FSE

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Corporate Interest

11/08/2773

"I like this place, Puppy. It's very clean, quiet, and temperate enough." Betta's body vibrated from the kick of his drink, prepared well by the white lion sitting across from him.

"Can you please not call me Puppy in public?" Ricky insists, his pink blush over his gray furred cheeks. The fog's eyes darts to Arthur and Tuck who giggle amongst themselves.

"Awr, and I thought you're my good boy." He raises his tone before taking a sip of his cold mocha drink. Inside its plastic dome is a clear sweet foam that layers atop rich dark brown liquid. The cup it's in is a light green, bearing the brand of 'Roast n Rye', encircled in a mug, with a wreath consistent of various pastries.

Arthur and Tuck sniggers louder, and even Dan looks away to scoff at this Prospect-turned-bitchboy. Ricky slumps his chin down against the table and covers his face in embarrassment. But Betta knows he loves it, the cute fog, as powerful as he is, has needs. They let their humor and ease resume for the next few minutes, taking in the atmosphere and the relative calm.

Betta scoots closer to the fog and rubs his back, feeling the lack of fur through his shirt on a small spot on his back, just above his heart. What he did at the time is simple yet, to him, it means much more than he himself realizes. And he wonders if his 'associates' or 'subjects', as he's described them before, know about it too.

Arthur is the somewhat paranoid Inylsenian deer. He's seen him once before, after his own arrival on Earth's surface. Eyes always looking around, and is armed to the teeth unbeknownst to him at the time. The fangs on this antler-less deer, a common trait of his species, have been coated in material capable of cutting through metal and plasma. But seeing him with Tuck, a jackal who works for the immigration branch, seems to have calmed him down to being a different person entirely. Their eyes always meet each other with such loving gazes, albeit overly flirtatious. They might exhibit behavior that's inappropriate to the cafe staff.

Speaking of, Dan here is a barista of this RnR cafe, just a few blocks away from where Tuck works too. He's a Palluvian lion, but all Ricky's told of their kind is this sense of pacifism. But his presence with them also prevents Arthur and Tuck from inappropriate bedroom behavior, having caught them three times before.

Roast n Rye's a good meeting place for all of them. A popular cafe branch that spans throughout the Universe, often filled with loud enough customers to drown out the noise. In their case, it's an hour before lunch so it's relatively quiet save for the speakers playing a screechy violin tune that's a hit in Mars. Not exactly Betta's favorite. Ricky has mentioned earlier today, way too early in fact, that they will conduct an infiltration of Kerrigan's main headquarters one Sub-Level above where they were.

The only thing Ricky's told him is that he gets to toy with that scumbag- make him his bitch through his innate hypnosis powers. And the thought of it again sends a twitch from his thighs and to what's between them, his rough tail thwacking against the wooden chair.

"Please don't wag too hard or I'll have to charge you for the damages," Dan says while eyeing the front door for new customers, and back to Arthur and Tuck exchanging jokes.

Betta replies while lowering both his sources of excitement, "Sorry." His tail tries not to move itself, and shifts his legs to calm him down further.

"Eager to have at it with that lion?" Ricky sits up, the blush on his face completely gone. Betta's backrubs have no effect on him now and retracts his hand. It's time to talk business. "Tuck, Arty, pay attention." He waits until the lovebirds look at him, Dan too. The dragonborn sees a cold contempt behind those eyes, especially as they turn to him. "Betta here cured me of my 'infection', per se."

"Hypnosis, right?" Arthur says, that uneasy look returning to his eyes.

"Mhm, and that's how we'll get him to subdue Kerrigan. Simple mind control of that felinid bitch, and he'll give us access to the Act Key."

Betta puts his thought into words, "But if you have the power to do it much more efficiently, why me?" And it's definitely something that Arthur, Tuck, and Dan themselves have wondered too; why does a God need the bidding of his followers if not faith?

"Simple," Ricky leers at all of them and back to Betta, "The Inaudece." He pronounces it as Eeh-noh-deh-cheh. "They are a force that, for all my powers, I could not alter outside of the Universe. Outside of CASFHA. Only they, and they alone, could bestow such strength. And to do so I must undergo, or in this case, others must undergo strife to appease them on my behalf. If I have sway out there, I can build bridges that could strengthen CASFHA, and the territories they are connected to."

"And what will our compensation be if we do it for you?" Tuck wonders aloud, enough for them alone to hear. His peers look at Ricky expectantly.

The fog gives a rare smile, meeting their eyes again with hope. "For the Inaudece to praise your name," he looks to Betta, "Is to wield the same power that I do."

Betta feels a twinge in his mind, a cold slide through the back of his head that perhaps could be a simple brain freeze from the deep sip he just took. He is about to say something.

But Ricky speaks first, "And this is one of the many steps I am taking. Unfortunately the Inaudece sees combat within me, but they find subterfuge in the Dragonborn here." He points to the blue Dragonborn, though regal his species befitting of Arthur's world, he is dressed in a logo t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He makes an example, "Should I simply rush into the office with my R.O.E. in hand, I can certainly best them but the consequences of committing several murders will bite me in the ass, which hinders my goals."

"And how about corporate subterfuge?" Betta asks.

"Probably fucked silly, and that's about it." Ricky remarks.

"That's it?" Betta and Arthur say together. The former is baffled by the consequence. While the glances at him, worried if it's just an expression.

He turns to the deer, "He'll be fine." Gesturing to the Dragonborn. "As it stands he has no corporate, political, or extraterrestrial alignment other than being a simple Earthean. And it's how the Conglomerate hazes you anyways. Other than that?" The fog shakes his head. "I'll have to intervene, within Inaudece's requirements."

"That's not assuring," Tuck interjects.

"Exactly, I can't assure his rescue." He points to the deer. "It will always be out of chance with the Inaudece. But I digress." Ricky turns to Betta. "Besides, you're good at hypnosis. Not a lot of people on Earth are immune to it."

"Who are then?" Betta sips in the clear sweet foam through the straw to ease his worries. He can definitely do this, and Ricky's belief in his abilities should be enough, knowing what he truly is capable of.

"Celestials, Cosmics. The former glows like an outline of their own, the latter have a starry skin. Don't fuck with them."

"Why not?" Betta wonders for a moment, and then he remembers the green fire, and the star-skinned trees. Somehow this Cosmic species is attributed to that occurrence. "Nevermind, you're right."

The others who've lived here longer have that gloom look in their eyes. Betta feels it too and there's more to it. Dan speaks up, "Giving your seed into a Cosmic lowers their mortality rate, makes them die harsher too. That's all I can say."

"We believe Kerrigan's partner is such," Tuck says. "If he's going to screw him daily staring now, he has eight months to go."

It will be July of next year, Betta thinks. He agrees to the task, "Alright, let's get the lion off of his pedestal." Putting down his empty cup and flexing his arms around as he will need his them for hypnotizing. In the same manner he has done to Ricky, hold their heads and tell them something nice, and they'll gradually do his bidding. The Dragonborn stands and leaves the table about to move out when he notices his peers still sitting in place.

"Wait, you guys aren't coming with me?"

"I gotta run this place," Dan takes a sip of his hot coco drink. "And make sure these two don't spill their milk again." Gesturing to the couple.

"I'm a government employee on break," Tuck says.

"And I'm on paid leave." Arthur adds. "Who hangs out with a government employee."

"And I'm still finishing my drink." Ricky takes another careful and small sip of his warm oatmeal milk.

Betta hopes that Ricky's joking because if he's putting absolute faith in him that he doesn't need any sort of oversight, especially in a strangeland for him, he's a greater fool than he thought. "You're going with me, right, Pup?"

"No." Ricky replies, taking another sip. "Inaudece, remember?"

"Fine." The Dragonborn sighs, but points at him with condemnation, "But if this doesn't end well for me, there will be consequences."

"Promise." Ricky winks at him.

"I'll hold you to that." Betta replies sternly, a cacophony of fun and degrading thoughts come into mind, the kind that Ricky will like should all of this go awry.

