FSE

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Unwilling Participant

by

Gruffy

2016-2017

*

Hello, people!

This is a commission for Guri , who certainly always has some novel ideas to offer for us of the letters, to realize into stories that sometimes intimidate, often titillate, and rarely leave anyone unimpressed, either, I suspect. I am always pleased to hear from my readers, and hence hope you will leave me some feedback once you've read the story.

Remember that all votes, faves and watches will also help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!

Cheers!

*

It was past lockdown and the Rottweiler was lounging in his cell when they came for him.

There were two guards to chaperone him, as was the norm at the max security wing they currently occupied. The dog sat on his bunk and made no move to acknowledge them besides a cursory ear flick. He was too used to surprise searches and being frisked around the prison. They didn't want anyone to get too cozy behind the bars.

"Get your ass up, Bartok. You're being transferred to another wing," the familiar wolverine guard drawled.

The black and tan dog put his paws on his knees and looked up to the two men hovering by his bunk.

"Why?" the Rottweiler asked.

"The warden's orders, and you know there's no messing with 'em, Bartok!" the wolverine's colleague, a burly husky, grunted. "Get up and put your paws behind your back. You know the drill."

The Rottweiler sat down for about as long as he thought was safe before the guards would grab their nightsticks before he finally stood up. He was easily as tall as the wolverine and did not shy from looking him in the eye. He knew the fresh guards coming to work in the prison were terrified of it, when the inmates looked them straight in the eye. They behaved like they'd come face to face with a poisonous snake, and sometimes they weren't too far off either with that mental connection.

The wolverine was too seasoned to shake up so easily. There were whispers in the Block that he was ex-Marine Corps.

"Turn around!" the husky snorted again.

The dog did so, slowly.

"What about my things?" the Rottweiler questioned. "I need my stuff. It's my right."

"Later, Bartok!"

"Oh so you gonna pack it for me?"

"Bartok!" the husky warned.

"Alright..." the dog let his ears droop.

The wolverine took out his cuffs and secured the dog's paws behind his back. The Rottweiler half-expected leg shackles and a muzzle to follow, but instead of that he was only ushered out of the cell the Court had deemed as his final resting place.

"Okay, let's go!"

Their departure from Bartok's cell didn't go unnoticed. Other inmates moved to the bars of their cells and gave him a proper prison send-off.

"ALREADY OUT ON PAROLE!"

"DEAD MAN WALKING!"

"FUCK UP A GUARD FOR US!"

"PUSSYHOUND!"

"MAAAAN!"

They wouldn't be getting points for originality. The crude jeers and calls even went on after they passed a barred partition and then through the door into the secure corridor that connected the max security wing onto the rest of the building. They went past the familiar intersections that led to the corridors that took the inmates to the exercise yard and the cafeteria. Bartok had not been in this particular prison for very long, but he thought he had a reasonably good outline of the floorplan in his mind. He certainly was sure that they passed the entrances into at least two other wings while they were going along the long secure hallway.

The two guards and the dog stopped at the heavily barred door marked "EXIT".

"We're going down now, Bartok," the wolverine grunted while his colleague worked the door with his great ring of keys. "Remember how to do stairs?"

"I guess," the Rottweiler said. "Are we going out somewhere?

"Don't ask questions that won't be answered!" the wolverine growled.

The stairway was starkly lit, though it was already past the lockup. The white concrete walls and steps made it look even more so. The Rottie's slipper-like shoes generated an annoyingly loud slapping noise on the solid steps. The dog was pleased about the way the guards' ears flicked back and forth in distaste. What puzzled him was the fact they passed the first floor, and at the ground floor still passed the door marked "MOTOR POOL" .

"Aawww, now going on a ride?"

"No," the wolverine grunted.

They continued to the next flight of stairs.

"We going underground?"

"No talking!" the wolverine grunted. "We don' need any chatter here, fucktard!"

"I could call my attorney, y'know, boss," the dog pushed it because he knew he could get away with it.

"Not at this time you won't, Bartok," the husky said. "Maybe in the morning."

The stenciled number plate on the wall read '0' and the door was more heavily reinforced than the others. The wolverine needed to use three keys to open the various locks.

"Where are we going?"

"Don't speak!" the husky grunted.

The new length of corridor smelled damp. Thick pipes ran along the ceiling and added to the claustrophobic feeling. The dim lighting gave the impression that it was not meant for regular personnel traffic.

They walked at least a hundred yards along the deserted corridor until it terminated in a sturdy looking door. This one required a security code to open. The wolverine didn't get it right the first time, which resulted in a disapproving beep from the panel.

"Shit!"

"I think we're late," the husky said.

"I know what we fucking are!" the wolverine hissed. "Just let me - "

The second try was successful. The door unlocked and then opened under the power of a hydraulic arm. This segment of the corridor was short and terminated in another door identical to the first one. The door behind them closed automatically to lock them into the small space between the two doors.

"Just stand still," the wolverine told the dog. "they'll be here soon."

"Don't look at me, I just work here," said Bartok.

The wolverine waddled over to a small intercom panel and pushed down a button to talk.

"Delivery is here, waiting for pick up on point A."

The dog snorted.

"Is that some sort of a code, boss?" Bartok asked.

"You can make all the questions you like for the new guys," the guard grunted. "Once they are here"

"New guys?" the dog's ears perked.

The huge door at the other end of the enclosure opened. A horse and a bear emerged from their side. Instead of the usual khaki-colored uniforms the Rottweiler was used to and that were worn by the wolverine and the husky, these two wore all black. Their greetings with their tan counterparts only amounted to small nods between them.

"Follow us," the bear said.

"So what is this now?" the dog asked. "Who are you guys?"

"You may ask questions later," the bear said. "We must go."

The Rottweiler chuckled.

"That's improvement over what these guys are sayin'," the dog waggled at the wolverine and the husky.

"We'll take this from here," the horse said.

"He's all yours," the wolverine sneered.

"Gee, thanks," the horse said.

"Bye, guys!" the Rottweiler told sweetly to his khaki-clad escorts.

The horse took over watching the dog's rear while the bear moved to the intercom.

"Local control, do you read?"

The little speaker squeaked.

"Local control here, standing by."

"Coming in through the clearing area with the new inmate," the bear spoke.

"We are ready to receive."

"Roger. We are coming through."

"Opening the door now. Stand clear."

