“Stock 3925. Hands and feet in the circles. You know the rules.”

Scott hated being referred to as ‘stock’, but ever since that first day, that had become his designated name. Sometimes they just called him by the number, sometimes in full, like then, but the rest of the time he was just ‘boy’ or ‘hole’. A grimace passed over his muzzle before he pushed himself up off the sleek white floor and did as he was told, stepping across the room to the shining blue circles, two on the floor and two up against the wall. The familiarity of them made him nauseous, reminding him of what was to come later on that day...was it even day? Scott had lost track of the days, didn’t know how long it had been...there was no clock, no semblance of time. The only indication he got was from when people around him talked...and from what they said, he can only guess it’s maybe been 5 or 6 months, maybe longer. He’s old enough to know the months on the calendars, even if some people call them different things.

A telltale hum ran up his ankles as he planted his paws into the circles, and when his hands met with the ones on the wall, they hummed in a similar fashion. He’d grown used to the tugging feeling of helplessness that came with putting his hands in these circles, but from experience, not doing so ended up being much worse for him. He tensed up briefly when he heard the ceiling open up, but he’d gone through it countless times...maybe around 60 times, maybe more. It was hard to tell. They came down, metal in the grip of mechanical limbs, and they clasped around his wrists, and again around his ankles. He turned his head, watching as one of the walls turned transparent to reveal the other cells beyond. There was a feline boy in the opposite cell, curled up against the wall, covering his head with his hands.

It had been only a little while since Scott had been granted what they’d called ‘privileges’, namely, the ability to see. For the longest time, he had to meander and be escorted from one place to the next, but once he’d shown himself to be obedient and had gone along with everything they’d told him to do, they decided he was allowed to look at his surroundings...and honestly, Scott was glad for the use of his sight. He was granted it whenever he returned to his cell after a day of ‘hard work’, but the bleached white walls and lack of anything to look at had been torture. Now, he got to see not only his captors, but the other victims and people beyond. A man stepped through a doorway that slid open, part of the wall, and Scoot took in the sight of a gruff-looking reptile dressed head to toe in dark greys and blacks, with a firearm slung across his back. Scott could see the barrel of it to the reptile’s left, and when his eyes darted up to the man’s face, the grey scales and sharp green eyes made him briefly waver. He was a little unfamiliar, but Scott had seen him before, he was certain.

“Open up.” His demand was sharp, and Scott obliged, parting his lips as the reptile lifted a gloved hand to shove a cube into his mouth-- Scott’s only sustenance. He hadn’t felt hungry in so long, and he hadn’t needed to use the bathroom or even take a sip of water. It tasted earthy and meaty all at once, and he chewed, quickly swallowing it.

“Good boy.” The reptile’s voice softened only slightly, before it returned to its hard edge. “Let’s go. Plenty of clients today.”

Scott knew not to talk; he’d learnt that they often didn’t reply, even with the privileges he had. The tugging on his ankles, the technology that forced him in place, loosened with a push of a button on the reptile’s wrist gadget, and Scott turned to follow him. The reptile lingered behind for only a second, enough for him to clasp a gloved hand over the 11-year-old’s behind, and he squeezed one of Scott’s cheeks as he urged him forward. It wasn’t the first time he’d been groped. There were no cameras around here, that he could see...and he didn’t particularly mind, either. It was just one touch, and the man withdrew soon after.

The young coyote boy had the liberty to walk, and he was coldly reminded of the countless other cells. He’d seen it before when he was first given the freedom to look-- rows upon rows of cells that stretched into the distance, nothing but white. There were no sounds, not even a wail or a whimper...just complete silence as he watched. He’d learnt to make out the seams in the doors, counted them as he made his way to the colours of red, gold and blue at the end of the hall; his cell was 17 doors down.

His ears twisted to the hiss of sliding doors and tile changed to carpet, but he had his eyes to note the change, too; from the sleek, sterile hallway of the cells, there was a glass wall, see-through, which opened up to a grandiose, expansive room spanning at least two floors, with stairs, hallways leading to rooms beyond, and elevated areas containing a variety of apparatus. Scott had taken it all in before, but the size of it still stunned him...and the sounds of whimpering, moaning and occasional crying were all commonplace to him now.

Scott’s led by a push to the small of his back, directed across the room past multiple other cubs stuck in apparatus, or attending to what people have referred to as clients. Scott’s vocabulary was limited, but he at least understood that he was there to take care of someone, and in specific ways...and everyone appeared to have their own tastes. He ascended steps, quietly noting to himself that he was rarely up in these parts of the room, and he was led around a couple of flat tables that he had been strapped to in the past, before being brought before his client.

Not a word is exchanged, but Scott at least takes a look at him. He’s a broad-shouldered man, a bulky dark-furred Doberman with a piercing gaze and an outfit that seemed rich. It was cleanly pressed, slim, conforming to the body...it was nice. Scott wanted to touch it, but kept his hands to himself as one of the many staff members, individuals wearing masks that obscured their faces in some holographic distortion, whilst wearing pressed black trousers and a red waistcoat over a white shirt, brought Scott to one of the same apparatuses he passed by. The coyote’s ears instinctively twisted to listen to nearby conversation, but a lot of it was muffled by the cries of cubs around his age or younger beyond, some of them accentuated by sharp slaps, be it from flesh or tool. He obediently tried to climb up onto the table without aid, struggling somewhat due to his bound wrists, and one of the staff clipped his ankles into place at the bottom, where a futuristic set of cuffs locked magnetically to the ones already around his ankles. He lifted his arms as another pair of magnets did the same, leaving him exposed and helpless...which was kind of the point.

