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I wasn't sure if I'd be able to match last year's... but I think I fuckin cooked this time boyos~\n\nIf you'd like to read this with proper formatting, read the PDF version on my [url=https://www.furaffinity.net/view/60306049/]Furaffinity[/url]!\n\n\nIf you enjoy this and would like to support my work, head over to [url=https://subscribestar.adult/limewah]my Subscribestar![/url]\n\n[url=http://www.postybirb.com]Posted using PostyBirb[/url]", "description_bbcode_parsed": "A hypnotic nightclub gets a visit from the health inspector.

This is my entry for the Entrancing Awards! I wasn't sure if I'd be able to match last year's... but I think I fuckin cooked this time boyos~

If you'd like to read this with proper formatting, read the PDF version on my Furaffinity!


If you enjoy this and would like to support my work, head over to my Subscribestar!

Posted using PostyBirb", "writing": "Surprise Inspection\n\nBy Limewah\n\nGuest appearances by Ruffles and Ember\n\n18+\n\n``If you're looking for a great place for a night out, Operant is one of your best bets. While it might look like an abandoned laboratory from the outside, don't get too nervous! This up and coming new gay nightclub is spacious, has all sorts of great events, a steamy darkroom, and delicious experimental in-house pizzas if you want to get your grub on! Has that caught your attention? Well, read on! Together, we'll delve-''\n\n``For fuck's sake.'' Skinner thrust Ruffles' phone back into their hand. ``That's not a real person. That's AI.''\n\n``How do you know?'' The white-furred, pink-nosed bull asked, stuffing their phone back into the pocket of their blue lab coat, while checking their outfit in the reflection on the kitchen's well-polished metal surfaces.\n\n``It uses the word `delve','' Skinner continued. ``Only AIs use that. AIs fucking love delving.''\n\nRuffles got a whiff of smoke, and their head angled downwards. The bull always had to touch their chin to their chest to get a good look at their boss - the white rat was half their height.\n\nRuffles didn't even see where Skinner produced the cigarette from, or even how he lit it so quickly. But they didn't need to ask how; they knew. \n\nAs the rat inhaled, making the cherry of the cigarette bloom and brighten, the glowing ribbons of orange light on his scarified pink paw were already fading away. Skinner leaned against the wall of the kitchen, tilted his head back and blew up a long trail of smoke. It dissipated like vapour, barely a trace of the scent of tobacco left behind. It was the only reason he was able to get away with smoking indoors.\n\nRuffles and their breathing issues appreciated that.\n\n``Any dipshit can take a press release or scrub some social media posts from people and make a `review' out of it,'' Skinner said. ``We need an actual review from a respectable website, not - what's that called, GayLife, the fuck is that, that's not a real website!''\n\n``I dunno,'' Ruffles said, unable to keep the apologetic tone from their voice. ``It might bring in a few customers at least.''\n\n``Sure. Maybe.'' Skinner shrugged and sighed. ``That'd be nice. We're doing fine numbers-wise, but we wanna do better than fine. Especially if we get more people who aren't just here to buy one drink on their way to fuck in the darkroom.''\n\n``But that is a good draw, you gotta admit...'' Ruffles said.\n\n``Yeah. It's also a good place to blow off steam mid-shift. You should try it sometime when you're on break.'' \n\nSkinner smiled for the first time that evening. His smile was always a little wry, a little flirtatious. The sort of smile that could charm you even before he played any of his other tricks on you, deployed just when your defenses are down. A hint of pain behind the eyes, a crumb of vulnerability that made one want to know more about him, to get closer, maybe even climb into bed with him.\n\nThey were both aware this little flirt was a slight HR violation, but Ruffles was fine with it. Skinner flirted with all of his staff a little. He'd even fucked a few of them.\n\n...Ruffles wasn't on the list. But they had a sense they could be.\n\n``M-might have to,'' Ruffles said with a little giggle.\n\nThere was a loud, awkward clang as Kuku slithered in from the back entrance. The black cobra had a skinny, scrawny torso, with 5 metres of awkward tail, and a slither that got a little wobbly when he was nervous.\n\n``Sssup,'' he called out.\n\n``What time do you call this?'' Skinner called out sharply, making the snake freeze.\n\n``I'm... five minutesss early?'' Kuku glanced at the clock on the wall.\n\n``Exactly. Good for you, setting an example for the bar staff. But you stink of weed.''\n\n``Oh, fuck, do I-''\n\nA little whoosh, a brief hint of sulfur, and the skunk scent was gone.\n\n``It's fine. Don't worry `bout it.''\n\nThe snake visibly relaxed. He was always a little skittish around Skinner, even though he could have swallowed the skinny little rat in one go.\n\nIn fact, everyone in the staff had at least a foot and a half on Operant's owner. But there was no uncertainty as to who was in charge; with his sharp crisp white researcher's coat with jet black trim, sleeves rolled up to show his tattooed forearms, Skinner cut a very impressive figure.\n\nA robin - paunchy with an early-50s greyness around the eyes, but still very energetic for his age - stepped out of the small, cramped office space in the back of the kitchen, squishing by Skinner as he tapped at a tablet. Even if Brea was a subordinate to Skinner, his decades of experience in the industry had made him something of a mentor.\n\n``So we've got a table booked for 5 - sorry to cut in boss - and it's a stag do, so we'll probably need to make sure we've got a couple bottles of champagne chilled.''\n\n``How's the darkroom looking, Brea?'' Skinner was towelling off his freshly-washed hands.\n\n``Looks spotless,'' the robin said. ``Smells like a freshly cleaned bathroom. Lemon n' Bleach. The sexiest smell you could imagine.''\n\nSkinner scoffed. \n\n``Great. Kuku, let's get food prep started, yeah?''\n\n``I've got a housssse special I'd like to tessst tonight,'' Kuku said. ``I've got thisss idea for a new ssspin on the Hawaiian pizza-''\n\n``If I have time,'' Skinner said, not unkindly, ``I'll be more than happy to go over it with you, but let's keep it simple for tonight, ok?''\n\n``On it, Bosss.''\n\n``Thank you, Chef. Ruffles, let's do one last sweep, we've got about 40 minutes until opening and we don't know when the part-timers are coming.''\n\nPart of Skinner wanted to allow his crew to relax. Every box was ticked. But you could never be too careful.\n\nIt was hard to know just how busy the night ahead could get.\n\n-\n\nOperant was a stark, brutal looking space, at least when the work lights were on. All white walls, equally white floors (clearing the marks off the floor was a pain in and of itself). The bars and booth-tables were made of pearlescent plastic, sterile and smooth. The booths were the only concession to comfort, fashioned from salvaged ergonomic office chairs. \n\nOnce the place was bathed in the low glow of a potent mixture of LED lights, it took on a whole different vibe, like an illegal after-hours work party. \n\nSkinner had partied with enough scientists to know they partied harder than almost anyone else. They understood how to work with research chemicals that fucked you up in just the right ways, while also mixing safely with alcohol. Their parties were proper ragers.\n\n...Tonight was starting to remind him of one of those nights.\n\nSkinner was trying not to let his excitement show. \n\nTonight was busy. Way busier than usual. The turn-of-the-millenium bangers were bumped up louder than usual to penetrate through the greater volume of bodies. The air-conditioning and temperature control was having a hard time keeping up.\n\nIt was turning into a stuffy sweat-box, and fast.\n\nNot that that was an undesired effect.\n\nIt reminded Skinner of the sort of place he used to throw his skinny young twink body around, once upon a time. Before the aches and pains set in, before that accident that ended his promising career in biotech... and before the pact he made to pursue his back-up dream.\n\nHe breathed in the atmosphere sharply, like his snout was at the rim of an open bottle of poppers. He could feel himself starting to relax a bit, though he wasn't able to stay completely still as he worked away behind the bar, pinch-hitting for the barkeep who was supposed to be Ruffles' backup.\n\nSkinner's collar felt tight, and he tugged at it. He stared at the morass of bodies. He felt its crush calling to him, a reminder of his younger days when he felt completely invincible; before he understood what being `invincible' truly meant.\n\nHe could cut loose for a moment. Might even help with publicity, seeing the owner of the place taking a personal stake in making sure everyone was having a good time...\n\nNo, he had to stay collected and professional. \n\nPlus, if he headed out to the dance floor, drink would almost certainly end up spilled on his coat, and it was a bitch to dry clean. Especially if it was one of those fluorescent sugary alcopops in the glass-sheen plastic flasks. \n\nA familiar hoof tapping him on the shoulder interrupted his meandering thoughts.\n\n``Boss?'' Ruffles gulped.\n\n``Yes, Ruffles, my love?''\n\n``We've, uhm, got a...''\n\nSkinner could see the next word in the pink cow's eyes before they said it. He saw the unimpressed, glassy-eyed stare of the skinny secretary-bird over Ruffles' shoulder, from a few paces back.\n\nThe bird's eyes narrowed, and his beak opened in what passed for an avian's smile.\n\nHe had a clipboard under his wing, and was dressed in a cheap off-the-peg suit.\n\nSkinner's stomach dropped through the floor.\n\nHe kept his poker face and held his prey-instinct to run at bay. Hard not to; a rodent and a raptor was a fatal combination. \n\nHe didn't let his fear show as he approached with a proffered hand.\n\nThe bird's bone-grey beak tilted upwards slightly as he took the rat's hand, his voice perfunctory and professional.\n\n \n\n``I am Inspector Oyembe from the Sterlingsburg Board of Health and Safety. Might I be able to inspect your establishment?''\n\n``Of course, Sir,'' Skinner said. ``Pleasure to meet you. I'm Fenton Skinner - I'm the owner of this place. Lucky you came tonight, as you can see it's a busy one.''\n\nShitty luck for us. \n\n``If you wouldn't mind,'' Oyembe continued, ``I'd be more than happy to take a few minutes to settle - it's been a long day. We can get started in, say, 10 minutes?''\n\nExcellent. He was tired. Which would make it easier to manipulate. A little sprinkling of magical persuasion into his words would buy them some time to rest. As he spoke, a shimmer of eldritch heat traveled through his paw, and a tiny puff of supernatural vapour escaped the corners of his smile.\n\n``Sounds fantastic, sir, please, make yourself comfortable.''\n\nUsually, when Skinner slipped a little bit of eldritch zhoosh into his words, the hypnotic effect was obvious. A single honey-coloured ripple from the edges of the irises inwards towards the pupil, a slight shift in body language. \n\nBut Oyembe just stared at him, with a bemusedly crooked eyebrow.\n\n``...Yes, I think I will, if you'll let go of my wing.''\n\n``Yes, of course,'' Skinner said, trying to play it off as smoothly as possible. ``Ruffles here can get you settled, right, Ruffles?''\n\n``Uhm, yes, of course!'' Ruffles was great with customers. They could help warm him up. ``We've got plenty of delicious mocktails, don't want the designated drivers to feel left out, you know...''\n\n``That sounds delightful, thank you. While you're here...''\n\nFuck. So much for the 10 minute start. He'd have to leave it to her.\n\nAs Skinner peeled away and made his way around the bar to the back, he caught Brea's eye. The robin was already on an intercepting course, and he looked grave.\n\nThe pair slipped into the back kitchen. Kuku was balancing a ream of pizza trays on his arms and his tail. \n\nSkinner caught a glimpse of pineapple chunks and bright red marinated seitan on one of them, along with a drizzle that smelled fruity and spicy.\n\n``Hey, what'sss up?'' he asked, sliding them all into the oven at once. ``I'm jussst throwing in the Houssse Ssspecial, I was thinking we could call it Bromelain Sssizzle, you know, cus of the pineapple-''\n\n``We've got an inspector in,'' Skinner said, not even acknowledging the question. ``Everything looks clean... good, good, just keep it like that.''\n\n``Wait-what?''\n\nKuku's eyes went wide, he shivered nervously, and the trays rattled in his coils.\n\n``Keep your blood cold, Kuku.'' Skinner glanced at the robin. ``His name's Oyembe. Do you know him?''\n\n``Yep,'' Brea sighed sadly. ``I remember him well. He's the worst inspector they could possibly have sent. He's immune to mind control, hypnosis, the whole shebang. All it does is annoy him and give him a headache. That's probably why they sent him here.''\n\n``Fuck,'' Skinner exhaled. Hopefully the bird only had him pegged as `overly friendly', and not `trying to manipulate him into giving a passing grade'.\n\n \n\n``Oyembe's especially hard on people who try to trance him,'' Brea continued. ``He gave that other spot a really nasty citation last week, they're still closed- ''\n\n``Which spot is that?'' Skinner asked quickly.\n\n``You know, the jungle-themed one, with the snake-''\n\n``The Hollow Banyan? Kaa's spot?'' Skinner bit on his lip. ``Damn, he runs a tight ship...''\n\n``Oyembe's a nice guy at his core, though,'' Brea added, ``so-''\n\n``Oh really, cool, how the FUCK does that help?!''\n\nThat outburst, tinged with a little spark of flame in his eyes, took all the oxygen out of the room for a moment.\n\nSkinner felt the fear off of his staff, especially the part-timers who hadn't ever seen him get this sharp.\n\nSkinner was trying his hardest not to punch something. It would make him feel better for half a second, maybe 2-thirds tops. But his team was watching him. Feeding off his nervous energy. He clapped his hands together, so hard his palms stung, and brought his index fingers against the bridge of his nose.\n\nBreathe in.\n\nAnd out.\n\nA hiss-whisper gloated in his inner-ear.\n\n``Looks like your contract might be finished far sooner than we expected, little rat. You remember how it goes. This place is on loan to me, just like your soul is. The moment this little cage of yours falls apart and goes under, you're mine.'' \n\nSkinner didn't dignify his patron with a response. He took his time responding to Brea.\n\n``I'm sorry for raising my voice, Brea, it was immature and unprofessional.'' Each word was a new piece of a calming mantra, mostly for Skinner himself. \n\n``Apology accepted,'' Brea said patiently, ``Don't worry. I know him. I can butter him up a bit, make sure he takes his time back here. Where's he now?''\n\n``Ruffles is talking to him,'' Skinner continued.\n\n``Good, good...'' Brea said. ``They're a good kid. We'll be fine.''\n\nSkinner swayed in place, his eyes clamped shut. He inhaled, slower this time, and exhaled, even longer than that.\n\n``Okay.'' he feathered his fingers against each other, in front of his forehead. ``So. Here's the plan. He's probably gonna start back here, they usually start with storage and food prep, right?''\n\n``That's right,'' Brea said. ``We - I mean, they always start back there.''\n\n``Good. Keep him here as long as possible, charm him, see if your old co-workers are still there. I'm gonna get the DJ to add some subliminals to the set, keep everyone from going too crazy.''\n\nAt that, Skinner looked up at his crew. \n\nHe noticed another of his employees had arrived, shockingly late for a synth. Pol was a chromed anole with a lilac chassis, and two large white dots passing for eyes in the darkness of its visor-plate. It was slipping on its labcoat; the coat didn't even come close to getting around Pol's round, barrel-chested body. (The 3d printer in its gut needed a lot of room, not to mention ventilation.)\n\n``Hey Pol, good to see you,'' Skinner said, making a mental note to talk about its tardiness later. ``Are you up to speed?''\n\n``Yes, Brea Told Me Everything...'' Pol warbled.\n\n``Good. Be on call in case we need to do any spot repairs.''\n\n``My Printer's All Warmed Up.''\n\nSkinner turned his attention to the biggest - and most nervous person in the room.\n\n``Kuku, business as usual, just keep making pizzas, don't rush `em, don't drop `em.''\n\n``Y-You got it bosss...''\n\nKuku was going to drop at least a couple. The poor guy got really flustered under pressure. \n\n``Send me a text when he's finished. I'll trance a few patrons and get him up- we can use that to buy time. Then we'll make sure the darkrooms are in order. And for the love of anti-christ, no smoke breaks until we've seen him out the door, ok?''\n\n``Yes Boss!''\n\nSkinner clapped his hands together as he stepped out into the club once more. He affected a `service' smile, a false friendliness that never sat quite right on his face.\n\nOyembe was at the bar, smiling politely and raising his glass of pale-green juice while scratching something onto his clipboard. He'd started already. Fuck.\n\nRuffles was already serving other customers alongside Pol - fuck, it was busy, they would have to hire more staff...\n\n``HEY!''\n\nSkinner bristled as he heard some sharp finger-snaps, coming from a booth about halfway between the bar and the entrance. \n\nThere was that table for 5 that Brea had mentioned.\n\nA tall, admittedly well-built stag was sitting at one edge of the booth. He looked like he hit the gym every day and he wouldn't hesitate to tell you that first chance he got. Next to him was a snow leopard who was half his size, sleeker, more of a runner's build. Then there was a stocky-built horned owl who had a particularly rude look in his golden eyes, and wrists festooned with long-dead glow sticks. Next to that was a scrawny fox with a tweed flat cap perched on his head - did he think he looked like he belonged in the peaky blinders or some shit? At the other end was another big guy- a tall, pudgy city-pigeon whose shirt didn't quite cover the lower edge of his gut.\n\nAll of them were wearing garish red T-shirts with a poorly blown up photo of the snow leopard's face, with antlers crudely pasted onto his head.\n\n`THE CRAIGMEISTER'S STAG' was emblazoned in text over that head.\n\nThis party had been a fucking nightmare. \n\nMore than once, he'd heard one of them refer to someone on the dance floor as a `hot bitch', or heard their collective hyena-like cackle ramming itself into his eardrums. Somehow their laughter cut above the music. Maybe it was just because he was listening out for it, his mind attuned to it and anticipating it like the beep of a smoke alarm with low batteries.\n\nNot to mention, they had no appreciation for that sparkling wine. They?d destroyed their palates after downing shots of bitter herbal spirits dropped into energy drink that tasted like rocket fuel. No wonder they were drinking the bubbly stuff like it was water.\n\nStill... all of them were a little hot. Their personalities let them down.\n\nThat could be fixed.\n\nHe could pretend he didn't hear them for a couple seconds. The inspector was more important.\n\n``Hope the mocktail's to your liking,'' Skinner said as he passed by Oyembe.\n\n``It's quite nice,'' Oyembe said, still implacable, the paper straw bending in his sharp beak. ``A little sweet for my blood, but well-prepared.''\n\nHe was already taking notes on his clipboard. Skinner gave it a very wide berth.\n\n``This is my third establishment of the day,'' the bird said, idly. ``One of them ended a little early; the proprietor tried a little light show with his eyes as if that would massage the grade a little higher. Another of those establishments that hinges their popularity on that hypnosis claptrap.'' He rolled his eyes. ``I had half a mind to fail them on the spot.''\n\n``...And did you?''\n\nOyembe did not look up, but he paused just enough to let the fear creep into Skinner's mind.\n\n``I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to-AH!''\n\nHis eyes had been up-cast for a moment, towards the bar and the kitchen. His thin head-plumage shot up, and his beak opened wide. \n\nSkinner had a hard time reading avians, especially raptors. Hard not to read anything other than `I'm going to tear open your stomach and feast on your still-beating heart' from a face like that. \n\nSkinner's eyes followed Oyembe's gaze. Brea was waving back at him with an open-beaked grin of his own.\n\n``Brea, you old fart!'' \n\n``Lookit you, kiddo!''\n\nOyembe took his glass and stepped around the bar as if he owned the place, clipboard tucked under his wing. His entire demeanour had changed.\n\nThat had to be good, right?\n\nHopefully their reminiscing would make Oyembe's inspection of the back a little more leisurely. More time for him to do a sweep.\n\nSkinner eyeballed the DJ, perched up in their little mesh nook. He wasn't going to catch her eye from across the dance floor. \n\nJust as he took his first step, he felt a hand on his shoulder.\n\n``BRO!''\n\nSkinner wheeled around and found himself staring right into the face of a snow leopard... with photoshopped antlers on it.\n\nHe looked up. The stag was leering down at him with the entitled face of someone who had never taken `no' for an answer.\n\nThe entitled look on that stupid stag's face...\n\nGod, he wanted to wipe it off. And he had the power to do that. But...\n\n``Yes, how can I help you?''