﻿Joel distinctly remembered that the party Chud invited him and his brother to was a Christmas party, a holiday he normally associated with the chill of winter, festive greens and reds, and other staples like jolly Saint Nick or gingerbread. The outfit handed to him lacked any resemblance to that. The near-invisible sheer fabric held in his paws was a teal blue, lacking any white trimmings or winter insolation for the weather and had gaps in the arms and legs to show off his fur. Even if the weather was warmer than he expected for the year, the costume was out of place. Never mind that they were two months late for a costume party already. 


“What’s wrong?” Chud said with a smug smile. Elijah, Joel’s twin,  was already stripped down to his cage when given his matching outfit, albeit a lighter green that almost matched in shade. There was a more opaque cloth covering his crotch, but nothing that looked like it had to stay there. As his twin pulled a veil over his face it became completely clear what the costume was; A harem outfit. Likely pulled from some exploitative film ripping off classic Arabian tales. 


“This is for a Christmas party, right?” Joel asked. Chud nodded as he expected the bull would. A pity because he wanted a different answer. “It’s just…these aren’t Christmas outfits.”


“Sexy elves are overdone.” Chud leaned forward into his chair, his arms draping over the back support he twisted front. Despite his sports jersey, the bull’s frame dwarfed the chair as it did everything else in the room. Joel knew intimately how powerful those thick arms of his were. His cage twitched whenever he saw them. A fraction of how it reacted whenever he saw the bull’s bulge. 


Elijah laughed and nodded. “Come on, bro. You can’t tell me you don’t like this costume.”


He gulped, wanting to nod but finding his head not moving. It was a cute outfit, no doubt about it. And the gaze Chud had over them as they dressed oozed dominance. But there was something the bull wasn’t telling them. Something he wanted to be a surprise. Joel told people he hated surprises. He tended to lie a lot.


“Can I maybe get an itinerary for the party?” Joel asked. 


Chud rolled his eyes. “I already told you, Fraternity secret. Neither of you are brothers so I can’t spill the details.”


“What if I promise not to tell anyone?” He asked.


“Still no, 'cause then I’d know. And I don’t want that guilt eating me up inside when talking with my brothers.” Chud turned the chair around and patted his lap. On queue Elijah straddled over it, pert ass and belted crotch resting close to the tight bulge in the bull’s jeans. As twins they shared everything, so envy wasn’t an emotion Joel dealt with often. It felt closer to rage at the sight. “But if you’re going to be such a spoilsport, I’ll just take Elijah here as my plus one. Would be a shame to waste my other plus one slot on no one.”


Their tongues twisted in a tango. Joel’s breathing shortened as Chud’s hand reached around his brother’s waist, firmly grabbing the caracal’s ass. Elijah yipped at a quick little slap. Moans were muffled by their embrace while two thick fingers slipped behind the costume, pulling the waistband down to expose and prod the inviting pucker. Envy entrapped Joel like plastic wrap, immobilizing him to the sight of his brother’s fingering before him.


“F-Fine!” Joel snapped, chucking his shirt to the floor. In mere moments he stood naked so Chud could see him over Elijah’s shoulder, winking as he made out. Chud stopped when Joel put the teal harem dancer outfit on, veil and all. 


“Good.” Chud beckoned him over as he let Elijah slip off. Joel crawled forward without hesitation, his costume so light he thought it wasn’t there. Gulping at the sight of the bull’s cock straining against the zipper, Joel reached to free it. Chud shook his head. “Ah, ah, ah. Can’t have you playing with me this early. Gotta save time for the party.”


Joel pushed his bottom lip out, pouting. “Please, s-sir,” he begged breathlessly, “I’m wearing the outfit, don’t I deserve a treat?”


“A treat is for going above and beyond, not doing what’s expected.” Chud leaned back, smiling. “Although, that face is hard to say no to. Tell you what, I’ll let you take it out but you can’t suck me off or give me a handy. I need to be nice and randy for the party, but I won’t say no to a little worship. Deal?”


