FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Title: Data Extraction

Author: Inconspicuous

Story Commission for Stardragon9

Colonel Bobkov slowly fluttered his eyelids, grimacing his teeth, letting out a brief puff of hot air from his flared, black nostrils. Dim overhead lights flooded through his pupils, his blue irises contracting slightly and reflexively as a low rumble slipped out past his lips, groaning and unintelligible. The world spun around him, rotating in the figurative sense with an unshakable sense of vertigo--he knew he was sitting; he knew he was upright yet it felt to him that his brain had been blended. That the pink, thinking, gelatinous three-pound mass was sloshing around his skull, twirling and swirling from the established inertia, bubbling and fizzing as if someone had poured pop rocks down into his ears. Thinking felt like threading yarn through the eye of a needle yet he attempted anyway, like starting an old tractor that had sat for years neglected in the elements. Coughing, sputtering, refusing to fully start but giving an occasional glimpse, an intermittent glance of its former glory. Where he was, what he had been doing, even the intrinsic question of who he was seemed to be frustratingly opaque. His head throbbed as if drumsticks were beating behind his forehead, emanating out as a constant dull pain that seemed to spread down between and behind his eyes. The snow-white bear tried to reach up to rub his face, only to find the sharp squeeze of leather against his right wrist which matted down his fur and dug into his skin.

"Ow..." the polar bear mumbled, grimacing again, the sharp pain of the binding against his wrist kickstarted his mind, his body set again to a much higher level of awareness. His heartbeat quickened, his breath deepened as his chest rose up and down. He blinked his eyes rapidly as his pupils once again tried to focus, barely seeing a few feet beyond him as the room around him and all the mysteries it contained would remain shrouded in shadows for the time being. He tried again to move his wrist, this time as a test, only to find and affirm that it was indeed truly stuck.

And that the same could be said about his other wrist.

And across both legs over his calves and his ankles.

And with the additional discovery of a thick, bulky metal collar fitted snugly beneath his chin that pulled his head back against a headrest, the realization that he was bound, strapped down, and stuck without options quickly settled into his rapidly waking mind. Drago Bobkov could only wiggle his body and turn his head to a limited degree much to the discomfort caused by the bindings. Colonel Bobkov could only clench his fingers and his toes, only to be surprised as he found the former to be stuffed within what seemed to be vinyl ovoid mittens that kept his fingers together. The White Knight knew he was naked from how the cold air blew down from above, down his exposed chest, down his rippled torso, down to his thighs and his sheath and his sizable sack that dangled in between. From behind, he could feel the occasional gust of air graze against his tailhole.

Wait, what?

And thus, the grizzled polar bear became achingly aware that his posture was less 'sat down' and more so 'reclined.' He finally noticed that his legs were spread eagle allowing access to his manhood. His back fur was pressed flat and matted from the weight of his body. His mind was a maelstrom of panic and confusion, of embarrassment and anger. His thoughts were immersed in fantasies of escape, of somehow finding a way out of his predicament despite the fact that he was practically paralyzed, unable to move, unable to even shimmy his wrists as they were blocked by the mitts. Recognizing the futility, his thoughts soon shifted to deciphering the identity of his captor and what could possibly soon be in store for him. They were most likely Imperials, given that he had been hiking through Azmir Pass to collect intel on a purported Imperial research base. He remembered laying down upon a snowbank, binoculars in tow as he set his sights upon a clandestine concrete structure nestled high up against an escarpment. He remembered a sharp prick against his neck before everything else afterwards soon became indecipherably fuzzy.

"Fuck..." he muttered, slightly shaking his head in frustration as he realized that he also truly knew nothing. Nothing that could help him get out of this mess he was in; all he could do was sift through his memory of the worst enemy officers. His mind spun like a slot machine and his heart pounded inside his chest. The smothering sense of uncertainty clawed at his sanity, at least until he heard the distant but distinctive sound of high heels against linoleum coming from somewhere in front of him. "Oh... oh fuck..." he muttered under his breath.

Click.

Bright lights beamed down from the ceiling, cast upon every surface with a ghostly white glow. Drago's eyes immediately squinted, his pupils constricting as he couldn't even raise his hands to shield his sight from the suddenly harsh glare. He groaned with a grimace as his focused vision was thrown out of whack by the blindingly bright, his senses reduced as he heard the continued approach of heels against the floor, smelled of a distinct fruity mixture of exotic perfumes, and felt the gentle graze of fingers against his feet and the warmth of breaths upon his chest. He didn't need see to know who she was.