"Sure." The fog nods and takes another sip, it's here that Betta notices his mug constantly refilling itself. He exits the door, its bell automatically ringing on his way out, and proceeds to the nearest Metro Station in disbelief.

It's a relatively short commute from the RnR all the way to the tower. A train ride that shifts the edge of the city with its low-lying buildings, into a metropolis heartbeat with bustling vehicles, and whirs of flying cars overhead. And the overhead train station has a lot of people from different corners of the Universe moving about. It's not overwhelming as it used to be; he avoids any species made of goo, and fog that's not in their form-suits. Avoid furred creatures with tattered clothes because they can carry fleas, even ones that go into scales. And never go under any hovering species. Don't even get him started on the permeating metal smell, emitted by the fumes of cars from above and below. He covers his nose while making his way towards the exit. To his dismay, the streets below are full of people making use of the lunch rush. He can use magic to blink but that requires a permit, and his is still in process. But at the very least there's proper foot-traffic decorum, where the closest lane to him has a river of people going towards the HQ's direction.

He follows it Eastward, becoming the water going through the stream. Both claws are in his pockets, clutching onto his valuables which are his guide and the ever-versatile mobile device, or MD as how the youth say it. It's far worse than the starports above because everything here reeks of corpo-talk. Phone calls of gossiping employees, talking aloud of stocks and bonds, and the occasional grumble of someone's bad workplace habit.

After walking about for several minutes, Betta displaces himself right in front of Kerrigan's main office, catching a breath of un-fresh air after choking on sweat, tears, and workplace exhaustion. He hopes to never become one of them. But such fears are put aside when he sees the scale of the structure right in front of him.

The building consists of three see-through entrances and exits that converge into two different front desks. From the outside, Betta sees that one is dedicated to the employee function, and another to their residential suites. He's heard of benefits living next to your workspace but never living in one and disgusts him. That's just wrong, he thinks, but he's one to talk given his coming mission. Continuing his assessment, there has to be at least one hundred floors here, and there are eight elevators on each side of the receptionist area. Unfortunately, though, all of them are in use by several carts bringing up supplies, and only one of each is dedicated to employees who're already forming very long lines that extend out of the other two entrances.

Betta steps in to diffuse any semblance of suspicion. The door slides open, and a stoic Lynx scans him with a metal detector. He inspects their uniform because maybe this one's all he'll need getting to the lion.

"Okay, you're clear." The lynx says.

"Thanks," Betta steps inside and goes to the nearby lounge area where a hovering fountain revolves around it, with its unlit chandelier swaying beneath. He pulls out his phone to blend in with the corpo scenery, because these people are all about their devices. The other two dragons with him are on their phones right now, playing a game. He texts Ricky that he's inside, while subtly glancing at the guard.

The lynx's outfit is a white button-up shirt, dark blue pants, and black leather shoes. These colors compliment the aquamarine marble flooring and the white pillars. Almost like a camouflage, making it easier for him to blend in. His ID card clipped on his shirt pocket, which Betta can barely make out the name, the seven-digit numbers, and a purple stripe on the left vertical side. There's no photo on it though which makes it too convenient for him, followed by the wonder as to why.

Regardless, he'll have to bring him to a secluded spot like the men's restroom. He'd normally go for the stairs but impatient workers are using them so much that a stand is placed on the doors to keep them ajar.

Ricky texts, "Good job. Kerrigan should be in his office for the rest of the day. He's planning a gala for December and he wants it to be flawless."

"Was thinking of taking a guard." Betta replies.

"What, on a date? That'll take too long."

"No, hypnotizing him."

"I know, I kid, I kid." "Better that way. Access to all floors without arousing suspicion."

"I'm going to make my move soon, see you."

"Good luck."

Betta has an idea on how to get close to his soon-to-be forced lynx friend. He cycles through a plethora of videos on the Uni-net, finding one about a streaming river. The one he picks is from the Neptunian rapids, playing it loud enough to overwhelm the lynx's ears, a series of gushes fills the space between them. And he makes sure to look invested to make it more of an inconvenience for him rather than suspicion. In fairness, Neptune's rapids are very mind boggling. Waters swirling in matters that disobey the laws of physics, waves crashing against each other, and streams pouring out of artificial dams built near them. He winces at the lynx, now tapping his heels against the floor. His very stone-cold stares started to warm up with mild annoyance, betting he could tell off the Dragonborn to shut his video down.

This audiophilic torture goes on for several minutes, the lynx's legs are now crooked and crossed against each other. Betta pretends to ignore his vexing glare as he retreats to the bathroom, unaware of the Dragonborn's mischievous smile. Once the lynx passes between the long line of logistics, he too gets up and goes in the direction of the men's lavatory, just past the employee receptionist desk.

Lavatories in this Sub-Level are something else to behold. Its front door greets him with a smell of fresh lavender, not the pseudo stuff one finds in lower Sub-Levels. A faint tune of a singing lady, perhaps a mermaid, cuts down the loud chatter of the world outside this small place of relief. Its tiles are still marble, but the pearly white. Clean, and very reflective though the latter can't be said for the toilet stalls. The sinks are individual ornate slabs of porcelain, decorated with the symbols of a lion; its faucet is an authentic silver. Betta is getting sick of this rich-boy circlejerking- he finds the lynx taking use of the urinal next to a saber toothed tiger. The latter finishes first, doesn't bother washing his paws, and leaves past him. There are four of six open stalls behind his target, which will help with organizing their equipment. Maybe fool around? To tucker out his target of course, he wouldn't want him to wake up sooner.

Betta makes his move, a pink glow surrounds his right arm. He paces himself slow and from behind, just out of sight of the lynx. The feline is midstream when he mutters about the scaled one pestering him with the water videos.

Koshiro sighs in relief, "Fucking Kerrigan and his fucking image. Can't tell anyone to knock it off because 'oh public image, oh business'." He pantomimes with his free arm while keeping his stream against the urinal. At least the materiel here is legitimate, enough to see his own reflection. Though he is once more irked because he even sees the same... Dragonborn... here? He turns his head before his body does, even his streaming cock as he feels a touch of warmth against the back of his head. The built-up tension wind-down in the same manner he takes a piss just moments ago. Relief not only from his bladder, but from the pressure against his mind. He lets out a true long sigh of relief.

Betta is not one for indecency, immediately commanding his newfound friend to turn his cock back to the urinal. "Good boy," he whispers to him as the lynx finishes. Even jingles his cock clean for him and leads him to the stall just behind them.

The lynx interprets his commands as simple, simply stepping backwards into the stall with a smile on his face. His cock having been man-handled, now stands at attention. After his master has closed the doors, he too stands at attention. Musk emanates from his hard-on, the saltiness of his feline shaft mingled with the authentic flowery scent. The Dragonborn sniffs the kind of smell that normally doesn't exist in this kind of stall, but it's here. And he restrains his thoughts knowing this will be the only time he's going to this bathroom.

Betta checks his ID first, his name is 'Koshiro Taka'. The reason why it lacks any more pertinent details is because it's a temporary ID while his official one is due, according to the ID, within three days, and it's only issued today. "Congrats on getting the job," he comments.

"Thank you, master." Koshiro answers absent mindedly, smiling at his master's remark. His puffy snub-tail wags side to side, his cock throbbing more.

"Spread your arms, kitty," Betta whisper, kissing the lynx's cheek with glowing pink lips to increase his control over him.

"Yes, master," Koshiro obeys his command, stretching his arms out as little as the stall lets him. His elbows touch the wall and the stall, all the while he is stripped of his belongings; a mobile device that only answered to him, his wallet, a pen, and a long white handkerchief. Being a guard was busy work after all.

"Is this all you have, Koshiro?"

The lynx nods.

"Good kitty. Can you please undress for me?" He whispers. It takes strength to not wag his tail, knowing full well that a subordinate to one of the biggest assholes on this planet is under his control. And he also doesn't want to signal to the other occupants and passers by that he enjoys using the loo.