At the speed the room shook Joel thought an earthquake had hit. It stopped when he realized he was nodding his head too fast. Chud waved him to get the cock out but held his hand up when Joel grabbed the zipper. “Ah, no. No hands.” Undeterred, Joel lapped the zipper tab between his teeth with his tongue and pulled. 


The bull wore no underwear. Nor should he, it would just get in the way. Pent-up heat and sweat washed over Joel’s face as heavy balls braced against his nose, with the long and thick cock plopping down over his head. He shuddered in delight after one long whiff of the masculine musk. He tasted the fabric over Chud’s cock, forgetting in his haze of the veil over him. 


“That’s it,” Chud leaned back, spreading his legs so his privates could breathe. “Take it all in. Just worship, no getting me off just yet.” As if Joel needed the reminder. Misgivings of his position aside, the caracal loved to follow orders. Through the veil, he lathered the rod in kisses and soaked his fabric with sweat. He kept his eyes closed, ensuring he’d know the bull from scent and taste alone. Elijah joined him, sharing a dick that Joel did not wish to offer. But it wasn’t his place to say no, only to follow orders. Even when Chud made the two explore each other's mouths he followed through. Zero hesitation when dick is on the line. 


“Fuuuuck,” Chud groaned with exasperation. Eager to turn that to pleasure, Joel tried to suckle the tip. The bull had other plans, grabbing both twins by their headfur to hold them together. Without question the brothers locked lips, their tongues intertwined for the benefit of their shared stud’s view. The bull watched, pleased and slowly pumping his cock when he let go of Elijah, who in turn sucked his brother’s face with vigor. The two fell backward, hands over one another with their cages separated by the thin threads over their crotches. 


“God, you fuckers are eager.” A slow fapping noise rang in Joel’s ear. The bull’s breathing tensed, ready to blow until he finally cursed and stopped. Peeking through his brother’s veil the caracal swore Chud’s cock was pulsing in agony. From the bull’s grimace, it looked like he regretted blue balling himself. Why he did so, Joel wasn’t sure. Nor could he ask when Elijah pulled off. The sight of collars and leashes stole his tongue.


“Best to get going,” Chud said, locking the cheap feral dog collars over each cat’s neck. His hands were forceful but soft, the kind that Joel wanted to sink into before it pulled his hair and made him squeal. The metallic click of the leash broke his fantasy. “You two don’t mind if I show you around, do ya?” The bull laughed, shaking his head before either could speak up. “Course you don’t. Hell, you’d probably do this for a scene in your OnlyFurs.”


Joel would if he hadn’t completely forgotten about his account until now.




***




Chud took the long route to his fraternity. Wind swept through the twin’s sheer cloth costumes, forcing them to hug each other for warmth. It made Chud’s choice of a single leash looping to both of their collars easier, where all he needed was to keep it taut for the twins to stay close together. 


Because of the cold, few people walked around campus at night, saving them from obvious onlookers. Joel still strayed a glance toward the windows of buildings they passed, unsure if the silhouettes outlined were staring down at the effeminate caracals led around by a frat bro on a leash. The metal on his cage made it difficult to parse if he enjoyed the glares. Given everything up to this point, he wouldn’t be surprised. 


When they arrived at the fraternity the flesh under Chud’s facial fur was red with the winter’s kiss. Pop music and heat rushed out the door, leaving them toasty with wet feet from melted snow upon entering. Just from a glance, Joel realized the party’s theme was deeper than he’d been told. Every frat bro walked around with a femmy guy or twink on a leash. A sexy elf to a Santa, a couple of succubi with only one handler dressed as a priest while others dressed casually, and at least one angel with golden cuffs latched over them. 


“Go enjoy yourselves,” Chud said, pushing the two cats forward. “I gotta go talk with the head honchos. Feel free to put on a show until I get back, just don’t let any of the bros get too frisky. Can’t have them spoiling the fun.”


Elijah hooked his brother into the crowd before he could say anything else. Specs of dirt and mud covered the hardwood floor throughout thanks to no one taking off their boots. Combined with the melted snow Joel realized his costume wouldn’t be pristine by the night’s end. Why he cared about that confused him. It was Chud’s costume after all. Less of a gift and more of a command. Perhaps the order made it more special. He did, for better or worse, like it when people took charge.


