. Then his head cocked, and he let out an inquisitive rumble. 'Session'?

“Breeding session." Another pat on the shoulder. “The only way to mitigate it is to satisfy it by getting you pregnant with as many eggs as possible."

Eric's eyes flicked over to Nilon, and he let out another huff through his nose.

“Nilon is indeed quite… productive." The wolf-man grunted. “However, as virile a breeding stud as he is, one linalisk alone won't be enough to take care of a female in season."

The human blinked. He blushed. He bit his lip at the sparks which surged through his nethers as he realized exactly what his owner had in mind.

---

The car came to a stop, and Eric grunted softly as the remaining momentum shifted and rocked him. He was in the back, of course, strapped in place on his hands and knees like the animal his owner considered him to be. He glanced out the window to his side as a second car—transporting Nilon—pulled up, and then peered past the vehicle towards the large building looming over the parking lot. Their destination.

The linalisk breeding kennels.

From the outside, it appeared much like any other of the large city buildings the car had passed; made of not-stone brick, tall and imposing and sporting window after window of mirrored not-glass, looking just enough like a human construction to seem utterly wrong to the human pet. However, more than just the ever-present tickle of uncanniness at the back of his mind teased over Eric's every thought. Mr. Rask had told him of the procedure he'd undergo in that building, where many linalisks were taken and held and housed. To be groomed and trained. To be tested and cared for, in ill health and in advanced age. To breed, in the cases of the males, and be bred, in the cases of the females.

While he'd been loaded into the car, Eric had overheard one of his handlers mention to the other that Nilon was apparently a familiar face in those kennels. He was, after all, a well-pedigreed breeding stud, and the sperm in his pendulous ballsack was just as valuable—if not more so—than any eggs fertilized by him. A few more mutters had passed between the bird-men, but they'd lowered their voices even as their eyes had flicked towards the human they were securing in the back of the vehicle. Eric had spent the entire ride wondering and worrying about those murmurs and glances, his anxiety pulsing in his chest much like the insistent tingling in his vulva pulsed within his heat-stricken groin. However, once the car was parked, he wasn't allowed much more time to ruminate.

The back opened up. The handler reached in, both stroking his head and back to calm him and undoing the cords which bound him in his compromising position. The familiar leash was attached to the collar around his neck, and with a gentle tug he was led out to stand and stretch himself and follow behind the bird-man.

He glanced behind him to the other car, where Nilon was supposed to be. All he could see was their other handler watching him be taken into the building, lingering behind as though waiting for something.

Then the sliding doors closed behind him, and he was in a well-lit—stark white and spartan, much like what he'd seen of both his previous owners' and Mr. Rask's homes—lobby. His handler led him over to the wide desk, speaking for a few moments with the antelope receptionist, and then Eric was taken down a long, slightly dimmer hallway.

They passed door after large, solid, firmly-shut door.

They took corner after corner, completely confusing the human's sense of direction.

They walked for minute after minute, until Eric could feel the burn settling into his legs and the tightness of his chest shortening his breath.

At last, he and his handler reached their destination: a large, not-concrete-floored chamber with various equipment upon racks on the walls, a door in the not-concrete wall across the way, and a large, well-padded breeding stand in the middle of the room. For a moment, the human was reminded of the pet shop kennels in which he'd spent that long, liminal time period before being bought by Mr. Rask; though rather than the cloying stench of fear and distress, what hung in the air was only faint traces of rich, heady linalisk musk. Eric blushed—both at the thought of all the breeding that had taken place in that room, and the thought of what awaited him—and shifted from foot to foot, keeping his gaze downcast as he—his handler—was greeted by one of the facility employees.

“Hey, Yanal. How's things?" The large, stocky-built gator-man who stepped forward to shake the bird-man's hand rumbled out a laugh. Out of the corner of his eye, Eric caught a brief smile flicker across his handler's beak.

“Same old same old." Yanal—Eric couldn't recall ever having heard the bird-man's name being used before—grunted. “Nilon's still a good boy, and Mr. Rask's still got that stick up his ass. At least his bitch of a wife isn't around, what with Rila having her shows and all."

“Yeah." The gator-man's gaze flicked over to Eric. “And this is Rila's surrogate?"

“Yes, for the foreseeable future."

“And her name was… Eric, right?"

“Yes, that's right." There was a gentle tug on the leash to get the human's attention. “Say hi to Lorut, Eric. He's going to be supervising your breeding today."

Of course, Eric couldn't truly greet the looming gator-man; even if he could speak around the knot in his throat, the collar which enclosed his neck had stolen his use of words away. However, he made his best attempt at a linalisk-like hiss-bark as that massive, scaly palm settled on the crown of his head and began to brush through his hair.

“Yeah, that's a good girl. Don't you worry, we're gonna take care of your heat, Eric."