Koshiro disrobes while Betta hangs his clothes on a hook molded into the door. His master watches him, satisfied with what he sees. It excites him further, pre oozing out of his shaft that gentle scaled fingers immediately touch his needy tip. He lets out a moan but his master hushes him faster.

"Not a noise from you or I won't let you cum. Is that clear?" Betta smirks, coating the lynx with his own viscous fluid.

Koshiro nods frantically as instinct and his personal needs urge him to thrust against his hand. He whines softly, purring more to express his desires. And his master enjoys it too, seeing the tent on his jeans.

His heart thumps loud and fast, the thrill of this rooting power dynamic. Alone in this stall with a naked lynx man who'll remain as such for several hours, and he relishes at the thought. Koshiro can do nothing while Betta feels his smooth fur, fingertips tracing around his spots. The lynx's body reacts with twitches, pants, and contracting muscles as he constantly fails to steel himself.

Koshiro fidgets in place as Betta touches his thighs and hips, his most sensitive places. And the Dragonborn notices, brushing his muzzle against it that bends his knee from the wave of pleasure coursing through his body. He tries so hard to stand firm because he wants to cum under his duress after all. No greater honor can be bestowed upon him after. This trance is the most blissful he's felt in decades, coupled with the best handjob he's having right now.

"Good kitty," Betta's nose brushes against his dick, pre spurting out over his muzzle. This lynx has a fascinating scent that is not as strong as the other muscular anthromorphs, almost spicy. But how about his taste? He looks up to Koshiro looking down eagerly, their eyes twitching results in more pre dribbling down the base of his shaft. And in turn, Betta uses both hands to massage him, feeling the tremble on his legs as he does so again. "Does the kitty want his dick sucked?"

"Yes, please," Koshiro pleads, tongue lolling out. He thrusts against his intricate hands.

"Stand completely still for me, kitty." Betta orders him. "Make any noise, make any rash moves- you will be edged for a month."

Koshiro stands still, agreeing to his fair terms. He mustn't disappoint him, and all he can hope now is to give him a copious amount of seed. The last time he's let himself loose was three days ago, and today will be that pay off.

Betta's finger runs through the difference of how this feline's shaft feels as it looks. It has barbs as opposed to some other felines that have regular or equine shafts. Meant to encourage their partners to continuously elope, it'll be easier for oral than it is for anal. He gives the tip a good sniff again, taking in the exotic scent and letting hot air brush over the lynx's sensitive flesh. His other hand, slick and sticky, dry themselves on his subordinate's fluffy and full nutsack, giving them gentle kisses to stifled moans. He'll let that one slide, patting his butt to express that notion.

He's already close but edges himself through his mind alone, wanting to show his master that he can control his urges. And the pay-off will be significantly better.

Betta then kisses his tip, suckling on it before going down on it with his prehensile tongue wrapping the lynx's throbbing need. Koshiro above him clenches his fist to himself, audibly exhaling instead of whimpering out loud. He grabs his soft arms and positions them behind him, closer to the frantic tail. With a trick of his lizard tail, bringing him the handkerchief, he ties his wrist together as a precaution, and a delightful sight to behold. This is the kind of punishment he'll enact on Ricky should this mission go awry. And with his target secured, he bobs his head in and out, suckling noises mixed with that erotic musky-lavender scent.

Someone flushes the toilet two stalls away, the door opening and someone leaving without bothering to wash their hands. That said, Betta has to clean his hands after this. As much as he enjoys musk, he prefers to not be caught with it during work. Several more people walk into the bathroom and use its amenities. But he keeps himself still the entire time, pausing to listen if anyone is about to intrude on them. His hands and lips glow just in case he has to mess with someone's mind on a whim. But the latter is currently behaving like a vibrator for the lynx whose cock keeps fidgeting inside his mouth.

Betta thinks that Koshiro finally deserves his climax and doubles down on his motions, hastening further as the oncomers have gone. His subjugated pet still tries to resist, under the assumption that it's still a sort of test. While he does admire his tenacity, he's on the clock as his stand-in employee. He could feel his barbs prickle up, his tongue slipping in between, rubbing itself over his moist flesh. And the first spurts tickle the back of his throat as he feels them spike at his climax.

Koshiro hisses between gritted teeth while cumming, his bent knees stopped by his master's stud bod as he loses sensation to everything below his waist. But at least his master is merciful, easing him against the covered toilet seat, cool porcelain that felt like a hot spank as it's accentuated by the pleasure he just felt. As his cock softens up with his barbs resting, he lets out a satisfied sigh.

Betta appreciates his spunk, gulping down all that salt and stickiness. His pet has been good, giving him a well-deserved kiss on the cheek as one of his rewards. Next is to put himself on display while changing his clothes, his black shaft hard and leaking pre too, for a moment free to swing around in this musky stall. His own natural scent tangling with the lynx's- he enjoys it and looks forward to toying with him later. Maybe Ricky will get a kick out of it too.

Koshiro's more preoccupied with eyeing his mater's cock, muzzle salivating and wanting to suckle on it, wanting to please him and being fucked by it. Alas, his show is short-lived when his master wears his own underwear. He thinks it's a better fit for him anyways. As is his white uniform that perfectly complements those sea-blue scales, with symbols naturally grown onto them that glow. And don't get him started on those black pants that go so well with those leather shoes. His master will steal the spotlight of any fashion show at this rate. In fact, this should be the standard uniform for the Conglomerate.

Betta may have not heard his thoughts but he sees the flattery in those pink starstruck eyes. He is such a good kitty, kissing him on the forehead. "You deserve a good rest, my strong pet." Hushed and sweet, caressing his neck with delicate fingers. The dragonborn leans in and nibbles on his left ear whispering, "Get some rest for the whole day. I'll come back for you later tonight." While tying down his wrists against the toilet's plumbing.

Koshiro's cock becomes erect as he feels his master's hot breath. But he listens to his command and lays his head against the wall behind the toilet with closing eyes. The last thing he sees is his master separating an ethereal hand from his dragon claws. And the rest is a gentle dream, comfy and controlled.

He stashes his clothes under the toilet seat and steps out. The mage hand he casted locks the door behind him with an audible click, and he washes his hands with authentic pomegranate soap from the dispenser. But he'll have to keep his mouth shut because it still reeks of cum.

His phone buzzes with a question from Ricky, asking, "How goes it? I'm starting to think you took him out on a date."

Betta replies, "Quickie in the bathroom. Found myself a new pet."

"Ya gonna take him on walkies later?"

"Definitely." But he wonders now, passing by the long line of carts going in and out of these elevators. "What can you tell me about this gala and why does it need a lot of prep stuff?" He takes the stairs, hiding his stolen ID in his pocket.

Ricky explains, "Besides the lion acting like a peacock, it's to also showcase technology from distant lands. Turtle Industries from Palluvia, for example, are going to showcase the so-called 'Embassy Armor' capable of sustaining stellar ship fire, and stun everyone and everything in combat."

The fog loves to go on about other concepts such as improved skinsuits for gaseous species, or a pair of boots that allow you to walk on stars. An engineered fruit that allows you to breathe in space, and a specimen of a rapid-growing slab of meat. The latter of which he expresses deep concern. But at this point Betta is more focused on bringing Kerrigan down.

"Will you show up if I do end up hypnotizing him?" Betta asks. He's got to show up, right? It is his plan after all, and being a nobody with a key figure is bound to raise some questions. There's no amount of alibi that he can think of that could save him.

"When you do hypnotize him, yes." Ricky answers back. He could feel his confidence through text alone, which is quite reassuring.

"Alright. A lot of people are coming down my way, probably for lunch. I'll talk to you later."

"Stay safe there."

Betta pockets his phone, hearing the marching and heavy chatter descending past him. He exits into the twenty seventh floor, watching a sea of people as dense as the ones downstairs, descend in a corporate fashion. No way can he walk through that unfortunately, so he ought to wait it out on this floor.