Kegs and red-solo cups covered tables lining the walls. The main room had its couches pushed back so people could dance under a retro disco ball, bobbing their heads to high tensity music without words that rippled through the caracal’s chest. In the sea of bodies shaking and twerking over the floor he found himself questioning if any women were present. An all gay fraternity seemed unlikely, especially with the name Alpha Alpha Alpha.


“Bottoms up.” Beer sloshed from the cup Elijah shoved into Joel’s hand. Interlocking their arms together the two cats guzzled cheap foamy booze like water. “I think you need another.” His brother said, prodding the caracal’s bare chest, “Maybe two. Lighten up already.”


“Cut me some slack,” Joel argued. His eyes darted about the room, catching a glimpse of every frat bro present. Plenty were studs showing off their bodies, with one doberman with abs he could grind meat on walking about in a shirtless waiter outfit but getting served by others. Some were chubbier, such as the tiger hollering with abandon before downing cup after cup while three guys cheered him on. The chant of ‘chug’ somehow broke over the music that almost drowned out his own voice. “It’s pretty packed. You’re the social one, not me.” 


“Hence why you need another drink.” Elijah slipped a second cup into Joel’s already drained one. “Need to get you loose if we’re gonna stand out tonight.”


“And what is tonight for exactly?” Joel drank his cup without hesitation. Bland as it was cheap, the only purpose it had was to get him buzzed and he grew suspicious it could do that. A martini or cocktail would be better for that, but from the looks, there was no bartender to offer anything decent. “What’s Chud been telling you? And why am I out of the loop?”


“Cause you’ll love the surprise,” Elijah said with a smile Joel wanted to wash away with his drink. The cup being empty made the idea fruitless. “Look, just trust me that you’ll love this. Have I ever steered you wrong?”


“You literally act as my keyholder.”


Leaning just over his brother’s shoulder, Elijah whispered, “And you fucking love it, bitch.” 


Joel locked up. His cage grew tight as shame fueled the fire budding below. Elijah hooked his brother’s chin for a kiss. A long mouthful of kiss, with heavy moans as he pushed the matching caracal into the crowd alongside him. When they broke away in the center his brother twisted Joel around and shook his ass, eyes issuing a challenge under his veil.


Not knowing how to bellydance but inebriated enough to try, Joel swayed his hips and stomach out across the dance floor. Elijah followed, mirroring his brother’s movements with glee and giggles. In turn he pushed Joel to discard his crotch-covering cloth, letting the tight cage bounce to the music as he danced. 


They twisted together, swirling into a miasma of colors muted by the party lights. Through his dizzying haze, Joel noted other feminine boys taking to the floor. Some cast aside their undergarments to expose growing erections or caged members, others let the bulge of their tight outfits do the work of building imagination. Frat bros first hollered after them, then followed in to grind and dance to the beat. The more that came the less space the twins had to move until they couldn’t dance without bumping into someone else. Elijah sank into the crowd with a wink, leaving his brother fending for himself amongst a tide of hands. 


“This seat taken?” Someone whispered, feeling up his ass. Joel, drunk, horny, and excited, laughed as he backed his bum into the stranger’s crotch.


“Is this?” He asked, turning around to see the wide-eyed stare of the doberman with a bow tie and pants. Judging from the bulge protruding against the cat, the frat bro didn’t have an issue. He grinned and pushed his hips forward, grinding on the feline’s covered ass while straddling the hips. 


“Quite the exotic costume you got there.” The doberman whispered, “Pick it out yourself?”


“Chud did. You know him?” 


“I know all my brothers,” the doberman smiled, “Chud did say he was bagging a pair. Didn’t know it was the twins. I’ve seen your show online a few times. Care to give me a personal one? On the house?”


Offering a paying fan something for free was anathema to Joel but he didn’t care. The party’s energy suppressed that little voice of reason that was so used to screaming in his ear. Finding an empty spot between two couples making out, Joel pushed the doberman down and sat on his lap, becoming the third duo to touch tongues. Precum leaked from his cage, dribbling over the tent in his partner’s pants as he ground against him. He wasn’t as big as Chud, not that it mattered when Joel tried to unzip him.