The roiling in the human's gut became a clenched fist. Good girl. Female. Bitch. That was what Mr. Rask and his handlers had made him, his masculinity completely denied by his new position as 'Rina's surrogate'. But rather than the indignant snorting and hissing he'd let out the first few times they'd tried to impose that new reality upon him, all Eric could do was let out a quiet rumble as those scratching fingers found a particularly pleasant spot. He wasn't sure if it was just his super-heat sending those sparks up and down his spine into the base of his brain, or whether he'd actually come to enjoy his treatment as Nilon's breeding bitch; and as always when those thoughts reared their head, he did his best to shove them down into the furthest, darkest corner of his mind where they belonged.

Yanal and Lorut didn't seem eager to waste too much more time. As they exchanged tidbits of small talk—how things had been in the kennels, how Yanal's brother and co-worker was holding up, a few comments on current events which flew well over Eric's head—the gator-man and bird-man led Eric over to the breeding stand. The human laid himself over the padded bench, grunting and huffing as he settled his chest and stomach upon it. Then his caretaker—caretakers, at least for that day, apparently—went around securing his wrists and ankles with the leather bands. The position was familiar—he'd lost track of how many times he had gotten on his hands and knees for Nilon—and both the softness and support of the breeding rack was, in some ways, a welcome addition.

“There we go. Comfy, girl?" A scaly hand stroked through his hair. Eric tugged a few times on the straps which bound him in place, shifted upon the cushions he was half-lying on, and let out a soft grunt in answer. “Good." And then the gator-man turned to address the human's usual handler. “Roul and Nilon coming in soon?"

“Yes." Though Eric couldn't see the bird-man's nod—he was facing away from both the alien men and the two doors on either side wall of the chamber—he could hear it in his handler's voice, and practically imagine the gesture; the same one he'd make every time he answered one of Mr. Rask's questions about the breeding pair's upkeep. “We wanted to make sure Eric was settled in before bringing him in. You got the others ready as well?"

“Yup." A grunt. The rustling of papers. A low, considering hum. “Got fourteen males in the kennels right now, and the females we've got are already pregnant, so the bulls are starting to get a little backed up. Honestly, Mr. Rask's doing us as much of a favor as we are him."

Fourteen. And Nilon would make it fifteen. Even as a shudder ran up and down Eric's spine, and a low whimper gathered in his throat, the aching and itching knot in his heat-stricken groin clenched. The lips of his pussy quivered and grew soaked as his hips rocked involuntarily. And once more, the overwhelming scent of female arousal—his arousal—overtook the faint remnants of his masculinity, even to his own dull human nose.

Then, as if the wild fantasies running through the human's reeling mind had summoned them, the door opened once more; and Eric could hear that familiar growling, huffing, hiss-barking voice as Nilon was led into the breeding room by the other bird-man handler. Was he sniffing the air? Flicking his tongue out to taste it? Were those burning golden eyes of his filling with lust as that massive breeding tool between his hind legs got hard? The thoughts alone sent another arc of electricity through the human's nethers, and another gush of liquid heat down his inner thighs heralded another waft of feminine pheromones.

“Guh! Nilon, heel! Heel…!" Eric could hear grunting and groaning from behind—Roul straining to keep hold of the linalisk's leash, no doubt—and a rumbling laugh from the gator-man.

“Damn. Real eager, isn't he?"

Yanal let out another grunt of agreement. “We've needed to keep them separated, so Nilon's probably very pent up as well."

The commentary from behind faded into meaningless nonsense when Eric finally felt the sensations which he'd been craving all throughout the days since his heat had begun. A puff of humid breath on the lips of his pussy, and then a snuffling nose grinding against the sensitive flesh. A tongue—long, thick, and coated in slick saliva—lashing over his puffy labia, digging in until it found the swollen bud of his clit and then travelling upward to swirl around his opening. Sudden weight settling on his back, firm-muscled forelimbs wrapping around his torso, and more lapping—that tongue eager and almost tender in doling out its affections—against his nape and shoulders. Though it had been a long time—too long—Eric's body hadn't forgotten Nilon's touch, and responded accordingly.

Spine arching against the soft fur of the linalisk's chest and underbelly. Neck craning to let that slick oral muscle do as it pleased. Thighs splaying open and hips rocking back, working with the beast to find that perfect breeding position. At the start of his tenure as Nilon's breeding partner, every time he'd been forced—either by the linalisk's bulk or his new genitals' reaction to the beast's thick, masculine musk—down onto his hands and knees had been met with a cold wash of confusion and shame over him. But after spending so long with Nilon—playing, sharing meals, and curling up with the big lug to sleep day after day—Eric had come to enjoy taking that position; to look forward to what it would mean.

The sparks shooting up into his roiling belly when that hot, thick, fleshy cocktip pressed against his nether lips. The gush of linalisk precum against his needy flesh. The anticipation leaving him breathless in the seconds before that first thrust, and then the scream of delight tearing his throat when Nilon's erection slammed into him to the hilt.

Good. So fucking good. Like a key fitting into a lock, the shaft grinding against his inner walls with every shift of the beast settling atop him. Any pain he had felt during his first few times being penetrated had long faded, leaving only the sheer mind-blowing pleasure of being fucked. Bred. Held in his stud's—his companion's—grip, and being rutted hard and fast and deep.