The same dull and efficient layout of the office exuded here too. It's scary enough that the city surrounding the office looked all too similar except for their varying heights, but there are no windows here so he could witness the overt architectural simplicities. He takes the time to explore the floor just to have a scope of what it's like to work in the planet's largest corporate figure's headquarters; everything here screams bland. Black and white, which he finds to be a bit on the nose. Dangling light fixtures in black lamps that emit a dull white light that strips him of his colors. There are small lobbies here for temporary 'relief'. He tries to take a seat on one of them and sure it's cushioned but without depth to lie down on it, or comfily sit down for hours on end. This black sofa is meant to be enjoyed for fifteen minutes at a time, as expressed by the reminder plastered onto the wall.

Yet, despite all this corporate enslavement aesthetics, the worst part are the portraits of Kerrigan that are hung at calculated intervals. His friend Ricky is right to say this lion's a peacock because it goes around the entire floor, even between the few intersections that divide it into a few rooms. His demeanor stares down at him, or if at level, glares straight into him. It feels like he's being watched, that he needs to get back to work even when it's their legally mandated lunchtime.

Betta shakes the feeling off and inspects this floor. It feels like an office space but there's a lot of locked rooms here that require a keycard. Their scanners beside a flat sliding door built into the floor that doesn't let air flow in or out. He leans against one of them to listen in, and there's definitely noise inside. Thumping on the floor, grunts and panting, moaning- moaning? He raises a brow in curiosity, unpacking the keycard, and bemused as Kerrigan has taken corporate slavery to a kinkier new level.

A tap on the scanner, and it approves his entry with a ding. The door slides open, and there are slaves inside but the only thing escaping was the immense musk that has him turned on in a heartbeat. It's a large room that betrays the logic of physical spacing; it expands both left and right, past the adjacent doorway that when he peeks in there are none. The floors are glowing white tiles that become the room's source of light, its walls hosting tv screens for each slave hooked up in goggles. Betta steps in to wonder if these really are slaves, the door closing behind him just to be sure. He tries to contact Ricky about this but reception is not getting through, convinced that this is a cell of sorts.

He steps close towards one of the screens, nearest to it is a naked caracal with her hips swaying about, fluids oozing down and bouncing between her legs. The screen depicts her fighting naked in a gladiatorial landscape, evading arrows and swings from another gladiator that wielded a longsword in the shape of a horsecock. Betta can't help but smile despite the depravity, and his own shaft throbbed too with want. He should get something like this later tto use on his newfound friends, if they want to. There are six others in this room and they're all flailing about with their genitals in clear view. But they don't say anything while their responses are logged into the machine instead. There's a bluejay at the corner of the room whose augmented reality depicts him as a giant bluejay running naked through a city. He's shown fucking buildings, whereas his real self is thrusting the air. Pre flows down in a sticky string that has been pooling on the floor below him, edging closer towards his talons.

There is a cleaning system in play, a small round machine emerges from the hidden panels of the room to clean it all up, before going back into the gap that folds itself back into the wall. Though they've done nothing for the smell, which Betta does like with how musky it is. It's like a two hour night of fornication, and they're about to get into round seven.

The other users here have vanilla tastes, compared to the Dragonborn's standards. Some have sex on the beach, others in a shower stall, and there's someone who's running through a library in the buff. When he's not distracted by their shameless display on the screens, he notices the LIVE text on the lower right, next to a rapidly moving chatbox that is providing commentary to what they see. It's an exclusive livestream it seems, with all its profits going towards none other than the Conglomerate itself. It also occurs to him that these recordings have lasted for hours, well beyond the 'normal' amount that someone can pleasure themselves. One of them, the caracal, has lasted for a full day but shows no signs of fatigue or dehydration. There are wires located on the back of their helmets but it's more for the display being shown on the screen, as well as the Uni-net connection. He doesn't want to think too long though. The room itself doesn't make sense, so neither would their physiology.

Betta approaches the door when he notices a blank TV, and a pair of AR goggles that are not in use. His tail spikes upwards, while his cock throbs tightly against the borrowed lynx's small underwear. The dark blue pants seem to tighten themselves, fidgeting in place as he looks around for any cameras that might witness his petty vandalism, or misuse of company property. When his instincts say there is none, he crouches down and carefully lifts the precious equipment in his hands. Black goggles to contrast the floor, light and sturdy in his hands. Its inner straps proclaim that it's 'multi-species' and 'one-size fits all', meaning he himself can wear it too. He looks at the other dubiously consenting actors and wonders if what's on display is their interest, or if those are the only choices available.

Betta's conscience thinks that this is a bad idea, but his mind urges him to try and his heart to enjoy it. Even his cock wants to release itself from whatever form of ecstasy these goggles will put him through. As he lifts them above his head, he fills himself with resolve, saying that 'He'll only give it a test run', and 'he can always take it off whenever'. He is, after all, one of the finest hypnotists that Ricky's known. If anyone can resist any form of urge, dark or benevolent, it'll be him.

He puts on the helmet that is quite the comfortable fit. The inner padding and fabric is gentle on his scales, and it stretches without inciting worry that it will tear. He'll have to ask Ricky where to buy one of these later because it's as if he's not wearing the helmet at all. Though, given it's not even turned on, it's like a blindfold which he enjoys when done to him. Moments follow when his AR goggles boot up under a low purple hue, appropriate as to not suddenly flash him with a bright light like his phone did earlier after Ricky called him.

But the enjoyment is quick to dissipate when he sees Kerrigan's face and brand, groaning under his breath and tapping his shoe real quick because it takes too long to get out of his face. Once he's gone, the display now shows what he would've normally seen without the goggles. It's a dandy safety feature, and the minimal HUD prevents any obstruction. But he starts to wonder when the fun starts after idly standing for about a minute. He looks at the other players, green with envy as they get to fulfill their sexual fantasies.

Frustrated, he taps the headset in the hopes of unlocking a menu. Swaying his head around to side scroll to hopefully reveal hidden options but there's none. He growls under his breath, muttering commands because maybe it's voice activated. Silence responds and at this point he takes it off and growls at it before stepping out. Feels like a waste of time, he thinks. At least these Kerrigan paintings aren't as annoying as they looked to be earlier. In fact, there's a certain charm to it now all things considered.

Somewhere fifty or so floors above...

"We got him." Ylrogg says. All three of his lips, from his three pronged muzzle, smiles. "Garsii," he signals a figure in the shadows of their dim office. A slender silhouette with large wings. "We'll fetch our special guest."

"Yessss ssssir," Garsii's voice reflects his figure. He opens the door with the light revealing a cobra's hood. His tongue slithers out in a hiss as he steps out.

Ylrogg then turns to the lion beside him, light-brown fur with a glowing outline. "Loom, you're on cam duty."

The Celestial Lion rests his elbow on the desk, the shifting in his posture reveals his glowing shaft that shines a light underneath. And in doing so reveals the face of a cheetah. "But Mabi and I call thirds, right? Right?"

A blush streaks across Ylrogg's face. The Hellion tries to ignore his workmate's shaft oozing glowing pre. "Yes, yes," he fans off the musk and turns towards the door. "And don't make a mess here."

"'Because Kerri's gonna bust your nut if we do', we get it." Loom replies, sliding his cock back into Mabi before he can get a word out. And he does commit, looking at the cameras as he winces in pleasure now and then.

Ylrogg steps out with Garsii, and they're at the stairwell descending within the minute.

Betta is climbing up these steps with minimal resistance this time, with an additional soothe washing over him. He sighs wistfully, almost weightless as he ascends. The imagination of dominating Kerrigan replays over and over. To have that smug lion with his dark mane stained with cum, and to humiliate him in front of his corporate shills. The stock marketers and all those businessmen and jargons. The thumping in his heart becomes quite pronounced, and he goes flight after flight after flight of stairs. Ricky states earlier that the lion will be below his office near the top floor, but his gut tells him that he's at the ninetieth floor.