\n\n``We want another bottle of champagne!'' he somehow managed to sound like a 5 year old demanding a lollipop. ``We've been waiting for ages!''\n\nThey'd just ordered a bottle 30 minutes ago, they couldn't have chugged through it that fast...\n\nSkinner craned his head to look past the stag. Judging from the spilled glasses and sticky glistening puddles on the table, they were probably chugging it. It broke his heart to see them treating their top shelf stuff so badly. Pearls before swine.\n\n``Of course, we'll send you a bottle soon. Just tell your friends to sit tight and relax for now, would you?''\n\nThe antlered bro blinked a few times, his brow un-furrowing, his eyes dilating ever so slightly.\n\n``Sure...'' he said. ``I'll tell my friends to sit tight and relax.''\n\nHe turned and walked back to the booth. His gait wasn't any different, and there was no sign of his mind being manipulated. Not that his idiot friends would have noticed.\n\n``Good boy,'' Skinner muttered under his breath. Fuck, it made him horny when they repeated the commands back to him.\n\nAs soon as the inspector was gone, those five were as good as fucked. In more ways than one. \n\nThat one brief taste of domination was going to stay in the back of Skinner's throat. He'd slake that thirst later.\n\nSkinner caught Pol's face-plate from behind the bar and pointed a thumb in the direction of the booth. Pol `rolled' its eyes and nodded.\n\nSkinner made a beeline for the DJ booth. It was suspended above the dance floor in a plexiglass enclosure, somewhere between a prison cell and a terrarium. One more element of the lab-rat aesthetic. He climbed the stairs and slipped into the booth. He'd already caught the eye of the green-scaled, blue-haired dragon behind the turntables.\n\n``Ember!''\n\n``Alright?'' Her laconic smile didn't last very long when she saw the look on Skinner's face. ``...So not alright then?''\n\n``It's fine, we're fine, things are fine. I just need you to stick on something that's gonna keep the dance floor full.''\n\n``Nope.'' Ember said with a sudden frown. ``I'm not doing chart shite.''\n\n``No, no,'' Skinner said. ``I'm talking about the good stuff. Your personal mix.''\n\n``I know, just fuckin' with ya a little-''\n\n``Please, Ember, not tonight, just don't fuck with me tonight. We've got an inspector in-''\n\n``You what? An inspector, right now?''\n\n``I know, fucking ridiculous - and the last thing I want is him walking in on someone doing coke or ket in the bathrooms.''\n\n``Point taken...''\n\n``I'll pay you for an extra hour if you do it.''\n\n``I mean, I was gonna do it either way, but if you're offering...'' Ember winked. Skinner sighed and laughed. He was a bit too `charitable' when he was stressed.\n\n``Great,'' Skinner said, sharply, aggressively, but without a hint of sarcasm. ``You're amazing. Love your work. Keep it up.'' \n\nAs he quickly tapped down the steps, he could hear the poppy grooves melting into something a little more even, less melodic, more driving. Something primal, that took hold of the heart and squeezed it to dictate a new rhythm. It wouldn't normally be to everyone's taste. But he could catch glimpses of faces in the crowd, first furrowing and frowning with disappointment, before that melted away.\n\nThe effect was something you'd have to be actively looking out for. But more people were sliding onto the dance floor, the crush of bodies sardine-can stuffed into what little real estate there was. Even the people at the edges of dance floor were starting to bop along, eyes closing to take in its thick, entrancing ambience. \n\nPaws and wings and fingers began to explore, too. Some between lovers, some between strangers. Lips parted to let other mouths cover them. As long as Ember didn't turn the tempo up too much, there hopefully wouldn't be anyone fucking on the dance-floor.\n\nSkinner's ear was trained to drown out the music - plus, its hidden subliminal siren-song had no effect on him. So he heard the sound of clattering plates and splattering pizza all the way from where he was, along with Kuku frantically cursing and apologising. Through the tiny slivers of window he could see from his vantage point, he caught a glimpse of that fucking pizza again. He tapped the earpiece in his ear to listen in.\n\n``Ssso, we're conssstantly trying out new stuff, sssorry, would you like to try? The bosss highly recommends it.''\n\nHe heard a hacking squawk-cough that could only have been the inspector.\n\n``You're very kind, but I'm allergic to pineapple.''\n\n``Oh, fuck, that'sss a shame - ssssorry-''\n\nHe felt the desire to scream `WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING' roiling in his chest. But the last thing he was going to do was berate an already stressed staff member.\n\nHe had a spot-check to finish.\n\nThere wasn't much of a queue for the unisex bathrooms, thankfully. The urinal stalls looked fine, the accessible toilets were basically spotless, and that just left...\n\nThe scent of sex around the stalls. Skinner heard low moans and exhaled curses, along with the tell-tale gulp and slurp of someone getting some very enthusiastic head. \n\n``Ohhh fuck, yeah, your mouth's so good...''\n\nPar for the course, though there were plenty of stalls like this in the darkrooms. Did they just not know they were there, or did they not care?\n\nSkinner headed to the stall to knock. He'd politely ask them to take their business elsewhere, and move on.\n\nAs he got closer, though, he realised...\n\n... The voices were coming from two different stalls.\n\n``Oh for fuck's sake...''\n\nSkinner clenched his paw. Tiny ribbons of flame escaped between the clenched fingers. The locks on the stall doors unlatched, and the doors flew wide open. There was one person in each stall, both facing the dividing wall; a grey lizard with a tight v-neck shirt clinging to his body and spray-on black jeans that had been unbuttoned and unzipped, and a black otter in a tank top and daisy dukes that were so bright they were practically fluorescent in the low light.\n\nThe glory hole looked fresh, probably made by that grey reptile's spiny tail. He could see some sawdust on the floor, as well as the chunk of lacquered particleboard. The otter knelt on the other side of the door was frozen about half-way along the lizard's meat. How he hadn't cut his prick up on the splinters around the hole was beyond him.\n\nNot that that mattered.\n\nThey stared at him with a mix of shock and shame. Skinner's eyes gleamed and burned. He waded in to grab the lizard - first by the lapel, then by the side face.\n\nThe reptile nearly screamed, before the eldritch magic paralysed his throat with exquisite electricity.\n\nHe stared into the rodent's eyes through those gripping fingers, blasting him with heat.\n\nThe heat burned his world a vast, cinder-blackness that was enfeebling, humbling, and frighteningly beautiful.\n\nThe rat, too, changed. The white fur peeled away like strips of tissue paper, and beneath it was a vast, roiling nebula of tar-black, whispering darkness. His eyes gleamed like wildfires contained in gemstones, and when he opened his mouth, his teeth were like supernovas and his tongue was like a world-ending gout of fire.\n\nSUBMIT, the rat intoned.\n\nSkinner did not have the luxury of holding back or being subtly seductive. He would sear his will into these idiots' brains. And put them to use.\n\nThe eldritch energy shot down the lizard's writhing body, like cracks in an imploding dam. They shot straight through his cock and into the otter's mouth, the corruptive mania shooting right down his throat and making him gleam with the selfsame essence. \n\nThe wall between them vanished, as did the rest of reality. The two were frozen in place, mid-thrust, mid-suck, their eyes straining in their stiffened heads to stare at the rodent-shape, before it ceased to be a shape and became something large, incomprehensible, like something from a long forgotten depiction of hell.\n\nI SAY AGAIN, SUBMIT.\n\nThe deep, primal quiver of Skinner's borrowed voice burrowed into the two soft, mortal brains. Their higher functions shut down. The rationality of their left brains unraveled under a deluge of guttural fear. The passion of their right brains melted, too, their imaginations struggling and failing to comprehend the majesty before them. Their pupils dilated and contracted rapidly, their panicking bodies filled with a cocktail of cortisol and endorphins. Potent stuff. The sort of cocktail that threw someone into the mindset of prey accepting their fate.\n\nYOU ARE MY THRALLS. \n\nThey weren't quite there yet. \n\n``N-no, I'm... n..gh...'' The lizard's jaw was set in a terrified grimace. ``I c-can't, please...''\n\n``Nnngl...'' the otter choked, mouth still wrapped helplessly around the lizard's glowing, veiny cock.\n\nThe burning visage of the rat towered over the pair, impossibly massive and majestically terrifying. His hundreds of eyes burned like roman candles, his halo of sharp teeth shone like moonbeams, and the heat of his breath singed their fur.\n\nFlaming paws reached from the depths, and slid through their gossamer skulls to take hold of their minds. The grip was tender, as if cradling an egg, but it wouldn't take much of a squeeze to make those minds crack and spill through his fingers.\n\nYOUR RESISTANCE WILL FAIL YOU. \n\nGIVE IN.\n\nThe deep dark layers of the voice became a smooth purr. The otter and the lizard's eyes fluttered and flickered, torn between staring into the swirling darkness or rolling up into the backs of their skulls.\n\n``P...please...'' the lizard looked on the verge of tears - not quite fearful, but not quite joyous. His mind had reached the limits of its comprehension, and it was unravelling at the seams. \n\nThe otter, on the other hand, was paralysed, lips still enclosed on the dick, throat gulping and quivering with fear.\n\n...Skinner hated seeing them look like this. This kind of domination was great when the `corruptee' was into it. It was harder to put someone on full blast like this when he could see their lives flashing before their eyes. But then again, they weren't in any danger. They'd learn to love it.\n\nBreaking character would help them along that process.\n\nTinges of his old voice returned, pouring forth from that chorus of mouths.\n\n...LOOK, YOU'RE ONLY GONNA BE LIKE THIS FOR A FEW HOURS. YOU'RE GONNA GET YOUR FREE WILL BACK ONCE YOU'VE SERVED YOUR PURPOSE, BUT YOU'RE PAYING TO FIX THIS FUCKIN WALL. AND JUST USE THE DARKROOMS NEXT TIME, YOU CAN GET YOUR GLORY HOLE FIX THERE.\n\nThe two visibly. He could feel their minds slackening; the fearful pointless resistance they'd been putting up was sloughing away.\n\n``Ffffaaah...'' the lizard quivered. There was a little flicker of humiliation, perhaps even anger behind it.\n\nThe rat fixed that - another gout of flame traveled down his paw and into the lizard's mind, making his eyes cross and his body writhe like a snake's. \n\nAGAIN. YOU'RE GOING TO BE FINE.\n\n``Gmmmlg......'' the otter moaned around the lizard's tool. He was drinking down something. Precum, or cum, one of the two. There was a dozy smile creeping up his fuzzy muzzle too. He was more accepting.\n\nYOU'RE NOT SO SCARED ANYMORE. THIS FEELS GOOD. YOU FEEL VERY GOOD.\n\n``G...good...'' the lizard mumbled, finally getting in line. \n\n``Mmmhl...'' the otter moaned in agreement.\n\nThe lizard pulled away from the otter, his cock slipping free with a soft pop, and he fell to his knees. The otter turned too, slowly shuffling to face his new God head-on.\n\n``G-guhhoood...'' the otter giggled, a little blob of cum trailing down his tongue.\n\nTHERE WE GO. LOOK AT ME. GAZE INTO ME. UNDERSTAND JUST HOW LITTLE YOU ARE, AND HOW GOOD IT FEELS TO KNOW HOW LITTLE YOU ARE. IT FEELS NICE TO BE LITTLE, DOESN'T IT, MORTALS...?\n\n``Ah-huh...'' the otter said, the cum drooling from his lolling tongue.\n\n``Yes...'' the lizard giggled, swaying slightly.\n\nSkinner seized on that like a shark smelling blood. He wanted another word after that one. He need this indulgence.\n\nSAY `YES MASTER'. I WANT TO HEAR A `YES MASTER'.\n\n``Yes Master!'' the lizard groaned, his will obliterated. ``Yes Master!''\n\n``Yehhhs Master...'' the otter couldn't form the words, his jaw too slack from all that dick-sucking and mind-melting. Still, points for effort.\n\nGOOD BOYS.\n\nThey moaned with pleasure, their eyes turning an opaque ochre as they stared up at him with nothing but pure adoration. The lizard's cock pulsed, another spurt of cum shooting out across the floor. It was caught in that darkness, twisted into a spiral, and it glided up into the darkness.\n\nWith that, Skinner let the illusion drop, and he returned to his normal self. The tattoos on his arms sizzled and smouldered down as he brought the caught cumshot to his lips and tasted its umami tang.\n\nHe examined the pair for a moment.\n\nThe lizard did have a pretty tasty looking dick. And the otter's whiskered muzzle was cute, too. Eminently fuckable. \n\nThe way they said `Yes Master' was fucking delicious, too.\n\nShame there was no time to enjoy them. He'd park that for later.\n\n``Okay.'' Skinner quickly moved to the sink to give his hands a rinse. ``Get dressed, and sit quietly, and whatever you do, do not let anyone in until I'm back. Oh, no. Wait. A synth is going to come in in a second.''\n\nAs he stepped back out of the toilets, Skinner quickly fished out his phone and call Pol. The nice thing about calling or texting a Synth is they can respond basically instantly. He knew it was on the other end already.\n\n``How quick can you 3d-print something? There's a hole that needs patching in the bathroom.''\n\n``Right On It, Boss.''\n\nSkinner watched Pol slip out from behind the bar, approaching to pass him, and in his moment of lingering he felt a hand slide along the curve of his ass. Another one slid along his stomach. He glanced around at the dark shapes closing in, the rolling, swirling eyes and the easy relaxed faces...\n\nHe felt himself being pulled into the crowd, becoming one with the morass, hearts beating and lungs breathing as one thing, and oh, fuck, that would be nice...\n\nThen he got shoved. Someone brushed past his shoulder so hard that it knocked him off balance. He turned to catch a glimpse of that flat-cap wearing fox from the stag party heading straight for the bathroom he'd come out of. \n\n``Watch it!'' the fox barked over his shoulder, without even looking back. He wasn't vibing with the music, clearly. \n\n``Excuse me!'' Skinner said. \n\n``What was that?!'' the fox wheeled around, and with him, the owl. ``You got something to say, mate?''\n\nSkinner felt acid in the back of his throat, and had half a mind to pour that acid right down that fox's throat, make him weep and whine, warp his brain and tear it apart...\n\n``There's a mess in that bathroom that needs cleaning up, Sir,'' Skinner said. ``Could you use the accessible toilets for now please?''\n\n``Tch.'' the fox rolled his eyes and didn't even have the courtesy to thank him. ``Don't use that one!'' he called out to his friend.\n\n``Why?''\n\n``Yeah, why?'' The fox looked at Skinner again. \n\n``Please use the accessible toilets,'' Skinner repeated.\n\nA pulse of honey through their eyes. A little shift in their demeanour - a slumping in the owl, a stiffening in the fox. And they complied, quietly.\n\nGod, he wanted to follow them. Fuck with one of them while he was waiting for the bathroom to open, then take over with the other.\n\nBut he had places to be. He'd keep those thoughts for later.\n\nSkinner put his head down and strode straight for the darkrooms. \n\nThe delicious reek of sex was even stronger here; well, at least it belonged there.\n\nA lot of darkrooms had a dive bar vibe about them, or maybe a changing room or sauna. Not this one. Smooth tiled floors, thick white curtains suspended from a lattice of rails... it had the ambience of a repurposed decontamination room.\n\nThere were only a few stark fluorescent lamps up above in the corners, aiming surgical shotgun-cone bursts of light downwards. Behind every curtain and sheet was a stark silhouette of bodies blending together. Skinner could see the shadow of a slender bichon's maw forced open by an elephant's massive finger - only the dog's muzzle was visible, the rest of his body blended into the elephant's hulking frame.\n\nA sharp yelp cut above the thump of the music, and Skinner looked to see another silhouette. A hog-tied feline was being hoisted upwards, with thick straps around the wrists, ankles, and his dimpled, pudgy stomach. It looked like the shape of a long-haired pedigree, though the fur was matted and cowlicked to shit. He could only catch a little outline of the caged cock, dripping onto the floor.\n\nPart of Skinner was thinking fuck, I want a taste.\n\nThe other part was thinking, fuck, slipping hazard. \n\nThe shadow of a marten moved in next to the swinging shape, and made a spade-shape with their fingers before sliding them into the cleft.\n\nAnother loud meow from the cat's flat muzzle was stopped up by a long dildo introduced by a squat leather daddy dachshund.\n\nSkinner could see the cat's throat bulging.\n\nSkinner felt his cock shudder and jump. He hissed, and dark smoke wafted from between his teeth.\n\nGo on.... What's the harm. You've got time. Taste one or two of them.\n\nWas that his voice, or his patron's?\n\nDid it matter?\n\nHis paw was at his crotch, and he gave his junk a squeeze. It throbbed gratefully, needily. He could masturbate himself through the outline of that tent at this point. \n\nNo, he couldn't stay.\n\nHe couldn't stay. He had to keep himself in line. \n\nHow good was a Secretary Bird's sense of smell? Would Oyembe pick up the smell of sex off of Skinner if he indulged?\n\nYou want to find out. Be bold. Live a little. See where it leads you...\n\n``Fuck. Off.''\n\n``Heyyy Skinner!'' \n\nSkinner's eyes snapped to attention.\n\n``Oh! Hey Kam!''\n\nDamnit. One more potential distraction.\n\nThe raptor's pearlescent body with its orange-cream stripes was like a beacon in the darkroom. It was impossible to ignore them.\n\nKam was bent over with their claws digging into one of the benches, and they had their tail curled around the neck of a genuflecting sea lion, its fluffy purple-plumaged tip resting on the back of his head. The sea lion was gripping Kam's rump, his snout buried as deep in that cleft as he could go, eyes glassy and spiralling with rings of pink and black. \n\nKam's hypnosis tended to make every touch extra narcotic. That sea lion was almost certainly eating well. \n\n``You on break?'' Kam asked. ``Wanna go at this one? This dad's tongue is fucking divine.''\n\nSkinner's cock jumped again. Kam was one of his favourite people to bump into in his `breaks'. They matched each other's freak like no one else. The two of them could have every single cock in the room throbbing to their beat in minutes if they wanted to.\n\nAnd fuck, he wanted to.\n\n``Really can't stick around,'' Skinner apologised, ``just making sure...''\n\nHe looked up at the curtain rails, tugging on them and making sure they weren't stuck or loose. There wasn't much reason for the busy-work, aside from not wanting to get too entranced by the sights around him. Everything looked good.\n\n``A secretary bird's gonna come by. Don't try to fuck him or hypnotise him, please.''\n\n``I think I'm good as is~!'' Kam gasped, their pleased forked tongue flitting out as the sea lion gave their tailhole a long, bristle-whiskered lick. ``Nnngh... fuck...''\n\n``Throw on a condom before you nut, please,'' he said, before raising his voice. ``That goes for the rest of you, wrap your crap.''\n\nHis phone buzzed before he could check if anyone was actually listening. He took a quick glance, and the first two words - `he's coming' - were enough to strangle that thought and pull him back to reality.\n\n``Fuck. Okay, no. You all need to go to the changing room for now, please.''\n\nIt occurred to Skinner that they definitely hadn't heard him, either due to the music or due to them being too cum-brained to notice.\n\nThere was no time to ask politely again.\n\nMost of the darkroom regulars had been tranced out by Skinner one time or another, so there was already an implicit obedience. He just had to use it.\n\nHe raised his hand up. The sigil-scars glowed. He muttered under his breath, his eyes turning opaque, his might pouring from his pores.\n\nThe very air bent to his will, the dim lighting unpacking and twisting as the LED lamps were co-opted.\n\nThey pulsed out a subtly throbbing display of rainbows, gradually drawing eyes upwards to gaze into those endless headlights. \n\nHe snapped his fingers sharply, and the lights strobed rapidly for one... two... three seconds. Then they were gone.\n\nHe could hear the sound of every single throat hitching with a breath, every single ass clenching shut.\n\nThat included Kam. \n\nSorry, buddy, Skinner thought to himself.\n\n``You will all go into the changing rooms until I return,'' he said, simply and sharply.\n\nEvery single body stood. Every single body turned towards the exit. And every single body walked in dreamlike concert. There was a little skid as the sea-lion stumbled, just behind the lazily wandering raptor.\n\nJust as he turned to leave, he heard a creak of strained leather, caught the movement of a shadow.\n\n``Ah, fuck...'' \n\nThat cat was still hanging from his harness, his ankle bound feet sort of kicking at the air, toes curling and uncurling.