“I like this one.” Scott watched as the canine approached, his hand coiling out to cup the coyote’s chin. Scott naturally leaned himself forward as much as he could to let his chin rest a little more in the man’s hand, and his obedience seemed to excite the tiger, who licked his lips and raked his gaze hungrily up and down the 11-year-old’s body, like he was sizing up a juicy steak on a restaurant menu. Scott only just realised in the moment how overdressed the Doberman was in comparison to what the boy assumed to be his comrades, or companions, or something.

“That look in his eye is tantalising.” The canine murmured, and his other hand drifted down, groping at the coyote’s body, brushing towards his hip and around to his stomach. Scott’s body instinctively tensed, but it wasn’t entirely all bad; the nausea he’d felt when he’d been first touched before, violated and used, felt like nothing more than a distant memory. It was shameful to admit, but he was actually beginning to enjoy parts of this ‘job’, even if he hadn’t chosen it. Some people were cruel, used tools to make the skin beneath his fur raw...but there were occasionally moments like this too, adults who were nice, who caressed him, who seemed to enjoy making him feel good as much as they enjoyed making themselves feel the same.

A tickle of anticipation crept up Scott’s spine when the canine dragged further up, sinking his palm against Scott’s body, moving from his stomach area towards his chest. A thumb brushed with the cub’s nipple, rolled around in circles and inevitably shifted to pinch it, tugging on the nub in a way that made Scott arch his back. The coyote wasn’t sure if he liked his nipples being played with; he felt a mixture of discomfort and pleasure from it, partly from the way it was pulled, and partly from the circular motions just before it. The Doberman didn’t linger on his chest for long as his hand inevitably slid down, but his head leaned in as well, his muzzle brushing against Scott’s well-kept body. He grazed teeth against flesh, dragging his mouth up and occasionally pressing down hard through to threaten to bite, but he never seemed to follow through.

After a handful of moments of cursory exploration, he withdrew and started to remove his clothes. With each article he stripped, he handed it to either those standing nearby, who jumped at the chance to collect his things, or to the staff members who did the same with almost as much gusto. The more that was revealed to Scott, the more it seemed clear how rich the man was; beneath the jacket was a silk shirt that shimmered in the light, and beneath that an extremely tight vest of some kind, which was unzipped at the back, thanks to the assistance of one of the Doberman's companions. What was beneath was a muscular figure, unblemished and free of augmentations or enhancements, and when the Doberman’s hands drifted to his waistline, he paused, shooting Scott a look. For once, the coyote felt a little embarrassed to even have his vision, but the canine seemed to like it-- he smirked, before pushing his pants down.

Scott’s eyes naturally trailed down, glad to be able to see, and his gaze became fixated on the Doberman’s plump sheath, heavy balls and the obviously growing arousal that protruded from his flesh, thick and veiny. The coyote already knew it was going to be difficult to take, and part of him was dreading it, whilst the other eagerly anticipated it. He strained a little against his bindings and watched, his muzzle clamped shut, as the Doberman passed one article of clothing after another to his acquaintances, before reaching back out again, cupping around the cub’s chest before snaking down to his hip. The canine’s gaze trailed up to meet Scott’s own and the 11-year-old did his best to meet that stare, thinking it’s what the adult wanted...and sure enough, the Doberman smiled even wider when Scott unwaveringly stared back.

It was admittedly rather nice to be touched in the ways the canine was doing to him; a delicate grope here, a deliberate squeeze there...the Doberman’s hand ran up and down his body, delving from hip to chest and back again, fingers digging against his flesh and claws raking his body in a way that made him tense up and shiver. It wasn’t like his buttons were being pressed, but compared to others...this man was nice. What wasn’t as fun, however, was the audience-- Scott had gotten used to it when he had that blindfold on, was aware enough to know there were others around him, but it felt wholly different when he could physically lock eyes with the bystanders. It was something that always made him a little uncomfortable, the idea of being on display, to be stared at so hungrily by people out of his reach...even the staff members would watch, their expressions not even visible. Even in that moment, as the Doberman reached down enough to cup his young package and roll his thumb around the tip of his sheath, he could see them soaking in every inch of him, admiring his slim figure. He tried not to look at them and keep his attention on the canine in front of him, but it felt like his head was burning with how many of them had their eyes on him, even people far in the distance, who he could see facing his way out of the corner of his eye. It made his mind wander: was he that good to look at, or was it just coincidence?