Out and then in, the heavy ballsack that swung below Nilon's throbbing cock and plump sheath battering against his inner thighs. Out and then in, his passage blooming open around the linalisk's shaft, welcoming it into his humid and fertile depths. Out and then in, the beast's fat—and growing fatter by the minute, swelling with every pulse of animalistic arousal—knot grinding against the breeding bitch's vulva; threatening with every slam to pop through and end their fucking with an eruption of virile cum.

And with every thrust, every heaving breath, every rock of their hips and smack of fur and scales on tender flesh, Eric felt the fire within him being stoked. The heat surging and arcing like electricity through him shot like a fist deep into his belly, causing the very core of his being to shudder. It sent sparks racing up and down his spine, from that aching, tingling, pleasure-filled spot between his legs to his lust-drunk brain. He cooed and cried out as he was filled again and again with Nilon's cock, the friction and pressure within him plunging his mind into an abyss of bliss.

Harder. Faster. Sliding out to tease the rim of his clamping opening, and then pushing back into his depths. At last, it happened; Nilon's knot popped through his entrance, plugging him for what was to come.

A scream. A hissing roar. A surge within him; and then another, and another, battering his inner walls and flooding into his opened womb. The rutting pair froze, caught in the throes of their orgasm, and then Eric collapsed into a shivering heap onto the padded bench beneath him while Nilon settled his full weight onto the human's back.

He was nuzzled. He was licked. The linalisk—his companion and closest friend—hiss-purred into his ear and gave the fat bulb which locked them together a few teasing tugs. Normally, that would've been it; they would've curled up together, Eric's hands petting and stroking through Nilon's fur and caressing the scaly scutes running down the linalisk's back. They would have shared a few huffs and snuffles, and enjoyed the muzzy warmth of their afterglow together until the beast's knot deflated and his flagging erection slipped from the human's seeded depths.

But of course, they weren't having one of their normal breeding sessions.

“Alright, good boy, Nilon." One of the bird-men—Roul—stepped forward to take hold of the leash attached to Nilon's collar. He gave it a firm tug. “Down. Let's get out of the way."

Nilon huffed. He growled. He tightened his grip around his breeding bitch; his companion.

“Fucking…" Roul grunted, tightening his grip, and turned to look over to the other bird-man. “A little help?" However, even with Yanal's assistance, it was only with great difficulty that the pair managed to pull the linalisk off of Eric's back. Nilon grunted, lashing his thick tail and hissing with annoyance, but didn't move to snap at the pair; Eric had seen first-hand the training and discipline instilled in the linalisk by his owner and handlers, which allowed the bird-men to care for the massive beast without fear of injury. And indeed, every push and pull and heave was accompanied by a few soothing scritches around his jawline and between his furry ears. So even if he wasn't happy about it—neither he nor Eric, who whimpered and groaned as he felt that comfortable weight being lifted off of his back; and let out a few hisses of his own when Nilon's still-inflated knot was tugged against and finally out of the clinging ring of his opening—the linalisk allowed the pair to separate him from his breeding partner.

Eric took a few deep breaths in and then out. He shifted upon the breeding rack, feeling the burn of exertion settling into the joints of his limbs and the ache of a good fucking into his crotch. He craned his neck to look behind him; to Yanal, Roul, and Nilon as the linalisk's leash and collar were gripped by the two bird-men. And just like his handlers, his eyes widened when he saw Lorut leading another linalisk male into the room.

Bulkier than Nilon, though the male seemed to have a bit more fat and less muscle. His fur a reddish-brown instead of deep black. His spade-shaped head a little more angular, and his glinting eyes more of a greenish color than Nilon's flashing gold. Very different from Eric's usual breeding partner, and yet—as his nostrils flared and his tongue flicked out to taste the air—very similar in at least one aspect: the fat, fleshy, plump-knotted erection which bobbed between his hinds as it hung like a heavy club from his sheath.

“Woah, Lorut, you sure it's a good idea to bring the next one in already?" Yanal's voice made it clear that his and Roul's source of shock was different from the human's; anxiety rather than awe at the sight of the other linalisk.

“Sure I'm sure." The gator-man only grinned, even as his eyes drifted from Nilon to the new linalisk and back again. His own grip remained tight on the lead, even as he allowed the newcomer to pad closer towards the breeding rack. “Linalisks are very social creatures, as a matter of fact."

“Territorial, too." Roul grunted as Nilon pulled against his grip, eyes locked on the newcomer and tongue flicking out to taste the air. “At least, that's how Nilon's been."

“Do you think that will be a problem?" One of the gator-man's brows perked upward. There was a brief spike of tension in the air which even Eric, distracted as he was by every insistent pulse through his groin, could feel. Indeed, over their time together, Nilon had stayed quite close to the human; and kept a keen eye on his breeding partner every time Eric had been pulled away from his side, either for grooming or medical checkups or during the times they'd needed to be separated. When Eric had grown gravid with the linalisk's clutch, and been taken out to lay the eggs which had grown in his belly. When Eric's super-heat had begun, and the smell of fertility wafting from the human's nethers had nearly driven him into a frenzy. Even then, in that room, as the bird-men kept their grip on him and the newcomer—the other male—was brought closer by Lorut.