\n\n``FUCK!'' Skinner raced towards the harnessed cat, and his food slid right along a slick blob of dripped lube. This leg kicked upwards and the rest of him followed. His arm flew out to grab something, and grabbed on tightly to the first thing it could - the nearest curtain. It ripped off and twisted around him, keeping his hands from stopping his fall before his nose cracked against the floor.\n\nCopper taste, sulfur scent, his charmed blood pouring down his snout... \n\n``RRGH! FUCK!'' he scrabbled and kicked and unwrapped himself from the curtain-wrap as quickly as he could, rolling onto his back.\n\nA droplet of pre from the caged cat's cock dropped directly onto his nose, making him hiss from the sting.\n\n``Fucking, fuck fuck fuck...'' he groaned, his head still swimming as he got to his feet.\n\nOh, let's hope the inspector doesn't notice you've cracked your pretty face open...\n\nSkinner wasn't going to assume that was the case. He pressed his hand against his nose and squeezed tight.\n\nHe got up to eye level with the dazed cat, yanking the dildo from his spasming mouth.\n\nThe cat's eyes were half-lidded, his white fur matted in clumps.\n\n``Does my nose look fucked up?'' Skinner asked.\n\n``Nn...?'' the cat's eyes half focused on Skinner's face. ``Wh...?''\n\n``Doesn't matter, why am I even asking you, fuck....''\n\nThere was no time to bring him down. He grabbed onto the nearby ropes attached to the pulley above and yanked him upwards into the darkness, the kitty gimp purr-mewling all the while.\n\nSkinner licked his lips. More blood. He pressed his hand to his face. Was there time to heal it? Would a spell leave a mark? \n\nHe didn't have time. \n\nSkinner threw himself straight out of the darkroom and back to the thump of the dance floor, even louder, more bodies adding to the sauna fog and sweat steam and diluting the thump thump THUMP of the music as they rutted and writhed while the rat sought out the bird somewhere in the crowds, or at least Brea, but he can't see him, just has to keep moving and weaving, too small to push the writhing bodies out of the way while cutting through the dance floor, shoes slipping on sticky spillage, crowbarring his way through groping duets and trios, cutting through a dance circle (cheers as he enters, boos as he exits) and back to the bar, on tiptoes to peer through the kitchen, and theres Kuku, sauce all over himself, panicking and heading for the door, hopefully just to smoke, and then there's Oyembe, someone's trying to feel him up, over he goes to to intercept, still can't read the face, smile and wave and nod, ``Hello Sir, sorry for keeping you,'' ``Perfectly all right - are you all right, Mr. Skinner?'' oh yeah, fingers to nose, blood still there, shit, ``Yeah, I get nosebleeds sometimes, sorry about that,'' does he smell blood does he want to eat me ``Here, have a tissue'', cheap paper against the nose, a little press, it doesn't feel like it's going to last, thank fuck ``Thank you'',``Shall we Mr. Skinner?'', ``Yes Sir, right away, so do you and Brea go back?'', ``Oh yes, we didn't interact much, but he was very well liked indeed, so this is the darkroom?'', ``Oh yeah, yeah yeah, we weren't expecting you, we just had to kick some people out to the changing rooms so it might not be spotless'', ``Oh, don't worry, I talked with Brea about it, I don't need to see too much,'' ``Oh really?'' oh fuck yeah, Brea, I'd be lost without you, ``But even so, just a cursory glance, lots of potential hazards in the dark, let's see how well ventilated it is,'' ``Of course, sir, just let me clear the runway for you,'' poking his head into the darkness, FUCKS sake other patrons are in there now, after all that work, the dark flames of his patron's power lick the room and turn every eye to marble, ``Leave,'' watching them march off as his heart thumps and thumps and he almost forgets to turn his power off before he looks back at Oyembe, ``All clear sir,'' fuck, okay, it looks clear even though it stinks, Oyembe switching on a flashlight to squint and grimace, spatters of lube on the tiles, abandoned dildo lying on its side, lights going up to the vents in the upper left, HVAC unit rumbling away, damn he forgot that was there, the music hides it so well, please don't put your flashlight up to the left, that's where that fucking cat is, oh fuck he's still dripping, it looks like a leak, he's going to see that, fuck, fuck, fuck, Oyembe clack-clacking his beak as he scratchscratches at the pad, ``Looks fine, I don't need to walk in on the poor young men getting changed, do I?'', ``Are you sure?'', fuck I hope he's sure, ``Absolutely sure, thank you, let's move on to the restrooms'', fucking relief, And then back through, across the floor clearing the spaces so Oyembe could peer and squint and scratch at his page, Skinner not even daring to glance, hearing the coo in the back of his skull even now, soon, very soon, not long before you're mine little rat, ignoring that, keeping up the professionalism, ``over here are the toilets,'' please Pol, please be done, but the stalls aren't occupied, breath hitching in throat as the bird looked in, beak clack again, one, two, three, next one over, Skinner chanced a look into the stall, a lean, squinting to see a hint of a hole, I can't see anything in the dark, no seam, thank fuck, the bird nods and scratches, ball point against paper like claws on bone, metal taste in the rodent's mouth, maybe psychosomatic, there was no time to check, just wiped the back of the lip and kept walking, back towards the door, around the dance floor this time, ``So, food prep, storage, waste management, fire safety, restrooms, hygiene, ventilation, I think that's everything'', ``Would you like another drink for the road?'', ``No thank you, will you step outside with me sir'', ``Yes of course,'' moment of truth, heart still pounding, the whisper and claw at the back of his neck there, trap ready to snap and break his neck as they walk, clack, step, skitter, to the entrance, past the bar in time to see Ruffles distracted dropping a glass with a smash, cheers and yells of `TAXI' from those FUCKING bros, he'd deal with them in a bit, but for now he smiles and nods and stays alongside Oyembe who nods and chuckles, was that sympathetic or was it pity, fuck, he couldn't tell, who the fuck knew, how was he supposed to know, how could he and he braces himself for the end of the torment as the heat of the club leaves them behind and the chilly air hits them\n\nAnd\n\nSkinner\n\nFinally\n\nExhaled.\n\nMoment of truth. Nothing left to do.\n\nJust wait for the axe to fall. Or not fall.\n\n``Yes, I think that's everything,'' Oyembe said, his beak tut echoing above the muffled hum of Operant's music. ``Mmhm... mmhm...''\n\nSkinner waited quietly, forgetting to breathe once again.\n\n``Alright. There are a couple of little things to be addressed around waste disposal, and I did notice signs of a leak in the darkroom.''\n\n``...Oh, well, that's-''\n\n``The dehumidifier, I'm sure. A quick fix. All that said... I'm delighted to award you a passing grade.''\n\nAnother long exhale, even more relieved than the last.\n\nThe grip on his heart was finally slackening. His guts felt solid, secure inside his trunk.\n\nWell, congratulations, little rat. You slipped through my gasp again.\n\n``Not this time, you prick-'' he muttered.\n\n``I'm sorry?''\n\n``Nothing.''\n\nThe secretary bird sniffed, handing over some thin sheets of carbon paper with copies of his notes.\n\n``I may be overstepping my boundaries here,'' he continued, ``But I must say some of the other clubs I've inspected could stand to learn a thing or two from your hospitality. Well done.''\n\n``Thank you, Sir.'' Skinner and Oyembe shook hands as the handover happened - an oddly collegiate sort of handshake. ``Have a safe journey home.''\n\n``I will. And give my regards to Ruffles. That virgin mojito was delicious.''\n\nSkinner pumped his fist as soon as he was out of the bird's sight, hurrying back inside, enjoying the relief like a glass of four-figure wine.\n\n``HEY, little dude!''\n\nSkinner's head cracked to the right like a whip. Those stag party dipshits were all staring at him. The tall, thick-necked pigeon snapped his fingers at Skinner.\n\n``We want another bottle!'' the stag yelled.\n\nHe approached the booth, his tongue slithering behind his lips. It was finally time to dig in.\n\n``Very sorry for the holdup, gentlemen. We'll open another bottle... and you'll help us enjoy it.''\n\n``Huh...?'' half of them made that sound at once, as if they were already a hive mind. Oh they were going to be very easy to brainwash.\n\nSkinner could take his time. He leant his elbows on the booth, and exhaled. Three little jets of dragon-smoke slid from his mouth and nostrils, twisting into a braid that curled and hovered over the centre of the table. \n\n``You've had a great time here, haven't you?'' he said, his voice casual, just a hint of hypnotic spice in it as he spun some flattering lies. ``You've been such great guests, and we are so grateful for your business. So much so, that we think you should get a VIP experience. You deserve that.''\n\n``Deserve...'' three of them said that one. \n\n``That's right, deserve. You're all big tough guys, alphas, and you know what the world owes you. Whatever you want. What do you want right now?''\n\nThe braids of smoke twisted off into little individual threads, each one making a lazy beeline towards a different pair of eyes. They went unfocused, their irises slowly changing colour as if a droplet of dye had been dripped into each one.\n\nThey were quiet. Their brows twitched and wrinkled. Some lips pursed, as if they were trying to find the answer. But the eldritch smoke was creeping in, like the smouldering spread of a burning piece of paper.\n\n``I think I know what you all want,'' Skinner said. He leant his elbow on the table, while his other hand gripped the bulge in his slacks. Fuck it. He could enjoy himself now.\n\nHe loved taking his time.\n\nWell, he always loved it. But a slow burn like this was extra delicious, that frog-boil look of confusion on their faces as they tried and failed to grasp why the smoke was so pretty, why they felt so dizzy, and why they felt so good.\n\n``I know what you want, but you don't. And you want to know what you want, don't you gentlemen?''\n\nHe conducted the smoke with a lazy finger. It dipped up and down, back and forth. The snow leopard's head dipped the lowest, his body swayed the most, almost bumping into the fox next to him.\n\n``I'll tell you all, don't worry,'' Skinner said. God, he was fucking horny as hell. \n\nLose a little control, little rat, his patron cooed. Hell knows you've earned it. \n\nThat was the first time Skinner and his patron were in agreement that night.\n\n``Yeah...'' Skinner hissed, his teeth sharpening and his eyes gleaming bright like twin suns going supernova. The smoke snaked closer. The five leaned back, heads down-tilted and jaws slack and wide. The wisps slid into each snout and beak, up into their skulls... then turned white hot as the rat's body turned darkly resplendent, his body unfolding into a dome of dark.\n\n``You want... what I want. And I want you to listen very closely...''\n\nThe five stared up at him, eyes full of darkness and flame, confused, terrified, and oh-so-very lost. The mouths whispered to them, the eyes surrounded them, the tainted, charged atmosphere slid into their noses and wrapped around their brains.\n\nIf the other clientele were paying attention (they weren't, Ember's tunes saw to that), they might catch a whisper in the back of their head, a seductive void, tugging them to look at the booth.\n\nBut all that was there was blackness, anyway. The sort of blackness that one's gaze could pass over without even noticing; one could assume it was empty, let the memory of the whisper sublimate into the sweat-fog of the dance floor, and get back to their revelry.\n\nWithin that canopy, Skinner held court. The party of five muscular boys writhed and choked and gasped as slivers of their soul were shorn from their minds and wrapped like rings around the many questing pink fingers.\n\nThe canopy of darkness and flame that once was the rat named Skinner enfolded them. Dextrous tentacles, dark black with veins of dark orange light beneath their membranous flesh, were slithering around, under, and about the five weak mortal bodies.\n\nIn the centre of the table, in the centre of their realities, a gleaming tongue of flame swung back and forth in a pendulum arc. The five pairs of eyes followed it, as best as they could, their eyes rippling and pulsating with twisting eddies of orange, yellow, and black\n\nThe stag's head was tilted to the left, his jaw slackened at an angle, his face strained as if he was still attempting to resist. But it was a frozen rictus, his pleasure-bound brain unable to even send a signal to change the paralysis. His eyes followed attentively; the rest of him would follow.\n\nThe snow leopard was leant forward, chin resting on the table, eyes upturned as far as they could go, trying to take in the hypnotic majesty of the canopy above and follow the swinging flame.. His tongue lapped at the air as if he were suckling on a teat, childlike, empty, and quiet\n\nThe fox's throat spasmed as he coughed out little sounds; a giggle or a gekker, an unconscious response to the way the tendrils had filled his brain. His toes and fingers were curling into claws as he slowly writhed and wriggled in place. His head tilted to and fro, trying to keep up with the flame.\n\nThe owl was swaying drunkenly, head lolling in a circle, beak trying to follow along with those constant whispers, as if he could make sense of them... just so that he could better understand and obey those edicts. But understanding was beyond him. He swayed in an arc almost as wide as the swinging flame, bumping into the fox and the pigeon.\n\nThe pigeon was ramrod straight, his beak clamped shut. He was taking in everything... or perhaps nothing. Hard to say with the guileless depths in his black-and-orange eyes. His eyes weren't even following the pendulum-flame, Back And Forth. But he was attentively blank.\n\nNone of them had blinked in some time. They'd forgotten how to. All they could do was stare, and let their minds unravel, and breathe out their free will into the depths of the swinging flame in that incomprehensibly beautiful darkness.\n\nYOU WANT WHAT I WANT.\n\nThey responded in turn.\n\n``Weh wah... whuh wah...'' the stag gurgled.\n\n``I want... what you want...'' the snow leopard whispered.\n\n``I weh...ggkehyouwant...'' the fox giggled.\n\n``Whh....want... you...'' the owl mumbled.\n\n``I want what you want,'' the pigeon intoned, perfectly.\n\nAND I WANT YOU TO SUBMIT YOURSELVES TO ME. \n\nOF COURSE... YOU ALREADY HAVE.\n\nYOU BELONG TO ME.\n\nThe creature's voice was a delicate whisper and a commanding growl all in one. \n\nThe very sound of it made them quiver, made their cocks jump, made growing stains in their trousers as their cocks leaked.\n\nThey might have grovelled if the table wasn't the way. Instead, they merely stared, eyes gleaming, bodies twitching, cocks throbbing beneath the table. \n\nYOU ARE FLESH. YOU ARE A BANQUET.\n\n``We are Flesh,'' they all repeated, to varying degrees of success. ``We are a Banquet...''\n\nSkinner would ensure those phrases were burned into their brains for the rest of the night.\n\n-\n\n``We did it everyone!'' Skinner said, clapping until the rest of his team joined in the applause. Everyone looked to be both exhausted, and relieved.\n\nSkinner was still buzzing, though. He was going from person to person, giving them a reassuring touch on the shoulder and making eye contact with each and every one. This included two new staffers - he'd gotten the lizard and the otter to work for the remainder of the shift, and the two of them were still compliantly woozy in their not-quite-fitted spare labcoats. He hadn't bothered learning their names. `You' had sufficed.\n\n``Well done, I'm proud of you all,'' he said.\n\n``Thanks, Boss...'' Ruffles said, looking like they were about on the verge of tears.\n\n``But I fucked up, I dropped a fuckton of pizzas,'' Kuku said, crestfallen, his hood tucked in as tightly as it could go.\n\n``Did you? I didn't know,'' Skinner lied, before chasing it with the truth. ``He didn't mention anything about it.''\n\n``Told you, he's a nice guy at heart,'' Brea said.\n\n``Yeah, honestly... yeah.'' Skinner nodded.\n\n``I think this calls for a celebration. Let's open up some bottles, Kuku, you can throw some pizzas on if you like... and I've got some entertainment for us too.''\n\nHe snapped his fingers.\n\nThe stag and the rest of the stag-do marched in, smiling blankly, bottomless nude except for a scintillating substance wrapped around their waists, the colour and lustre of an oil spill. The wraps were thin, like thongs, sliding down the cracks of their firm asses, and around the front was a tight round pouch, keeping their packages contained in a spherical bulge.\n\nHe left the shitty t-shirts on. A little extra bit of humiliation.\n\n``You can look, you can touch, you can do what you like,'' Skinner said, already lighting up a cigarette. ``You've earned it.''\n\n``Dibs On The Fox,'' Pol said, already on an intercepting course. The fox's glassy stare locked on to the synth's face. The screen was flashing and strobing with monochrome patterns, a spiralling whirlpool with a roiling concentric oval in its centre. The fox's mouth fell open and his eyes went wide, his own eyes beginning to mirror the same pattern.\n\n``Heeey, what's with the lightshow...?''\n\n``That's Right, Fleshie, C'mere...''\n\nPol grabbed the fox by the wrist and yanked him roughly, taking him back out of the door they came through; doubtless heading for the darkrooms.\n\nKuku was headed straight for the pigeon, his tongue already flitting hungrily as his thick coils wrapped and pulled him in. \n\n``I'll take Antlers and Big-Eyes,'' Brea said, clapping Skinner on the shoulder as he passed. ``Send `em my way in about 10 minutes, I gotta get changed first.''\n\n``Greedy as always, old man?'' Skinner smirked.\n\n``You know I'll share `em.''\n\nRuffles nervously watched, afraid to make their move even though they were probably the most flustered person there - their slacks were very tented, too. They were paralysed, rooted to the spot. ``Looks like the kitty cat's yours,'' Skinner said helpfully. ``He's a cute one. Go wild.''\n\n``Uhm...'' Ruffles' nervous, lopsided grin split their snout in half. ``O-Ok! Uh... c'mon... k-kitty...''\n\nThe bull took the cat's hand almost like they were going on a date. It was adorable.\n\nAs much as he was looking forward to playing with the five-some, it only felt right to Skinner that his staff get first dibs. He had the two Glory Hole-rs to play with anyway.\n\nHis clothes burned away with a snap of his fingers. More swirling sigils were scarified into his body, guiding the eye towards his chest, his stomach, and right down to his cock, ending in a heart-shaped fertility symbol just above it.\n\n``You like fucking with something in between you two, huh?'' he asked. ``We can do something about that.''\n\nIt'd be nice to take a back-seat and let someone else do all the work. He'd earned the right to be a pillow princess.\n\n``Nn, uh...'' the otter fidgeted, looking a little sheepish, even through his conditioning.\n\n``Something up?'' Skinner asked.\n\n``Could you, uh...''\n\nHe didn't need to finish that thought. Skinner finished it for him.\n\nA beckoning claw motion, like he was grabbing a fistful of air, pulled the otter forward, face first. Skinner's palm glowed again, and the otter's eyes turned dark and starry, eyes flutter-shuddering, legs bending inwards as he immersed himself in that wonderful darkness once again.\n\n``Deeper than before,'' Skinner intoned.\n\n``Mmng...'' The otter looked like he had something to say... maybe he wanted a bit more mustard on it. Skinner knew a trance-trigger junkie when he saw one.\n\n``Oh, sure.'' Skinner took a breath in, and for an instant his body unfolded into that exquisitely terrifying void once again.\n\nDEEPER THAN BEFORE.\n\n``Aaahgngh...!'' The otter practically came in his pants right then and there. \n\n``Hold off, hold off...'' Skinner said, his voice back to norma. ``Take your time, flesh... the night's still young. We should pace ourselves. Right?''\n\nHe looked up at the grey lizard, who nodded sleepily. He had been trance drunk basically all night, and his dick was standing to attention in his tented slacks.\n\nSkinner pushed the lizard back against the nearest surface, making the hollow metal clang and shudder. He held his breath a little bit with anticipation - was that dick as big as he recalled it being from that little glance?\n\nFuck yes, it was. \n\nSkinner put his hands on the lizard's shoulders and leapt up onto him, his dextrous pink legs wrapping tightly around his midsection. His pert butt angled forward, his dick rubbing against the soft smooth scales of the lizard's front. \n\nSkinner's thin tail wrapped around the otter twink's throat and yanked him forward, pushing him right down, lips to glans, on the lizard's dick.\n\n``You know what to do,'' he growled, grinding the cleft of his ass on that gorgeous, thick tool.\n\nOnce the pair were warmed up, he was gonna have them sandwich him good.\n\nHe heard a shuddering hiss, but not close to his ear.\n\n``Hhhoh...'' \n\n``You ok?'' Skinner asked, craning his neck to look towards Kuku and his `meal'. \n\nKuku's head was level with the pigeon's stomach, while his coils were sliding some pizza trays into the oven. He was a good multitasker.