The canine’s thumb and finger rubbed sensually over the coyote’s small, pubescent balls as the 11-year-old closed his eyes for a moment and tried to relish it, before he felt too uncomfortable to keep them closed and looked down, just to watch the adult’s antics with his body. He squirmed, if only because the nice feelings were sparking something within him, and his hands reflexively pulled and his fingers curled, feeling the stiffness of his wrist bindings, and how much they kept his arms and legs from moving. In just a handful of moments, the unaroused form of his sheath quickly became the opposite; his little cock protruded from the housing, twitching to life and reaching full mast relatively quickly. It bounced up and down in the air, twitching and pulsing with the anticipation of what the Doberman was going to do to him, but the canine didn’t even so much as touch his length; he withdrew his hand, like he was punishing him, and Scott felt a mixture of nervousness and disappointment.

Scott anxiously watched as the adult canine looked down, past his length, where the Doberman seemed to be staring at his ankles. To Scott’s right, he could see one of the staff members move to approach, but one of the Doberman’s friends just directed him back with a hand and a cautious look. The canine fumbled with the bottom near the magnetic lock that kept Scott’s cuffs neatly bound to the table, and his other hand moved to a lever somewhere to Scott’s right, though he couldn’t quite see it. The table he was lying on suddenly swung back and he went with it, ending up less upright and more closer to a laid-down position, though he was still a little angled-- hard to tell exactly what angle, however. By his ankles, he heard a small click, and with surprising effortlessness, his legs were lifted up and closer towards his neck and shoulders. They remained pretty firmly locked together at the ankle, but were directed by the Doberman’s hooked finger, who pushed far enough for the coyote’s body to naturally strain and his ass to level slightly the closer they came to his shoulders. There was nothing to hold them there, but the canine didn’t seem to mind; there was a moment of readjustment before the weight of the man’s arm pushed his ankles firmly further back, by an inch or so, and the naked adult seemed to relax.

“You ready, pup?” The Doberman asks him in a sultry tone, and despite Scott’s nod, the man cups his chin with a hand, staring straight into his eyes. “I want you to look at me. Got it?”

Scott gulped, but obeyed, making sure his gaze met with the canine’s own as the other’s brown-furred hand dragged down, disappearing from view. There was a moment of silence, where all they did was share an intense staring contest, before Scott felt it-- the sharp, stabbing discomfort that came with every first person of the day. His ring seared with the initial pain of it, his body tensing up as his eyes widened from the feeling, and it seemed like his reaction was exactly what the canine was looking for; the Doberman smiled even wider and grunted, parting his muzzle for a moment as he breathed a sigh of approval, before his hand came back up to Scott’s chin and he cupped around his neck, making sure his eyes stayed up. He didn’t say anything else, and just kept staring, hungrily drinking in Scott’s twisting expressions, his gritting muzzle, his quiet whimpers...all of it.

The discomfort faded over time, like it always did. When he’d first started, those fateful first few days at this place, every penetration after the first had hurt-- his body had been sore, and he wasn’t used to the sudden intrusions that he couldn’t prepare for, nor their size. Over time, though, his body started to change, and just like in that very moment, as the Doberman pressed into him until he felt resistance in the 11-year-old’s body, Scott’s body had become pliable, his insides malleable. The discomfort, once he was ‘warmed up’, was replaced by a strange, tickling pleasure that made his little dick bounce and twitch in ways he’d never experienced before his kidnapping. Was this the highlight of his new life? Peculiarly, he had to agree.

It was hard not to let it show, but he could feel his cheeks warming beneath his fur as the canine slid back, and his cock rubbed over a delicate spot inside the coyote’s body that, even to this day, he couldn’t quite explain. All he knew was that the adults who often used him found that spot, and it made him feel good-- so good, in fact, that his whole body often started to tingle, in time. His eyes remained wide and his body clenched and stiffened as the Doberman plunged back in, and the groan that escaped the man’s muzzle felt like he was doing it purely in response to Scott’s expression, which he was sure must have been a sight; his lips were curled back slightly as he clenched his teeth, and his back arched instinctively, his toes curling and his legs trying to bed, resisting on their own against that hand holding them back. It felt unnatural to be bent to such a degree, but it heightened the sensations of sex all that much more: he could feel every inch sinking into him, heard every squelch, felt the flex of the canine’s fingers against his throat, never hard enough to do anything more than remind Scott of his pinned position.

He started to gain speed, and Scott could feel it in his thrusts, the quickening of his hips. He heard his gentle groans, but not once did the coyote look away, knowing to do so would have disappointed the Doberman-- that brought its own potential reprimands, and Scott was nothing if not obedient. The whimpers and gasps that came from the coyote’s muzzle were approved by the canine, confirmed by the way he liked to sigh with pleasure or grunt right after his whimpers, and as the man sped up, it was hard for Scott to keep a more reserved approach, especially when that cock continued to hit a sensitive spot inside him over and over. It made him yip, but he did his best to muffle them, and they became more like hiccups in his throat as his eyes squinted slightly and his body grew more rigid. A mixture of shame and excitement tickled up his spine when he realised how good it felt, how close he was getting, and it was difficult to keep his eyes fixed to the Doberman’s own as he plunged, pounding harder and faster, until the noisy sounds of their sex fell into harmony with the cries all around them.