Closer.

Close enough for the two to snuffle at each other. To exchange a few huffs and hisses and low, rumbling grunts of greeting. To circle around each other—Nilon keeping himself between Eric and the other linalisk—as they introduced themselves to one another in what the human could recognize as a particularly canine manner.

Their muzzles dipped down to push between each other's hind legs, sniffing at swinging balls and pendulous sheaths and throbbing erections; one stiff and dribbling, and the other smeared with both masculine and feminine pheromones as it slowly slid back into its hiding place. Then around to one another's rump, the sounds of their sniffing growing more intense as they familiarized themselves with each other's hind ends; and Eric wasn't sure if the heat roiling in his loins was making him imagine things, but he could swear he caught a few glimpses of the newcomer's tongue flicking out under Nilon's tail.

At last, the pair seemed satisfied with one another. The newcomer huffed and grumbled, and Nilon pulled himself away. Dragging Yanal and Roul along with him by his lead, the linalisk padded around to Eric's front end. After exchanging a few nuzzles and licks with the human, the beast pressed in close—hopped up to set his massive 'hands' on Eric's shoulder blades—and let out a hiss-bark while grinding his furry crotch against his breeding partner's burning face.

“You see? Looks to me like Nilon here's willing to share his territory."

Eric heard the words, but their meaning was lost to him as all the world was washed away by a heady waft of sheer virile, masculine scent. Hot flesh and soft, musky fur was being rubbed against his cheeks and lips; Nilon's heavy balls and shaft, the bestial package with which Eric had fallen in lust. With a moan, and a hiss-whine, and a belly-deep groan of need, the human began to lick.

Up and down that length, tasting the cum and sexual fluids coating it. Kissing those balls and kneading the sheath between his working lips. Tending to his breeding partner, thanking him for another load of seed in his womb; and receiving soft croons and purrs of delight in return as Nilon rocked his hips.

And then weight settling on Eric's back, familiar and yet foreign. Another hissing, grunting, rumbling voice in his ear as a blunted-point nose rubbed and brushed against his nape, sniffling and snuffling. Firm and throbbing heat being pressed against his tender opening, sliding through the tingling lips of his pussy, and plunging into his needy depths.

The newcomer linalisk was fucking him. Hard and fast and deep. Slamming into Eric in a steady rhythm which lacked the almost-affection of Nilon, but more than made up for it with leg-buckling enthusiasm.

In and then out, the twitching erection rubbing his inner walls and sending sparks shooting into him. In and then out, mashing that already-inflating knot against Eric's wet, puffy vulva. In and then out, rutting with the intention of filling the human's womb with every drop of seed in those pendulous orbs that hung like overripe fruits between his hind legs.

All the while, Eric kept his face buried in Nilon's groin, breathing in that rich scent he'd been missing for so long; the heady, nearly-cloying, achingly-arousing smell which had kickstarted his life as a breeding bitch, and had become as much of a comforting constant as anything else about his stud. And when his lips grew slack, and that length slipped into his mouth—pulsing, throbbing, trying to harden once more in the humid cavern of his maw and throat—the human heard that hissing groan of pleasure—little grumbles and huffs he could almost imagine as a bestial form of speech—from above which never failed to spur him on in his ministrations.

He suckled, nursing on his stud's fat, soft, ample shaft. He bucked backward, pushing up against every thrust from the linalisk behind him. He rocked himself back and forth, back and forth. Until at last Nilon's spent shaft disappeared into its furry hiding place once more, and he was left to press soft kisses against the beast's pungent sheath opening. Until the slamming from behind reached a crescendo, and once more a knotted erection was slotted into place to flood his innards with hot, sticky, virile linalisk cum. Until his own genitalia clamped around the intrusion, gushing out slick feminine juices when the spring-coil in his gut snapped once more.

Panting. Rumbling. Snuffling and grunting, deep and satisfied, as his body was smothered under the fuzzy weight of two linalisks; one post-orgasmic, idly licking between the human's shoulder blades while enjoying his afterglow, and the other seemingly working himself back up as he continued to—gently, almost affectionately—hump Eric's face.

There was movement from behind, and voices murmuring things to each other which Eric had to concentrate to understand; Lorut, Yanal, and Roul.

“Should be ready for the next one. You two get Oris off the bitch, I'll have Zeris in here in a jiffy."

“Should we really be letting Nilon stay where he is?"

A laugh, and the sound of a massive scaly mitt patting a slim back. “You really wanna try pulling a bull linalisk away from his mate?"

Pulsing in Eric's belly, the knot within it clenching. Heat blooming in his cheeks and chest. A whimper, answered with that beautiful package he'd been worshipping being pulled away; and replaced with a snuffling snout and sinuous tongue brushing against his cheeks and lips.