“Ah, ah,” The doberman caught his hand, “Not yet.”


“Not yet?” Joel pulled back. “What kind of frat bro says no to having is cock out? This too public?” The tips of his index and middle finger walked up the dog’s chiseled chest, “Or is this too public for you? Maybe we could go into your room, have a little privacy?”


“Oh, it ain’t a problem with privacy. I just need to save myself up.” He said, brushing Joel’s hand away. The cat expected to hear some marital reason which would make little sense for their setting. He’d gotten enough messages from hypocrites online to expect it. Instead, the doberman added, “Don’t wanna get spent before the initiation tonight.”


“Initiation?” Joel paused after his question, leaving his cage pressed tight against the doberman’s athletic body. “Are you not a fraternity member?”


“Oh baby, I am. It’s just a special kind tonight.” 


“How special?” 


“You’ll see.” He tried to keep kissing but all Joel wanted to do was fish for questions. It was the least he could get if dick wasn’t on the table. Unfortunately, the doberman wasn’t interested in answering, offering little more than a wink and a, “Catch you later,” once pushing him off and sinking into the crowd. Joel tried to loosen the lips of other party-goers, from frat bros to guests like himself. Neither were willing to spill their knowledge. Both made him work for it. 


By the time Chud found him Joel was leaving a trail of precum across the floor. The bull pulled him against his thick chest, whispering softly to the caracal as senses returned. “Are you ready for the initiation?” He nodded and let the big bovine lead him from the dance floor, absently realizing it grew empty during his physical interrogations. 


Down a hallway filled with pictures of famous members, from politicians to business moguls, Joel found himself reaching a wide room with a podium but no seats. Standing at the podium was a moose man in long and red robes, with a group of hooded figures behind him. Before the podium were the guests brought in, each kneeling with their heads down. Joel spotted his brother in the lineup. Chud carried him to the end of the line away from his twin, and forced him to kneel. 


“Just play along,” the bull whispered, “And you’ll pass with flying colors. I believe in you. Oh, and keep your head down for the speech.”


“Speech?” Joel asked. The clatter of a gavel snapped his attention forward. Chud forced him to look down as the moose began to speak.


“Brothers!” His voice boomed over the walls without a mic. “I beseech you to listen and listen well. Here at Alpha, Alpha, Alpha, or Tri-Alpha as some try to call us, we believe in one solid truth. That there are those on the top and those on the bottom. Some take this creed and assume that those on the bottom are unworthy of society. Be they weak in the eyes of men, or just worthless to the claim. But this is not so, dear siblings. For while the twink is soft and the sissy unmanly, they have roles in society. An alpha cannot be an alpha without the omega. The sigma cannot exist outside the system if there is none. The beta needs the alpha to reach for, and the alpha must shine bright. The system requires reminders, those who are not only happy in their place but thrive in it. So that is why we welcome your catches with an offer.”


Not sure what any of that meant, Joel peered down the line. The cloaked members behind the moose had slinked off to the kneeling guests, each fashioning several items upon them; Bondage mittens, leather hoods, wide ring gags, and collars. 


“One night!” The moose echoed. “If you can stand one night under the thrall of our brotherhood, you will be granted status amongst these halls. One night without mercy, without a name, and without a face.” 


He stiffened as a shadow loomed behind him. Deft hands slipped his into thick leather mittens with no opposable thumbs. They pulled his veil away in favor of the bondage hood pulled over his face. There were no holes for eyes, leaving just one for his maw which was yanked open for a strong metal ring to slip behind his teeth, locking his mouth open. 


The leather collar clasped around his neck was thick and heavy, a constant reminder of his position just as the cage was of his growing arousal. The moose said something but the padding of his hood was too thick to make it out, leaving Joel’s senses dulled and at the mercy of others. He wondered if his brother was in the same predicament. A sudden yank from behind turned his attention elsewhere.


Unable to grip the chain he struggled to stand. Someone hoisted him up and smacked his ass as payment. His gag turned whatever yelp or desperate plea to an unintelligible gurgle, something the fraternity brothers found hilarious by the loud laughter. Spankings continued whenever he failed to keep pace.