Time has surely passed as he ascended and at the very least there's no one here to hamper him thankfully. Normally these stairwells should've been quite eerie, the kind of locales that ghost stories come from. But they give off this sing-song tune that relaxes him further. He tries to ponder about it but he just can't seem to come to that answer. And his thought process is interrupted by slipping as he reaches the fiftieth floor. The pounding of his heart bounces off the auxiliary highrise.

"Damn it Garsii, you almost snapped him out of it." Ylrogg snarls at the Bird-Snake hybrid that, despite his elegant form, comes with clumsy reflexes. The other employees step around them, murmuring to themselves about what's going on. He shifts his tone and his face, and despite having a three pronged mouth, does exude an encouraging demeanor. "I'm sorry, we just captured and escaped slave." He glances over at the subdued Dragonborn. "We'll make an example out of him soon."

The Bake hybrid rolls his eyes as he makes up for it by helping the lizard up and taking his hand as they make their way back up towards the rec room. He'd rather not dwell on his fuck up, focusing more on what to do with this gullible dumbass. He gives his butt a firm squeeze, well hidden from the passing employees. This infiltrator has a firm rump, unused from how it feels, and clean for now. "This'll be extra fun." He whispers to the Hellion.

"Virgin?" Yllrog asks, feeling the other cheek through his pants. It's quite a tight fit for him. Figures that the scaled being is wearing clothing well-fit for a lynx instead.

"No, but he's not been used in a while." Garsii traces his finger around Betta's back, eliciting responses unknown to the Dragonborn.

Betta thinks that the exhaustion is finally getting to him, his body feels warm yet flustered. His pants are tightening- maybe his desire to put Kerrigan in his place has gotten him all hot and bothered. But seeing he is alone, he doesn't feel embarrassed about his hard nipples, and the developing tent at the front of his slacks. Further emboldened by the thrill of getting caught, he massages his perked up bits.

Though Ylrogg and Garsii see something similar, they look at each other and smirk. The former saying, "We got ourselves a kinky one. Where'd Chase keep his toys?" They're well past the 69th floor.

"His locker." Garsii brings up his wrist-mounted comms device. "Garsii to Chase, you there?"

"Chase here," his response is bored. Patrolling with Hivemind representatives, who themselves have security too, is redundant and he himself would prefer being anywhere else. "What is it, Garsii?" He hopes for excitement.

"Your toys, we need them." Garsii catches the attention of a few passers-by.

"Finally. Which ones do you need?"

"Hazing." He looks over the same kind of helmet he's been hazed with years before. "Yeah, hazing."

"Did the lynx get fired already?"

"No, we're yet to find him but it seems this new one has innate abilities." He looks over the titillated Dragonborn again. "Stole his uniform. Our new recruit may be naked for all we know."

"That's hot." Chase remarks unabashed, followed by the sound of his locker door being closed. "I'll see you in five."

Here he is, Betta sighed out. Ninety floors up and a quick detour in the first quarter, and he's finally here. Fortunately it feels more inviting as there are windows that show him the rest of the bustling metropolis full of gleaming facades, with an erotic and corrupt interior. But not this place. Opposite of the windows is a long arched hallway with long columns on the floor that are lined with stone and soil, where tall bushy trees grow. They've been cultivated in a manner that prevents them from hitting the ceiling. And at the end of the hall leads to a much larger room where the window is as tall as the ceiling, with several platforms acting as indoor balconies, all connected to a nearby elevator.

As he enters, he really feels this encroaching force disappear. A great burden lifted off his shoulders led into a homey and very lavender-scented place. Kerrigan must like flowers. Nonetheless, this floor is an antithesis to the corporate hell down below. It has furniture placed around the edges of the room such as sofas, shelves full of games or books, and even VR devices that make it seem like a rec room. Yet in the clearing between them are several tables and chairs made of fine laminated wood, and metal for their legs. Condiments on each table, and even digital candles that emit heat from the light itself. To the side of the room between two rows of bean bags is the restroom, and another that leads to the kitchen. On the balconies themselves he could see standing binoculars, and stools that allow you to admire the sights with a drink.

Despite all these fancy employee benefits, Betta finds his rest on a marble pedestal right in the middle of the room. He feels like he belongs there, especially as he lays down on his back. The fanciness reveals itself when it turns into a bed, with one side having a built-in pillow. "I could get used to this," Betta says to himself, satisfied and compliant.

Unbeknownst to him, the very full room of people are laughing amongst themselves. Some even mocking his subservient tone, resulting in more laughter. Several of the Conglomerate employees take pictures with their MDs, videos even as the Dragonborn spreads his arms and legs, while letting out a contented sigh. Ylrogg and Garsii motion to them that groping his thighs, rubbing his chest, and even unzipping his fly and releasing his hard dick does not make him flinch, nor hesitate.

And who could blame him? Betta thought, apparently having pulled his cock out for nobody to see. This uniform that he borrowed from the poor lynx has gotten too tight, and the exercise going up has intensified the musk seeping out between the gaps of his length and the surrounding zipper. This feels right. In the same manner he starts stroking himself for nobody to see. Unabashedly moaning too, in delight, and in Kerrigan's name.

To the sound of cheers and whoops he does not hear. The employees resound a cheer as well, louder still as Chase arrives with an elongated pup mask for scalies, neoprene binds, collars, and a jar half full of Xaffo Goo. The jaguar strides into the howls of the employees on break.

"You even brought the good goo?" Garsii eyes the sentient purple gelatin, quivering inside its glass encasement. But it pushes itself against it when he sees the weak-minded Dragonborn, making a shriek-like noise that vibrates the container.

"Stole company assets. Gonna shame him for it." Chase declared. "Good afternoon ladies, gents, trans, and nulls." He set the toys aside, walking around this afternoon's entertainment. "And welcome to our hazing event!"

"Haze! Haze! Haze! Haze!" The room yells out.

"Will he make the cut?!" He shouts aloud that the crowd repeats after.

"Yes!" Betta proclaims to the silence, stroking himself faster. Panting, wanting to be seen like this. For a moment he rests his arm on the marble, and spreads his legs even more. Letting his dick stand at attention like the good recruit that he is. And because he is so good, the top of his head is massaged by an unseen force but it doesn't matter. All he wants is the good feeling to keep on coming.

A primordial force then tells him to close his eyes. Which he does as an uknown warmth wraps around his head, slithering down through his body. In this darkness he feels tingles throughout his body; a kiss on his nose, and another. Several more, inviting this salty and pungent scent, the one that makes his dick throb and ooze more pre. He wonders what it is but is not allowed to open his eyes. That's when he feels his shirt opening, being slipped off, his slacks and shoes followed soon after. His head is filled with the idea that if he wants to experience this level of pleasure, he has to be open to it fully. Including his dignity, no- in fact that most of all. Nothing is sacred to him anymore; every part of him should be thoroughly expansive so he may be a part of this greater family.

There is stillness after. No one's touching him anymore but the smell is still there. He calmly breathed, the scent masking his nose relaxed him as it excited him too. His ear twitches as he feels that same force approach it, invisible whiskers tickling him. Or maybe it's there and he's yet to open his eyes.

"Open your eyes," the voice instructs him. Whoever he is speaks with a sweet undertone.

He obeys like the good corporate recruit that he is. In what he once thought is a hollow and silent room of nothing but tables, chairs, and bean bags, is now full of colorful individuals of different animan species. Betta's heart wells up in joy realizing that this is all an elaborate surprise for him, smiling though hard to do so with several jockstraps and underwear using his muzzle as a clothing hook. It's a good whiff of the company that makes his tail wag, and the rest of the employees cheered him on.

There are six of them that are very close to him who are his 'trials' per se. Six naked buffed employees that he has to please in order to be a part of this aforementioned family. A dashing red-furred lion with a three-pronged mouth, a winged bird of snakeskin and feathers, a light brown lion with a glowing outline. Must be one of those Celestials that Ricky mentioned earlier, damn shame he can't show him his magic tricks. With him is a cheetah of white fur and yellow spots, jogging in place with excitement. Another is a griffin, the most normal of the six, with brown fur and black feathers- except the difference here is that he has the smallest dick among them. Lastly, the jaguar who has prepared him for his initiation, stepping back with a jar almost out of the mysterious living purple gelatin.