\n\n``It's just...'' Kuku was staring at the stone-stiff pigeon; more specifically, down at the low-hanging gut over the pearlescent thong. ``Thisss bit.'' He took hold of the soft underside and squeezed it, lifting it up to feel its heft. He hissed and shuddered. ``Thisss bit of the tummy... it'sss the besst part of a boy.''\n\nIt wasn't Skinner's thing. But he smiled as he watched the snake bury his snout beneath that gut. Kuku wasn't even going for the trash-bird's crotch just yet, content to push his head into that weight. His own scaly tail, now tray-free, snaked up that ugly t-shirt and curled around the bird's thick, long neck. The bird's eyes went a little crossed, his cheeks dimpling dopily as a strangled coo escaped his throat.\n\n``Good, Banquet.''\n\nSkinner snapped his fingers, a flint-spark dancing between the fingers. A similar spark appeared behind the pigeon's eyes, and his tongue stuck out as he moaned like an idiot, his enrobed bulge throbbing and pulsing. \n\n``Awwwh, don't worry dude...'' Kuku hissed, his hand reaching down to cradle the shining bulge. ``I'll get right to that...''\n\nSkinner chuckled and returned his attentions to his two thralls, closing his eyes and sawing himself back and forth along the reptile's meat. \n\nHe raised his ass up, gripping the lizard's shoulders, and pushed his ass out towards the otter's face. He didn't need to give the otter any orders, much to his delight. The twink lifted his head and grasped Skinner's thighs as he buried his snout between the cheeks. His tongue lapped along his master's balls, up to the taint, and teased around his pucker too.\n\n``Hhhhhfuckyeah...'' he adjusted, widening his thighs so the lizard could keep the legs spread, and lolled his head back as that familiar warm wetness lathered all over his flesh. His ass winked and tensed... maybe tonight was a bottoming night for him.\n\nHe couldn't completely focus on the bodies between him, though. His mind was still in manager mode. He needed to make sure everyone else was having a good time...\n\nBut he wasn't going to abandon his playthings.\n\n``You are flesh,'' he growled. ``You are conveyance.''\n\n``C..con... wha...?'' the lizard groaned.\n\n``Too big of a word for ya? It means I want you two to carry me.''\n\nThe otter was up on his feet, and Skinner let his legs slide down his shoulders, his cock pressing into the back of the lutra's head. The lizard put his hands under Skinner's armpits to support him - damn, they were getting sweaty, maybe they?d need a little tongue-bath - and they lead him along, out of the kitchen, out to the mostly-empty bar.\n\nThey'd kept the lights on for ambience. It was basically empty at this point. Ember was striking the last bits of her gear, and the only other people out in the space were...\n\nRuffles and that snow-leopard. He was slumped in that same booth from before, and Ruffles was looming over him, as if they were waiting to take his order.\n\nWith a sparkling finger-snap, Skinner directed his two-man palanquin towards them.\n\n``You doing ok over there, Ruffles my love?''\n\n``N-no, I'm...''\n\n``B...buh...'' \n\nThe snow leopard looked like he was about to cry. There was conflict in those previously blank eyes.\n\n``What's the matter with him?'' Skinner asked.\n\n``Uh, I think he doesn't wanna play,'' Ruffles said, nervously twiddling their hooves. The bull's cock was flaccid - weak flesh overpowering a willing spirit.\n\n``Why wouldn't he-''\n\nSkinner looked at the snow leopard's dazed face. Then down at the second face on his t-shirt.\n\n``-Oh. Yeah. Oh that's fine, he's probably been cheating on his fiancee already, haven't you, meat?''\n\nA flash from his fingertips. The snep sat up and stared directly at the sparking shapes left in the air.\n\n``Answer truthfully.''\n\n``I...I...'' the cat looked ashamed. Shame was one of the more powerful barriers to trance. No wonder he was putting up a bit more fight than the others. \n\nNot that it'd matter.\n\nHe snapped his fingers again. \n\n``Answer Truthfully.''\n\n``Mmnnh...'' his chest surged outwards and his eyes fluttered like camera shutters. ``I...''\n\nSnap. Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap.\n\nThe fifth snap opened the floodgates, and the words fell in a desperate, breathless croak\n\n``I was going to try and fuck someone tonight in case I didn't get another chance...''\n\n``Good, Banquet.''\n\nOne last snap and the leopard gasped like he was cumming his brains out. Maybe he was.\n\nRuffles was watching all of this. It wasn't the first time they'd seen Skinner brainfuck someone this hard... and it never failed to make them hard. Their cock was jumping back to attention.\n\n``There you go.'' Skinner said, looking back at Ruffles. ``He's a cheating piece of shit anyway. You're blameless. Let him suck you off, he clearly wants it.''\n\n``I-I don't know...'' Ruffles gulped nervously and stepped forward to straddle the cat's shoulders. He pressed his nose to Ruffles' bulging cock, purring softly, looking up at them with doe-eyed adoration. \n\n``So good...'' he mumbled, only slightly puppeteered by a little mental nudge from Skinner's influence.\n\nRuffles giggled nervously, and that giggle turned into a gasp as the snep's mouth slid around their dick. \n\n``Ah, n-no!'' Ruffles pulled back, seeming even more nervous. ``Ahh... I don't know, this feels-''\n\n``Ruffles.''\n\nSkinner guided Ruffles' gaze to his, still on his two-slave throne. Smoke and permission poured from his lips as he spoke to the bull, slow and even. Droplets of orange spread through Ruffles' pupils.\n\n``You deserve this.'' he said. ``Fuck this kittycat. Then you can fuck me after. You want to fuck. I want you to fuck. And...''\n\n``I want... what you want,'' Ruffles moaned, their eyes fluttering.\n\n``Mmh. Good creature.'' Skinner smiled. He'd never hypnotised Ruffles, but they'd heard that mantra of his enough times to know the words already. Good. \n\nFrom the way Ruffles slumped and shuddered, Skinner understood how deeply the poor thing had been craving this.\n\n``That's a good bull. Now, what're you going to do?''\n\n``What... you want.'' Ruffles said, resolute in their lustful trance.\n\n``And what do I want you to do?''\n\n``Fuck...''\n\n``Good. Enjoy.''\n\nThe look of un-disguised hunger in Ruffles' eyes was gorgeous to behold.\n\nHe turned and left Ruffles to their fun, just as Ember was heading down the stairs, lugging her backpack and DJ gear.\n\n``What's goin on?'' Ember asked. ``Did you order strippers?''\n\n``Nah,'' Skinner said, raising one of his arms to wrap around the lizard's head as he adjusted himself. ``I recruited a few.''\n\n``Oh, you cheeky prick. Wish I could stay,'' Ember said with a sigh. ``I'm knackered...''\n\n``Take one for the road,'' Skinner said, ``There's plenty to go around!''\n\nHer eyes flashed electric blue, her tail tip flicking from side to side. ``Oh, well, if you insissst, what about...''\n\nShe glanced past them, fingering the sleepy stag who was now staggering towards the darkrooms.\n\n``That one. The big guy.''\n\n``Brea dibs'd him, sorry...''\n\n``Ah, that's all right,'' Ember shrugged.\n\n``Tell you what - soon as we're done with him, we'll deliver him to you.''\n\n``Ooooh, fuck yes.'' she said, the spark returning to her eyes. ``I could use someone like him in the morning... my paws will need a rub.''\n\n``Cool. Get home safe, yeah?''\n\nWith that, Ember slunk across the dance floor, though she did take some time to linger and take in the debauchery.\n\nIt was a shame she couldn't stay. Maybe next time.\n\nKam was nowhere to be seen - they were understandably a little salty about having their brain fucked with, but it?d be easy enough to smooth over later. Besides, they left arm in arm with their sea lion boy toy. \n\nSkinner could put that out of his mind for now.\n\n``Take me to the darkroom.''\n\n \n\nWhen Skinner entered, he could see the hypnotic glow of Pol's screen pouring over and illuminating the fox's face. The fox?s eyes were spiralling to match the synth's. Pol was sitting in his lap, its tail and rump hotdogging the vulpine's dick. It was wearing that stupid hat of his, too. \n\n``Cum,'' Pol ordered, and it was then that Skinner noticed the growing splashes of cum on the floor just in front of them, now joined by another spurt.\n\n``Anng... ghhnnahn...'' the fox moaned, pathetically.\n\n``Cum.'' another order.\n\n``HhhahAAAHn...!'' the fox mewled, still bucking as more of him emptied out.\n\n``That's Right, Fleshie. I'm Extracting Everything From You. My Spirals Are All You Need. Feel How Warm My Printer Is? I'm Printing Something Just For You. Cum.''\n\nSkinner was about to gently remind Pol not to heat up the whole place with that printing process. But he knew better than to interrupt that synth when it was on a mission, using all its processing power on one person.\n\nSo he focused his attention on the other three.\n\nSkinner didn't know how Brea was able to change so quickly, but there he was, in full leather-daddy attire, complete with a steel-studded muir cap perched on his head.\n\nBrea was old-school in so many ways.\n\nThe robin was sitting on one of the benches, with the owl on all fours next to him. Brea had two fingers inside the other bird, and was teasing a third around the rim of his tensing, puckering ass. \n\nThe stag was prostrated on the floor, planting kisses and licks along the bird's thick, wide combat boots.\n\n``There we go,'' Brea crooned. ``That's it, bootslut. Polish `em for Daddy.''\n\nThe owl let out rather effeminate little moans, his eyes rolling up, his head tilting almost 180 degrees to stare at his master. The stag's tongue dragged along the vamp of the boot, long, slow, methodical licks.\n\n``Looks like they're naturals at it,'' Skinner remarked as his two pets ferried him inside. \n\n``I had a suspicion,'' Brea said. `` Guys like these are always at least a little bi curious. Just need a little nudge to get `em outta their shells...''\n\nTo accentuate his point, he wriggled one of the fingers inside the owl, making him shudder and dribble through the shining thong. Brea had found his g spot clearly.\n\n``This one's having trouble with finger number three, though.''\n\n``Let me give you a hand,'' Skinner said, giving the otter's head a squeeze with his thighs. ``Down.''\n\nThe otter knelt down, and the lizard lowered Skinner until his feet touched the floor. He walked over to sit next to Brea, taking the liberty of letting his paw rest on the older bird's crotch. His other paw snapped and pointed at the owl. His gaze instantly locked on, little sparks of orange appearing in those deep, huge pupils.\n\n``I want you to follow my finger,'' Skinner said, voice laced with that mortal-melting tone once more. ``You want what I want.''\n\n``I wh... want...'' the owl moaned, head still turned, body wriggling against Brea's hand. \n\n``You feel those fingers inside you. I want you to let them in. And you want to let them in. It felt good when you let me into your mind... didn't it?''\n\nHe dipped his finger up and down, and the owl nodded - as best as he could with his twisted neck, anyway.\n\n``So that must mean it'll feel good when you let my friend in. One more finger, and you'll be able to take his cock, and you'd like to take his cock very much.''\n\n``Very... mmmuh...'' the owl whined again. Brea's ring finger was still tracing around his sub's cloaca. It was tensing hard around his fingers. Definitely wasn't quite ready for a third.\n\n``There's tension in your body, and that's keeping you from letting him in. There's something holding you back, and we're going to remove it. It's a little knot in your chest and it just needs to be unwound. So focus on my finger as it unwinds...''\n\nThe rodent's finger traced a slow circle in the air. The owl followed, his right eye half closing, his left eye trying to stay open.\n\n``And unwinds...''\n\nSkinner kept twisting his finger.\n\n``And unwinds that tension. So you can just expel that tension with a nice long breath out.''\n\n``H..hoooo...'' the owl exhaled.\n\n``And keep breathing as we unwind and release more and more of that tension.\n\n``Hhhhhooo...''\n\n``Ohhh.'' Brea chuckled. ``I can feel it, he's giving way...''\n\nThe third finger prodded gently, the muscles relaxed, and it slowly slid in.\n\n``A-ah!'' the owl gasped, body going tense, almost forcing the finger back out.\n\nSkinner snapped his fingers.\n\n``Good boy, you're doing so well. Just keep breathing. Keep breathing. Relax. And unwind. As I unwind...''\n\nSkinner's foot rested on the top of the stag's head, tracing his shoe up and down his thick rectangular snout. He groaned lowly.\n\n``Goood boy...'' Brea cooed. ``Let Daddy in.''\n\n``You are a good boy,'' Skinner agreed. ``You're doing a great job, and you're going to have so much fun letting the rest of your new Daddy in, aren't you?''\n\n``Hoooh... yyeesss...'' the owl moaned.\n\n``You're a wordsmith, kiddo,'' Brea chuckled. ``Thanks.''\n\n``Deeper.'' Skinner commanded, snapping his fingers sharply again. The owl and the stag both writhed and moaned with visible, intense pleasure. \n\nThe stag's eyes were opaque and orange, and his jaw hung wide open as he lathed his tongue along the now very thoroughly spit-shined boot. After seeing how he puffed himself out and asserted himself so aggressively earlier, seeing him like this - meek, submissive, compliment - was fucking delicious.Brea raised his foot upwards and lifted the stag's head up, slowly dragging the sole against his snout. \n\nThe stag looked like he could have came just from that, kissing the crevices of the sole with a surprising hunger.\n\n``The bigger they are, the harder they sub,'' Brea chuckled.\n\nSkinner turned his attention to the lizard and the otter once more. They were staring at him, very much at the ready to serve with their cocks standing to attention and their eyes wide and fearful. Skinner smiled. \n\n``You two boys've done pretty good. Have a seat.''\n\n``Yes Master,'' they said - the lizard did so breathlessly, the otter did so gratefully. They took up seats on the bench. Skinner nestled in between them, letting himself get sandwiched in the comforting weight of their bodies. He grasped their wrists and pulled them to his lap - a scaly paw on his cock, a softer one under his balls.\n\nThey got the picture from there. As they stroked and massaged, Skinner closed his eyes and relaxed, sighing contentedly. His own paws roved to stroke their shafts in turn. He was feeling a little exhausted after... well, everything, and he felt like he'd be content to just sit back, relax, and watch his team reward themselves.\n\nHis slender stomach rose and fell. The worry lines seemed to vanish from his face as his head lolled back. He listened to the little symphony. The sound of tongue and breath on rubber. Lubricated fingers exploring velvet flesh. The heat and hum of the spiralling screen.\n\n``There... It's Ready,'' Pol chirped. ``And You're Ready To Wear It For Me, Aren't You?''\n\n``Hnnhhgnnhnuhuh...''\n\nSkinner opened an eye. Pol was standing now, Its vulpine prey staring up at it with a drooling, tight grin and wide spiralling eyes.\n\nThe synth was holding a sleek dome-shaped visor, made of off-white polymer. \n\n``While You Wear The Visor,'' Pol crackled, ``You Won't See The Outside World Anymore. You'll See Nothing But The Spirals In Your Mind. And Think Of Nothing But Obeying Me And My Commands. Understood, Fleshie?''\n\n``Yyyyeaah...'' the fox gurgled.\n\n``Good Fleshie,'' Pol said with a vocoded giggle, before slipping the `visor' over the fox's head. \n\nOf course, there was no actual technology in there, Pol's printer wasn't that advanced. But judging from the way the fox gasped happily and his cock jumped and dribbled, his mind was well-conditioned enough that that wouldn't be an issue.\n\n``Y'know,'' Brea piped up, drawing Skinner's gaze towards, ``I was gonna put these boys in the swings, but, uh...''\n\n``But what?'' Skinner asked.\n\n``There's only so many swings, and it'd be rude to kick him out.''\n\n``Who're you talking about- oh fuck.''\n\nBrea gestured up towards the corner of the room. Skinner already knew what he was going to see up there.\n\n``Ohhhh, fuck.''\n\nSkinner let go of his playthings' cocks, and brought his hands to his forehead, squishing pre-cum from his palms against his cheeks.\n\n``Fuuuck.''\n\nHe'd completely forgotten about that cat. At least he was still moving and moaning, probably too deep in hypnotised subspace to even realise how much time had passed.\n\nInstantly, Skinner forgot to relax, and was right back into `manager' mode.\n\n``Right, let's get him down, get him some water... he's probably had his fill for the night, let's not force him to join in.''\n\n``Nnno...'' the voice came from up above, sounding lucid, but still subby. ``I'mmm fine, just a drink'a water and I can join...''\n\nHe pointed at the otter and lizard. ``One more task for you.''\n\n``Kid!''\n\nSkinner looked at Brea again. A fourth finger had slipped inside the owl's guts, and he was quivering like jelly. \n\n``Relax...'' the robin said, and Skinner realised he was talking to him. ``You've been working way too hard. Take a breather.''\n\nThey hoisted the cat back down, slow and gradual. Skinner had to give them a bit of assistance un-buckling and untying the matted-up cat, but soon he was slumped in a chair, dazed, panting and parched.\n\n``Let me get the water,'' he said. ``You all relax.''\n\n``And Are You Gonna Relax?'' Pol asked, squishing its synthetic rump against the fox's still-pulsing dick.\n\nSkinner laughed. ``I'll try.''\n\nStepped out from the darkroom and headed toward the kitchen.\n\nKuku was on his way out. Several pizzas were balanced on his arms - and the pigeon's - as he slithered towards the darkrooms with a wink. \n\nSkinner took the liberty of grabbing a piece off of one of the dishes. Juicy, char-marbled pineapple and angry red seitan chunks lingered on the surface of cheese. \n\nThe rat knew even before he took a bite that it was going to be the tastiest thing he'd eaten in weeks.\n\nBut Kuku wanted to see that look on his face, Skinner could tell by that expectant stare. \n\nAs the crust crunched beneath his bottom teeth and the sauce spread onto his tongue, Skinner realised that he'd forgotten to eat today. \n\nHe closed his eyes and tilted his head back. It tasted so good, he wanted to just crumple down onto the floor and pass out.\n\n``Mmmmfuckin...beautiful.'' Skinner said. ``I love you sho much.''\n\n``Ah, th-thankssss!'' Kuku said, nervously giggling. The pigeon cooed along with him, probably not even understanding why he was laughing.\n\nRuffles was making their way over towards the darkrooms, practically crushing the snow leopard to their firm frame.\n\n``Ruffles!'' Skinner waved them over. ``Try Kuku's latest before everyone else gets some.''\n\n``I think I'm good,'' the bull said, before grabbing the snep's babyface by the cheeks to make him pucker. His feet scrabbled for purchase on the floor as they spat into his mouth, and chased it with a possessively hungry tongue.\n\nThe snep's tail twitched and corkscrewed as he suffocated on the bull's tongue. Skinner could see hints of Ruffles' tongue distending the cat's cheek.\n\nDamn. There was a horny beast lurking under that timid exterior. \n\nSkinner made a mental note to take advantage of that tongue later. He could already imagine the places it could go...\n\n``I think he'd make a good ashtray too,'' Ruffles added, their eyes still gleaming. ``Wanna give me a smoke?''\n\nSkinner laughed.\n\n``I love that you're having fun, but you don't need to take up smoking. Maybe I'll have a try later.''\n\nSkinner winked at them, the same way he'd done at the start of the night, and there, for a moment, was the nervous bull beneath that hypnotically induced dominance. \n\n``I'll see you all in a bit, ok? Head in.''\n\nSkinner brushed past them, glancing over his shoulder as Ruffles, Kuku, and their playthings continued into the darkrooms. It was going to get even steamier in there, and the sounds were getting louder...\n\nBut for the moment, it was distant enough for Skinner to ignore it.\n\nThe rest of the club was quiet. Behind the bar, he filled up a pint glass with water, not bothering with ice. He devoured the rest of his slice and washed it down with the entire pint in a single gulp.\n\n``Gaaah, fuck...'' the rat shuddered with relief, letting his head rest on the table.\n\nHe took a cigarette from beneath the bar (part of his secret stash) and lit it up with a little puff of magic. When he exhaled, he let the smoke linger in the air a little longer before he wafted it away.\n\nJust enough to let the ribbons of grey float through the quiet space, without setting off the smoke alarm.\n\nHe took in the (relative) quiet, feeling the night's residual charge still lingering on the dance floor. The lingering ghosts of all those drunken, entranced revellers. The remnants of his own stress. The heat and sweat and ecstasy slowly settling and dissipating.\n\nIt was in that stillness, that aftermath, that Skinner felt, for the first time, like this could work. Like Operant could be busy like this for decades.\n\nEven if he got one decade out of this place before his patron came to take his due... that'd make what would come after worthwhile.\n\nHe quenched his thirst with a mouthful - the cat didn't have to know- and returned to the darkroom, to join the writhing cluster of bodies within the rustling sheets of plastic and the gleaming lights within, to let himself be engulfed in an orgy that would last until dawn.\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Surprise Inspection