"Zolona Jazmyn!"

"The one and the only~," she spoke with a silky-smooth voice, tauntingly seductive, situated somewhere behind the bear.

He blinked his eyes profusely for a few seconds as the world before him slowly came back into view and he was almost disappointed to find his captor nowhere to be seen. Despite the infamy, despite the reports of a mad Imperial scientist who wore high heels and fruity perfumes, no one had ever set sights upon Director Jazmyn and returned to tell the tale. All he could see instead were stainless steel counters and nefariously sleek machines, designs on par with Empire's usual aesthetic. Between clenched teeth, he spoke back to her. "Where am I? Tell me where I'm held!"

"You're in no position to make demands~" his captor replied with s's drawn out.

A feline characteristic, Drago made a mental note of that particular inflection of tone and cadence. "You underestimate me, Director," he replied with words full of scorn. "I'll never talk to you Imperials. Might as well save yourself some time and shoot me now and be done with it."

"Mmm..."

He felt a large beige hand, warm and fuzzy, be placed against his shoulder before moving down his body. The arm was long and slender, covered by dark, velvet sleeves. He could hear a slow inhale directly behind him followed by a purring continuation of her words.

"Now why would I shoot such a wonderful specimen?" she replied, speaking directly into his soft, round ears. "And I speak from one legend to another, of great White Death, terror of the North, lying so helplessly before me."

Drago squeezed shut his eyes as he felt her fingers dance over his face. Her claws grazing against his battle-scarred cheek. "Then what do you want from me?"

"Oh, plenty of things. We have much to learn from such a... specimen like you..." Zolona chuckled softly. "Bodily reactions... mental capacity. After all, you have such a wonderfully large brain for a brute~"

"How do you kn--" He barely had a chance to retort before the lioness' hands moved out of his sight and he soon felt something heavy, cold, and squishy with the texture of plastic like a bag filled with water fresh from the refrigerator, descending down upon his head. He shivered, his teeth clattering together as the coolness seeped down from his head, traveling beneath his thick fur coat as it seeped down his spine. Another surge of sensation would greet this downwards signal, intercepted within his chest and causing his heart to practically skip a beat. Drago nearly yelped as he felt another object, contoured and cold, rubbery and wet with a thick, oily lubricant, be dragged behind his balls before tauntingly circling his tailhole. His eyes darted left and right with dread and with recognition, steeling himself as he bit his lip before only the dildo inevitably slid in, spreading open the entrance, looming below like a cannon primed and ready to fire.

"Ah... I take this isn't your first time?" The lioness teased as she strolled back in view, this time with her whole body before him. The fur on her face shined beneath the lights, her deep red eyes easily the most noticeable feature, staring back at him as if scrutinizing his soul. Her labcoat was the same crimson hue with golden highlights and tassels on her shoulders. The buttons were offset to the right side of her torso and her collar ran all the way up her neck. Her pants were shiny black leather, the same material as her shoes.

"Sh-shut up. Y-you think you can j-just brainwash me l-like this?" Drago muttered with a rosy red blush painted upon his face.

Zolona chuckled again, her hands returning to rest upon his abs. "I have no intention in doing something so gouche..." she dragged her fingers further down his torso. She twirled her digits upon the little scruff of fur that sat atop his sheath. "...I do have something better in mind, for you especially~"

"Y-you're a s-sick..." Drago squirmed, squeezing shut his eyes as his whole body trembled within the restraint. Try as he might, he could not escape her advancing encroach as she teased at his sheath before descending further to fondle at his orbs. "s-sick kitty..."

The Director replied with nothing but purrs, opting instead to lean down and press her muzzle beneath his thighs, much to his chagrin.

"O-oh fuck..." the bear muttered, his breath stuttering as his imagination ran wild with vivid detail. He struggled harder against his restraints, still unable to find any weaknesses to exploit. But what little focus he had would be nearly immediately dashed as he felt a rubbery wet nose press firmly upon the skin of his scrotum, the thin part below his sheath and above his balls. And his body would shudder, degenerating into tremors as he let out a feverous murmur that crescendoed into a moan as he felt a wet raspy tongue drag against the bottom, lapping and licking at his churning white orbs. As if it were candy, dragged from back to front along the groove in the middle. And despite his best efforts, despite his attempts to contain his innate impulse, his urges ultimately ticked his body up to DEFCON 1 and his bright red shaft slowly slid out his sheath like the tip of a nuclear missile emerging from a silo.