The canine's sounds reached a fervent peak, and it was over in an instant shortly thereafter. The man grunted, shoved, and with a squelching, sickening pop, something entered Scott that pushed past his limits-- at least, the limits of that very moment. He was certain he’d taken bigger, but for his first of the day, it was a challenge. Discomfort intermingled with pleasure as the mass inside him inflated and swelled, pushing his fighting, resistance muscles aside and rubbing appreciatively against that sensitive spot inside him. Despite that, compared to some of the others he’d been a victim of, the Doberman before him was surprisingly tame; just thinking about those other times gave him chills, but this one was a pleasant start to the day. A mixture of heat and relief surged up Scott’s body as he arched his back as much as his bound, contorted body would allow, and he hissed through gritted teeth, faltering in his stare just for one moment to turn his gaze upwards. It was an involuntary act, and one he surprisingly wasn’t reprimanded or punished for-- instead, the Doberman leant in and licked across his cheek in a way that was both achingly sensual and strangely creepy at the same time. 

It made Scott shudder, the intimacy of the adult’s act, and the heat that flooded his insides intermingled with the fiery, hot coiling in his loins. He squirmed, unable to keep still, but it lasted for only a moment: shortly after, he collapsed with a defeated whimper, and his little dick swelled, his knot swelling barely enough to be visible as little dribbles of off-white seed squirted and splattered across his stomach, oozing with little volume and only travelling far enough to make a pool in his young belly button. The Doberman half-groaned, half-sighed with amusement and approval as his muzzle dipped, and his teeth raked dangerously against the coyote’s neck, before he brought it back up towards the 12-year-old’s young muzzle. He didn’t kiss him, like Scott was expecting, but he lingered there for a surprising amount of time before abruptly tugging back. His knot yanked at Scott’s clenching hole and the coyote tensed up before he could relax himself, sending a spasm of discomfort through him that encouraged the remaining trickles of fluid from his tiny cock to spurt out, intermingling with the rest. The Doberman didn’t relent and Scott’s muscles inevitably caved; he loosened enough for that knot to slip out with another audible, wet noise that made the cub briefly cringe. The canine’s grip on his ankles loosened, and they sprang back upright, swinging down and hitting the bottom of the table cuff-first, sounding out a metal clang as the shock of it ran up Scott’s body. It made him clench up and hold everything inside inadvertently.

“Mmh, yes...delicious,” The Doberman dragged his eyes up and down before he turned, still stiff as a board, towards the staff member. “Bring me another.”

As quickly as Scott had been attached to the table and used, staff members came to take him off it, disengaging the magnetic locks and flipping the table to a more vertical position, whilst adjusting his ankle cuffs to give him room to walk. At least they were nice enough to give him a little assistance stepping off to the side so another could take his place, a slender, sheepish deer that Scott had seen around, but had never really gotten to know. This wasn’t particularly unusual behaviour-- depending on the person, and on their temperament and even the apparatus of whatever Scott was tied to, sometimes he got moved around the room, or to the upper levels and back down again...sometimes he was strapped to one thing for hours and used over and over. Those were the most tiring days.

It’d be some time before he got a break, but if Scott had learnt one thing about himself through the whole ordeal, it was that he was surprisingly resilient. From the Doberman, he was taken across to a row of holes in the walls, a relatively popular spot for people who liked to see only what they needed to fuck, and relished the absence of an upper body and sometimes even legs. It wasn’t his first time there, and from what he heard from some of the other kids-- when he got the chance to speak to them, normally during their ‘play time’-- it was a drop-off point when the staff didn’t know where to take a kid. How they even knew who fit best where was something of a mystery to the coyote; he just followed where they led him, and obeyed when they told him what to do. Scott was taken the one of the more constricting holes, where on the other side he was given a stool and a chained, floating cushion to rest his chest so, so that only his behind, tail, and crotch could squeeze through the hole, which was rubbered around the side and modular, designed to contract and expand to fit around the variety of cubs they had.

He didn’t know how long he was there for, but it felt just as bad as when he used to be blindfolded. Being unable to do nothing but focus entirely on the feel of everything, with walls on his left and right blocking him from even having a conversation with the nearby cubs, or even just observing them, meant that the entirety of his focus was predominantly on those admittedly pleasurable sensations, each plunge and pump, the shape of each cock as it entered him, over and over. The only brief moments of reprieve he got were between when one adult finished with him and was replaced by another. Everything from the ridges along their side of their cocks to the thick, bulbous knots, raking sensitive barbs, and even the smaller, shorter-stature lengths that felt like they didn’t bury deep at all were all deeply recorded in his mind. He counted them over and over...and embarrassingly, was brought to climax more than once by their vigorous thrusting. The angle at which his ass was pushed through the hole in the wall for their enjoyment gave them the perfect position to stimulate that spot inside him that always made him tremble.