The inner doors opened on their own accord and revealed a length of corridor identical to the one they had traversed before.

"Move along," the bear told to the dog.

"Where are we going?" the Rottie asked.

"You can ask questions soon," the black-clad bear said. "All will be answered."

The Rottweiler shuffled along his keepers further down the smelly underground corridor.

"What's with the hush hush?" the dog mused. "Nobody is telling me nothing!"

"Soon," the bear said. "This ain't the place."

"Do you get paid to keep saying that?" the Rottweiler asked. "Why?"

"We don't get paid enough to do any of this shit," the horse said.

The bear chortled.

"Have you ever paid for anything in your life?" he asked.

The Rottweiler sneered.

"I've tried my darnest not to, boss, but it's not always been successful."

"We know," the bear said. "That's why you are here."

The door at the end of the long subterranean corridor opened automatically as well. The small space it ended in had another locked door marked "STAIRS" and a pair of shiny steel doors.

"Sending the elevator down," came the same voice as before, this time from a loudspeaker next to a wall-mounted security camera spying upon them.

"Whee, finally getting a ride!" the dog laughed.

The arrival of the elevator was announced by a chime. The interior was stainless steel, and completely bare. There were none of the usual mirrors to make the elevator car feel larger.

"Get in, they won't wait," the horse said.

There were no floor selection buttons inside the elevator car, just a single button for an intercom. The guards did not use it once the doors opened. The elevator started upwards on its own.

The dog began to tap his footpaw on the floor. He seemed to have trouble staying still.

"Anyone know any good new songs?" the Rottie asked. "We don't get MTV on the block."

The horse nickered.

"Thought it's only those shitty TV shows on it anymore, not music videos like they used to," he opined.

"Oh I know right!" the Rottie wagged his tail.

"Shut up, inmate!" the bear growled.

"But he started!" the dog flicked his ears towards the horse.

"Nobody's starting anything now!" the stallion snorted.

The bear huffed.

"Like a fucking play school..."

The elevator came to a merciful halt that stopped any further banter from taking place. The hallway outside looked like a typical prison block, at least in the dog's experience. No other guards were seen, but several cameras observed the space from the ceiling level.

"Where are we now?" the dog asked. "Why's there no sign here or something? Isn't this like a fire hazard or something? You wanna - "

"Move it!"

He was led to a door marked "INMATE PROCESSING." The bear opened the door with a key code and a key card he took out from his pocket.

"Nifty shit," said the dog at the high tech security.

"Move along. We must keep to the schedule."

The room beyond was relatively small and harshly lit. A door on the other end offered entry to another room.

"We're going to take off the cuffs and then you have to strip down for the search," the bear announced. "Nothing new for you."

"I thought you would never ask!" the dog smacked his lips.

The bear moved to take off the paw cuffs. The horse fetched a plastic box and placed it onto a bare plastic-topped steel table that was the only proper piece of furniture in the room. There wasn't even a single chair.

"Put your clothes in here," the horse guard said.

"I'm not getting them back?" the Rottie asked.

"You will be issued with new clothing for your stay at this section," the horse said. "Put your shoes in as well."

"My paws are gonna get cold on this floor..."

The Rottweiler undressed despite his complaints and under the guard's glares. His body was wiry and somewhat toned from improvised workouts in his cell. He appeared unbothered by his nudity in front of the fully dressed guards. He stayed still even when he saw the horse appear from a cabinet in the corner of the room carrying two pairs of surgical gloves.

"Oh, sweet..." the dog grunted.

"Don't move or I'll taser your balls," the bear threatened.

"Ugh."

The bear snapped on a pair of gloves offered by the horse and stood in front of the Rottweiler.

"Open your muzzle," he said. "You know how this works."

The dog grinned and did as he was told. He made sure to huff the unsavory stench of his breath to the bear's face. Some of his teeth were awfully yellow.

"Stick your tongue out."

The bear took out a little flashlight from his belt and pointed it into the Rottweiler's maw to check it out.

"Lift your tongue up..puff your cheeks out..."

"Didn't know you're a dentist too..."

"Turn around and bend over."

The dog drooped his ears.

"Do we have to do that too? It's exit only, I swear!" said the dog.

"Spread that fucking ass of yours," the bear growled. "I ain't enjoying this any more than you are."

"Hmph."

The dog submitted to the examination of his ass by flashlight and a quickly poking finger to make sure that he wasn't body packing any contraband.

"Alright. Turn around, paws to your sides."

The dog stood up and made sure to slap his tail loudly against his rear while he did so.

"I told you, boss," the dog grinned.

"Hmmph."

"So are we really gonna do the next fun part now, boss?" the Rottie asked.

"Keep your paws to your sides," the bear grunted. "This won't take long."

The guard grabbed the Rottie's sheath and pulled down on it before sweeping his finger around the dog's dormant shaft. He huffed in distaste once he withdrew his paws. He was quick to remove his gloves afterwards.

"Was it as good for you as it was for me?"

"Get ready to move on for the medical check," the bear answered.

The dog chuffed.

"You do those at night now?" he said. "Think I'm bringing some germs from my dirty ass wing to yours? I don't even know where we are, anyway."

"You'll be told when you need to know," bear said.

"Oh and they didn't bring my stuff with me!" the dog complained. "They didn't let me take my stuff with me!"

"It will be handled later," the guard said. "Move along now, prisoner."

"I'm not getting new clothes yet?" Bartok asked. His eyes roamed for the sight of them, but none were on offer.

"After the check up," the horse said. "We're running late."

"Oh so we're in a hurry now because you took so much time checking out my ass boss?" the Rottie snickered.

"Move along!"

"I'm pressure sure it's against the rules to make me walk around naked..."

"Prisoner!"

The next corridor was T-shaped, and they turned left on this intersection. The door they arrived at was marked "INFIRMARY" , and required another key code to be input onto its control panel.

"In you go!"

A strong scent of disinfectant permeated the room they entered. All the equipment looked new enough, unlike at the run down main infirmary the dog was used to. The staff present consisted of a fox and a lion, both wearing blue medical scrubs. The lion held a clipboard in his paws and appeared to be the senior of them.

"Is this inmate Shaun Bartok?" the lion questioned.

"Affirmative," the bear said.

The dog chuckled, hearing the serious tone.

"My reputation must precede me, yay," the Rottie snorted. "That's me!"

"No lip for the doc!" the bear grunted.