Zolona seized the opportunity upon seeing his scepter, retracting her tongue with a devilish smirk as she repositioned herself just a little bit higher. Her eyes remained affixed upon the bear's struggling expression as her mouth once again opened to take on his tip. Sucking while her tongue eagerly twirled to tease and to coax, she drew her head back as the cock continued to expand, her nostrils flaring as she took in the salty smell, as she tasted the musky pre, as she heard the bear's incoherent babbles. She removed herself from him once his length had fully extended, much to his chagrin.

"P-please... f-finish..." Drago desperately pleaded, his eyes opening as slivers as the rest of his face was drenched in sweat. His heart threatened to leap out of his chest, pounding with vigor and unfulfilled anticipation.

The lioness stood over him with a confident smirk, saying nothing again as she instead strolled up to his side. She leaned over him and pressed her muzzle against his lips, closing her eyes while his shot open as she pushed into his mouth a mouthful of his own pre.

"Aaack! Pthah! You witch!" Drago cursed, coughing and spitting as the taste of his seed coated his tongue once Zolona removed himself from his mouth. "I'll end you, you filthy Imperial! I swear the instant I get out of these restraints!" He ineffectively flailed, his eyes angrily watching the lioness gesture to someone to the side past his peripherals.

"Oh, I'm not so sure that will be the case~"

He heard more footsteps along with the squeak of rubber wheels, and soon his newfound fury turned rightfully into fear as he witnessed the lioness procure what looked like a pump: a milker with a hose and silicone seal exactly the size of his dick. He watched her turn on the pump, suddenly silenced as the machine roared to life. He watched her malevolent smirk, her devilish grin, her diabolical smile as she took a step forward. "Wh-wait... no! I-I don't need that! The pump isn't necessary, I was hasty earlier! I-I'll tell you everything!"

Zolona chuckled, twirling the tube around and around. With her words as tormenting as ever, she spoke down to the bear as she tapped the tip of his cock with the rim of the tube. "Oh, I knew you'd give me everything I need. This is just a gift, to the genetics division, of course." She continued as she slowly lowered the seal, sliding the slick silicone down his shaft as the bear futilely attempted to escape from her wrath.

"Ghhh--f-fuuuck!" Drago's mind was driven into a flurry, his sanity disintegrating as he felt his meat balloon under pressure. He squeezed his eyes shut, grinding his teeth in frustration as he felt more tugging, pulling upon his cock before the seal popped off his cock to give him some reprieve.

"Beg," Zolona demanded, "beg for your release," she shoved the tube back onto his cock after giving him no less than two seconds to recover. "Beg like the pathetic worm you are, oh great White Death, oh Colonel Drago Bobkov!"

Time no longer felt like it had any meaning, reality felt like it was dissolving all around him. The Colonel, the bear, trembled on the verge of collapse, his mind twisted and wrung by the seemingly unending torment by his captor. It felt like an eternity; Drago thrashed as much as he could, trying his best to resist the urge, to retain whatever dignity he was allowed to possess and to refuse to stoop so low as to beg. He pressed on, his will a beacon of determination that was slowly being corrupted, slowly being consumed, against his best intentions by the seemingly unstoppable hunger. Teetering on the edge, his nerves felt like they were on fire, raging and burning with the brightness of thermite, eating at his arms, and legs, and body like acid. Clawing at his very soul, gripping in and anchoring with its pressure. He was not only cracking; he was rapidly crumbling.

"Beg!"

"Fuuck! P-please!" Drago broke into sobs with tears streaming down his face. "I-I'll d-do anything! J-just l-let me cum! Let me cum!"

"Anything?"

"I swear on my oath! Anything!"

Zolona smiled, leaning back towards his face as she kissed him on the cheek. "Remember, you asked for this~." She said softly, sultrily, barely heard over the sound of the pump before roughly shoving the milker fully down his cock.

The sensation of silicone sucking upon his scepter, the rubbing and the rippling, felt like no mouth he had ever experienced. Electric jolt immediately rushed up his spine, shot up his spine, slammed up against his brain like a tank shell breaching a bunker, spalling erupting from his cortex as it showered his cerebrum with a cascade of brilliant white sparks. Immediately rolling back his eyes, immediately devolving back into gibberish, his psyche devolved into a feral scramble, thrusting his hips forward in a desperate bid to speed up the process. To close the gap between the seemingly impossibly distant prospect of climax, like running towards mountains without any sense of getting any bit closer.