He could hear them beyond the wall, on occasion. Some rolled their R’s and spoke in tongues he didn’t understand, others sounded brash and brutish, like they might punch people for a living, or worse. But they used him all the same-- he lost count at around 15 or 16, when his ears started to droop and his eyes lidded slightly from his 5th or 6th orgasm in a row. That didn’t stop him imagining what the people on the other side must have looked like; one with a skinny, narrow length that felt like it could each all the way up to his chest was quick and vigorous, using sharp and shallow thrusts that sought to use every inch of the coyote’s orifice to milk his cock. Scott thought he must be slender and tall with knobbly knees and lanky limbs, like some of the farm workers he remembered before all this happened. Another was rough and liked to slap his behind, and each spank made his entire body tense, which the adult seemed to be looking for: every time he squeezed, they would roughly thrust into him, pushing to the hilt and bottoming out in him in a way that pushed all of Scott’s buttons. He didn’t want to admit he liked it, but the strings of cum on the floor told a different story; the roughness of those pounding hips and spanking hands made him cum faster than anyone else. He imagined him to be thick-bodied with a grisly expression, etched with a smirk that liked inflicting a little pain. Maybe like a crocodile.

Somewhere in the middle of it, there came a longer downtime than he was expecting. Shortly after someone with a relatively average-length cock had fully used him and cum far too quickly for his liking, he was left feeling decidedly empty, his chest heaving from what felt like a rigorous workout. To his left and right, even through the walls, he could hear the muffles of sighs and groans, and it sounded a little like they were getting some time to rest as well. To Scott, that only meant one thing: it was ‘play time’.

The door directly opposite where he was awkwardly positioned swung open, and a staff member with that same holographic, distorted mask came to get him down. It took some effort, mainly because Scott’s legs wouldn’t cooperate in the way he wanted to, but he was brought from the room and taken down the hallway, as fluids leaked down his inner thighs and a small droid cleaned up behind him, slowly but methodically. They went down a small service hallway outside of the main room that Scott was familiar with, and quickly came face to face with the bleached walls that reminded him of the cells...only, he recalled they were on the ‘clean-up’ side, where there were no sides, but huge communal showering units. He padded across the sleek flooring that felt cool under his paws, and his ears twisted to the sound of rushing water as he was encouraged to turn the corner into a huge cubicle-like area, where several shower heads hung above, and the entire area basically rained water, where it seeped into a central drain in the middle.

“Oh! Scott! Over here!”

A familiar voice made the coyote briefly pause, before he picked up the pace again, feeling the staff member’s hand around his front, loosening the lock that kept his wrists together, though they didn’t remove his cuffs entirely. He did the same for his ankles before putting a hand on his back, and Scott was urged forward. He stepped in and underneath the showers, where he padded over into an empty spot next to someone that he could never seem to not run into; another cub, and one who had been seeking him out every chance he got-- Luke, an 8-year-old husky.

“So weird they even have these showers here. Why not just take us back to our rooms?” He was a little too naive to understand, and so Scott had to spell it out for him sometimes...but occasionally, it did feel like the 8-year-old knew more than he was letting on. Scott was pretty sure, from their talks, that he’d been there longer than the coyote had, but he didn’t seem to know how long. Figuring out the time was hard for everybody.

“We’d be making too much of a mess if we did that.” Scott pointed out, turning to make sure the water ran in all the right ways, and to his side the husky giggled.

“You’re so smart, Scott,” Luke chimed in a sing-song sort of way. “Were you at the hole wall too?”

“...Yeah.” What else could they call it, really? 

“That means we get to spend playtime together!”

Scott glanced at the boy out of the corner of his eye and saw his curled tail wagging fervently back and forth. He was excited...maybe for the right reasons, or maybe for the wrong ones. The coyote just awkwardly smiled in response, before turning his attention back to getting ‘clean’. It was an ordeal he didn’t like to think about, and glossed over pretty quickly, especially when he had to listen to Luke prattle on; how the boy had so many things to talk about when they both lived the same life was hard for Scott to understand, but it was better than not speaking at all.

The staff members watched them the entire time, expecting them to approach when they were done, and sure enough, Scott did. As he stepped closer, he was directed to a spot just before stepping out to the hallway, where a massive gust of wind from the vent below and another above helped to dry him off in a surprisingly effective way, turning him from a wet dog to something more fluffy and smooth within just a minute. The heat prickled his skin as he stepped out and turned, waiting obediently for the others to come out as the adult put his wrists back together, like he did for all the others as they came out. The clinical and professional way in which he was quickly touched and made sure he was bound was disconcerting.

Shortly thereafter, they were led, like sheep following a shepherd, back towards the main room, where they moved towards a large door on the left-hand side that sat under an archway. There were two of them, side by side, but one was for ‘staff only’...which, Scott supposed they counted as, since that’s the one they always used. A grimace crossed his face as they approached, and the door hissed open to allow them inside, greeting him to probably the worst room in the place; the Play Pit.

If Scott had to sum it up in one word, it could best be described as infantilising. Bright colourful walls, patterned with rainbows and bright skies and clouds, with wall-sized mirror on every edge apart from the one adjacent to the door, making the space feel weirdly open...this was the place that Scott was brought to almost every day for some downtime, to ‘unwind’, though it never seemed to feel like it. Several cushioned blocks with sleek nanofibre or plastic coverings, that were soft and easy to lie on, dotted the room, each vividly coloured. They weren’t the first in the room; of the group Scott was in, which was only him, Luke and a few others, the amount of cubs already inside far outnumbered them-- if anything, it humbly reminded Scott of how many kids were here, if the cries and moans outside were enough indication.