"Hmmm."

"We just have to perform a few basic tests and examinations to ensure your health status," the lion said.

The dog looked at the guards who made no move to leave the infirmary.

"Are you two just gonna stand and watch them take my temperature?" the Rottie asked from his guards.

"Yes," the bear said.

"Bet you hope they'll take it rectally..." the dog mused. "Knowing you guys..."

The lion stepped closer to his new patient.

"I'm sure we won't have any trouble here, Mister Bartok," he said. "Don't you agree?"

The dog shrugged.

"You're just the doc," he said. "You ain't done anything to me...yet."

"Nurse Dallas, please weigh the patient," the lion spoke to the fox in the room.

The somewhat sour-looking male nurse nodded.

"This way, please."

The stark naked dog sauntered onto the awaiting scales. The fox operated the digital device with a few seasoned taps.

"181 pounds...82 kilograms," the fox announced loudly.

The lion wrote down on his clipboard.

"82...kilograms...hmm...yes. Do come and sit here on the examination table, Mister Bartok, I'll do a physical examination next. Nurse, please draw 123 milligrams of the S multivalent vaccine and 160 milligrams of vitamin K for injection."

"Yes, Doctor," the fox said.

The doctor stepped over to the table where the Rottie had sat down after leering some more at his dutiful guards. The lion pulled out a stethoscope from a shirt pocket on his scrub top.

"Have you been in good health lately, Mister Bartok?" the lion asked. "Any symptoms of sickness, cough, fever, sore throat..."

"Nope," the dog rumbled. "Though there's this funny color to my dick and I don't know where it came from...haven't been exactly getting much bootay lately..."

He grinned broadly. The lion simply popped the stethoscope into his ears without commenting on the dog's leering words.

"And deep breaths now."

"And no games!" the horse nickered.

"It will be just fine, Mister Bond," the lion told calmly to the horse. "Now...just breathe for me..."

The dog behaved good for the moment. He allowed the lion to hold the stethoscope against his chest and his back while the Rottie took loud huffs.

"All sounds fine," the lion declared eventually.

"I didn't think otherwise, doc," the dog wagged a little.

The fox returned from the other side of the room carrying a plastic kidney dish on which two syringes were laid over a gauze pad.

"The medication, Doctor," the nurse said.

"Thank you!"

"Druuuuugs!" the Rottweiler wagged.

"Hold your arm out, please, with your palm up. I need to see the back of your elbow for the injection," the lion said.

The Rottweiler complied, with a grand gesture.

"You ain't gonna find trackmarks there, Doc," Shaun Bartok said. "I'mma clean doggie."

The lion smiled briefly.

"Indeed."

"Health choices, whoot!"

The lion used a pre-packaged alcohol swab on the dog's arm. Its sharp scent made the dog snort.

"Whoah, man! Smells like my old man's special moonshine," he said.

The lion picked up the syringe.

"This will pinch a little." the doctor warned.

"I know the drill, dude," the dog said.

Even the Rottie's ears stayed still when the needle penetrated his skin. The lion was quick to administer both injections by simply removing the syringe after the first injection and then attached the new syringe onto the needle that still protruded from the Rottie's arm. He pressed a sterile ball of gauze onto it once he pulled the needle out.

"Hold this for a moment, please. It should stop any residual bleeding," the lion instructed the prisoner.

"Okay."

The dog put his own paw over the inside of his arm and held the gauze ball on the injection spot.

"Do I get a lollipop now?"

"Maybe later," the lion said while disposing the syringes and the needle into a sharps container sitting on a nearby table. "Nurse, the cart, please, if you may."

"Yes, Doctor."

The fox walked over to another door and entered into the next room with a swipe of a key card. The Rottweiler followed him somewhat idly until the fox disappeared. Then he looked at the lion standing nearby, looking at the dog. Bartok gave him a glance and flashed a smile.

"Sup - uh!"

His words caught in his throat.

The dog's ears suddenly drooped. His eyes became fixed to his fingers. They had just twitched and thrown the little ball of gauze down to the grey, tiled floor. The dog turned his paw around, looking at it hard.

"W - "

His latest breath sounded like a gasp. The dog let out a growl that broke on the end and fizzled out like a balloon.

His lungs were running out of air.

"Ah...hhh!"

His eyes were suddenly fearful.

"Hhh!"

The lion moved swiftly to the side of the bed. His gloved paws grabbed the nude dog and pushed him down to the examination table. By the time his head hit the padded surface, his arms fell limp to his sides. Even his muzzle had opened a little and hung open, not strong enough to remain closed as it normally did. His stomach pitted in once more with a powerful breath using every possible accessory muscle after which even that movement ceased to be.

"The cart, nurse!" the lion raised his voice now. "He's apneanic!"

He moved to stand on the head of the table and hovered just above the Rottweiler. Shaun Bartok's blue eyes were open and staring upwards onto the lion's own. He managed to look surprised even with lack of voluntary muscle control left to him. The lion gave him a look in return, and did not a thing.

The two guards watched all this with quiet trepidation. They did not have any given role besides providing security, and remained on the sideline so as not to interfere.

The fox pushed a medical cart into the examination room from the adjoining space.

"The bag, please," the lion extended a gloved paw.

The cart was quickly parked next to the examination table. The fox handed the doctor a black rubber bag that had a black rubber mask attached to it. The entire contraption connected with a curling black hose onto a gas cylinder on the side of the cart. A quick turn from the fox's paw turned on the gas and made an audible hiss. The lion pushed the Rottweiler's head backwards and then placed the mask over his muzzle. He held it down tight with one paw while the other squeezed the bag.

The dog's chest rose when the air finally flowed into his lungs again.

"Attach the sensor and the pads," the lion ordered. "Let's get some vitals going."

Another squeeze.

The fox popped a little device onto one of the dog's slack fingers. Readings appeared on the previously blank screen of a defibrillator sitting on top of the cart.

"Pulse rate, 91, SpO2, 94 and climbing, doctor," the fox noted from the screen. The number turned into 95 on it, and then into 96 when the lion gave another squeeze on the breathing bag."

"Looks like we have a good induction," the lion said, "Mister Torres, would you get the others, please?"

"Yes, Doctor," the bear guard said. He moved over to the door from which the fox had emerged previously with the equipment cart.