His aching legs dropped onto a carpet when made to stop. Heavy musk washed over his nose, followed by warm and salty precum from someone’s cock rubbed over his face. At first Joel thought Chud had picked him, the bull did enjoy his worship, but the cock was smaller than he remembered. The bull always stretched out his jaw when demanding a blowjob, while this one slipped past the ringgag with ease. 


Bondage did not make Joel falter. He sank deeper into the rod, letting it bury into his throat until his nose stopped at what must have been a not. Practice allowed his tongue to lather the warm rod as he bobbed up and down the stranger’s cock. He wondered how many were watching. Plenty had to be preoccupied with the other hooded guests, but enough had to be in line waiting for Joel’s talented mouth. He welcomed it, having the stamina to take them all.


The stranger couldn’t say the same. Not even thirty seconds of work and Joel tasted his seed. Unable to close the glop fell from his tongue, making way for the next dick pressed up at his nose. He did not wait for Joel to sink in, forcing his cock down the caracal’s throat hard enough for hefty balls to smack his chin. He swallowed the urge to vomit under the relentless thrusts of his new stranger, letting the brother use him like an onahole rather than a person. His own cage leaked with excitement at the treatment, fighting his desire for air when held down to choke. The initial spurt shot directly into his stomach, giving him just the aftertaste as the stranger pulled out.


More came to him. Some without pause, others taking the opportunity to swat their rods across his face. What callous remarks they said were lost in the music and the thick leather deafening him. He was, in essence, no more than a fuckdoll. One choking on bliss. 


Eventually, someone hoisted him up and tossed Joel through the air. Quivering in the weightless second, Joel scrambled upon hitting soft cushions. Strong hands grabbed his arms and head, holding him down while others pulled his pants down. Fingers caked in saliva sank beneath his waiting hole with muffled laughter echoing behind him. His ass was loose enough for most people, Chud and his brother made sure of it. 


Head between the cushions his cries of surprise and pleasure fell silent as the ring of a flat-headed cock pressed into him. It lurched inch by inch without rest, robbing Joel’s legs of his strength as the stranger’s cock consumed his mind, crushing his prostate with constant pressure and heat. 


It wasn’t Chud. By now Joel knew the bull’s cock from feel and action alone. This one took his time with him, slowly thrusting forward and back to enjoy every second instead of hasting to climax. As a consequence his pleasure rose but never peaked, scratching at the dam like the urge to pee. Held down he could not push back, not join the rhythm while the frat bro’s huge but soft hands kneaded his asscheeks. All he could do was stay still, letting himself be subject to the whims of whatever master took hold of him then and there. 


Were they a horse? Perhaps a rhino or giraffe? Whatever they were, Joel felt a sudden extra foot length of meat stuff inside him with the stranger’s plunge, subjecting him to a cum enema that another guy was welcome to add to. 


The next used the leftovers as lube, driving hard and fast into the bound caracal. Each jackhammering thrust buried Joel’s face deeper into the cushions until he swore he tasted lint and spare change. Cushions squeaked from stepping as the stranger, a rabbit if he had to guess, propped themselves at the coach for balance, pulling Joel’s hooded head back in lieu of hair to grab. Pressed against his cage, the cat’s cock surged, splattering between his legs as the rabbit fucked a marathon on his ass. Pushing through soreness until endorphins made the pain pleasurable. 


His exhaustion meant nothing. A third frat brother hoisted him up, holding the slumping caracal’s thighs wide to fuck him in a full nelson. Gravity fought against the rough thrusts, each clash knocking the hooded cat’s head to one side in a spasm. Any sane person would have thrown in the towel. Joel wasn’t sure if wanted to, broken or desperate for more. Both seemed likely, as another measly spurt dripped from his cage to the laughter of many. 


As the night dragged he had rare moments between dicks. These were not rests. They could have been trials or ways the fraternity fought boredom. It did not matter as Joel willingly suffered with his masochistic glee hidden behind thick black leather.