Ushering hands encouraged them inside, and they came to loosen their cuffs for more freedom of movement, before the door came to a close with a soft click, followed by a louder one, indicating they were stuck in there for a length of time on their own, though not without supervision; someone stood by the door, their face covered. Scott stood by the door for a moment, casting his gaze over the place, before Luke grabbed his arm and pulled him across the room, towards a couple of bean bags further towards the back, close to the mirror. Not everyone shared the pup’s enthusiasm and innocent nature; some in the room looked downtrodden and depressed, others sniffling whilst rubbing their sore wrists or struggling to find a comfortable spot to sit because their behinds hurt.

“Ah...isn’t it nice to relax after a shower, Scott?” Luke chimed with a boyish giggle, and the coyote looked down at him as the husky flopped over a bean bag, spreading himself down and stretching his legs. It was hard to tell if he was deliberately showing himself off or not, but the way he was ass up and wiggling his tail wasn’t lost on Scott, who averted his gaze. Though he could see most of the cubs in the room were cheery, some horny, it was hard not to notice those that were looking a little sore and homesick. Once upon a time, he’d felt the same...only, around that time, he wasn’t even able to see. Other cubs suffered the same fate; of those in there, maybe around 40% of them had blindfolds.

“Hey. Scott. C’moooon.” The husky nudged Scott’s leg with his outermost paw, wiggling his behind. “Sit with me.”

The 11-year-old stared down at him for a moment before, with a sigh, he squatted and sat down on the floor next to the bean bag. The husky rolled to face him and grinned, looking as pleased as ever-- maybe Scott was giving him too much control by doing what he wanted. Across the room, some of the other cubs were starting to whimper and huff; three of them, two felines and a reptile, were sandwiched and pressed together, with one of them in the middle and the other two between them. They were all facing one direction and laid leisurely on the floor, thrusting into one another. Others were watching, and some of them were idly touching themselves, whilst others were so jaded they didn’t even react. Scott was typically one of those people, but Luke wasn’t; he was staring with great interest, licking his lips as his boyish hand palmed the front of his sheath.

“Hey. You wanna...?” Luke grinned wider at him, and Scott just grimaced, shaking his head as he turned to the side, looking from both Luke and the other cubs as he looked across the room. The one staff member standing in the room didn’t even flinch at their horny antics, but beneath the holographic visor covering his face, Scott was sure he could see his jawline flexing, and the bump in his throat, his Adam’s Apple, bounced up and down. Did that mean he was talking? Or was he just swallowing hard? Scott couldn’t be sure...

A nudge to his left caught his attention, and Scott side-eyed the husky, who had scooted closer on the bean bag, trying to encourage the coyote by stroking his upper arm and squeezing down near his side. Scott did the only thing that made sense and shuffled across the carpeted floor, moving just an inch or two away. That, in turn, caused the husky to scoot closer-- the 8-year-old was determined. Suddenly, the weight of the younger boy pressed to Scott’s side, and he strained, trying to push back against him...but whatever they were feeding him certainly didn’t help to bulk muscle. He flopped to the side and the husky landed on top of him, splayed out across his body.

“Oops. Sorry!” Luke giggled, his smile wide and toothy, before he scooted closer, making his interest known by the warm rubbing against Scott’s cheek. “But c’mon, Scott...others are doing it...I’ll be really slow, I promise!”

Scott grunted, hiking up a knee as he tried to sit up, but it didn’t seem to matter whether he reluctantly agreed or outright said no-- before he could even say anything, Luke was already lining himself up, and he huffed with obvious need and desperation and his twitching little prick slipped between the coyote’s cheeks, smearing with his hole quicker than the 11-year-old was expecting. Luke was as rough as the adults Scott sometimes dealt with: he thrust quickly and readily, plunging all the way to the base, and the small thickness of his knot caused it to slip inside Scott’s stretched hole instantly, making the younger boy shudder and whimper. He stuck out his tongue, panting like an animal, as he leaned over and hugged his arms around Scott’s slim waist, nuzzling into his cheek and neck. He tugged back quickly, a suctioning pop indicating his withdrawal, before he thrust in just as fast, pushing that knot inside once more.

The suddenness of Luke’s entry made Scott feel strangely flustered, and triggered his submissive instincts, one that had only grown and become fostered by the situation he was in. He was so used to being subservient whenever someone expressed their dominance over him that it just felt like a subconscious response, something he automatically did despite the situation. Embarrassment and frustration spread across his brain and down his body as the husky atop him settled his chest down against the coyote’s upper arm, wildly humping his hips as he angled his muzzle to try and lick at Scott’s face, whimpering with a mixture of approval and appreciation as he had his way with him.

“Mmh, you’re so warm...” Luke murmured, his hot, panting breath against Scott’s ear, his tiny tongue lapping up the boy’s cheek all the way up to his eye-ridge. Scott squirmed to tilt his head away and Luke surprisingly relented, but that didn’t mean he stopped thrusting, his body shifting as he tried to get into a more comfortable position. He ended up similarly to how some of the other cubs on the other side of the room were positioned, swinging over until his chest lined up with Scott’s back, and his muzzle reached to a little under the back of his neck. Their size difference mattered little when it came to what Luke wanted; he could easily bury himself between Scott’s slender cheeks and hump against him even if he were a little smaller on all accounts. His arms cuddled around the 11-year-old, one tucking under his body, until they linked around his stomach; Luke even dared to bring them down to grope around Scott’s package, though it didn’t do much to stir them, and only made his submissive nature more significant.