Yet.

It was impossible to ignore the fact that the milker was indeed slowing down. From each cycle of the pump getting slower and slower, from just the sensations of each stroke before farther and farther apart. Veins popped up on the side of Drago's head, the bear frustratingly straining as he continued to hump into an increasingly inactive machine. He felt like he was right there, that he was right on the verge of greatness. Of release. Of glorious climax. "Fuuuuuck!" he cried, desperately pressing his head back against the cushions.

"Oooh, it seems the big bad bear can't get his rocks off. Mmm..."

"Sh-shut up! Shut u--Ow!" Drago winced as he felt a series of sharp pricks around the top of his head, followed by a prick against his right shoulder. In his peripheral vision he could see a glass syringe filled to the brim with a glowing green solution and a beige hand depressing the plunger. He could feel in his veins the icy cold concoction seeping through traveling up his arm. He could feel dread as it spilled into his chest and entered his head to theoretically disperse all throughout his body. Yet there was an unshakable feeling that the coolness could only travel up, that it was honed in on his head, centering on his skull. "Wh-what did you just inject into me?"

The lioness retracted an empty syringe, playing coy as she twisted off the needle and disposed it into a nearby receptable. "Nothing that you should be concerned about, my dear."

"I demand to know!"

"Careful," she stared down at him from behind with only her hair and her eyes visible to him. "Anger speeds up adsorption of brain lubricant~"

"Brain... lubricant? What pseudoscience is this?!" His hunch was right, and his head was already starting to fog. "Wh-what do you mean by brain lubricant?" His words were starting to slur. Even focusing on Zolona, whose face was no more than mere inches away from his, was rapidly becoming much harder than he'd like. But to assist anyways, the lioness reached forward, slightly tilting the bear's chin so his blue eyes were perfectly aligned with hers.

"It's to help with your quota problem."

"Quota? Problem?" Drago looked with an equal mix of concern and confusion. It once again became increasingly hard to put two and two together, to string together thoughts longer than a few phrases. The sloshing feeling returned, the sensation that the interior of his skull was once again liquid. Fluid. Much more pronounced than before, much more intense than before. His eyes focused forward, staring back at Zolona's, staring into those bright red irises that were the same hue as her labcoat. His brow furrowed as in his peripheral, past the smug, insidious feline, entered a wolf in a white labcoat missing the top half of their head. Above their brow and between their ears was instead a glass dome that covered what appeared to be their brain bathing in green fluid. Their expression was blank; their brain appeared barely active. The Colonel's focus lazily meandered, demanding nearly all his focus to even shift his eyes towards that direction.

And once again, that focus would be shattered, tossed, dashed into pieces as that wolf stiffly walked over to a console. Flipping a lever, the dildo behind the bear would instantly thrust up, ramming through the puckered doors and sliding in with an audible.

Glllick!

Drago roared, the back of his head pressing as hard as possible against the headrest. His eyes squeezed shut as euphoria exploded from the lower half of his body, as the tip of the dildo slammed against the swollen sides of his newly enlarged prostate. His fur stood up, his heart sinking in his chest as he could feel with great sensory detail each inch, each millimeter of retraction as the textured dildo slowly slid back out. Slowly, slowly, until the tip was just about to exit.

Glllick!

And back in it went, ramming against a target that was nearly impossible to miss.

And again.

And again.

Locked in a cyclic pattern of entry and near exit, repetition of sliding and sliding out, pushing and pulling, smashing and smushing against that sensitive cluster of nerves. Every fiber of his being felt blazing with ecstasy, burning with the brightness of a billion dying stars; his brain felt as if it had been doused in gas and lit on fire. The bear's feverish eyes barely noticed the wolf walking a few steps to their left, flipping another switch and restarting the milker. He howled as loud as he could as he experienced the combined assault--the penetration of his prostate, the sucking of his scepter, the relentless taunting and teasing of the lioness who stood over him, leaned over him, stared into his increasingly blank eyes. In his fervor he had already forgotten about the green goo she had just injected him with. He had already forgotten about the predicament he was in. About the war he was fighting. Nothing else would matter as sweat dripped down his brow, his eyes feverishly quivering in his head; he felt as if he were strapped to a rocket flying faster and faster, closer and closer to the precipice, the prospect, promise of paradise and orgasmic release. His arms pressed down against the chair as firmly as he could, his balled hands vibrating in their restraints. Every single cell, every single molecule and atom of his body was unified in ecstasy, in the experience, in the combined goal to climax and to cum.