Wood snapped against his ass. His jaw clenched around the metal ring holding it open. Burning pain pooled over his bottom, stinging like electric shocks or nails with each swing. Whatever clothes he had were long since torn aside, leaving nothing save his cock to the imagination of any brother interested in using him. None seemed to be, save for the few pressing their foot down on his balls when rolling Joel onto his back, making him beg like a feral mutt. 


Feet trampled him, forcing his hooded head down into puddles of semen and spilled beer. In the haze of subspace, he licked them clean, eliciting whooping howls from the cruel hazers. Icecubes tightened his nipples to a point. Better for unseen hands to pull, twist, and tease by. 


They still fucked him. Some washed his mouth out with water, nearly drowning him until the bright idea of a funnel was suggested, before using his throat again. Joel lost count on how many pairs took him together, their thrusts more interested in competing with themselves than their own pleasure. Joel’s spine suffered for it. He was too lost to care. 


Somewhere along the way, he felt clamps lock at his nipples. With a yank he stood up, wobbling from alcohol and no sense of balance. Whoever held his leash cared not, having hooked it so his pink nubs were punished if he didn’t follow. 


What music he could hear faded away as he climbed up the steps behind his leash-holder. Joel wondered if it was the doberman from before deciding to finally have private time with him. Or maybe Chud decided to take claim of his property again. Whoever it was, he expected the warm comfort of a bed before being spread open. 


Instead, he felt the interlocking tiles beneath his paws. Thick hands shoved him to the floor then a wall, locking his arms behind him before plastic piping circled his neck. With a funnel shoved down his gag, Joel was helpless to the rapid stream of urine drumming along the metal rim, pooling together as it filled his throat. 


They turned him into a living urinal. To make matters worse they left him there. Joel cried out, but the funnel and his gag made any attempts pointless. He had time to stew at what was happening on the floor below, questions to ask between visits from drunks waiting to empty their one-eyed snakes. Only the creak of the door told him of visitors, and he heard no other guests in his position. Had he failed? Surely not, he gave them everything. But his brother had to be doing better. He could picture it, Elijah’s hooded form taking pounding after pounding while he guzzled piss and winced in pain at the occasional kick to his balls. Some brought their guests by leashes. How Joel knew this was a guess when he felt someone lapping his balls. Some were thankful enough to drink his urine, less he stained the floor.


The hood made it impossible to tell time. Eventually Joel couldn’t fathom whether he was conscious or dreaming. The black void before him was broken only by the bitter tang of piss and the occasional kick. He welcomed it, begging for the sensation to pull him out of his deprivation hell as they left him there for what felt like hours without attention. 


Cold water hit his chest like a punch. Joel reeled, wide awake as another struck his shoulder. Multiple streams of icy water blasted his body, all aiming underneath his hood. A zipper unfurled at his ear, letting a familiar voice in.


“Rise and shine, bitch.” Chud laughed, patting Joel’s hooded scalp, “Just getting you nice and clean for the morning ceremony. Congrats on passing by the way. We’d give you a real shower but your hood isn’t completely waterproof. Luckily Jonas has some pump action water guns to clean you off with.”


The news he passed shocked him more than the icy chill matting his fur. His glee overshadowed the exhaustion in his legs and the humiliation of their demands when they undid his bindings. Like a prisoner’s first day they washed him clean from afar, his hooded head against the wall as jets of water pummeled him. Someone asked him to twerk in the process. He did so happily, burning reserves of strength while his body ached and screamed.  


“You all should be proud,” the moose echoed from the main hall. Joel felt so, kneeling tall with patted-down fur and straining limbs. “I expected some of you to falter in this challenge, but you each succeeded. It brings me nothing but joy to know you all will join our brotherhood in your rightful place.” 


His cage came undone. Joel’s cock grew to erection immediately to the jest of everyone around him. The first touch was not the warm hands of a brother but the cold press of an ice bag, numbing his member back into its sheath. What confusion he had became a squeal of pain as something pierced his sheath, closing it. 


“Welcome to the club,” Chud whispered, heavy hand squeezing the caracal’s sack. “First rule, only Alpha’s get erections. Omegas are just holes.


And a happy hole Joel became.