Luke sped up surprisingly quickly, his hips bucking and his pelvis pressing and squishing against Scott’s slender behind and his knot popped and tugged back and forth over and over, until Luke abruptly slowed, though not for reasons the older cub was initially thinking. When the 8-year-old tried to push and tie with him again, there was resistance-- not because of how much Scott was clenching, though it was definitely a factor, but because of the turgidness of the husky’s cock, and the thickness of his knot. It felt strangely bigger than before, and the pup whined against his back, cuddling to him before he stopped entirely, panting harshly against his neck, his cuffs digging against the coyote’s body. Scott squirmed, and in response the boy whined, hugging him tighter as if to stop him.

“I-I don’t wanna finish yet, Scott...” Luke argued. “You feel too nice...”

This wasn’t the first time Luke had wanted to do things with him, though it was the first time he’d ‘overpowered’ Scott to do so...maybe it made Luke excited to finally do what he wanted. The coyote didn’t really have much chance to move in anyway, so he simply laid there whilst the 8-year-old caught his breath. But it wasn’t the end of things, not even with regards to Luke: Scott had seen the others watching out of the corner of his eye, knew they were sneakily eyeing them, whether it was out of curiosity or their own arousal. One of them shifted, slipping off from the thick square of plastic and stuffing they were using as a seat and making his way over. He was slender, maybe a hyena, but almost definitely a canine from the look of his pouch and the bright red tip that was poking through it. He wasn’t the only one; as if spurred on by the first, others came to flock to them: 4 other boys in total, a feline, a rodent, and two others...Scott was sure one of them was some kind of creature he’d never seen before, with brown fur and a stocky frame and rounded snout, and the other seemed closer to a rabbit than anything else.

Two of them moved behind Scott, the feline and the unknown species boy, and in front of him, the hyena, rodent and rabbit started to take up position. Scott could hear Luke giggling behind him, but he couldn’t crane his neck enough to know what was going on behind him-- his only indication was what he could see in the nearby mirror. A quick glance told him all he needed to know, as the two boys moved to start laying down beside Luke. The feline squeezed in behind the husky first, with the other taking up the rear, and they spooned each other in the same way Scott was spooning Luke...it seemed like this laid-down position was pretty common.

In front of him, the hyena knelt down in front of his body, and his hands immediately went to his crotch, right as Luke’s hands withdrew, like he was expecting it. Scott stiffened when he felt fingers around his cock, and they dragged back and forth as he felt a degree of embarrassment at being so hard. It was weird to be touched by someone his age, having only experienced it a handful of times...he was used to large, adult hands roughly groping him. One hand moved down to his balls, digits rolling around his little nuts, whilst the other glided from tip to know, warming him up. Tingles of pleasure spread across his loins, dancing up his body, and he couldn’t help the way his muzzle twisted with the sensation of it. The hyena seemed pleased, his muzzle stretching into a smile; they had the same kind of mentality as Luke, no doubt, and they wanted to have their fun too.

The hyena in front of him shuffled backwards and turned, looking away from the coyote as he stretched his legs down and moved himself into position in front of him, scooting back until he was nestled up against the 11-year-old’s chest. He wriggled his hips, trying to entice the boy, and Scott scrunched up his face when his turgid, knotted dick rubbed sensually between those cheeks. The hyena looked to be around his age, maybe a little older, and he was most definitely a bit taller; Scott’s muzzle rubbed with the bristles of fur on the back of the hyena’s neck as he felt the cub’s behind roll against his crotch, shortly before a hand came to assist him. Scott didn’t quite know where to put his unbound hands-- the cuffs felt cold and heavy, but he put them against the other’s hips anyway, moving them out of the way. He could feel the hyena wriggling his hand between their bodies, until he eventually managed to grasp at the 11-year-old’s cock again. He angled it, smearing it between supple young cheeks, and Scott hissed through his gritted teeth as he felt the tapering end of his canid dick meet with a warm, tight hole.

The hyena pushed back right as the others in front of him started to move: the rabbit came in first, not wanting any foreplay as he got down onto the floor, and the hyena’s free arm came forward to yank him in, getting the boy close. The rodent joined shortly thereafter, but unlike the cub previously, this boy, closer to around Luke’s age, looked apprehensive and more interested in doing something else. As the rabbit got comfortable, he moved to lay on the floor, facing the cub, and scooted close enough to get up close and personal, muzzle to muzzle. Scott could hear them humming with approval against each other as the hyena pushed his hips back against Scott’s crotch, sinking himself all the way down on the 11-year-old’s length; he pressed to the knot, and his ring squeezed tight, applying unfathomable pressure to the coyote’s length. He wasn’t expecting it and let out a grunt, tensing up almost immediately, which the cub in front of him seemed to like, for he groaned right back at him. Behind him, Luke squeezed and raked his cuffs against Scott’s flesh, tugging at the skin a little, as his body jiggled with movements that Scott knew all too well. His little cock pumped back and forth with the movements, his knot never slipping out, and Scott’s reflexive squeezing from the attention to his length was milking the 8-year-old, making the husky whimper and whine against his beck. Luke fervently licked his neck, huffing hot little breaths against his shoulder, sounding like he was going to explode any second.