By Limewah

Guest appearances by Ruffles and Ember

18+

``If you're looking for a great place for a night out, Operant is one of your best bets. While it might look like an abandoned laboratory from the outside, don't get too nervous! This up and coming new gay nightclub is spacious, has all sorts of great events, a steamy darkroom, and delicious experimental in-house pizzas if you want to get your grub on! Has that caught your attention? Well, read on! Together, we'll delve-''

``For fuck's sake.'' Skinner thrust Ruffles' phone back into their hand. ``That's not a real person. That's AI.''

``How do you know?'' The white-furred, pink-nosed bull asked, stuffing their phone back into the pocket of their blue lab coat, while checking their outfit in the reflection on the kitchen's well-polished metal surfaces.

``It uses the word `delve','' Skinner continued. ``Only AIs use that. AIs fucking love delving.''

Ruffles got a whiff of smoke, and their head angled downwards. The bull always had to touch their chin to their chest to get a good look at their boss - the white rat was half their height.

Ruffles didn't even see where Skinner produced the cigarette from, or even how he lit it so quickly. But they didn't need to ask how; they knew.

As the rat inhaled, making the cherry of the cigarette bloom and brighten, the glowing ribbons of orange light on his scarified pink paw were already fading away. Skinner leaned against the wall of the kitchen, tilted his head back and blew up a long trail of smoke. It dissipated like vapour, barely a trace of the scent of tobacco left behind. It was the only reason he was able to get away with smoking indoors.