The fox procured a little wireless hair cutter and did not spend much time buzzing away sections of the Rottweiler's chest fur, to make for the bare skin he needed to attach leads for the heart monitor. Green zigzags appeared on the screen next to the numbers already being drawn from the sensor on the Rottweiler's finger.

"Steady sinus rhythm," the fox announced. "Pulse rate is down to 86."

"Attach the automatic blood pressure cuff and then open the airway pack, mister Dallas," the lion told the fox. "Once the pre-oxygenation is over, I want him prepared for the procedure as soon as possible. Doctor Fielding will not want to wait."

"Of course, Doctor."

The nurse wrapped a blood pressure cuff around the dog's arm and it quickly inflated. He did not wait for its reading, but moved on to do his next task.

The dog's eyes were glassed but stared up at the lion who busied himself with the breathing bag. He still gave it the occasional squeeze to force oxygen into the Rottweiler's lungs. The dog's paralysed chest could no longer do the job that now fell to the lion's fingers. The doctor did look at his eyes occasionally, but did not say anything to him.

He didn't have any words for now.

The bear soon emerged from the room, followed by another two nurses pushing equipment carts and a Doberman dressed in a green disposable gown and a white surgical mask.

"Status, Doctor Rhodes?" the Doberman questioned through his mask.

"Began induction for awake sedation with ketamine and suxamethonium," the lion explained. "No adverse cardiovascular or neurological effects so far."

The Doberman stepped next to the bed and looked at the dog being forcefully ventilated. He did not linger on the sight of the wide open, glassed over eyes.

"Good," he said. "Start a line and let's start prepping for the procedure. I need the operative zone ready and the ultrasound fixed up in five minutes."

"We'll be ready in no time, Doctor," the lion told the Doberman. We are ready to tube him."

The fox nurse pulled open a plastic wrapped package. It contained a length of plastic tubing, with an oddly shaped part on the other end. He opened a little tearaway package of surgical lubricant and smeared it onto the device he now held in gloved paws.

"Ready, Doctor," said the fox.

"Excellent. Vitals are good. Stand by with atropine and epi, just in case" said the lion.

He took the mask away and then received the offered tube onto his paw. Gloved fingers were pushed into the Rottweiler's maw to scissor it open and make room for him to work. The lion tilted his head back just a little more before he introduced the tube down the dog's throat. He pushed until there was resistance, and a little pop.

"There we go..."

The lion wriggled the tube from side to side briefly to test for the feel, and then nodded.

"Get the CO2 detector, he said. "Take over ventilation."

The mask was removed from the bag and the bag was directly attached to the tube now poking out between the Rottweiler's front teeth. One of the other nurses took over the task of squeezing it to bring air into the inmate's lungs. The lion listened to them with his stethoscope again.

"Breath sounds are bilateral and symmetric," he said.

"CO2 detector is positive," the nurse on the bag said.

"Get the ventilator over here," the lion said.

The Doberman was content to simply observe for now when the rest of the medical staff worked. A needle was pushed into the dog's arm and a tube was attached to it, an IV started. One of the carts they had brought in carried a little portable respirator which took over from the manual bag ventilation. Its hissing and whirring became the main noise in the room besides the beep of the heart monitor. The tube in his throat was secured in place with a length of tape.

"Maintain the ketamine and sux infusion," the lion ordered.

One of the nurses made adjustments to the IV control until on the base of the IV stand that had been brought along with two bags hanging from it and with the tube curling into the dog's arm. The others, the fox included, had started to pay more attention to the rest of the Rottweiler now at the center of all this activity.

"Get the leg rests into place," the Doberman doctor ordered. He was content to just stand back, holding his paws up in front of him so as not to touch anything with them and contaminate himself.

Stainless steel implements were attached to the foot of the exam table and the dog's legs maneuvered and secured onto them with Velcro ties. This left him into a strange, splayed position that exposed his lower body fully onto their view. His tail hung limply down directly towards the tiled floor.

"Cath him," the Doberman ordered.

This was Doctor Fielding's task. The lion took a pre-prepared equipment pack and used its contents to first clean the top of the Rottweiler's sheath and then to pull the skin back. He squeezed on the pale, pink flesh of the dog's unaroused erection to properly expose the opening on the top.

"Introducing the lidocaine," the lion commented.

The dog did not see the needleless blunt-tipped syringe the lion held up, but he surely felt it press onto the opening of his urethra before its cold contents were forced inside him by the lion's thumb pressing the plunger. He grew temporarily numb and was likely glad for it when the lion picked up a clear plastic tube.

"Going in..."

The smooth plastic tubing went inside the dog's penis and was helped by the sterile lubricant introduced earlier, disappearing all the way until the lion felt a give away and stopped. The internal pressure caused the tube to flash into a shade of dark yellow when the Rottweiler's urine flooded it.

"Looking good."

The lion attached a bag onto the tube and opened a little stopcock to let the Rottweiler's bladder drain into a plastic bag he hung from the side of the exam table.

"Should be ready by the time we are starting," the lion told to the still waiting Doberman.

"Start the enema," the canine doctor ordered. "We need to get the probe in soon."

"Nurse," Doctor Fielding nodded to the fox whom already had the equipment ready.

It consisted of a saline-filled bag and a hose, with an inflatable bulb on one end. Once the lubricated end of the hose was pushed inside the Rottweiler's anus, water from a syringe filled the plastic bulb and made sure that none of the fluid escaped before its time from inside the dog's rear. The contents of the bag entered with some pressure, from squeezing on the bag, and they did not have to await for much longer before everything was drained away onto a plastic pail.

"Ready, doctor," the fox nurse noted.

"Vitals?" Doctor Rhodes, the lion, asked from the nurse keeping an eye on the dog's pulse and breathing.

"Still steady, Doctor," the nurse said.

"Get the probe in and the drapes into place, and open my instruments," the Doberman sounded somewhat impatient. "We've already spent a lot of time."

The so-called probe was an ominous-looking object and became even more so once a condom-like plastic cover was rolled on it and the entire device was slathered with dripping surgical lubricant. This contraption was then pushed into the dog's newly cleansed rear where several inches disappeared deep within his body.

The Doberman moved to stand next to the cart that held the ultrasound machinery. He eyed the monitor carefully, looking at the bizarre black and white landscape depicted upon the flat screen. Only a true expert could make any sense of the ghostly image that the monitor painted.

"Hmm...looks like a normal anatomical position...visualization is good..." Doctor Fielding commented at the image he read.