Scott didn’t have much of an urge to thrust, so the hyena did it for him; he slid forwards, no doubt to press himself into the rabbit in front, before he pushed back, both withdrawing from the cub he was hugging around and spearing himself back on Scott’s cock at the same time. In fact, the 11-year-old barely had to do anything; Luke stayed still behind him, trying his best not to cum, whilst the hyena did all the work in the front. Scott could see nothing but the brown hues of the neck in front of him, but he could most certainly hear everything; the whimpers, the panting, the slick, wet sounds of sex, of cocks in holes...and not just nearby, but beyond as well. Were they just inspired by the cubs who did it first, or was it that they were following the lead of those around them? It was hard to tell which, but his mind could only wander for a moment before he snapped back to the tingles and spikes of pleasure that spread up his body, so familiar that they felt like second nature now. 

Behind him, Luke shivered, sucking in a breath as he groaned, trying to hold himself back as much as he could. It was clear to Scott that he wasn’t going to last much longer, and as if to prove him right, the husky squeezed for just a moment longer before going utterly limp, sighing against the back of the coyote’s neck. He nuzzled into him affectionately as one of the other boys further behind seemed to gasp out in what could best be described as pleasure, and Scott was sure he could feel the husky twitching in him, but he didn’t really know if he could really output anything, or if he was just basking in the pleasure of it. Regardless, it made the 11-year-old clench his teeth, a flush of heat spreading across his face at the thought of it-- he felt strangely turned on, and he was embarrassed by it. Luke peppered little licks against his shoulder, tiredly giving him affection, as the hyena in front of him started pushing back with a little more force, though it might have been because he was actually wanting to thrust a little faster, too. It made Scott’s breathing heavy to have the hyena dominate him in such a way, to use his cock as he liked...but then again, he always seemed to enjoy it the most whenever he was restricted. This was no different.

The boy in front of him gained speed quickly, but there was only so fast he could move before he was running out of steam; all of them, to a degree, experienced a bit of fatigue on their new diet. It was more than enough though, as the tension in Scott’s loins grew, coiling tighter and becoming more unbearable over time. Scott hissed through his teeth and the hyena groaned in response, both to Scott’s sounds, and from the rabbit in front of him, if the coyote had to guess. Scott could feel his knot swelling; it pulsed and throbbed to life, and he wanted nothing more than to feel pressure around it in that moment, to bury himself deep. It was like a carnal urge that was desperate to be sated, but his submissiveness, his lack of movement, outweighed it. He trembled with the growing need to bust, but the hyena didn’t pick up speed nor slow down, either oblivious or focused on his own pleasure. It only got worse as he was brought closer to the point of no return, and his grunts and suctioning breaths of warning fell on deaf ears.

It hit him like a tidal wave, quick and overwhelming, and all he could do was squirm. The coyote arched his back and his chest heaved as his knot swelled to its peak, a mixture of frustration and indescribable euphoria washing over him in aching, ebbing waves. He shuddered with the unbearable sensation of it until all his muscles loosened and he sighed, short and sweet-- dribbles of nut spurts from the end of his member straight into the hyena’s hole, but his knot, unsatisfied, remained inflated and untouched, but for the squishing of that taut hole on the edge of it. For a moment, the boy in front of him slowed, sighing for a moment, before he picked up speed again, turning his attention to his own orgasm. It didn’t seem to come for a while and Scott was left to handle the sensitivity of his cock being stimulated well past his orgasm, which was beginning to fade, leaving a dull ache of dissatisfaction and discomfort in its wake. Behind him, Luke squeaked against his shoulder, humming with tiredness as the jiggling motions of his body seemed to stop-- somewhere behind him, another boy groaned and mumbled something under his breath. Scott’s body flexed, and his innards squeezed as he tried to endure the over-sensitive feelings around his length to the hyena’s completion, but it didn’t come for what felt like minutes: the boy bounced back and forth on his cock for a nauseating amount of time until he abruptly slowed and stopped. Somehow, Scott could tell from the way his insides squeezed around his cock that he was climaxing as well.

Scott closed his eyes, fatigue settling into his bones. This wasn’t even the end of the day, of that he was pretty sure; playtime was usually midway through, and he had a whole host of adult men to entertain...but he would have loved nothing than to go back to his cell and sleep right now. Unbeknownst to him, past the mirrors that covered almost every wall, adults had already been getting their fill of entertainment. Several rose from their seats, cocks limp from recent orgasms or straining the confines of their clothes, aching for release. They exited out from the audience rooms to the main area to enjoy themselves more-- to them, this place was nothing more than a luxurious facility to live out their wildest dreams...off the grid, sleek, wildly successful...and very illegal. 

Scott was entangled in a web he might never escape, but at least he could remain naive to the outside world, and the empty sea of stars that lay beyond the walls of the rest of his life. Worst still, he was actually starting to like it, and from the giddy faces of the cubs around him, spent from their ‘play time’, he wasn’t the only one.