Zolona watched the bear with great interest, glancing back occasionally at the monitors above him. Her ears flicked as she heard three welcoming beeps, smiling as she leaned her body forward. Her lips puckered as she brought herself to his face, pressing them tightly against the bridge of his muzzle between his eyes.

Concurrent the clenching of the muscles in his thighs.

Concurrent with the holistic trembling throughout the bear's body.

Concurrent with the churning and the throbbing of his swollen sack as it finally was granted permission to eject and to ejaculate.

"Hhngh!" Drago sent his seed up and into the awaiting milker. Into the awaiting tube as liquid bliss erupted from his dick. His eyes rolled up into his head and his tongue flopped out of his open mouth as a seemingly unending stream surged down the hose, drawn out by the pump to be deposited into a receptacle. His balls clenched up against his crotch as if they were squeezing themselves dry. His mind had practically shut down, overwhelmed by the experience as his trembling would stop and while he continued to cum. His body basked within the warm, radiant glow. His struggling shoulders ultimately relaxed as did his thighs. The torrent of cum would slow down to a trickle, then to no more than mere dribbles as he was drained dry without a single drop missed by the milker. His breath was heavy, his heart pounding within his chest. The dildo would slow to a crawl and the milker would power down. Finally, he was sated, satisfied, his urges fulfilled as he basked in the afterglow, still waiting for his thoughts to fully recollect. "Hahhh..."

Through lazy unfocused eyes, he witnessed the wolf detach a quart-sized container completely filled with something white, something milky from the milker. They sealed up his seed and affixed a label before setting it onto a cart. He would also see the lioness, who had turned away to scrutinize a screen towards the side of the room, a screen filled with scans, symbols, and a series of oscillating waves that rolled up and down with equal amplitude. He watched the smug smile of Zolona return to face him, her fingers returning to smoothly stroke the side of his face.

"Your brainwaves are now synced perfectly with my devices. Congratulations, Colonel. We can start the main procedure~"

"Main... whuh..." Drago sluggishly slurred, his eyes lazily shifting as he struggled to stare at the evil feline Director. His breath was still heavy, his heart was still pounding to an almost distracting degree. "Wha do you have... planned?"

Zolona procured from her pocket what looked like three large computer chips with pins that looked like insect legs. Etched onto their plastic casings were double-headed eagles, the Imperial emblems. "I'm going to remove your brain and replace them with these."

"Oh..." The bear replied, almost disappointedly. Alarms blared within his brain, yet he lacked the energy to muster much of a reaction.

"This," she wiggled the largest of the chips, "will supplant your motor functions. Like walking, or talking, or tilling the fields."

Drago pursed his lips, slowly shaking his head.

Zolona set the first chip aside and brought forth the second, one slightly shorter with pink line across the casing. "And this'll control your bodily functions. Bathroom, and breeding. Everything subconscious."

He watched her set down the second chip, his eyes shifting to the third.

"And finally, the antenna and the receiver," she held up a square-shaped chip, much thicker than the rest. "The one that will beam commands down to your body. To send and receive signals, as needed of course."

"Wh..." Drago muttered, his mind already smothered under a dense layer of fog. "What's... going to happen to my... brain?"

"I'm impressed you're still holding up," The Director smirked, setting down the third chip as she turned her body to the right. Her fingers drummed against a draconian device that looked like a CRT monitor with a large pickle jar taped to the side. "Your wonderful brain is going in here," she tapped the jar. "I'm going to extract everything I need, all that vital information, and then once it's empty, I'll see if I can implant new memories."

"You... monster..." he mumbled. His protests were mostly quelled by a newfound pressure against the top of his head.

"It really is just a biological computer. If everything works fine, then you get your brain back, and return to your friends, none the wiser to your new shift in alignment."

He winced, feeling as if the top of his head was being split wide open.

"And if we can't, well, your interim assignment as a simple farm worker will just become permanent," the lioness reached over, glancing at and patting the helmet that was affixed to Drago's head. "It seems that everything's ready. In the time it took for you to climax and for us to have this wonderful little conversation, the top of your head is now mostly dissolved." She leaned in closer, once again speaking directly into his ears. "I can now access your wonderful mind. And you can do nothing about it."