The activity around the dog persisted. A blue sheet was thrown over his lower body that had a hole on it, just big enough for his sheath to pass it onto its clean, untouched side once the catheter had been removed, its purpose done. Gloved paws spread red iodine solution over the fur and skin and left the Rottweiler's genitals looking quite purple in the end.

"Ready to start," the lion told the dog, "everything is in place."

The Doberman eyed his entire surgical team before he took his position. Another nurse pushed the instrument cart next to him for easy reach. The dog took another look at the ultrasound display.

" Rigid scope," he held out a paw.

The ultrasound probe now inside the dog's ass might have been threatening, but the so-called scope easily took the top spot on the most worrisome instrument being used at the moment. It was a solid length of black plastic, copiously lubricated but yet an eye-watering sight, considering its thickness of a quarter of an inch, and its intended purpose as well. The end gleamed with light from a miniature led required by the camera that was also placed onto the tip.

"Going in," Doctor Fielding announced.

The Doberman maneuvered the black tube onto the dog's piss slit and pushed. Another monitor available for him showed the pink, gleaming interior of this body part that was not meant to be seen by the eye under any normal circumstances. Right now the dog's fingers sank more and more of the instrument inside him. His eyes bounced between the camera view and the ultrasound image that too showed the presence of the instrument, cutting across the screen.

"Looking good...we are approaching the prostate gland..." the Doberman announced.

"Pulse and BP are steady," Doctor Rhodes said. "No reaction to the scope."

"Just keep him not moving and not trashing around and we'll be fine," the Doberman replied.

Another few minutes passed with the Doberman adjusting his tools. His eyes were carefully kept on the images on his screens.

"Hmm...another few degrees anteriorly...and there we are..."

"The wafer gun is ready, Doctor," the fox nurse noted.

"Let's go for it," the Doberman said.

The instrument was really shaped something like a gun, although very long and narrow so that it could fit down the hollow interior of the scope now inside the Rottweiler prisoner's urethra. The Doberman pushed it steadily through and watched its progress on the screen where the solid device was easily visible.

"I am injecting the anterior lobe first," the Doberman said.

He pulled the trigger on the device. It made a click that sounded like a stapler being used. A few ears flicked around the room.

The Rottweiler remained unmoving in his haze.

"That looked good," the Doberman said. "Posterior...median..."

The Doberman's fingers generated a series of clicks while he went around doing unspoken things to the dog's insides. Once he appeared happy with what he did, the devices were withdrawn from the Rottweiler's urethra. The tip was smeared with some blood that served as a reminder that something very strange and unnatural had to have happened inside the Rottweiler's body.

"Give the saline and antibiotics flush, insert an indwelling catheter and get him to the recovery room," the Doberman gave his treatment orders, "give the IV antibiotics and maintain ketamine for two hours before weaning him off. I will be be over to check up on him in three hours once he has awakened."

"Yes, Doctor," the lion told his colleague. "We'll start taking him off the paralytics now."

"I'll be in my office," the Doberman said.

The lion waited for him to leave the room before he gave the order to stop the drug infusion.

*

Shaun Bartok's memories of the hours after arriving to the new block were hazy. He could remember coming over, of stripping and...and he remembered lights, voices, and pain, strange, dull pain he couldn't describe until it disappeared and he just felt light in his head.

He thought he had slept some, and he thought he had seen colors that didn't belong there, but there was nothing he could think to explain them. His mind could not comprehend what had happened, and the sleep that followed was almost a blessing. The oblivion was in complete contrast to the noises and smells that had made so little sense to him and felt more like a dream than anything else. The memory of being unable to move at all nagged on the back of him to the moment his consciousness slipped away, and even haunted the Rottweiler when his dreamless sleep finally faded back into awakeness.

The disturbing memory made Shaun wriggle his toes and clench his paws, as if checking that any notion of being unable to move was simply a bad dream. He was puzzled about it. He hadn't done any drugs while in the prison - he knew to keep away from the shit that some inmates insisted on to get a small reprieve from the monotony of the incarceration - but the whole thing still seemed like a bad trip to him.

It took him a few moments to realize that his mobility was still impaired. Something held his arms and legs down, and he was unable to see what it was exactly since he was covered by a blue blanket.

The Rottweiler grew more aware of his surroundings in general. It was a small room, painted white and the door into the room was made of reinforced metal. A window opened out into the hallway and it too was reinforced with a metal mesh.

Still in prison, the dog thought.

The room obviously had some medical purpose. Everything was spotless and a somewhat unpleasant chemical smell hung around the room. Even more so, a plastic bag hung from a holder on the head of the bed and a plastic tube disappeared under the same blanket that covered Shaun's body.

The dog harrumphed.

"Fuck..." he muttered.

He tried moving again. The tugging on his arms that resulted from it made him think that he was probably tied down to the bed for some purpose. He tried moving hips hips and found out that his lower body was free to move. The bindings were limited to his legs and his arms.

He did not struggle any further. He didn't want to hurt himself, and besides, to even contemplate trying to escape was obviously a thing of lunacy. This was a high security unit. They didn't leave windows open with a convenient pile of old sheets nearby for making a rope for the escape.

"Shit," the dog grunted. He still felt somewhat listless and uncomfortable.

He was hungry as well.

"This is one shitty hotel," the dog muttered.

His grogginess was quickly being replaced by boredom. He didn't know why he was being held like that. He couldn't remember doing anything that would warrant being strapped to bed in the infirmary. He didn't even feel sore, which would've indicated the guards taking their nightsticks out for a spin. He'd had his share of smacks on his kidneys over the years. He was pretty sure he hadn't been shanked either. He was certain he'd feel worse if someone had stabbed him. Maybe that's why he'd been transferred to another wing, the staff thinking someone planned to slip a sharpened toothbrush handle between his ribs. What if they'd been late and he now laid there?

No.

Shaun remembered walking out of the wing and into a long corridor. He even remembered the smell. Something bad...like burning flesh...blood? Chemicals and a terrible taste in his mouth.

His memories haunted him until there was a rattle with the door opening. The fur who entered was a fox wearing medical attire. He looked vaguely familiar to the woozy dog.

"Hey...sup..." the dog muttered.

The fox moved wordlessly over to the bed to check the IV stand.

"What's going on?" Shaun asked.

"The doctor will be here soon," the fox said.