"Who are you?" The same jaguar asks.

Betta glances around to see the lower halves of his benefactors. Indeed all the undergarments on his snout are theirs, and he sees all their cocks, standing like his own. Though some are much more exotic, eyeing the red lion's specifically, whose shaft, like his mouth, can split into three prongs, each tip oozing pre. And that Celestial Lion's dickhead glows almost like the sun, with its own fiery rings emanating as safe molten goo flows down from it.

"C'mon pup," The jaguar forces the Dragonborn by his head to turn to him. "Who are you?"

Betta looks straight into his eyes, amber and tense. He sees himself in them, pink eyes looking back. Those are the eyes of someone who is corporate-compliant. "I am Betta, Kerrigan's future good-boy." And like the good pup he is, he's been outfitted in neoprene harnessing, almost like he is born for this role.

Everyone laughs, having believed it as a joke. He laughs along too, hoping that it's a good start to his 'interview'.

"That's a good one!" The red lion says, slapping his thighs. His three-pronged shaft separates while throbbing, revealing a hidden hole where the bases converge.

A solar flare erupts from the Celestial's tip, laughing just as loud. "I think you gave him too much of that goo, man." He turns to the crowd, "Yo, did any of you catch that?!"

One of them yelled, "I did!"

"Yo, send that to Vernon." He catches his breath first.

The jaguar places his foot beside him, leaning forward muzzle to muzzle against Betta. "Listen, pup, nobody gets to Kerrigan. Gotta work hard for it first." He reaches over and caresses his cheek, sliding his paw up against his head.

The top of Betta's head feels like mush as furred fingers dig through it. His scalp is still there, surely, but it's as if the gelatin has become a part of him, and the jaguar is literally pressing his sweet spots. And with the press of one, he feels the urge to climax, coming so sudden like his cock is. "Cumming!" He shouts to the audience holding their breath. Yet, despite thrusting into the air, nothing comes out.

Everyone's gasps turned to cheers, and those who almost jeered joined along. No one wants him to cum too soon.. The bird-snake who's been stroking himself steps in and strokes him off with a slick hand, taunting, "Where's your cum, puppy? Kerrigan doesn't take kindly to liars." With each syllable an intense stroke.

Betta keeps trying in vain to get himself to climax. But what he fails to realize is that while the jaguar keeps holding down his head, he shall not. He whimpers and whines, humping upwards whenever the hybrid's stroke goes down. His entire cock aches not of eagerness, but a teased and pained sensation that should've made him cum.

"We'll strike you a deal, lizard brain," the glowing lion pulls the hybrid aside, and grabs his length while squeezing around its base. He makes the Dragonborn squirm, his body moving side to side because he can't move in any other way.

Betta still can't cum, and he has to agree with the terms too. He wants to cum but he also wants to impress the family, his instinct struggling against corporate interest. Through them he will find fulfillment for his life and his future. "Okay," he mutters. But he wants to impress them some more, "What are your terms!"

With the crowd cheering, the celestial lion straddles atop of him. That sun-like cock kisses his lips, and he sees the marvels of the sun in the shape of a dickhead. "Entertain us here and we'll grant you an audience with HR. If not, you are not allowed to apply for another six months."

"Alright," Betta takes the initiative and starts licking the sun-cocked feline. It is much warmer in both texture and taste, far from any kind of cock he's had before. His eyes widened, desire filling him to suck it now as best he can. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees the griffin approach his left, and the cheetah his right. Their shafts are within arm's length, and he starts working on them one stroke after the other. The cheetah sighs, pleased with his rigid fingers, while the griffin pinches his own nipples hidden under that thick fur. The hybrid gets behind the straddling lion and holds onto his shoulders. But his expectations of being fucked turned out to be his shaft being ridden on, stopping him in his strokes as the big-bottomed hybrid clenched around his length. He wants to cum so bad inside him because of the cold office air suddenly gulped by his warm insides.

"Poor puppy can't cum yet?" The hybrid taunts him, resting his head on the glowing lion's shoulder. They all look down on him smugly, their smiles are crooked and sinister. Especially the griffin and cheetah whose cocks are not being stroked enough.

Betta feels much smaller now, ashamed of his setback. He quickly strokes them again, and doubles down on pleasing the schlong half buried in his lips, bobbing his head while his slithery lizard tongue wraps around it. But he pauses every five times the hybrid's ass slaps against his thighs.

"Loom," the red lion refers to his lion friend, who lives up to his name looming over him and the hybrid. "How about you give our friend here some motivation. Show him what he's in for with his line of work." There's a smile on all three lips of his, and they split open revealing fangs lined on their edges, and within his mouth too, with a ring of them surrounding his throat. "And for stealing from us."

Loom crosses his arms and pulls out. His disappointment follows with a shaking head as he gets off. "Oh right, he is a thief!" He gets the crowd to jeer at him.

The jaguar doesn't even need to tweak anything. Betta feels the sharp edge in his chest while tears well up in his eyes to then streak down his cheeks. The griffin and cheetah who've been pleasing themselves turned their cocks away, and his free hands cover his face in shame. The overwhelming musk isn't enough to cheer him up as he wailed.

"What a bitch," the jaguar comments. He rubs his head not to comfort him, but to scrape some of the goo off, which then wriggle between his fingers. This organism apparently wants to touch his cock, and he gives it more privilege than their Dragonborn pet, smearing it along his softening length.

Betta momentarily hardens as the jaguar coats him down there, but his length keeps decreasing as the purple mass grows. He wonders at the marvel of this creature that 'hides' his shaft. And for a moment it feels like it's there until it's not. There's no protest coming from him- he deserves this. Unprompted, he says, "Punish me, please."

The red lion's ears twitch, that even he does not believe what he just said. Turning to him, asking, "Can you say that again, bitch?"

"Punish me, please," Betta whimpers pathetically.

And this time he knows, as do his peers. But not the crowd, "Why don't you say it out loud?" He shouts, some of the audience nudging each other for what's not to cum.

"Punish me, please!" He begs, and his mind twinges as the goo does its part. Betta smiles, expectant of it once again. Those smiles return with rougher arms grabbing his legs and spreading them open. His tight hole is still there, and they lift his legs more so a few could see his pink hole winking with want.

"You guys see this?" Loom points at his hole, and he slams down the tail as it starts wagging. "Oh-ho! You like that, don't you, pup?" He turns left and right looking for the hybrid who is standing behind him, taking photos with his MD. "Get your pocket lube, smear it."

"Do I get dibs?" Garsii hurriedly looks for his pants amidst the discarded clothing, finding it and smearing his fingers with them.

"No," Loom watches him coat the tight hole, almost fingering it too. He glances at Betta who's huffing more of their undergarments. "Mabi, get our undies out of his nose before he slobbers all over them."

"Yes, sir," the cheetah does as he's told.

"He gets first dibs," with one paw on his base, and another at the tip, he curves it inwards and prods him with the tip of his own tail. The crowd behind him chanting, 'Tail! Tail! Tail! Tail!' and he sticks it inside. The dragonborn's body jerked from the penetration, surprised at the girth of his tail.

"Ah!~" Betta moans out, his tail wagging out of its own volition as he feels the jolt of his bumped prostate, the wriggling of his tip exciting more while his ass tries to tighten around it. And he feels it move deeper with Loom pushing it inward. Elation builds up with being pleasured in a way he has not considered nor done, alongside the restored cheers from the crowd who are enjoying this show. He even catches a glimpse of Garsii whose tail is similar to his except smoother and smaller, wondering to himself if he should do that later tonight. Better yet if Loom will do that to him instead.

"Alright, who gets second- I told Ylrogg that I'll be third with Mabi here." He reaches over to the cheetah and pats his shoulder, the latter's purring is audible.