Drago could only let out a whimper of whine, being the only thing he could muster the focus to do.

"Don't worry, I'll even give you a nice protective dome like dear Anslo. He too had such a nice brain." She chuckled before turning to the wolf in question. "We've waited long enough. Initiate the extraction."

The wolf nodded, maintaining his blank stare as his corrupted brain bobbed in his dome. He reached back to the console, flipping the same levers as before, much to the bear's chagrin.

The dildo and milker awoke from their brief dormancy, revving into action as they resumed their service upon his rear and his shaft. Immediately as if on cue, blood surged back to his dick despite having just experienced an unprecedented orgasm. His balls churned despite being emptied of seed. His mind wavered, inching back towards the allure of ecstasy despite its imminent demise.

Tik, tik.

He saw the lioness reach up to his helmet, turning a dial twice whereupon he could promptly feel another source of suction. This time deep within his head, deep within his skull, as if fingers had reached in and started to tug. Pulling, prying at the strings that supported his mind, Drago struggled with his last bit of will, a reserve that remained against all odds as he futilely fought against all three machines. Against what the Empire had planned, what Zolona had planned. He knew that this helmet he had been wearing for a large portion of his capture was actively extracting the one thing he had left, the one thing that made up himself. Sucking his cerebrum, the thinking bit of fat and flesh, wrinkled and whorled. A tiny bit of him was curious as to what it looked like, eager to proceed despite the danger. His face contorted into yet another ugly grimace, trapped between pleasure and dread, ecstasy and terror, euphoria and fear. He can feel his brain be squeezed slightly as it exited the bounds of his skull, the torsion upon the soft gelatinous organ reflecting in a twisting of his thoughts, a twisting of his perception. He panted. His eyes were crossed. Sweat streamed down his face, his body, mentally cursing at how easily his own body would betray him as another orgasm rapidly neared, another climax imminently approached.

Pop!

Like uncorking a bottle, perfectly time to another spurt, another spewing of seed into the milker. Drago clenched his teeth, pressed back his head which was now decidedly hollow. Undoubtedly hollow as he simply felt different without a tangible way to describe it. He had expected it all to already be over, yet he gratefully still retained whatever little wit he still had through the sensation of this second pulse of pleasure. He felt the milker and the dildo inevitably depower. The suction from the helmet was no longer present. He longed for a mirror, to see what it looked like, simply just imagining that his brain was now held aloft over his head by technological black magic. He could feel Zolona's fingers fiddling with the helmet. He could hear each miniscule tap, each silent vibration now emanating through his now cavernous cranium.

Hissss

A little dribble of emerald-green solution trickled down the side of his head as the helmet split down the middle, opening like a clamp. He saw the lioness step back forward with a mask now donned over her face, without a doubt still smiling beneath that cover. Thick, shiny rubber gloves now covered her hands, and held in her left hand were those three insidious chips. He winced as she once again neared him, approaching his face, speaking directly above his forehead, most likely directly to his brain.

"Now for this part, it's especially important that you don't move~"

"Zolona... y-you're a witch... and a devil," Drago muttered with breath shaky and stuttered.

"Mm... let's see your tone in just a few moments..." Zolona replies cooly, coldly, reaching up with her rubber gloved hands. Into his skull, his newly vacated craniums.

Drago shivered as he felt himself being touched in a place that practically should never be touched. He felt her fingers fondle the interior of his skull, gliding against the sides which had once contained the bear's brilliant brain.

Bzzt!

"Ack!" He yelped, feeling a pinch as something was slotted directly to the base of his brainpan. Undoubtedly the first of the chips.

Bzzt!

"HHgn!!" And the second

Squip!

"Gghuh..." And the third, pressed directly upon his brainstem, the fibrous column of nerves still connecting his body to his brain, tenuously stretched out by the mechanisms in play. Drago's eyes crossed, a trickle of drool dribbling down his chin as he could already feel a faint current emanating from the chips. Still, he tried to glance back up at the lioness, pleading weakly with words weary. "P-please... d-don't do it..."

Zolona shakes her head, raising her right hand up to directly stroke the surface of the bear's pulsing brain, tracing a little wrinkle in his frontal lobe as she turned her head down, feigning sympathy as her eyes met his. "But I'm already so far. Just wait a little longer for the chips to synchronize."