Ruffles and their breathing issues appreciated that.

``Any dipshit can take a press release or scrub some social media posts from people and make a `review' out of it,'' Skinner said. ``We need an actual review from a respectable website, not - what's that called, GayLife, the fuck is that, that's not a real website!''

``I dunno,'' Ruffles said, unable to keep the apologetic tone from their voice. ``It might bring in a few customers at least.''

``Sure. Maybe.'' Skinner shrugged and sighed. ``That'd be nice. We're doing fine numbers-wise, but we wanna do better than fine. Especially if we get more people who aren't just here to buy one drink on their way to fuck in the darkroom.''

``But that is a good draw, you gotta admit...'' Ruffles said.

``Yeah. It's also a good place to blow off steam mid-shift. You should try it sometime when you're on break.''

Skinner smiled for the first time that evening. His smile was always a little wry, a little flirtatious. The sort of smile that could charm you even before he played any of his other tricks on you, deployed just when your defenses are down. A hint of pain behind the eyes, a crumb of vulnerability that made one want to know more about him, to get closer, maybe even climb into bed with him.

They were both aware this little flirt was a slight HR violation, but Ruffles was fine with it. Skinner flirted with all of his staff a little. He'd even fucked a few of them.

...Ruffles wasn't on the list. But they had a sense they could be.

``M-might have to,'' Ruffles said with a little giggle.

There was a loud, awkward clang as Kuku slithered in from the back entrance. The black cobra had a skinny, scrawny torso, with 5 metres of awkward tail, and a slither that got a little wobbly when he was nervous.

``Sssup,'' he called out.

``What time do you call this?'' Skinner called out sharply, making the snake freeze.

``I'm... five minutesss early?'' Kuku glanced at the clock on the wall.

``Exactly. Good for you, setting an example for the bar staff. But you stink of weed.''

``Oh, fuck, do I-''

A little whoosh, a brief hint of sulfur, and the skunk scent was gone.

``It's fine. Don't worry `bout it.''

The snake visibly relaxed. He was always a little skittish around Skinner, even though he could have swallowed the skinny little rat in one go.

In fact, everyone in the staff had at least a foot and a half on Operant's owner. But there was no uncertainty as to who was in charge; with his sharp crisp white researcher's coat with jet black trim, sleeves rolled up to show his tattooed forearms, Skinner cut a very impressive figure.

A robin - paunchy with an early-50s greyness around the eyes, but still very energetic for his age - stepped out of the small, cramped office space in the back of the kitchen, squishing by Skinner as he tapped at a tablet. Even if Brea was a subordinate to Skinner, his decades of experience in the industry had made him something of a mentor.

``So we've got a table booked for 5 - sorry to cut in boss - and it's a stag do, so we'll probably need to make sure we've got a couple bottles of champagne chilled.''

``How's the darkroom looking, Brea?''  Skinner was towelling off his freshly-washed hands.

``Looks spotless,'' the robin said. ``Smells like a freshly cleaned bathroom. Lemon n' Bleach. The sexiest smell you could imagine.''

Skinner scoffed.

``Great. Kuku, let's get food prep started, yeah?''

``I've got a housssse special I'd like to tessst tonight,'' Kuku said. ``I've got thisss idea for a new ssspin on the Hawaiian pizza-''

``If I have time,'' Skinner said, not unkindly, ``I'll be more than happy to go over it with you, but let's keep it simple for tonight, ok?''

``On it, Bosss.''

``Thank you, Chef. Ruffles, let's do one last sweep, we've got about 40 minutes until opening and we don't know when the part-timers are coming.''

Part of Skinner wanted to allow his crew to relax. Every box was ticked. But you could never be too careful.

It was hard to know just how busy the night ahead could get.

-

Operant was a stark, brutal looking space, at least when the work lights were on. All white walls, equally white floors (clearing the marks off the floor was a pain in and of itself). The bars and booth-tables were made of pearlescent plastic, sterile and smooth. The booths were the only concession to comfort, fashioned from salvaged ergonomic office chairs.

Once the place was bathed in the low glow of a potent mixture of LED lights, it took on a whole different vibe, like an illegal after-hours work party.

Skinner had partied with enough scientists to know they partied harder than almost anyone else. They understood how to work with research chemicals that fucked you up in just the right ways, while also mixing safely with alcohol. Their parties were proper ragers.

...Tonight was starting to remind him of one of those nights.

Skinner was trying not to let his excitement show.

Tonight was busy. Way busier than usual. The turn-of-the-millenium bangers were bumped up louder than usual to penetrate through the greater volume of bodies. The air-conditioning and temperature control was having a hard time keeping up.

It was turning into a stuffy sweat-box, and fast.

Not that that was an undesired effect.

It reminded Skinner of the sort of place he used to throw his skinny young twink body around, once upon a time. Before the aches and pains set in, before that accident that ended his promising career in biotech... and before the pact he made to pursue his back-up dream.

He breathed in the atmosphere sharply, like his snout was at the rim of an open bottle of poppers. He could feel himself starting to relax a bit, though he wasn't able to stay completely still as he worked away behind the bar, pinch-hitting for the barkeep who was supposed to be Ruffles' backup.

Skinner's collar felt tight, and he tugged at it. He stared at the morass of bodies. He felt its crush calling to him, a reminder of his younger days when he felt completely invincible; before he understood what being `invincible' truly meant.

He could cut loose for a moment. Might even help with publicity, seeing the owner of the place taking a personal stake in making sure everyone was having a good time...

No, he had to stay collected and professional.

Plus, if he headed out to the dance floor, drink would almost certainly end up spilled on his coat, and it was a bitch to dry clean. Especially if it was one of those fluorescent sugary alcopops in the glass-sheen plastic flasks.

A familiar hoof tapping him on the shoulder interrupted his meandering thoughts.

``Boss?'' Ruffles gulped.

``Yes, Ruffles, my love?''

``We've, uhm, got a...''

Skinner could see the next word in the pink cow's eyes before they said it. He saw the unimpressed, glassy-eyed stare of the skinny secretary-bird over Ruffles' shoulder, from a few paces back.

The bird's eyes narrowed, and his beak opened in what passed for an avian's smile.

He had a clipboard under his wing, and was dressed in a cheap off-the-peg suit.

Skinner's stomach dropped through the floor.

He kept his poker face and held his prey-instinct to run at bay. Hard not to; a rodent and a raptor was a fatal combination.

He didn't let his fear show as he approached with a proffered hand.

The bird's bone-grey beak tilted upwards slightly as he took the rat's hand, his voice perfunctory and professional.

 

``I am Inspector Oyembe from the Sterlingsburg Board of Health and Safety. Might I be able to inspect your establishment?''

``Of course, Sir,'' Skinner said. ``Pleasure to meet you. I'm Fenton Skinner - I'm the owner of this place. Lucky you came tonight, as you can see it's a busy one.''

Shitty luck for us.

``If you wouldn't mind,'' Oyembe continued, ``I'd be more than happy to take a few minutes to settle - it's been a long day. We can get started in, say, 10 minutes?''

Excellent. He was tired. Which would make it easier to manipulate. A little sprinkling of magical persuasion into his words would buy them some time to rest. As he spoke, a shimmer of eldritch heat traveled through his paw, and a tiny puff of supernatural vapour escaped the corners of his smile.

``Sounds fantastic, sir, please, make yourself comfortable.''

Usually, when Skinner slipped a little bit of eldritch zhoosh into his words, the hypnotic effect was obvious. A single honey-coloured ripple from the edges of the irises inwards towards the pupil, a slight shift in body language.

But Oyembe just stared at him, with a bemusedly crooked eyebrow.

``...Yes, I think I will, if you'll let go of my wing.''

``Yes, of course,'' Skinner said, trying to play it off as smoothly as possible. ``Ruffles here can get you settled, right, Ruffles?''

``Uhm, yes, of course!'' Ruffles was great with customers. They could help warm him up. ``We've got plenty of delicious mocktails, don't want the designated drivers to feel left out, you know...''

``That sounds delightful, thank you. While you're here...''

Fuck. So much for the 10 minute start. He'd have to leave it to her.

As Skinner peeled away and made his way around the bar to the back, he caught Brea's eye. The robin was already on an intercepting course, and he looked grave.

The pair slipped into the back kitchen. Kuku was balancing a ream of pizza trays on his arms and his tail.

Skinner caught a glimpse of pineapple chunks and bright red marinated seitan on one of them, along with a drizzle that smelled fruity and spicy.

``Hey, what'sss up?'' he asked, sliding them all into the oven at once. ``I'm jussst throwing in the Houssse Ssspecial, I was thinking we could call it Bromelain Sssizzle, you know, cus of the pineapple-''

``We've got an inspector in,'' Skinner said, not even acknowledging the question. ``Everything looks clean... good, good, just keep it like that.''

``Wait-what?''

Kuku's eyes went wide, he shivered nervously, and the trays rattled in his coils.

``Keep your blood cold, Kuku.'' Skinner glanced at the robin. ``His name's Oyembe. Do you know him?''

``Yep,'' Brea sighed sadly. ``I remember him well. He's the worst inspector they could possibly have sent. He's immune to mind control, hypnosis, the whole shebang. All it does is annoy him and give him a headache. That's probably why they sent him here.''

``Fuck,'' Skinner exhaled. Hopefully the bird only had him pegged as `overly friendly', and not `trying to manipulate him into giving a passing grade'.

 

``Oyembe's especially hard on people who try to trance him,'' Brea continued. ``He gave that other spot a really nasty citation last week, they're still closed- ''

``Which spot is that?'' Skinner asked quickly.

``You know, the jungle-themed one, with the snake-''

``The Hollow Banyan? Kaa's spot?'' Skinner bit on his lip. ``Damn, he runs a tight ship...''

``Oyembe's a nice guy at his core, though,'' Brea added, ``so-''

``Oh really, cool, how the FUCK does that help?!''

That outburst, tinged with a little spark of flame in his eyes, took all the oxygen out of the room for a moment.

Skinner felt the fear off of his staff, especially the part-timers who hadn't ever seen him get this sharp.

Skinner was trying his hardest not to punch something. It would make him feel better for half a second, maybe 2-thirds tops. But his team was watching him. Feeding off his nervous energy. He clapped his hands together, so hard his palms stung, and brought his index fingers against the bridge of his nose.

Breathe in.

And out.

A hiss-whisper gloated in his inner-ear.

``Looks like your contract might be finished far sooner than we expected, little rat.  You remember how it goes. This place is on loan to me, just like your soul is. The moment this little cage of yours falls apart and goes under, you're mine.''

Skinner didn't dignify his patron with a response. He took his time responding to Brea.

``I'm sorry for raising my voice, Brea, it was immature and unprofessional.'' Each word was a new piece of a calming mantra, mostly for Skinner himself.

``Apology accepted,'' Brea said patiently, ``Don't worry. I know him. I can butter him up a bit, make sure he takes his time back here. Where's he now?''

``Ruffles is talking to him,'' Skinner continued.

``Good, good...'' Brea said. ``They're a good kid. We'll be fine.''

Skinner swayed in place, his eyes clamped shut. He inhaled, slower this time, and exhaled, even longer than that.

``Okay.'' he feathered his fingers against each other, in front of his forehead. ``So. Here's the plan. He's probably gonna start back here, they usually start with storage and food prep, right?''

``That's right,'' Brea said. ``We - I mean, they always start back there.''

``Good. Keep him here as long as possible, charm him, see if your old co-workers are still there. I'm gonna get the DJ to add some subliminals to the set, keep everyone from going too crazy.''

At that, Skinner looked up at his crew.

He noticed another of his employees had arrived, shockingly late for a synth. Pol was a chromed anole with a lilac chassis, and two large white dots passing for eyes in the darkness of its visor-plate. It was slipping on its labcoat; the coat didn't even come close to getting around Pol's round, barrel-chested body. (The 3d printer in its gut needed a lot of room, not to mention ventilation.)

``Hey Pol, good to see you,'' Skinner said, making a mental note to talk about its tardiness later. ``Are you up to speed?''

``Yes, Brea Told Me Everything...'' Pol warbled.

``Good. Be on call in case we need to do any spot repairs.''

``My Printer's All Warmed Up.''

Skinner turned his attention to the biggest - and most nervous person in the room.

``Kuku, business as usual, just keep making pizzas, don't rush `em, don't drop `em.''

``Y-You got it bosss...''

Kuku was going to drop at least a couple. The poor guy got really flustered under pressure.

``Send me a text when he's finished. I'll trance a few patrons and get him up- we can use that to buy time. Then we'll make sure the darkrooms are in order. And for the love of anti-christ, no smoke breaks until we've seen him out the door, ok?''

``Yes Boss!''

Skinner clapped his hands together as he stepped out into the club once more. He affected a `service' smile, a false friendliness that never sat quite right on his face.

Oyembe was at the bar, smiling politely and raising his glass of pale-green juice while scratching something onto his clipboard. He'd started already. Fuck.

Ruffles was already serving other customers alongside Pol - fuck, it was busy, they would have to hire more staff...

``HEY!''

Skinner bristled as he heard some sharp finger-snaps, coming from a booth about halfway between the bar and the entrance.

There was that table for 5 that Brea had mentioned.

A tall, admittedly well-built stag was sitting at one edge of the booth. He looked like he hit the gym every day and he wouldn't hesitate to tell you that first chance he got. Next to him was a snow leopard who was half his size, sleeker, more of a runner's build. Then there was a stocky-built horned owl who had a particularly rude look in his golden eyes, and wrists festooned with long-dead glow sticks. Next to that was a scrawny fox with a tweed flat cap perched on his head - did he think he looked like he belonged in the peaky blinders or some shit? At the other end was another big guy- a tall, pudgy city-pigeon whose shirt didn't quite cover the lower edge of his gut.

All of them were wearing garish red T-shirts with a poorly blown up photo of the snow leopard's face, with antlers crudely pasted onto his head.

`THE CRAIGMEISTER'S STAG' was emblazoned in text over that head.

This party had been a fucking nightmare.  

More than once, he'd heard one of them refer to someone on the dance floor as a `hot bitch', or heard their collective hyena-like cackle ramming itself into his eardrums. Somehow their laughter cut above the music. Maybe it was just because he was listening out for it, his mind attuned to it and anticipating it like the beep of a smoke alarm with low batteries.

Not to mention, they had no appreciation for that sparkling wine. They?d destroyed their palates after downing shots of bitter herbal spirits dropped into energy drink that tasted like rocket fuel. No wonder they were drinking the bubbly stuff like it was water.

Still... all of them were a little hot. Their personalities let them down.

That could be fixed.

He could pretend he didn't hear them for a couple seconds. The inspector was more important.

``Hope the mocktail's to your liking,'' Skinner said as he passed by Oyembe.

``It's quite nice,'' Oyembe said, still implacable, the paper straw bending in his sharp beak. ``A little sweet for my blood, but well-prepared.''

He was already taking notes on his clipboard. Skinner gave it a very wide berth.

``This is my third establishment of the day,'' the bird said, idly. ``One of them ended a little early; the proprietor tried a little light show with his eyes as if that would massage the grade a little higher. Another of those establishments that hinges their popularity on that hypnosis claptrap.'' He rolled his eyes. ``I had half a mind to fail them on the spot.''

``...And did you?''

Oyembe did not look up, but he paused just enough to let the fear creep into Skinner's mind.

``I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to-AH!''

His eyes had been up-cast for a moment, towards the bar and the kitchen. His thin head-plumage shot up, and his beak opened wide.

Skinner had a hard time reading avians, especially raptors. Hard not to read anything other than `I'm going to tear open your stomach and feast on your still-beating heart' from a face like that.

Skinner's eyes followed Oyembe's gaze. Brea was waving back at him with an open-beaked grin of his own.

``Brea, you old fart!''

``Lookit you, kiddo!''

Oyembe took his glass and stepped around the bar as if he owned the place, clipboard tucked under his wing. His entire demeanour had changed.

That had to be good, right?

Hopefully their reminiscing would make Oyembe's inspection of the back a little more leisurely. More time for him to do a sweep.

Skinner eyeballed the DJ, perched up in their little mesh nook. He wasn't going to catch her eye from across the dance floor.

Just as he took his first step, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

``BRO!''

Skinner wheeled around and found himself staring right into the face of a snow leopard... with photoshopped antlers on it.

He looked up. The stag was leering down at him with the entitled face of someone who had never taken `no' for an answer.

The entitled look on that stupid stag's face...