"I will, obviously. S'cuse, Steyr." Ylrogg steps forward, putting the griffin behind him. His shafts are closed in again, each prong pulsing at second intervals. "I've seen your show with Koshiro, can't say I'm impressed. I'll show you how a Hellion does it."

Loom smiles and pulls his tail out with an audible schlorp, sliding his finger around Betta's rim first, warm, loose, and slick. The others with him look at the unusual red shaft protruding from its furred sheath. They notice that the pre oozing out is a thick red lube, almost like blood smeared against the blue scaley underside as Ylrogg puts their pet's legs over his shoulder.

Betta's eyes widen as he feels the large rod enter him, yelling out in ecstasy as his second bedfellow slides it in. And he even feels its slow separation inside him, expanding his ass. Three prongs slipped into his rectum, with the Hellion's figure looming over him, and they exchange gazes. His purple hypnotic eyes meet the fiery eyes of this lion.

"Good job, pup. Now for the fun part." Ylrogg says.

Betta only processes the first three words before his pounding starts. Such force of a very alien nature has rendered his legs immovable as he is pinned on display. Even the cheetah watching them is amazed at the pace his superior has gone. There's a lot of raw despicability he brings against his rear, the slaps against his buttocks as his flesh hole reddens similar to the shaft entering and exiting him. And the Hellion maintains this pace, enough that his blue scalie rear turns purple.

All eyes are on their copulation, and those watching have their hands on their phones recording, or on their dicks or fingering their pussies as they get themselves off. Those closest to Ylrogg and Betta indulge themselves in foreplay. Loom once again had Mabi sucking on his dick, while Garsii, Steyr, and Chase jerk each other off. The room fills with moans, except from Betta who is then told to keep his snout shut.

Betta complies, and he was laughed at for it. He was supposed to be beneath all of them, to be their little cumpot; Ylrogg was the first to fill him, and he wasn't gentle either. His rectum was continuously ravaged as the Hellion's red seed filled him up, hotter than regular semen.

Ylrogg pulls out with an echoing roar, smearing droplets of his last spurts around the dragonborn's hole so Loom enjoys him next. The Celestial Lion immediately goes to work, leaving the Cheetah, who serviced him for a good minute, with a dissatisfied grumble.

Loom shudders in pleasure as the Dragonborn's wet and sloppy hole allows him to slip in with ease. Well-lubed, and still warm from the pounding and red cum, he helps himself with the new fuck toy. But Mabi is not one to leave himself out, standing just before the goo-headed Dragonborn, he demands him to open his mouth.

Betta's maw is crammed with a spikey feline cock, almost like the lynx from earlier today. And he feels him thrust down his throat too, despite having quite the long muzzle already. His body rocks back and forth to their motions, in awe of his physique.

The Celestial lion is gentler compared to the one before, but that in itself is a thin comparison to make. His thrusting motions evoked discipline rather than brute punishment, similar to the Cheetah ramming his shaft down his throat while squeezing around his neck.

Betta gags as the Cheetah's cock went deep, its spines tickling the insides of his neck that sent waves of submissive ecstasy, a sensation of pleasure that he is not allowed to reject. Not like he's not enjoying it either. All while warm Hellion semen oozes out at every thrust, almost like Loom is going to replace it. The pair keep on for minutes, turning Betta into a two-way fleshlight. They kiss each other, and lever off each other with their arms, synchronizing their thrusts to continue squeezing the dragonborn.They even made their Frenching obvious for him to see, goading him for missing out on what real passion and lovemaking is like. A reminder that he, in fact, will be their toy. And to add to this taunting, even the crowd are in awe at the display of employee togetherness, and the love being portrayed here, if one would call it such.

What they love more, however, is stuffing and gagging him with their dicks as their climax draws near. They moan and panted, then Loom spanks his ass, harsher as he starts shooting his load into the battered Dragonborn bum. He painted his insides with regular spunk, though not as much given he already came into the Cheetah's hours earlier. But Mabi compensated, filling his maw and throat with his spunk.

Betta feel's Mabi's thick seed hit the back of his throat, and the succeeding shots pool at the top of his maw. Mabi demands him, "Best to swallow all of it." He chides, "A good worker is a well-fed worker." The cheetah grabs his snout, tilting it upward after he pulled out his flaccid shaft. He covered his nose so that the Dragonborn could finish it down in one gulp.

It slithers down his throat, warming his body with white sticky goo much sweeter than most. Nectar that he feels as if he's craved it his entire life, his eyes turned to starry hearts as he tried to lick at the Cheetah's dick wanting more.

"Bitch wants more," Mabi chuckles. "Who wants my side? Steyr?" He turns to the griffin approaching him. The crowd woo'd as if he's a favorite, and they did it louder still when the Jaguar stood beside him, thigh-to-thigh.

"Gonna miss out on this ass, Chase?" Garsii spreads the Dragonborn's cheeks, red and white cum oozing out. He's already lined up and coating his dick in it, slipping in much easier than the last with how gaping it already was.

"If this cocksleeve cleans me right after, I could go back to checking on the party." Chase slams his cock into the Dragonborn's eager mouth, gripping the glob on his head and controlling the manner he would be getting sucked off.

Betta feels the skillful hand teaching him how to hit the right spots, twirling his tongue around the jaguar's felinid shaft, and stroking it with its prehensile structure. His hands are then guided to reach over and massage both his and the griffin's standing beside, who soon joins into his slobbery fray. They frot inside, and Betta accommodates them by wrapping his tongue around both tips. The hellion's silhouette shifts out of his peripheral, standing beside Garsii with his shaft hard again. He lets out a mewl of want- his mind screaming 'Give me more!' but can only say so much with two cocks in his mouth.

His masters understood though, Ylrogg says, "Bitch wants more." And he lets Garsii slip out, and they returned together with a five-prong assault against his hole, stretching him further.

It's more pleasurable than it is painful, and their fun lasts for five more minutes before they've deposited their seed in him. His ass plugged soon after by Garsii because Ylrogg forces his hand to do it. The Hellion invites any volunteers who wanted to keep the show going while Chase took his leave, wringing his pants over his shoulder as he did.

About ten men line up behind Garsii with their cocks out and ready to cream their potential candidate, whereas the women employees lined themselves up as the Dragonborn's special tongue did wonders between their folds.

Betta prides himself in being a vital company asset, relieving and storing their 'stresses' inside of him. His stomach has been building up with cum, bulging past his waist and Garsii made sure he and the others arre well aware of their efforts. They pat itt with an audible smack, and soothe it with gentle rubs jiggling it. The engorged belly gurgles, and he could feel their seed churn inside him. It's good and warm, and he can get used to this.

But that is just the lunch shift.

More employees start lining up behind them in the hours to come, leaving Garsii and Steyr in charge as Ylrogg, Loom, and Mabi went back to the security office. Despite how messy this line of work is, there's a lot of effort undertaken for the safety, cleanliness, and aftercare of actual employees. Whereas Betta is left stained all over, marks after marks of pre, cunt juice, and cum. Amidst having been drenched, he is always asking for more. And more he got; several of the canine employees knotted him, a few other feline guards pricked his insides with their dicks, and even the rare breed of Alpha Humans give him a taste of their bountiful man milk.

The goo implanted atop his head that nulled his bulge chirps with enjoyment, feeling the mental gymnastics that Betta had been going through. The denial and submission mixing with his uncertainty nourishes it, enough to be a tad larger than when it was first assimilated onto the Dragonborn's head.

It isn't the only thing that has grown too; Betta's belly is the product of several species of milk mixed into one. And one of the employees even brought in a plug that they have secretly worn today. and Garsii borrows it because his arm got tired from stuffing him with his arm for a lengthy amount of time. By the end of the work day, some employees return to make use of the new candidate one last time.

Chase comes back with a stiff neck from all the standing still he did, "I think he gained weight." Remarking on Betta's cum belly, and stained and musky body, "And I think my goo did too." He doesn't even know that Xaffo goo can even grow at all, but having made the realization could save a pretty penny on any future purchases.