“Point taken." A long-suffering sigh, followed by a few quietly-muttered words. “Kept them away from each other long enough as it is, I guess." Eric heard the bird-men moving over to his backside, and then more soothing murmurs as the pair tugged and heaved and pulled the complaining newcomer linalisk—Oris—off of his back. Huffing and hiss-grumbling from the bulky male. A strangled cry leaking from his own throat as the beast's knot popped free from his entrance's vice grip. Nilon lifted his head, giving the other male a few hiss-rumbles; an amicable farewell, perhaps, in the linalisk's wordless and bestial language. Then he watched, since Eric couldn't, as Oris was led out and another male was led in.

The same scenario repeated itself again and again, linalisk after linalisk taking their turn with Eric. Lorut would allow each newcomer to pad over, keeping watch as he familiarized himself with the breeding bitch and introduced himself to the breeding bitch's mate. Nilon and the other male would sniff and snuffle and even lick at each other—at musky crotches, heavy balls, and pheromone-laden hind ends—before the latter would mount Eric while the former resumed his place at the human's front end. The newcomer would hump, and thrust, and slip his cock—thick and thin, long and short; by linalisk standards at least, every bestial male's erection far outclassing the size any human dick could achieve as far as Eric knew—into the human's linalisk pussy. Pounding away. Rutting Eric. Breeding him.

And Eric, for his part, spent the muzzy and limitless expanse of nirvanaesque time kissing and licking and lapping at Nilon's package. Worshipping the full ballsack, the plump and cushy sheath, and—as it slid out to bob in the open air, wafting its pungent and irresistible scent—the linalisk's returned erection. He'd suck on it, bobbing up and down upon the shaft, and Nilon would hop up to fuck his mouth just like the other male was fucking Eric's welcoming passage. He'd swirl his tongue all along its considerable length, and Nilon would turn with a nostril-flaring huff and lift a hind leg to give Eric full access. He'd push down into his companion's—his mate's—aromatic crotch, taking one cum-filled orb and then the other into his mouth to suckle upon them as well, and Nilon would complete his turn and push his rump back against the human's tender ministrations.

Every so often, one of the males rutting Eric would push his snout over the human's shoulder to join him in that dank, rich-smelling expanse under Nilon's hiked-up tail. Taking in a few more sniffs of his fellow breeding stud's scent, and even giving those heavy-hanging balls a few lingering licks. A particularly bold stud or two would even press and rub and grind his nose against the taut, fleshy pucker of Nilon's anus; and when his incursion was only met with a rumble and rock of his fellow bull's hips, the bold newcomer would chance licking—tentative at first, but with growing eagerness that was answered with Nilon's own—that flexing, clamping ring.

Perhaps it was a show of submission, as Nilon would often demand of Eric ever since the first few days of the human's tenure as his bitch. Perhaps it was mere respectful gratitude offered to a fellow bull for sharing his territory. Or perhaps those few bolder newcomers enjoyed smelling and tasting another male there as much as Nilon seemed to enjoy having his ass sniffed and tongued. Eric didn't know, and couldn't gather enough shreds of his pleasure-wracked mind from within the musky fog filling his head to really speculate; even if he could, he didn't know nearly enough about linalisk social hierarchy to say for certain. All the human knew was that the sight sent yet more tingles and sparks and surges of arousal from his aching vulva up into his roiling belly.

And when he chanced the opportunity to give it a try, the rich, heady, bitter-spicy-tangy flavor and scent stoked the flames of his lust as much as Nilon's crooning hiss-rumbles of apparent approval did.

On and on it continued. Again and again Eric was bred. Linalisk after linalisk took their turn to pump their virile loads into the human's womb. Five, six, eleven, twelve. Eric's mind only sunk deeper and deeper into the swirling fog of bliss as he was filled to capacity and beyond; a sticky mixture of precum, cum, and his pussy's juices flowed freely down his inner thighs, and the humid pressure within his belly grew and grew with every good, hard rutting. So lost in pleasure was he that he barely noticed when it was over; when the last linalisk stud was pulled away, knot tugging against the grip of Eric's entrance until it was freed, and the human was left in a moaning, whining, thoroughly-soaked and sated heap on the breeding rack.

“There." A scaly hand—in his stupor, Eric nearly mistook it for Nilon's—patted the human's rump, and then joined its fellow in working to undo the straps keeping him in place. “If that doesn't take, then nothing will." Lorut's voice drifted in and out of comprehensibility; or perhaps Eric, worn to exhaustion, was the one drifting in and out. “His pregnancy will need to be monitored closely this time. He's got a lot of seed in him, and he's gonna be a lot more productive if all goes well."

Yanal and Roul moved forward to join the gator-man in tending to the breeding stud and bitch. Stroking and petting both, offering praise to the pair. Roul took hold of Nilon's leash, and Yanal—despite the linalisk's grumbles of reluctance—lifted Eric up to cradle the—tiny, compared to the alien animal-man—human in his arms with gentle care. “Mr. Rask already sent the payment, so we should be good to go."