God, he wanted to wipe it off. And he had the power to do that. But...

``Yes, how can I help you?''

``We want another bottle of champagne!'' he somehow managed to sound like a 5 year old demanding a lollipop. ``We've been waiting for ages!''

They'd just ordered a bottle 30 minutes ago, they couldn't have chugged through it that fast...

Skinner craned his head to look past the stag. Judging from the spilled glasses and sticky glistening puddles on the table, they were probably chugging it. It broke his heart to see them treating their top shelf stuff so badly. Pearls before swine.

``Of course, we'll send you a bottle soon. Just tell your friends to sit tight and relax for now, would you?''

The antlered bro blinked a few times, his brow un-furrowing, his eyes dilating ever so slightly.

``Sure...'' he said. ``I'll tell my friends to sit tight and relax.''

He turned and walked back to the booth. His gait wasn't any different, and there was no sign of his mind being manipulated. Not that his idiot friends would have noticed.

``Good boy,'' Skinner muttered under his breath. Fuck, it made him horny when they repeated the commands back to him.

As soon as the inspector was gone, those five were as good as fucked. In more ways than one.

That one brief taste of domination was going to stay in the back of Skinner's throat. He'd slake that thirst later.

Skinner caught Pol's face-plate from behind the bar and pointed a thumb in the direction of the booth. Pol `rolled' its eyes and nodded.

Skinner made a beeline for the DJ booth. It was suspended above the dance floor in a plexiglass enclosure, somewhere between a prison cell and a terrarium. One more element of the lab-rat aesthetic. He climbed the stairs and slipped into the booth. He'd already caught the eye of the green-scaled, blue-haired dragon behind the turntables.

``Ember!''

``Alright?'' Her laconic smile didn't last very long when she saw the look on Skinner's face. ``...So not alright then?''

``It's fine, we're fine, things are fine. I just need you to stick on something that's gonna keep the dance floor full.''

``Nope.'' Ember said with a sudden frown. ``I'm not doing chart shite.''

``No, no,'' Skinner said. ``I'm talking about the good stuff. Your personal mix.''

``I know, just fuckin' with ya a little-''

``Please, Ember, not tonight, just don't fuck with me tonight. We've got an inspector in-''

``You what? An inspector, right now?''

``I know, fucking ridiculous - and the last thing I want is him walking in on someone doing coke or ket in the bathrooms.''

``Point taken...''

``I'll pay you for an extra hour if you do it.''

``I mean, I was gonna do it either way, but if you're offering...'' Ember winked. Skinner sighed and laughed. He was a bit too `charitable' when he was stressed.

``Great,'' Skinner said, sharply, aggressively, but without a hint of sarcasm. ``You're amazing. Love your work. Keep it up.''

As he quickly tapped down the steps, he could hear the poppy grooves melting into something a little more even, less melodic, more driving. Something primal, that took hold of the heart and squeezed it to dictate a new rhythm. It wouldn't normally be to everyone's taste. But he could catch glimpses of faces in the crowd, first furrowing and frowning with disappointment, before that melted away.

The effect was something you'd have to be actively looking out for. But more people were sliding onto the dance floor, the crush of bodies sardine-can stuffed into what little real estate there was. Even the people at the edges of dance floor were starting to bop along, eyes closing to take in its thick, entrancing ambience.

Paws and wings and fingers began to explore, too. Some between lovers, some between strangers. Lips parted to let other mouths cover them. As long as Ember didn't turn the tempo up too much, there hopefully wouldn't be anyone fucking on the dance-floor.

Skinner's ear was trained to drown out the music - plus, its hidden subliminal siren-song had no effect on him. So he heard the sound of clattering plates and splattering pizza all the way from where he was, along with Kuku frantically cursing and apologising. Through the tiny slivers of window he could see from his vantage point, he caught a glimpse of that fucking pizza again. He tapped the earpiece in his ear to listen in.

``Ssso, we're conssstantly trying out new stuff, sssorry, would you like to try? The bosss highly recommends it.''

He heard a hacking squawk-cough that could only have been the inspector.

``You're very kind, but I'm allergic to pineapple.''

``Oh, fuck, that'sss a shame - ssssorry-''

He felt the desire to scream `WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING' roiling in his chest. But the last thing he was going to do was berate an already stressed staff member.

He had a spot-check to finish.

There wasn't much of a queue for the unisex bathrooms, thankfully. The urinal stalls looked fine, the accessible toilets were basically spotless, and that just left...

The scent of sex around the stalls. Skinner heard low moans and exhaled curses, along with the tell-tale gulp and slurp of someone getting some very enthusiastic head.

``Ohhh fuck, yeah, your mouth's so good...''

Par for the course, though there were plenty of stalls like this in the darkrooms. Did they just not know they were there, or did they not care?

Skinner headed to the stall to knock. He'd politely ask them to take their business elsewhere, and move on.

As he got closer, though, he realised...

... The voices were coming from two different stalls.

``Oh for fuck's sake...''

Skinner clenched his paw. Tiny ribbons of flame escaped between the clenched fingers. The locks on the stall doors unlatched, and the doors flew wide open. There was one person in each stall, both facing the dividing wall; a grey lizard with a tight v-neck shirt clinging to his body and spray-on black jeans that had been unbuttoned and unzipped, and a black otter in a tank top and daisy dukes that were so bright they were practically fluorescent in the low light.

The glory hole looked fresh, probably made by that grey reptile's spiny tail. He could see some sawdust on the floor, as well as the chunk of lacquered particleboard. The otter knelt on the other side of the door was frozen about half-way along the lizard's meat. How he hadn't cut his prick up on the splinters around the hole was beyond him.

Not that that mattered.

They stared at him with a mix of shock and shame. Skinner's eyes gleamed and burned. He waded in to grab the lizard - first by the lapel, then by the side face.

The reptile nearly screamed, before the eldritch magic paralysed his throat with exquisite electricity.

He stared into the rodent's eyes through those gripping fingers, blasting him with heat.

The heat burned his world a vast, cinder-blackness that was enfeebling, humbling, and frighteningly beautiful.

The rat, too, changed. The white fur peeled away like strips of tissue paper, and beneath it was a vast, roiling nebula of tar-black, whispering darkness. His eyes gleamed like wildfires contained in gemstones, and when he opened his mouth, his teeth were like supernovas and his tongue was like a world-ending gout of fire.

SUBMIT,  the rat intoned.

Skinner did not have the luxury of holding back or being subtly seductive. He would sear his will into these idiots' brains. And put them to use.

The eldritch energy shot down the lizard's writhing body, like cracks in an imploding dam. They shot straight through his cock and into the otter's mouth, the corruptive mania shooting right down his throat and making him gleam with the selfsame essence.

The wall between them vanished, as did the rest of reality. The two were frozen in place, mid-thrust, mid-suck, their eyes straining in their stiffened heads to stare at the rodent-shape, before it ceased to be a shape and became something large, incomprehensible, like something from a long forgotten depiction of hell.

I SAY AGAIN, SUBMIT.

The deep, primal quiver of Skinner's borrowed voice burrowed into the two soft, mortal brains. Their higher functions shut down. The rationality of their left brains unraveled under a deluge of guttural fear. The passion of their right brains melted, too, their imaginations struggling and failing to comprehend the majesty before them. Their pupils dilated and contracted rapidly, their panicking bodies filled with a cocktail of cortisol and endorphins. Potent stuff. The sort of cocktail that threw someone into the mindset of prey accepting their fate.

YOU ARE MY THRALLS.

They weren't quite there yet.

``N-no, I'm... n..gh...'' The lizard's jaw was set in a terrified grimace. ``I c-can't, please...''

``Nnngl...'' the otter choked, mouth still wrapped helplessly around the lizard's glowing, veiny cock.

The burning visage of the rat towered over the pair, impossibly massive and majestically terrifying. His hundreds of eyes burned like roman candles, his halo of sharp teeth shone like moonbeams, and the heat of his breath singed their fur.

Flaming paws reached from the depths, and slid through their gossamer skulls to take hold of their minds. The grip was tender, as if cradling an egg, but it wouldn't take much of a squeeze to make those minds crack and spill through his fingers.

YOUR RESISTANCE WILL FAIL YOU.

GIVE IN.

The deep dark layers of the voice became a smooth purr. The otter and the lizard's eyes fluttered and flickered, torn between staring into the swirling darkness or rolling up into the backs of their skulls.

``P...please...'' the lizard looked on the verge of tears - not quite fearful, but not quite joyous. His mind had reached the limits of its comprehension, and it was unravelling at the seams.

The otter, on the other hand, was paralysed, lips still enclosed on the dick, throat gulping and quivering with fear.

...Skinner hated seeing them look like this. This kind of domination was great when the `corruptee' was into it. It was harder to put someone on full blast like this when he could see their lives flashing before their eyes. But then again, they weren't in any danger. They'd learn to love it.

Breaking character would help them along that process.

Tinges of his old voice returned, pouring forth from that chorus of mouths.

...LOOK, YOU'RE ONLY GONNA BE LIKE THIS FOR A FEW HOURS. YOU'RE GONNA GET YOUR FREE WILL BACK ONCE YOU'VE SERVED YOUR PURPOSE, BUT YOU'RE PAYING TO FIX THIS FUCKIN WALL. AND JUST USE THE DARKROOMS NEXT TIME, YOU CAN GET YOUR GLORY HOLE FIX THERE.

The two visibly. He could feel their minds slackening; the fearful pointless resistance they'd been putting up was sloughing away.

``Ffffaaah...'' the lizard quivered. There was a little flicker of humiliation, perhaps even anger behind it.

The rat fixed that - another gout of flame traveled down his paw and into the lizard's mind, making his eyes cross and his body writhe like a snake's.

AGAIN. YOU'RE GOING TO BE FINE.

``Gmmmlg......'' the otter moaned around the lizard's tool. He was drinking down something. Precum, or cum, one of the two. There was a dozy smile creeping up his fuzzy muzzle too. He was more accepting.

YOU'RE NOT SO SCARED ANYMORE. THIS FEELS GOOD. YOU FEEL VERY GOOD.

``G...good...'' the lizard mumbled, finally getting in line.

``Mmmhl...'' the otter moaned in agreement.

The lizard pulled away from the otter, his cock slipping free with a soft pop, and he fell to his knees. The otter turned too, slowly shuffling to face his new God head-on.

``G-guhhoood...'' the otter giggled, a little blob of cum trailing down his tongue.

THERE WE GO. LOOK AT ME. GAZE INTO ME. UNDERSTAND JUST HOW LITTLE YOU ARE, AND HOW GOOD IT FEELS TO KNOW HOW LITTLE YOU ARE. IT FEELS NICE TO BE LITTLE, DOESN'T IT, MORTALS...?

``Ah-huh...'' the otter said, the cum drooling from his lolling tongue.

``Yes...'' the lizard giggled, swaying slightly.

Skinner seized on that like a shark smelling blood. He wanted another word after that one. He need this indulgence.

SAY `YES MASTER'. I WANT TO HEAR A `YES MASTER'.

``Yes Master!'' the lizard groaned, his will obliterated. ``Yes Master!''

``Yehhhs Master...'' the otter couldn't form the words, his jaw too slack from all that dick-sucking and mind-melting. Still, points for effort.

GOOD BOYS.

They moaned with pleasure, their eyes turning an opaque ochre as they stared up at him with nothing but pure adoration. The lizard's cock pulsed, another spurt of cum shooting out across the floor. It was caught in that darkness, twisted into a spiral, and it glided up into the darkness.

With that, Skinner let the illusion drop, and he returned to his normal self. The tattoos on his arms sizzled and smouldered down as he brought the caught cumshot to his lips and tasted its umami tang.

He examined the pair for a moment.

The lizard did have a pretty tasty looking dick. And the otter's whiskered muzzle was cute, too. Eminently fuckable.

The way they said `Yes Master' was fucking delicious, too.

Shame there was no time to enjoy them. He'd park that for later.

``Okay.'' Skinner quickly moved to the sink to give his hands a rinse. ``Get dressed, and sit quietly, and whatever you do, do not let anyone in until I'm back. Oh, no. Wait. A synth is going to come in in a second.''

As he stepped back out of the toilets, Skinner quickly fished out his phone and call Pol. The nice thing about calling or texting a Synth is they can respond basically instantly. He knew it was on the other end already.

``How quick can you 3d-print something? There's a hole that needs patching in the bathroom.''

``Right On It, Boss.''

Skinner watched Pol slip out from behind the bar, approaching to pass him, and in his moment of lingering he felt a hand slide along the curve of his ass. Another one slid along his stomach. He glanced around at the dark shapes closing in, the rolling, swirling eyes and the easy relaxed faces...

He felt himself being pulled into the crowd, becoming one with the morass, hearts beating and lungs breathing as one thing, and oh, fuck, that would be nice...

Then he got shoved. Someone brushed past his shoulder so hard that it knocked him off balance. He turned to catch a glimpse of that flat-cap wearing fox from the stag party heading straight for the bathroom he'd come out of.

``Watch it!'' the fox barked over his shoulder, without even looking back. He wasn't vibing with the music, clearly.

``Excuse me!'' Skinner said.

``What was that?!'' the fox wheeled around, and with him, the owl. ``You got something to say, mate?''

Skinner felt acid in the back of his throat, and had half a mind to pour that acid right down that fox's throat, make him weep and whine, warp his brain and tear it apart...

``There's a mess in that bathroom that needs cleaning up, Sir,'' Skinner said. ``Could you use the accessible toilets for now please?''

``Tch.'' the fox rolled his eyes and didn't even have the courtesy to thank him. ``Don't use that one!'' he called out to his friend.

``Why?''

``Yeah, why?'' The fox looked at Skinner again.

``Please use the accessible toilets,'' Skinner repeated.

A pulse of honey through their eyes. A little shift in their demeanour - a slumping in the owl, a stiffening in the fox. And they complied, quietly.

God, he wanted to follow them. Fuck with one of them while he was waiting for the bathroom to open, then take over with the other.

But he had places to be. He'd keep those thoughts for later.

Skinner put his head down and strode straight for the darkrooms.

The delicious reek of sex was even stronger here; well, at least it belonged there.

A lot of darkrooms had a dive bar vibe about them, or maybe a changing room or sauna. Not this one. Smooth tiled floors, thick white curtains suspended from a lattice of rails... it had the ambience of a repurposed decontamination room.

There were only a few stark fluorescent lamps up above in the corners, aiming surgical shotgun-cone bursts of light downwards. Behind every curtain and sheet was a stark silhouette of bodies blending together. Skinner could see the shadow of a slender bichon's maw forced open by an elephant's massive finger - only the dog's muzzle was visible, the rest of his body blended into the elephant's hulking frame.

A sharp yelp cut above the thump of the music, and Skinner looked to see another silhouette. A hog-tied feline was being hoisted upwards, with thick straps around the wrists, ankles, and his dimpled, pudgy stomach. It looked like the shape of a long-haired pedigree, though the fur was matted and cowlicked to shit. He could only catch a little outline of the caged cock, dripping onto the floor.

Part of Skinner was thinking fuck, I want a taste.

The other part was thinking, fuck, slipping hazard.

The shadow of a marten moved in next to the swinging shape, and made a spade-shape with their fingers before sliding them into the cleft.

Another loud meow from the cat's flat muzzle was stopped up by a long dildo introduced by a squat leather daddy dachshund.

Skinner could see the cat's throat bulging.

Skinner felt his cock shudder and jump. He hissed, and dark smoke wafted from between his teeth.

Go on.... What's the harm. You've got time. Taste one or two of them.

Was that his voice, or his patron's?

Did it matter?

His paw was at his crotch, and he gave his junk a squeeze. It throbbed gratefully, needily. He could masturbate himself through the outline of that tent at this point.

No, he couldn't stay.

He couldn't stay. He had to keep himself in line.

How good was a Secretary Bird's sense of smell? Would Oyembe pick up the smell of sex off of Skinner if he indulged?

You want to find out. Be bold. Live a little. See where it leads you...

``Fuck. Off.''

``Heyyy Skinner!''

Skinner's eyes snapped to attention.

``Oh! Hey Kam!''

Damnit. One more potential distraction.

The raptor's pearlescent body with its orange-cream stripes was like a beacon in the darkroom. It was impossible to ignore them.

Kam was bent over with their claws digging into one of the benches, and they had their tail curled around the neck of a genuflecting sea lion, its fluffy purple-plumaged tip resting on the back of his head. The sea lion was gripping Kam's rump, his snout buried as deep in that cleft as he could go, eyes glassy and spiralling with rings of pink and black.