Shaun yanked on his paw and made the side railing of the bed to clank, metal on metal. The fox's tail jumped in alarm at the sudden noise and the movement he saw from the corner of his eye.

"Why am I here?" the Rottweiler asked again. "What's with this SM shit?"

"The doctor will answer your questions soon," the fox said. "Are you experiencing any pain or discomfort?"

The dog snorted.

"I'd just rather know why I'm all tied down like this," Shaun said. "I don' remember no fucking myself up..."

"The doctor will be here in a moment."

Shaun grimaced.

"Is this the suicide watch or something?" the dog questioned. "What the fuck?"

The fox gave him a final glance before he left the room. Shaun kicked the mattress in frustration.

"Hey! I was talking to you!" he grunted. "Hey! Fuckhead!"

Boredom and frustration burnt up into anger. Shaun Bartok's temper had always been one to flare up quickly and sometimes without much provocation. Being tied down to a hospital bed like some sort of a mental hospital patient, he thought, was good enough a reason to start feeling pissed off.

"HEEEYHHHhh!" he yelled.

The Rottweiler's voice broke down and rasped into a cough. His throat felt uneasy from the raise in his voice and it left him hacking for some time. He swallowed around a dry tongue and chuffed again.

"Pretty thirsty here too!" the dog growled.

His ears picked up steps but they passed. It took an unknown time before they closed in again and this time the locks on the door were turned.

"Well finally - "

Two furs entered, a lion and a Doberman, both wearing white coats. The dog thought they looked vaguely familiar, but he wasn't sure why. Maybe they had given him a physical when he arrived to the prison.

"What, no sexy nurses to give me a sponge bath?" the dog snorted.

The lion carried a tablet computer in his paws. Both he and the Doberman looked at it while their patient stared at them incredulously. They still said nothing.

"Helloo..." the dog harrumphed.

The tablet was tapped at briefly before it was slipped into the lion's coat pocket.

"We should investigate you for any aftereffects of the operation," the Doberman said. "Would you assist me?"

"Indeed," the lion said.

The Rottweiler's ears flattened.

"What operation? What?" he growled.

The two white-coated furs procured surgical gloves from their coat pockets and snapped them on. The whiff of latex was strong in the air.

"What is going on? What the fuck is this?"

The grabbed the covers and rolled them back, efficiently and in sync like a pair of nurses despite being much more higher up in the medical hierarchy. The cover was folded over the dog's legs and this revealed his naked body, the wrists tied to the structures of the bed, and the sight of his sheath wrapped in bandages.

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

The bandages weren't even the worst part of it. A yellow tube exited from the top of the bundle and the Rottweiler had a very good idea where it was coming from. The tube curled down over the edge of the bed.

"HEY!"

"Shall we take out the bandages?" the lion asked.

The Doberman shook his head.

"No, there is no need to do that yet," the dog said.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

Shaun Bartok went livid very quickly. The dog kicked, barked and hissed, pulling on his bindings and shouting as much as his lungs could give air to him, no matter the pain in his throat. The two white-coated medics on either side of the bed appeared barely surprised by the reaction of the inmate now trying to tear himself out of the bed. His earlier apprehension about pissing off the staff had disappeared in an instant and now he appeared to be more keen on trying to tear their eyes out.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT? WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING? WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT THE FUCK!"

He kicked and barked.

"You appear to be healing well," the Doberman said. "You will be discharged to the block in the afternoon if everything proceeds accordingly."

"WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK!"

The Rottweiler could only repeat himself. The sight of his bandaged junk had sent him into a complete meltdown and the white anger that came to him had no bounds. He wanted to hurt these two smug men, he wanted to see them suffer and he wanted to tear their dicks out of their bodies -

"No side effects from the anaesthesia, it seems," the Doberman said.

"No, Doctor," the lion told the dog.

"WHAT THE FUCK YOU THINK YOU DOING!"

"We'll be back for your fitting later, Mister Bartok," the Doberman said. "Please mark on the chart that the subject will require sedation due to agitation."

"Yes, Doctor."

The lion began to type the orders onto his pad.

Shaun Bartok couldn't believe the dissociation in their words. They talked about him like he wasn't in the room, like they hadn't just done something incredibly odd and wrong to him and now discussed it in perfectly casual, clinical terms.

"I ASKED YOU A FUCKING QUESTION!"

The dog tore on his arm. The plastic tube twirling onto it shook in the air, between the dog's paw and the IV stand.

"Please do not move so much or we will be forced to apply more restraints," the Doberman doctor said.

"DO YOU THINK i FUCKING CARE!" Shaun kicked the bed as much as he could. He didn't care about his nudity, his circumstances, or where he was, anymore. He just wanted to get out of the room and take his chances. "LET ME GO!"

The bed's structure was beginning to make a threatening noise.

"Haloperidol," the Doberman grunted. "He is being dangerous to himself."

"His personality profile suggested this kind of a reaction," the lion said.

"Get the sedative right away" the Doberman interrupted the lion medic. "Before he hurts himself. He's much too valuable now."

The lion moved to the other side of the room to a bank of drawers. The Doberman remained by the bed and observed the dog's behavior, despite the obvious promise of murder in Shaun Bartok's eyes.

"YOU SHITTY FUCKHEAD YOU DON'T HAVE NO RIGHT TO DO THIS ME! YOU HEAR ME! YOU LET ME GO NOW YOU DIRTY FUCKING COCKSUCKING MOTHER FUCKER!"

Shaun continued his tirade and his naked struggling until the lion added the drug into the IV. Its effective was almost instantaneous and sent the Rottweiler into chemical oblivion, perfectly relaxed and simply staring at the ceiling.

Doctor Fielding clicked his tongue.

"Unfortunate," he commented to his leonine colleague.

"Perhaps the anxiolytics should have been adjusted before he woke up," the lion replied.

"Perhaps," the Doberman said. "There is precedent."

"We should monitor him for adverse effects to the haloperidol," the lion said.

"Arrange it," the Doberman said. "I have another subject I have to check on at the wing."

"Yes, Doctor," the lion replied.

The Doberman left the room without a further world. The lion remained by the Rottweiler's bedside and made a few notes onto his pad again.

