This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
All work is fiction intended for fantasy only, regardless of content, and consent must always be acquired when engaging in any sex act with another adult.
Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.
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One month later...
The bear returned, yet again, though Sandor hung there, fury roiling in the pit of his stomach. It seemed to be the only emotion that kept him out of the raging pit of despair, feeding that anger, letting himself wallow in it, twisting back and forth, humping and grinding, even as more and more and more still cum had been milked from him.
A whole month... He only knew that because the bear had made sure to tell him how many days had passed every time he returned. He grunted thickly, even then, trying to clamp his tail down. Even though Sandor knew that there was nothing to get the dildo out of him, which was adjusted, somehow, to allow himself to relieve himself when required by the AI machines, he tried to roll away from it, his glutes tensing.
Even after one month, he had so much muscle wastage, physically weaker than he had ever been before. And it had been so long too since the fox had used his powers that he thought that he would not even be able to draw on them if he wanted to.
He tried. Sometimes. But he had not dared to for several days, at that time.
"Nnnffff..."
He glared at the bear as the ursine stood before him, his lips pressed together as if he was contemplating something. He had been allowed fewer orgasms once the program to clone him had gotten going, though the pressure around his cock had always remained, his cock always forced to be out and swollen into the tube, the dildo always spreading his tail hole wide. Sandor didn't want that to end up being the entirety of his existence, forgetting even what he had been, who he had been.
Sandor...
Who he was.
"Unfortunately," the officer said, breaking the silence, "the plan to clone you has not been a success. The best we can hope for, at this point, is that your offspring will have the same ability. So, there will be many more orgasms in your future."
The muzzle had been loosened, though Sandor snapped within it, throwing the binds off around his snout even more.
"And you think that I'm going to stand here and let you turn me into nothing more than a cum-production machine?" He snarled, his words as harsh as he had intended for them to come out. "I'm more than that! You don't have the right to put anyone in here, let alone me! I tried to do good in the world -- and here you are going on about the greater good as if you have any jurisdiction over a single anthro in this city! You're nothing more than a common criminal -- and I'm not out there doing good, fighting the slimes, either when I'm stuck in here!"
The bear surveyed him. Sandor, chest heaving for breath that should not have been so readily spent, glared at him, eyes dark with emotion.
"You are serving your purpose exactly as intended," the bear replied, bored with the fox in the twist and twitch of his lips. "Especially as the ingredients extracted from your semen, the components of it, if you will, can kill slimes too. So, you are doing everything that you need to."
Sandor growled, twisting his head back and forth, heaving and yanking at the hood, though his fingers were still buried in the retraining depths of the milking pod.
"If you give in, fox," the bear advised, "then we will make it easier for you. No pain, only pleasure... That is not all that bad of an existence, is it?"
Sandor growled, pumping his hips forward. It was one of the few parts of his body that he felt he could move with any semblance of moderate freeness. And that was saying a lot.
"To be a cum creating boar, like you said? If you like it so badly, then you get in here and do it! I'll be out there, finding my family, my girlfriend... Ex-girlfriend! They deserve to know that I'm not the monster that sent them away! They deserve better than me!"
The officer rolled his eyes.
"That's the same bile that you have been spouting for two weeks now," he grunted, as disparaging as ever. "You're much more amenable when you are being edged to climax and pushed over, made to cum all over again."
Sandor scoffed.
"You would think that, wouldn't you? But you're just a crook, someone low-level who is doing the dirty work of someone that can't even be bothered to get down here and get their paws dirty for themselves. Does it feel good to be working around such underhanded creatures?"
The bear sighed and shook his head, though Sandor's comments rolled off him.
"You have no choice in the matter. We would have thought that you would have broken by now... Perhaps it is due time to increase the value of our efforts."
The fox snarled, peeling his lips back from his teeth, though his maw was of no real threat to anyone there, not anymore. Not that Sandor had ever even honestly sank his teeth into anyone either in self-defence...
"I won't comply," he grunted, blunter than he usually would have been. "Release me. It's time that I got back to the life that I should never have stepped away from in the first place!"
But they didn't allow that. Other staff members, jackals and coyotes and other canines too, all came in, spinning him around in the milking pod so that they could more easily access his back. The fox yowled in pain as a long, metal strip was clamped down the line of his back, over his spine, needles jabbing into skin and flesh and bone.
"Oooowwwwwwooooooohhhhh!"
His howl would have drawn up those that were not as intent on their cause, but no one there even batted an eyelid at the fox's protests. For that was all they were, to them: protests. He might have thought that he was howling and fighting for his life, spitting curses through the hood and the muzzle but...there was nowhere for him to go. The needles locked into his spine, though Sandor would never know the intricacies of the devices, huffing and panting, his neural system overridden.
Pain fell away as he grunted and tried to twist, though he was overly aware of the heaviness of the metal strip, fear dragging at his heart and lungs even more than it had earlier. He groaned, head falling forward, hopelessness pulling at him again. Why was his cock still hard?
Oh, it was always hard...
"If you do not cooperate," the bear said, giving him a clear warning. "We will make you duller, dumber, so that you do not even understand who you are or the depth of your existence. You will be mindless, nothing more than a drone for our use. Is that what you want? It is not as if you are protected, not here, with any laws designed for anthros. After all, the contract just says that you are a breeding boar, so a breeding boar is exactly what you shall remain..."
Sandor grunted, the muzzle tightening around him again. But he didn't need to talk, no, not when he was nothing more than a breeding boar to them, grunting, heaving, trying to thrust as a pulse of steady pressure and pleasure rippled around his cock. Once again, the AI cock sleeve was pulling around him, milking him of his seed. He panted heavily, shaking his head, trying to retain his sense of self. No, no... If only he had the strength in himself to hold back, everything would be okay, everything would be as it was meant to be.