“Yup. You take care of Eric there. Though I imagine Nilon will be doing most of the caring while she…"

Anything else the handlers said was lost to Eric. His eyes slipped closed, he let out a few last quiet whimpers, and at last he drifted off into deep and restful sleep.

---

More time passed. Days slithered by one after another in a haze, and the faint aching which lingered in his passage after the breeding session slipped into his core and took root. It gathered into a fullness within him, large and heavy but not at all painful; as a matter of fact, every shift of the growing pressure within him sent bolts of lightning down into the tender flesh of his groin. He was pregnant, and the clutch which grew inside his belly was far larger than any he'd ever managed to produce when being bred by Nilon alone.

And speaking of the linalisk, he stayed right by Eric's side every moment during the human's developing pregnancy. Nuzzling and snuffling against his breeding partner's sides and belly and hips at every opportunity. Pulling Eric—gentle and careful and tender—against his side every night, when the pair was ready to curl up to sleep together. Pressing his own large, strong, furry and scaly body against Eric; at first to ensure his presence was felt, and then to offer his help in moving about. They had spent so long being kept separate that the human was eager to make up for lost time; and so, it seemed, was the linalisk.

Eric, of course, adored the attention from his breeding stud. His closest friend and companion in his new life of semi-comfortable almost-luxury. His 'mate'; ever since the trip to the linalisk kennels, Yanal and Roul had begun to use that word more often when speaking—like one would a dumb animal, still, but caring in their own way—to Eric about Nilon. And though lingering notions from his previous life on Earth still made him balk at the idea, it felt more and more true with every tender hiss-grunt and nuzzle and flick of the beast's tongue on his temples and cheeks and lips.

It felt wrong, and yet so very right. In a way, he'd come to love his breeding partner and companion. And in the linalisk's eyes, Eric could swear he saw the same feelings and emotions burning like a small, warmth-giving flame.

And so, time passed. The clutch within Eric's womb grew and developed, large and healthy. Nilon cared for him, tending to his every need; acting as a pillow to rest on, and support as he tottered around or squatted to relieve himself or sat down to eat or rest. And of course, when the caresses and affections and rich wafts of heady linalisk bull musk grew too much to bear, and Eric found his nethers tingling and twitching and leaking in arousal, Nilon would offer his snout and tongue to relieve the burning itch. Eric grew very familiar with that long, thick, dexterous oral muscle which teased his labia and pleasure bud and the rim of his opening, and was eager to return the favor with his hands and mouth on the linalisk's massive cock; they couldn't exactly have sex in the human's condition, but a slow and affectionate handjob or blowjob more than made up for it.

It wasn't often that he'd work up the courage to rub his nose on the linalisk's musky pucker while he was suckling on the virile beast's heavy ballsack. To edge his way upward. To give the fleshy ring a few slow and appreciative licks. But much like during his breeding session, every time Eric did was met with low, soft, rumbling croons from his partner and mate.

Eventually, the day came; the day when the pressure inside of the human reached its zenith, and his expanded belly could grow no further round and full. The day came for Eric to lay his first ever clutch produced in the throes of being in season.

---

The human grunted. He let out a soft whimper and forced his clenched eyes back open. He looked up, shifting and squirming on the soft cushions upon which he laid, and met Yanal's gaze and then Roul's.

“Alright, Eric. You're alright. Just relax, girl."

“Should be coming out any time now, sir."

Mr. Rask, watching from the sidelines with Nilon sitting at his heel, nodded. He kept a hand on the crown of the hiss-grumbling linalisk's head, stroking and petting between those twitching, flicking ears. Soothing. Almost affectionate.

Eric had expected to be taken into the reception room once more, and put on his hands and knees to lay while being watched by his owner's guests. To be made into a display for them as they waited to bid upon the eggs in his womb. To have Yanal stroke his back while slipping that e-stim diode into his ass to stimulate the clenching, cramping walls of his vaginal passage. Instead, they'd remained in his and Nilon's pen, his handlers laying him down and easing him into a new, more comfortable position. Legs lifted and splayed. Hips cocked upward.

Put on display for the trio of alien men and Nilon alone.

He felt heat flaring in his cheeks and belly as their gazes—even his mate's—locked onto the twitching lips of his vulva. He tried to breathe in deep, in and out, huffing with every exhale; and slowly, so very slowly, he could feel something within him loosening to let the overwhelming pressure in his gut slide into place.

The human looked down at himself; at his large, round, very pregnant belly. Larger than it had ever been before. Far more full of linalisk eggs, every one fertilized by the tide of seed shot into him by stud after big-dicked, virile, bestial breeding stud. In his old life, Eric would have balked at the very idea—to say the very least—as he would have balked at pretty much everything the alien animal-men who'd abducted him had forced the human into doing. But there, lying on his back and starting to push as the first egg of the clutch began to push through his cervix and into his birthing canal, he could feel only sunlight-warm euphoria spreading from his core to his limbs.