*

Inmate Shaun Bartok was unaware of what happened to him. The high dose of sedatives meant that although he appeared to be awake, he was not really conscious of what happened around him. He did not react to the nurses turning him around on his bed to prevent bed sores, when they bathed him or when the lion doctor popped by again to adjust his medication. He did not comment even when one of the nurses removed the plastic bag that received his urine, on the side of the bed, and connected a new bag to the catheter system.

He didn't resist or react in any particular way even when they came for him again, wheeled his bed through a silent hallway and back into the room where he had been defiled earlier, unable to move or even breath for himself, just listening to the noises of the operation around him.

Doctor Fielding was waiting again, in his surgical gown, mask and gloves.

"Alright, people, we have to get him ready for the transfer to the block!" the Doberman announced.

His colleague, Doctor Rhodes, was present, as expected.

"His healing has proceeded according to our expectations," the lion said, "Including the behavioral reaction to the procedure."

The Doberman gave him a simple look. He appeared impatient.

"They always get around eventually," he said. "Putting him in the block will help him adjust."

"Indeed," replied the lion.

"Let's start, then!" the dog told to the assembled staff. "We want him ready for the block."

The fox nurse helped the lion doctor to remove the sheet covering the nude Rottweiler. His restraints were still in place, even though the drowsy dog was not making any moves to resist the treatment. He didn't move to stop the nurses when they clamped the plastic tube coming out of his penis, nor when Doctor Rhodes used blunt-tipped scissors to cut the bandages covering his sheath.

This was to be their center of attention now, either way. Doctor Fielding stepped closer and handled the still slightly swollen sheath in his paws, pulling the skin back and inspecting the dormant canine penis with the catheter still running out of the urethra.

"No signs of infection or external trauma," the Doberman said, "splendid. Syringe, please. Let's remove the Foley."

The doctor was handed a syringe which he used to deflate a water-filled balloon on the end of the catheter inside the inmate's bladder that kept the whole tube from slipping out of him. Once this was over, the Doberman pulled the plastic tube out of the dog. Shaun Bartok's ears twitched while this was done, but that was the only overt reaction, besides a deep breath.

"No signs of irritation, the tube is clear...I presume the dip results and cultivations are negative for infection?" Doctor Fielding questioned.

"They are," said Doctor Rhodes. "He has tolerated the procedure well. No signs of bladder or urinary infection as far as we can tell."

"Let's start with the device then," the Doberman said. "Get me the gel."

The fox nurse placed a large unlabeled tube to the dog's paw. The Doberman squirted its clear, jelly-like contents onto his palm and rubbed the substance all over Shaun Bartok's sheath and his testicles. Soon his entire package glistened, and a weakly medicine-like smell filled the room.

"Looks about right," Doctor Fielding said. "Let's go with the device. I presume it's fully charged?"

"All the systems check out," said the fox nurse, whom already held something in his paws, "battery charge is full and sufficient for a week of normal operation."

"Good."

The Doberman took the device into his paws that were still covered mostly in the clear jelly, and proceeded with the next part of his notorious procedure. The device's shape was vaguely suggestive of its purpose, but this only became fully evident once Doctor Fielding began to place it onto the Rottweiler's genitals. The elongated top fit over the dog's sheath while the base was spread and closed around the inmate's balls. The device was made of milky-colored plastic and its interior was quite soft, although the exterior part was completely firm and stiff once it was in placed in position. Clicking noises indicated anyone listening that the device was very secure and not to be removed casually. The canine doctor tested it for this by tugging on the device from all sides.

Shaun Bartok let out a quiet huff, but remained still.

"Alright, then," Doctor Fielding announced. "Take out the IV and put him into cell number 4 to sober up. I'm sure his new cellmate will get him started on life on the block."

"Yes, Doctor," the lion said.

The Doberman gave one more pleased look at the Rottweiler's locked up groin, and began to pull off his slimy gloves.

"And get him some scrubs while he's at it," he said. "I've looked at his dick enough for now."

*

Shaun woke up in near darkness, feeling thirsty and with a throbbing headache behind his eyes. There was a bad taste in his muzzle, although his nose told him that he was in a cell again. They had the kind of a permeated smell that was almost the same everywhere. Maybe it was the asbestos paint, or just the combination of unwashed bored men, shit, the terrible food, the oil on the boots of the guards. Whatever it was, it smelled bad. Prisons smelled bad.

The smell was almost reassuring. Shaun Bartok couldn't smell the odd medical stench that had filled his nose throughout his past memories. He wasn't even sure what parts of it were real or not.

The dog grumbled. It felt like someone had given him a knock on the head and things were in disarray in there. The sleep hadn't made him feel any better either.

"Yo awake?"

A voice he didn't recognize. Shaun was alarmed. He didn't have a cellmate. Lifers didn't get them in the security block. They were too prone to shanking each other in their sleep. Those who were in there had nothing to lose anymore. Consecutive life sentence was a common joke around the wing.

Shaun began to get up from the bed but his head developed a swimming sensation and he almost toppled over himself while at it. He growled.

"Easy there fella."

The voice again. Shaun forced his eyes open and looked, to see someone sitting on a bunk on the other side of the cell. Someone rather small and thin, though canine. He could see the ears and the shape of the tail.

"I'd say good morning but it's really not the morning yet so, yeah."

Shaun bit his teeth together, grimaced, and tried to get his eyes to focus.

"What the hell?" he hissed.

"Guess you're new," the thin man said, "best to take it easy, dude. What they give you is a really bad trip. I should know."

He laughed.

Shaun's ears went flat.

"What - "

He coughed. His throat still hurt, and he didn't know why.

"I'd say welcome but I'm pretty fucking sure you don't wanna be no here so..."

Shaun, sitting on the edge of his bed, glared at the other prisoner in the room. His image was solidifying as a coyote, thin and hollow-cheeked, looking at the Rottweiler. His prison issue scrubs were grey, and clean.

"Who the fuck are you?" the dog hissed.

"Titus," the coyote said, "doubt you've heard about me. My name hasn't made the headlines like most of the guys here."

Shaun gave the coyote a 'I don't give a flying fuck' look in return. The dog rubbed his face and grimaced. The headache wasn't improving.

"Where?" he snapped.

"Where are we you mean?" the coyote said. "Well this is cell number 4 and this is the new block. I dunno if it has any other name, they always call it that and nothing else. Dunno why."

"Is this the Jackson Penitentiary?" Shaun asked.

"Yep," Titus the coyote said. "The windowless block to the north of the main yard, I guess."

Shaun's ears flattened.