Drago watched her left hand slowly reach for a bright red button on what looked like a remote control placed flat onto a nearby tray.

"Hold on, this is the worst part of the procedure."

Before he had a chance to object, to delay the inevitable for a final time, his eyes watched as her palm pressed against the button. It sank into the remote with a climactic click as the signals from the device were invisibly beamed into the three chips within his head. Registering into the chips, received, parsed.

And then discharging.

The bear's body was tense with electricity. A steady stream of stimuli that originated not from his brain, but from the three chips stamped into his skull. Wrenching control into their silicon grasps, reaching out and engaging his nerves, and wrapping them round and around their little golden teeth, sparking, pinching, clenching, seizing the strands, the strings, his body rendered no more than a puppet. He clenched his teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't even marshal the strength and the focus and the might to howl or to scream, to display one final rite of defiance as his whole body instead rocked with involuntary tremors. Shaking, shuddering, stammering for what felt like, what seemed, what he believed to be like an infinite amount of time. To watch Zolona watch him for what seemed like hours, what seemed like days, what seemed like weeks. Months. Years. If not centuries of staring forward. Reality, and everything he knew about it. Collapsing. Crumbling. Imploding as everything around centered at the core of his sight. The very middle, wavering tenaciously, precariously. Delicately like a floating bubble. A feather. Light. Airy.

Calm.

The bear's breathing steadied. His trembling stopped. His hands lowered back down onto the rests, no longer pressed against the restraints. His chin was soaked in drool, but he closed his mouth to stop it. His eyes stared forward lazily, half-lidded but unified. There was still an echo, a silhouette of a self, a semblance of something he no longer recognized. It seemed to scream, to reach out at him like a hand limply flopping against a window.

Snip

And then it was gone. No more echo. The voices in his head silenced as he had always known. In his peripherals, he saw a blob. A brain. Covered in whorls, decorated with wrinkles, slowly ebb, slowly throb, slowly and lazily drift up, then down a tube as it cleared an arch in the piping. Descending into an awaiting receptacle, a jar filled with green fluid, connected to a computer screen, currently dark, currently dormant. He did not question what was inside the jar. He lacked the knowledge that the scientists had to understand it. He stared forward at said scientists in the room. A wolf worked at a computer console just a few feet in front of him. The wolf wore a white labcoat. The wolf had a glass dome revealing their brain in place of their skull. There was nothing amiss. He simply needed to wait. Just a little longer. Let them finish the procedure.

He had many chores to finish at his farm.

A lioness steps into view from behind him. The lioness wore a dark red labcoat with golden tassels at her shoulders. He knew the lioness, instinctively, as the Director. Director Jazmyn, Imperial Grand Scientist, citizen of the Highest Order. How great it was to be in her presence. To be at his monthly checkup. With her.

The lioness smiled at him, pulling off her mask. "How do you feel now?" she asked with a silky-smooth voice. Her ruby red eyes stared right at him. Right into him.

There was a pause, as if he were waiting for the gears in his head to make a full rotation. "I feel fine," the bear replied with a slight drawl. Of course, he remembered he felt like this every time. Every visit he'd feel slightly woozy. Nothing out of the ordinary. "I am ready to provide another load to donate to the Imperial Department of Genetics."

The lioness nodded with a smile. "Excellent," she simply states before turning and gesturing to the wolf behind her. "Anslo, install a new dome onto Mr. Bobkov."

He would witness the wolf, Anslo as he had just learned their name, rise from their position and procure what looked like a clear glass dome, polished and shiny, held within both hands. The interior had a strange transparent coating--silicone, he recognized--that slowly became more and more visible the closer they got. He remained still, calm as ever, once the wolf was close enough to raise the dome above the bear, holding it like a hat which he was soon adorned with. It felt heavy. It felt cold. It took a few seconds for him to properly process the stimulus. The bear instead elected not to react.

Director Jazmyn stepped back with a proud look on her face. She glanced to the side, at the unimportant looking jar, before turning her attention to a set of switches on the console the wolf had previously occupied. With a casual flick, she'd turn on two machines. The milker, and the dildo.

He'd feel them immediately, grunting as he felt a constant vacuum against his cock along with something pushing against his prostate. At first, he felt nothing, just the simple signal that an object was inside his hole, but something in his head would ultimately let out a faint beep and he soon felt a steady stream of pleasure. Controlled and prescribed. A smile would curl up the corners of his mouth. If he felt pleasure, then he must smile.