It felt good; and not only due to the inevitable release of that heavy pressure which had roiled and grown within him as his gravidity had progressed. Every smidgeon of sensation in his womb and vagina tingled all along his inner passage, from the entrance—and the swollen bud of his clitoris, pulsing and throbbing in near-constant semi-arousal—deep into his core. And far beyond the physical sensations—tingling, aching lashes of sweet fire on every inch of his genitalia—there was the sheer satisfaction. The bliss. The feeling of new life growing strong and healthy within him, the eggs ready to be lain; not to be auctioned off, at least not at that time, which might even allow Eric the opportunity to finally meet at least one of his and Nilon's offspring.

In, and then out. In, and then out. Eric breathed in and then out, feeling the first egg drop. Yanal massaged his belly and thighs while Roul moved to kneel between the human's splayed legs, readying himself to catch Eric's spawn. The breeding bitch began to push.

Down through his cervix. Down through his vaginal canal. The leathery shell rubbing and grinding and pressing against his inner walls, far larger than any of the malehoods which had shot their seed into him. Eric hissed and grunted and groan, letting his head fall back as his mouth fell open. It hurt, of course—such a large object moving about within him was bound to—but over his tenure as Nilon's breeding bitch he had gotten used to it; had learned how to focus on the roiling pleasure in his vulva and passage and womb, letting any ache or stinging fade away beneath the swirling tide.

At last it crowned, sending one last surge of electricity back up into him as it ground on the rim of his opening and against the pert bud of his clit. At last, with a trickle of pungent feminine fluids, it slid out of him. At last it dropped into Roul's hands, and the bird-man wiped the egg off with a warm, wet cloth; and then he set it aside in a large, padded container sitting on the floor next to him before turning back to catch the next one.

And the next one.

And the next one.

Again and again. On and on, as though the steady parade slipping out from within his depths would never end. Eric continued to breathe, continued to huff and groan, continued to squirm and buck his hips as he laid the massive clutch that had been bred into him. So many eggs. So many offspring, sired by so many different linalisk bulls. The thought should have sent a twinge of shame through his gut, but instead he clenched his eyes and whimpered at the throbbing within his groin. The clamping and clenching around the firm obloids gliding through and out of him. The wash of sweet, itching, burning heat through the entirety of his crotch and abdomen.

He could feel it; and with a blush, realized he could smell it in the wafts of pheromone-laden musk drifting up from between his legs. Eric was becoming aroused.

Of course, neither Yanal nor Roul made any comment about it, nor did Mr. Rask. It wasn't the first time the human had gotten horny while laying a clutch; and reassurance from his handlers when it had happened for the first time made it clear that it was a normal occurrence when a female would lay. Especially when they had a large load of eggs in their womb. Especially—so he'd been told over the course of that particular pregnancy—after being bred during their super-heat. And so the bird-man pair continued their work—Yanal rubbing along Eric's swollen belly to help each egg slip into place, and Roul catching the human's linalisk spawn and gathering them up together—while the wolf-man watched with keen eyes.

Of course, there was one other present; one who could smell the human's arousal with every flare of his nostrils and flick of his tongue in the air. And the rich aroma—of fertility and female pheromones, and of a womb bearing its fruit—drew him forward like iron to a magnet.

A grunt from above in Roul's voice. “Nilon, no. Back away, boy…" Eric's clenched eyes slipped open, and he gazed up at the bird-man; and the panting, rumbling linalisk their handler was trying to firmly push away. Nilon pushed back, his spade-shaped head shoving past the bird-man's hands to dart between Eric's splayed thighs; to sniff, and snuffle, and lick at the tender flesh of the human's pussy.

The linalisk let out a rumbling hiss-purr, and he looked up at Eric past the round, full expanse of the breeding bitch's—his breeding partner's—belly. The human's breath hitched; both at another slow, lingering flick of that long, sinuous tongue against his sopping nether lips, and at what he could see smoldering within the beast's golden eyes.

“Dammit." A sigh. “Yanal could you help me with this?" A few more grunts of exertion. “Can't work with the big lug in the way. And I don't want him to knock over the eggs or cause a problem with the ones coming out."

“I don't think that will be necessary." Mr. Rask glanced to the bird-man, and then nodded towards Nilon.

The linalisk was letting out low, quiet rumbles—almost purrs—as he nuzzled Eric's belly and crotch; soft, gentle, and full of intimate affection. After a few more slow, tender licks to the human's pussy, tracing around and over the leathery-shelled egg which was just starting to stretch the rim of Eric's entrance open as it crowned, Nilon padded over to the side. Moved around behind Eric. Settled himself on the ground with a huff, pressing in against and curling around the human's shuddering body.

The massive beast's strong, supple torso and soft-furred underbelly was far more comfortable than any pillow could ever be. When he laid his neck over Eric's shoulder and nestled his head on the human's chest, he let out a soft little huff of contentment. And though the throbbing pillar of the linalisk's erection—long, thick, and wafting its own brand of rich, pheromone-laden musk up towards his panting breeding partner—pressed against Eric's right hip, the human's full attention was taken up by Nilon's 'hand' brushing against his own left one.