"The block..." he muttered.

"You look pretty rough," he coyote said.

Shaun grunted.

"What does that have to do with you?" he hissed.

The coyote shrugged.

"Dunno," Titus said. "I just know we're in this together and it's hard enough as it is."

What is? screamed the Rottweiler's mind.

"So what is this place?" he asked instead. "New kind of max security? Some sorta shit ass stupid experiment to rehab us or something?"

"I dunno," the coyote said, "they don't tell us much."

"They?" Shaun grunted. "The guards?"

"Everyone," Titus replied. "They just tell us to keep following their orders."

Memories of the doctors in their white coats and scrubs surfaced. Shuan couldn't entirely remembered why he felt so angry about them, but it was a weighty memory. He started to feel nauseous.

"This is fucked up shit," he said.

Shaun squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath. The wave of nausea seemed to pass after a few moments in such a contemplative position.

"You look really rough" the coyote said. "Should I call the guard or something?"

"Fuck no!" the Rottie yelped.

The coyote did not look too alarmed. Maybe he was used to such outbursts. He just sat there quietly and watched the Rottweiler rock himself back and forth.

"Okay," Titus said. "Suit yourself. It won't get easier any time soon if you aren't careful."

The Rottweiler glared at his cell mate. He wasn't used to the concept to begin with. The coyote was nosy as fuck.

Shaun adjusted his position and felt something rub against his thigh. His ears went even flatter than before when he felt up the place with his paw, through the light grey pants he was wearing. He could feel something off.

"What the - "

He pulled on the waistband of the pants to get a look inside. The dog gasped at the sight of the strange plastic device that covered both his sheath and his balls. He had no recollection of it being there before, and the sight of it made his growl and yelp.

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

Shaun jumped to his feet. The Rottweiler pulled his pants down without caring for the fact that he was not alone in the cell. Now pantsied, he could see the entirety of the device. He grabbed it and felt it to be completely solid, and now warm from his own body heat after being worn for who knows how long.

"THE FUCK!" the Rottweiler barked.

Titus' look on the dog and his current state was almost disinterested.

"Got one on you too, huh," he mused.

Shaun growled.

"What the hell is this?" he yelled. "What do you know about it?"

He lunged for the coyote who raised his arms protectively.

"Hey hey hey!"

Shaun stumbled on his own pants and almost fell onto the coyote. Titus jumped up from his bed and moved to the other side of the room, near the door.

"Calm down!" he yelled. "The guards will come!"

"FUCK THE GUARDS! Shaun snarled. "I WANT IT OFF ME!"

He yanked on the device on his sheath but ended up only getting a growl out of him and nothing more. He only managed to tug on his balls painfully.

"You shouldn't do that!" Titus said.

"SHIT!"

Shaun's toeclaws scraped on the concrete floor. He looked he was ready to start bashing furniture.

"FUCK!"

"Sit down!" Tits yelled. "You don't want them to come back for you!"

"I don't - "

Shaun went silent. The coyote had pulled his own pants down and showed himself to be sporting a similar device latched to his own groin. The sight of it made the Rottweiler stiffen.

"What?" he growled. "Just - "

He flexed his paws into anxious fists. Titus tugged his own elastic-waisted pants up again, covering the device.

"I don't know why, but everyone who gets put into this wing also gets one of these things on," Titus explained.

Shaun glared at the bulge in the coyote's pants that was quite obvious now that he was standing up. He looked down, back to the strange device that closed on his own genitals.

"The fuck," he hissed.

"Nobody knows what they're for" Titus said. "They won't tell us. They'll just keep them on us, collect us and...yeah..."

Shaun grunted.

"Collect?" the dog asked.

The coyote's long ears drooped down. Shaun growled again.

"What the hell do you mean?" he asked.

Titus looked at the Rottweiler and could see that he was ready to start pouncing on people and things again.

"I don't know what they do with it, man, I don't," the coyote said, "but they take your jizz."

Shaun growled.

"What?"

"The thing...it collects it," the coyote gestured vaguely at his own groin area, ""for whatever reason. They don't tell us."

"The fuck!" hissed the Rottweiler.

"WIsh I could tell you something you don't know yet, but that's about it, man," the coyote said, "you stay in the block, you wear the thing, they collect you. It's how it goes."

Shaun Bartok snorted.

"The fuck you don't do anything about it?" he grunted. "Call your lawyers or something?"

"Doesn't help," the coyote said. "They've got our attorneys kicked out and replaced by their own men. There's this creepy fuck of a beaver who supposedly represents us but doesn't do shit. He's theirs, I can tell."

The Rottweiler growled deeply.

"This is fucking insane!" he grunted. "Who the hell is responsible for this? President fucking Trump?"

"I'd tell ya if I knew anything more, man," the coyote said.

"The FUCK!" the dog bellowed out in return.

The coyote scratched his own neck uncomfortably.

"It's not so bad all the time," he offered somewhat meekly.

"The fuck you're saying?" Shaun's response was immediate and roughly barked out.

The coyote demurred again.

"I just don't know any answers to you, man," Titus said. "I just know that by keeping our heads down and doing what we're told, they're gonna make it easy for us. You'll just better not to pick fights or do anything else that gets their attention."

Shaun growled.

"Maybe I want to get some attention," the Rottweiler huffed. His eyes had a dangerous glint to them.

"You really don't want that," Titus said. "Trust me on just that if nothing else, man. You don't really want that to happen."

"I'll see to it myself," the dog grunted. "And try to get out of here."

The coyote shrugged.

"Well ain't gonna my problem if you wanna fuck everything up," Titus said. "I'm just saying you really don't want to do that. I've seen others try."

"And what do you know, huh?" Shaun sneered at the coyote.

The coyote waved a dismissive paw at the cross Rottweiler.

"I've been here for almost two years," Titus said. "Almost longer than anyone else. I know Khalil's been here longer, almost three years. He was talking about it the other day again."

Shaun shook his head. He had no idea who Khalil was and he didn't want to know. The only thing worth noting was that the coyote mentioned someone else. That meant they weren't the only two kept in that place.

The dog decided to bite back his further remarks. He was starting to run out of steam anyway. He felt listless and the headache was threatening a comeback. It all felt quite surreal. Maybe he was still under the influence of the drugs that had been given to him.

The Rottweiler returned to his bunk and sat down. It didn't make him feel any better.

*

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