Kerchunk!

The pleasure was interjected with a brief, sharp prick around his head. The wolf, Anslo, stared down into the bear's mostly empty skull, watching three chips flash and blink as they registered the stimulus before resuming their work and applying another bolt, affixing the dome directly against bone.

The bear was used to much worse down at his farm, but he groaned anyways. If he felt pain, then he must groan. The steady stream of ecstasy would dull the edges however, consolation for the discomfort, and inevitably he would cum, and fulfill his donation to the Imperial Department of Genetics. His balls clenched, his cock throbbed in the tube, letting out a few final spurts, weaker than the rest, into the machine. The milker stopped as soon as he came. The dildo stopped as soon as he came. The bear remained still, awaiting further orders from Director Jazmyn.

Anslo and Director Jazmyn would both begin removing the straps, the ball mitts and the restraints that held down the bear. Slowly, methodically. They would fall to the floor, their purpose no longer needed.

"One of these days," the bear would state, remaining still as half his body was freed, "you will realize that my restraints will no longer be necessary for my monthly cum donation."

"I apologize," the lioness replies, shaking her head. "We are under orders by the Imperial Council to secure all large mammals during collection."

"I understand," the bear acknowledges the statement as the last of the restraints, the bulky metal collar, is removed from his body. "I apologize for questioning the Council," he adds, reaching over with his newly freed hands to gently rub at his aching wrists. He slowly rose, assisted by the scientists, guided by their hands as his legs were uncharacteristically shaky. His fur was drenched in sweat, matted by the restraints. His gaze turned to the left--the first time seeing that part of the room, yet he regarded it with familiarity. He stepped forward to the washing station, his cock and balls swinging between his legs. He always enjoyed the automated cleaners. He always liked that part of every visit. He enjoyed feeling warm water and soap sprayed onto his fur. He enjoyed being scrubbed by spinning brushes before a final rinse and soak. He enjoyed the automated blow dryers that left his fur nice and fluffy. He stepped forward out of the shower, towards the waiting Director who held something large and metallic in her hands.

"Do you remember the rules, Mr. Bobkov?"

The chips flashed within his head followed by a beep. The bear would nod before he replied, "Affirmative. Cock lock must remain in place and may only be removed immediately prior to the next collection."

"Good, Drago. Stand still."

The bear complied, standing straight and steady as he offered her his flaccid dick. She took the meat into her hands and slid the cold metal over his cock, slowly as to tease. He felt cold, and if he felt cold then he must shiver, however the Director's order took precedence. The chips would not allow him to shiver. He'd watch the lioness stand back up with a proud look on her face.

"All done, Mr. Bobkov. All that is left is to put on your clothes."

The bear smiled too, mimicking her excitement. "Thank you, Director," he replied, turning to face Anslo who currently held his clothes in their arms. He could see, folded within the stack, a red plaid shirt and blue bib overalls. Both had the sheen and the texture of rubber. Set to the side are a pair of rubber green gardener's gloves and a pair of rubber green boots.

"I took the liberty to shine your boots. They are your favorite after all," the wolf would state with his voice quiet and monotone. Typical for a scientist.

"Thank you, Anslo," he replied, already slipping the shirt over his shoulders. "There is no need. Grime shows that I am working hard for the Empire." He buttoned up the shirt before slipping on his overalls, putting on his boots before slipping on his gloves. He reached for the final bit of his outfit, a rubber brown rancher hat, only to wince a bit as he snugly fitted it over his head. Covering the dome from any wary witnesses.

"I reassure you," Director Jazmyn would add, standing beside the machine with the jar that currently held a brain. "We were able to repair the cuts on your head, but there may be mild discomfort for the next few days as the scars heal. Try not to fall on any plows next time," she said with a smile. Her signature, smug smile.

The bear would nod, chuckling awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his head. "I will try to avoid falling on any plows in the future. Thank the Empire for its technological advances." He couldn't help but stare at the brain before he finally left the room. How it pulsed in its container, twitching and spasming within its chamber. He couldn't help but wonder how anyone could be as stupid as to go against the Empire. They have certainly been more than wonderful to him.

Turning out the door, his clean new outfit squeaked as he walked towards the exit. His farm was on the outskirts of the city. It was a rather long walk, all things considered.

It was time for him to get back to work.