Large. Powerful. Its digits long and claw-tipped, like those of the monitor lizard Nilon half-resembled. But they were so very gentle and careful as they pawed at Eric's own fingers. Eric grasped that hand, giving it a squeeze, and let out a contented sigh of his own. And though the human couldn't see it—his eyes had fluttered shut, allowing him to focus only on the warmth surrounding him and the pressure sliding out of him—Yanal almost looked ready to start cooing at the sight. The corners of Roul's beak perked upward at the display Eric and Nilon were making of themselves as the bird-man settled between the former's legs once more, resuming his task of catching each egg that crowned and dropped from Eric's birthing canal. Mr. Rask watched the breeding stud and bitch lying together, practically cuddling each other, and a brief glimmer of warmth slipped into his shrewd, considering eyes.

And that was how the pair stayed as the hours passed, and egg after healthy, robust egg was pushed from the human's womb and gathered up. Multiple clutches worth of offspring. Fifteen eggs, thirty, forty-five. All of them put into Eric during his stay at the linalisk kennel, pumped into him along with gush after thick, sticky gush of virile cum from cock after massive, virile bestial cock. He knew well not all of them would be Nilon's, of course; but as the two of them rested together, the linalisk rubbing his snout against the shrinking rise of his bitch's belly while the human stroked between his stud's perked-up ears, Eric couldn't help but feel a thrill down his spine at the thought of laying such an ample clutch for his companion alone.

At long last, the final egg of the lot dropped into Roul's hands to be cleaned off and set into its container, ready to be cared for and incubated until the time it hatched. Yanal continued to massage the human's thighs and abdomen as the muscles relaxed and Eric collapsed into a panting, softly-whining heap. Mr. Rask nodded in approval, continuing to watch as the pair of bird-man handlers got Eric cleaned up from the laying; rubbing the breeding bitch's crotch and belly down with another warm, wet cloth, ruffling his hair and praising him for being a good girl, and then leaving him resting against Nilon's supportive bulk to rest while they carried off the containers full of eggs. The wolf-man stepped forward, receiving a glance and hiss-rumble and flick of an ear from Nilon, and looked down to Eric with a quiet grunt.

“You did well, Eric. Excellent for your very first super-heat."

The human's eyes lazily flickered open to gaze back up at his owner, and he let out a soft grunt of his own in acknowledgement.

“I have to say, I had my doubts, but you've been performing your role phenomenally." Those keen eyes flicked over to Nilon, and a hum rumbled in the wolf-man's chest. “And you're getting along very well with Nilon, I see."

Another grunt, weak but very satisfied. Eric's fingers continued their gentle ministrations, scratching and rubbing behind the linalisk's ear and down along his jawline. Nilon hiss-purred in delight, lifting his head to allow his companion to scritch his chin, and the beast yawned and flicked his tongue.

“It's good to see that the two of you have gotten so close. Yanal and Roul have been diligent in their care, but your companionship has had a remarkable effect on Nilon's mood and wellbeing." Mr. Rask crouched down, and his own hand moved to stroke between the linalisk's ears. “I'm glad. And not just because you've been such a productive breeding partner for him."

Eric blinked; for a moment, there almost seemed to be more than the wolf-man's usual cold, dispassionate disdain in his owner's voice. The human looked to Mr. Rask, and gave him an inquisitive murmur while cocking his head.

The wolf-man glanced Eric's way, one of his own ears flicking, and then he cleared his throat while standing and gathering himself back up. Brushing himself off. Straightening his clothing back into well-pressed formality. “Rest up, you've most certainly earned it. And enjoy the break. Now that your season is over, it may be a while until your womb is ready to produce again." With that, the wolf-man turned to exit the breeding pair's shared hard-light cage, and then swept out of the room.

The human and linalisk were left alone; not that either of them minded. Indeed, laying such a ridiculously large clutch had taken a lot out of Eric, and he had been left exhausted; both by the endeavor, and by the tribulation of the previous days of his super-heat. And Nilon, despite the pulsing, throbbing, eagerly-dribbling erection which still rose from his sheath to grind on his underbelly and his partner's side, seemed more than content to continue snuffling at his companion's chest and neck. Licking and lapping at the sweaty flesh, offering comfort to the bitch in his post-birthing recovery. Rumbling and crooning; and keeping his 'hand' in the human's gently-squeezing grip.

There they laid, cuddled up together and allowing the slowing rhythm of their mingled breaths to lull them into a doze. They'd have all the time in the world to spend together—playing and exercising, sharing their meals, and tending to the roiling lust each one provoked in the other—later. Once Eric had recovered. Once Nilon's insistent arousal became too much for the linalisk—for either of them—to ignore. Once the pair could share their affections and their lusts with one another in the comfort of their almost-luxurious life together.

But for the time being, there they laid. A linalisk bull and his human. Nilon the strong, virile, tender and gentle and loving breeding stud, and Eric the linalisk's eager, contented, beloved breeding bitch. Partners and companions. Mates.