Betta on the other hand is still swimming in his mental ecstasy, still hoping he could get hired for his endurance today. His superiors look down upon him laughing. Perhaps because he had been such a good dragonborn.

Ylrogg arrives with a sheet of paper on a clipboard with information whether Betta would be hired or not. "I got info from the higher ups. They've watched the footage and they are pleased." Chase, Garsii, and Steyr let off a cheer, the latter smacking Betta's ass. The Dragonborn tilts his head up awaiting his judgement. "Alas our roster is full so he will have to be let go."

"After all that?" Garsii protests, his arm's fur stiff from the constant re-drying after stuffing it constantly.

"Hush, Garsii, Kerry will compensate you for your endeavors in both ways." The Hellion winks at him. "'Enjoy the stars.'"

"Fuck yes! Alright, this justifies it." Garsii patts the jiggling Dragonborn belly.

But Betta's 'convincing' did not relent, and he speaks a proper sentence for the first time since they started, "I can come back tomorrow, right?"

Ylrogg reviews the paper, "You can try again in six months." He says simply, turning to Chase and tilting his head towards the outer nightlight city. It's time for him to go.

Betta replies enthused, "I will do better next year, masters!"

"I'm sure you will. Chase, show him to the door."

"With pleasure," the Jaguar brings along his specialized jar of goo. The elevators are still busy, and it is quite the long walk going down. Several of the employees they passed cheer them on, just the Jaguar really. They all laugh at Betta who is receptive to it, laughing with them as he wobbles down the stairs. The buttplug ensures his creamy bounty does not spill down the steps, relieving any janitors for the night.

Six months from now, Betta hopes. He will do better then. Service more people, maybe please Kerrigan himself. And this workplace has no room for pessimism so all he could think of is ambition, and not how he failed to make the cut tonight. Even if it will take him forever to be a part of the Kerrigan family, he will do it. Even if he has to come here naked, and with this nice goo resting atop his head.

Once they reach the ground floor, a lot of the delivery-persons wolf-whistle at him, some taking photos on their MD. Betta unabashedly waves both hands at them yelling, "I'm going to try again next year!" And several of them erupt in laughter, while a few others feel the secondhand embarrassment from the unprecedented enthusiasm being exhibited by a naked cum-pot-bellied Dragonborn without a dick, and a buttplug up his ass, with a pink blob on top of his head.

Betta is not pleased about having to leave the premises, but it is what it is. The night life of the underground city is far more pleasing than when he entered earlier. Roads are clearer, people are in their informal wear. And to his surprise, he is not an outlier. Envy-faced, he sees a group of bearded dragons with their pet delta-humans in pup gear. And he pants after them, wanting a set of his own.

"How about you come back with pup gear next time?" Chase gives him a deserving pat, "It'll raise your chances of being hired."

"Sure!" Betta smiles wide, hope fills his chest with his tail wagging, almost loosening his plug.

"Dumbass," Chase gripps his head, waiting for the Xaffo goo to suction itself around his paw. "This is company property. Properly fuck off now." A quick plop and the goo is back in its jar.

Betta's consciousness slaps back into his senses, collapsing on his side further loosening the plug. He swears it was morning when he entered, and despite being blacked out for the majority of the day, his face is not in searing pain. These roads had been lodged with traffic, and there were less people on leashes at that time. He tries to think back on what happened past hypnotizing the guard. The faint memory of going upstairs but the headache strikes back, denying him the memory. Yet in the thick of this pain is the recollection of pleasure. Two and two together- he realized that he's been fucked senseless. He feels the increase in body mass as fatigue frails his legs. His belly jiggles, sloshing the sticky fluid inside. Just before he notices that he had been naked, the soreness has masked his sensations waist down.

His tongue tastes like nearly a hundred blowjobs thoroughly mixed with semen and pussy juice, and with an aching jaw to follow. Between his legs is his mobile device, buzzing with his friend Ricky calling him. Betta bends down to pick it up, but in doing so his plug pops off and cum of different colors oozes down from his battered rear, trickling down his legs and splashing on the concrete pavement below. A moan escaped his lips, satisfied and ashamed, and he swiped the strip of glass before the pool of genital fluids reached it. His natural instinct against this level of shame is to cover his slit with both paws.

But he hasn't answered Ricky's, and the vibrations from his device invites his cock out. Passersby point and laugh at him, and he simply stands there. More of his spectators take photos, the moment lasting longer as a crowd forms around him. His cock throbbing to their lustful eyes, without the pretense of trying to hide it anymore- he is enjoying it. Even though he expresses uncertainty with clenching teeth as he winces in embarrassment, the blushing does not lie, and the subtle swaying of his hips that trickled semen down his legs faster, while his tip already ooze with pre.

"I'm gonna cum," Betta mutters, and is met with erupting cheers from everyone surrounding him. Whether it is by vanity, or by an ingrained habit, his climax is more powerful than he anticipated. "Cumming!" With a forward thrust, he shoots his load ten paces ahead of him. The first string staining a corporate uniform who is filming his indecency, and the subsequent load has been avoided well. And he doubles down on his show, his still-ringing friend becoming his makeshift vibrator as he holds it against his shaft with both hands and thrusts into it. By now the male passers by have visible tents, some are rubbing their bulges too.

After the entire minute he's spent cumming, his audience slowly disperse. Some still take photos, one of them even dared their friend to spank his ass which they, and their group dart away soon after. Howling in laughter when they're far out of his reach. But he wouldn't have done anything, still riding that wave of built-up ecstasy from Gods know where. And when the pleasure waned, he wobbles onto a lamp post for support, and it occurs to him that he must've answered Ricky's call mid thrust because the call had been ongoing for the last few minutes.

He put up the musky, stained glass to his head, "Hey," and pretends to sound alright. "I'm sure you know what's happened to me."

"You're popping up on social media," Ricky answers, amused. No hint of disappointment at all. "So I'll keep my end of the bargain."

"Let's worry about that later. Can you come and get me, or call me a ride? My phone's not exactly 'clean'." Betta's fingers are moist with his own fluids. It has been worth it though, admittedly.

"Since you're at my mercy for tonight, walk ten blocks along Melifax street, and you'll find me in an alleyway."

"Are you serious?" Betta looks for the street sign, and it stands behind him. A long street with skyscrapers, and the direction of traffic heading his way where his face was most visible.

"Mhm, don't worry. I got you dinner." Ricky hangs up on him immediately.

A passing car highlights the exhausted and humiliated Dragonborn slowly trudging through the corporate streets, leaving a few drops of cum at every step. He can't keep his legs closed either because of his sore ass. Betta hopes that dinner would be good enough, otherwise he'll enact a greater vengeance on his dear puppy.

By the time he reaches the alleyway, about eighteen people have taken photos of his predicament, three passing cars whistle at him, one of which invites him too, and a Celestial Mutt on the street even hands him a calling card too; a place called 'Holy Night'. In the shadows he sees the darkness surrounding a pair of dark red-eyes that are somehow more visible. "What's for Dinner?" Betta calls out.

"Burritos, iced tea, and a towel for you too." Ricky tosses him the latter first, a large fabric that the Dragonborn wipes himself from head to toe with, and enough to act as a tunic for his decency. Albeit its threading stiffens with dried semen, and it does little for the strong smell too.

Ricky steps out wearing a collar like a necklace, and he offers an unmarked bag that smelled of pita wrappings, rice, beef, and cilantro, with a paper cup of golden-brown liquid. "A reward for a good show you put out."

"Did you know that this was going to happen to me?" He reluctantly accepts the meal, taking a sip of the drink first. Halved the contents of the paper cup because of how thirsty he had been, and the sweetness calms him partially. The hybrid is still in big trouble.

"Mhm," Ricky leans against the wall with no shred of doubt nor regret, pulling out the same cup from Roast and Rye earlier, and infinitely sipping from it. "And I know I'm going to be punished for it." And he says it so casually, almost like he wants to be.

Betta grins, "Fine, puppy."

****