Kam's hypnosis tended to make every touch extra narcotic. That sea lion was almost certainly eating well.

``You on break?'' Kam asked. ``Wanna go at this one? This dad's tongue is fucking divine.''

Skinner's cock jumped again. Kam was one of his favourite people to bump into in his `breaks'. They matched each other's freak like no one else. The two of them could have every single cock in the room throbbing to their beat in minutes if they wanted to.

And fuck, he wanted to.

``Really can't stick around,'' Skinner apologised, ``just making sure...''

He looked up at the curtain rails, tugging on them and making sure they weren't stuck or loose. There wasn't much reason for the busy-work, aside from not wanting to get too entranced by the sights around him. Everything looked good.

``A secretary bird's gonna come by. Don't try to fuck him or hypnotise him, please.''

``I think I'm good as is~!'' Kam gasped, their pleased forked tongue flitting out as the sea lion gave their tailhole a long, bristle-whiskered lick. ``Nnngh... fuck...''

``Throw on a condom before you nut, please,'' he said, before raising his voice. ``That goes for the rest of you, wrap your crap.''

His phone buzzed before he could check if anyone was actually listening. He took a quick glance, and the first two words - `he's coming' - were enough to strangle that thought and pull him back to reality.

``Fuck. Okay, no. You all need to go to the changing room for now, please.''

It occurred to Skinner that they definitely hadn't heard him, either due to the music or due to them being too cum-brained to notice.

There was no time to ask politely again.

Most of the darkroom regulars had been tranced out by Skinner one time or another, so there was already an implicit obedience. He just had to use it.

He raised his hand up. The sigil-scars glowed. He muttered under his breath, his eyes turning opaque, his might pouring from his pores.

The very air bent to his will, the dim lighting unpacking and twisting as the LED lamps were co-opted.

They pulsed out a subtly throbbing display of rainbows, gradually drawing eyes upwards to gaze into those endless headlights.

He snapped his fingers sharply, and the lights strobed rapidly for one... two... three seconds. Then they were gone.

He could hear the sound of every single throat hitching with a breath, every single ass clenching shut.

That included Kam.

Sorry, buddy, Skinner thought to himself.

``You will all go into the changing rooms until I return,'' he said, simply and sharply.

Every single body stood. Every single body turned towards the exit. And every single body walked in dreamlike concert. There was a little skid as the sea-lion stumbled, just behind the lazily wandering raptor.

Just as he turned to leave, he heard a creak of strained leather, caught the movement of a shadow.

``Ah, fuck...''

That cat was still hanging from his harness, his ankle bound feet sort of kicking at the air, toes curling and uncurling.

``FUCK!'' Skinner raced towards the harnessed cat, and his food slid right along a slick blob of dripped lube. This leg kicked upwards and the rest of him followed. His arm flew out to grab something, and grabbed on tightly to the first thing it could - the nearest curtain. It ripped off and twisted around him, keeping his hands from stopping his fall before his nose cracked against the floor.

Copper taste, sulfur scent, his charmed blood pouring down his snout...

``RRGH! FUCK!'' he scrabbled and kicked and unwrapped himself from the curtain-wrap as quickly as he could, rolling onto his back.

A droplet of pre from the caged cat's cock dropped directly onto his nose, making him hiss from the sting.

``Fucking, fuck fuck fuck...'' he groaned, his head still swimming as he got to his feet.

Oh, let's hope the inspector doesn't notice you've cracked your pretty face open...

Skinner wasn't going to assume that was the case. He pressed his hand against his nose and squeezed tight.

He got up to eye level with the dazed cat, yanking the dildo from his spasming mouth.

The cat's eyes were half-lidded, his white fur matted in clumps.

``Does my nose look fucked up?'' Skinner asked.

``Nn...?'' the cat's eyes half focused on Skinner's face. ``Wh...?''

``Doesn't matter, why am I even asking you, fuck....''

There was no time to bring him down. He grabbed onto the nearby ropes attached to the pulley above and yanked him upwards into the darkness, the kitty gimp purr-mewling all the while.

Skinner licked his lips. More blood. He pressed his hand to his face. Was there time to heal it? Would a spell leave a mark?

He didn't have time.

Skinner threw himself straight out of the darkroom and back to the thump of the dance floor, even louder, more bodies adding to the sauna fog and sweat steam and diluting the thump thump THUMP of the music as they rutted and writhed while the rat sought out the bird somewhere in the crowds, or at least Brea, but he can't see him, just has to keep moving and weaving, too small to push the writhing bodies out of the way while cutting through the dance floor, shoes slipping on sticky spillage, crowbarring his way through groping duets and trios, cutting through a dance circle (cheers as he enters, boos as he exits) and back to the bar, on tiptoes to peer through the kitchen, and theres Kuku, sauce all over himself, panicking and heading for the door, hopefully just to smoke, and then there's Oyembe, someone's trying to feel him up, over he goes to to intercept, still can't read the face, smile and wave and nod, ``Hello Sir, sorry for keeping you,'' ``Perfectly all right - are you all right, Mr. Skinner?'' oh yeah, fingers to nose, blood still there, shit, ``Yeah, I get nosebleeds sometimes, sorry about that,'' does he smell blood does he want to eat me ``Here, have a tissue'', cheap paper against the nose, a little press, it doesn't feel like it's going to last, thank fuck ``Thank you'',``Shall we Mr. Skinner?'', ``Yes Sir, right away, so do you and Brea go back?'', ``Oh yes, we didn't interact much, but he was very well liked indeed, so this is the darkroom?'', ``Oh yeah, yeah yeah, we weren't expecting you, we just had to kick some people out to the changing rooms so it might not be spotless'', ``Oh, don't worry, I talked with Brea about it, I don't need to see too much,'' ``Oh really?'' oh fuck yeah, Brea, I'd be lost without you, ``But even so, just a cursory glance, lots of potential hazards in the dark, let's see how well ventilated it is,'' ``Of course, sir, just let me clear the runway for you,'' poking his head into the darkness, FUCKS sake other patrons are in there now, after all that work, the dark flames of his patron's power lick the room and turn every eye to marble, ``Leave,'' watching them march off as his heart thumps and thumps and he almost forgets to turn his power off before he looks back at Oyembe, ``All clear sir,'' fuck, okay, it looks clear even though it stinks, Oyembe switching on a flashlight to squint and grimace, spatters of lube on the tiles, abandoned dildo lying on its side, lights going up to the vents in the upper left, HVAC unit rumbling away, damn he forgot that was there, the music hides it so well, please don't put your flashlight up to the left, that's where that fucking cat is, oh fuck he's still dripping, it looks like a leak, he's going to see that, fuck, fuck, fuck, Oyembe clack-clacking his beak as he scratchscratches at the pad, ``Looks fine, I don't need to walk in on the poor young men getting changed, do I?'', ``Are you sure?'', fuck I hope he's sure, ``Absolutely sure, thank you, let's move on to the restrooms'', fucking relief, And then back through, across the floor clearing the spaces so Oyembe could peer and squint and scratch at his page, Skinner not even daring to glance, hearing the coo in the back of his skull even now, soon, very soon, not long before you're mine little rat, ignoring that, keeping up the professionalism, ``over here are the toilets,'' please Pol, please be done, but the stalls aren't occupied, breath hitching in throat as the bird looked in, beak clack again, one, two, three, next one over, Skinner chanced a look into the stall, a lean, squinting to see a hint of a hole, I can't see anything in the dark, no seam, thank fuck, the bird nods and scratches, ball point against paper like claws on bone, metal taste in the rodent's mouth, maybe psychosomatic, there was no time to check, just wiped the back of the lip and kept walking, back towards the door, around the dance floor this time, ``So, food prep, storage, waste management, fire safety, restrooms, hygiene, ventilation, I think that's everything'', ``Would you like another drink for the road?'', ``No thank you, will you step outside with me sir'', ``Yes of course,'' moment of truth, heart still pounding, the whisper and claw at the back of his neck there, trap ready to snap and break his neck as they walk, clack, step, skitter, to the entrance, past the bar in time to see Ruffles distracted dropping a glass with a smash, cheers and yells of `TAXI' from those FUCKING bros, he'd deal with them in a bit, but for now he smiles and nods and stays alongside Oyembe who nods and chuckles, was that sympathetic or was it pity, fuck, he couldn't tell, who the fuck knew, how was he supposed to know, how could he and he braces himself for the end of the torment as the heat of the club leaves them behind and the chilly air hits them

And

Skinner

Finally

Exhaled.

Moment of truth. Nothing left to do.

Just wait for the axe to fall. Or not fall.

``Yes, I think that's everything,'' Oyembe said, his beak tut echoing above the muffled hum of Operant's music. ``Mmhm... mmhm...''

Skinner waited quietly, forgetting to breathe once again.

``Alright. There are a couple of little things to be addressed around waste disposal, and I did notice signs of a leak in the darkroom.''

``...Oh, well, that's-''

``The dehumidifier, I'm sure. A quick fix. All that said... I'm delighted to award you a passing grade.''

Another long exhale, even more relieved than the last.

The grip on his heart was finally slackening. His guts felt solid, secure inside his trunk.

Well, congratulations, little rat. You slipped through my gasp again.

``Not this time, you prick-'' he muttered.

``I'm sorry?''

``Nothing.''

The secretary bird sniffed, handing over some thin sheets of carbon paper with copies of his notes.

``I may be overstepping my boundaries here,'' he continued, ``But I must say some of the other clubs I've inspected could stand to learn a thing or two from your hospitality. Well done.''

``Thank you, Sir.'' Skinner and Oyembe shook hands as the handover happened - an oddly collegiate sort of handshake. ``Have a safe journey home.''

``I will. And give my regards to Ruffles. That virgin mojito was delicious.''

Skinner pumped his fist as soon as he was out of the bird's sight, hurrying back inside, enjoying the relief like a glass of four-figure wine.

``HEY, little dude!''

Skinner's head cracked to the right like a whip. Those stag party dipshits were all staring at him. The tall, thick-necked pigeon snapped his fingers at Skinner.

``We want another bottle!'' the stag yelled.

He approached the booth, his tongue slithering behind his lips. It was finally time to dig in.

``Very sorry for the holdup, gentlemen. We'll open another bottle... and you'll help us enjoy it.''

``Huh...?'' half of them made that sound at once, as if they were already a hive mind. Oh they were going to be very easy to brainwash.

Skinner could take his time. He leant his elbows on the booth, and exhaled. Three little jets of dragon-smoke slid from his mouth and nostrils, twisting into a braid that curled and hovered over the centre of the table.

``You've had a great time here, haven't you?'' he said, his voice casual, just a hint of hypnotic spice in it as he spun some flattering lies. ``You've been such great guests, and we are so grateful for your business. So much so, that we think you should get a VIP experience. You deserve that.''

``Deserve...'' three of them said that one.

``That's right, deserve. You're all big tough guys, alphas, and you know what the world owes you. Whatever you want. What do you want right now?''

The braids of smoke twisted off into little individual threads, each one making a lazy beeline towards a different pair of eyes. They went unfocused, their irises slowly changing colour as if a droplet of dye had been dripped into each one.

They were quiet. Their brows twitched and wrinkled. Some lips pursed, as if they were trying to find the answer. But the eldritch smoke was creeping in, like the smouldering spread of a burning piece of paper.

``I think I know what you all want,'' Skinner said. He leant his elbow on the table, while his other hand gripped the bulge in his slacks. Fuck it. He could enjoy himself now.

He loved taking his time.

Well, he always loved it. But a slow burn like this was extra delicious, that frog-boil look of confusion on their faces as they tried and failed to grasp why the smoke was so pretty, why they felt so dizzy, and why they felt so good.

``I know what you want, but you don't. And you want to know what you want, don't you gentlemen?''

He conducted the smoke with a lazy finger. It dipped up and down, back and forth. The snow leopard's head dipped the lowest, his body swayed the most, almost bumping into the fox next to him.

``I'll tell you all, don't worry,'' Skinner said. God, he was fucking horny as hell.

Lose a little control, little rat, his patron cooed. Hell knows you've earned it.

That was the first time Skinner and his patron were in agreement that night.

``Yeah...'' Skinner hissed, his teeth sharpening and his eyes gleaming bright like twin suns going supernova. The smoke snaked closer. The five leaned back, heads down-tilted and jaws slack and wide. The wisps slid into each snout and beak, up into their skulls... then turned white hot as the rat's body turned darkly resplendent, his body unfolding into a dome of dark.

``You want... what I want. And I want you to listen very closely...''

The five stared up at him, eyes full of darkness and flame, confused, terrified, and oh-so-very lost. The mouths whispered to them, the eyes surrounded them, the tainted, charged atmosphere slid into their noses and wrapped around their brains.

If the other clientele were paying attention (they weren't, Ember's tunes saw to that), they might catch a whisper in the back of their head, a seductive void, tugging them to look at the booth.

But all that was there was blackness, anyway. The sort of blackness that one's gaze could pass over without even noticing; one could assume it was empty, let the memory of the whisper sublimate into the sweat-fog of the dance floor, and get back to their revelry.

Within that canopy, Skinner held court. The party of five muscular boys writhed and choked and gasped as slivers of their soul were shorn from their minds and wrapped like rings around the many questing pink fingers.

The canopy of darkness and flame that once was the rat named Skinner enfolded them. Dextrous tentacles, dark black with veins of dark orange light beneath their membranous flesh, were slithering around, under, and about the five weak mortal bodies.

In the centre of the table, in the centre of their realities, a gleaming tongue of flame swung back and forth in a pendulum arc. The five pairs of eyes followed it, as best as they could, their eyes rippling and pulsating with twisting eddies of orange, yellow, and black

The stag's head was tilted to the left, his jaw slackened at an angle, his face strained as if he was still attempting to resist. But it was a frozen rictus, his pleasure-bound brain unable to even send a signal to change the paralysis. His eyes followed attentively; the rest of him would follow.

The snow leopard was leant forward, chin resting on the table, eyes upturned as far as they could go, trying to take in the hypnotic majesty of the canopy above and follow the swinging flame.. His tongue lapped at the air as if he were suckling on a teat, childlike, empty, and quiet

The fox's throat spasmed as he coughed out little sounds; a giggle or a gekker, an unconscious response to the way the tendrils had filled his brain. His toes and fingers were curling into claws as he slowly writhed and wriggled in place. His head tilted to and fro, trying to keep up with the flame.

The owl was swaying drunkenly, head lolling in a circle, beak trying to follow along with those constant whispers, as if he could make sense of them... just so that he could better understand and obey those edicts. But understanding was beyond him. He swayed in an arc almost as wide as the swinging flame, bumping into the fox and the pigeon.

The pigeon was ramrod straight, his beak clamped shut. He was taking in everything... or perhaps nothing. Hard to say with the guileless depths in his black-and-orange eyes. His eyes weren't even following the pendulum-flame, Back And Forth. But he was attentively blank.

None of them had blinked in some time. They'd forgotten how to. All they could do was stare, and let their minds unravel, and breathe out their free will into the depths of the swinging flame in that incomprehensibly beautiful darkness.

YOU WANT WHAT I WANT.

They responded in turn.

``Weh wah... whuh wah...'' the stag gurgled.

``I want... what you want...'' the snow leopard whispered.

``I weh...ggkehyouwant...'' the fox giggled.

``Whh....want... you...'' the owl mumbled.

``I want what you want,'' the pigeon intoned, perfectly.

AND I WANT YOU TO SUBMIT YOURSELVES TO ME.

OF COURSE... YOU ALREADY HAVE.

YOU BELONG TO ME.

The creature's voice was a delicate whisper and a commanding growl all in one.

The very sound of it made them quiver, made their cocks jump, made growing stains in their trousers as their cocks leaked.

They might have grovelled if the table wasn't the way. Instead, they merely stared, eyes gleaming, bodies twitching, cocks throbbing beneath the table.

YOU ARE FLESH. YOU ARE A BANQUET.

``We are Flesh,'' they all repeated, to varying degrees of success. ``We are a Banquet...''

Skinner would ensure those phrases were burned into their brains for the rest of the night.

-

``We did it everyone!'' Skinner said, clapping until the rest of his team joined in the applause. Everyone looked to be both exhausted, and relieved.

Skinner was still buzzing, though. He was going from person to person, giving them a reassuring touch on the shoulder and making eye contact with each and every one. This included two new staffers - he'd gotten the lizard and the otter to work for the remainder of the shift, and the two of them were still compliantly woozy in their not-quite-fitted spare labcoats. He hadn't bothered learning their names. `You' had sufficed.

``Well done, I'm proud of you all,'' he said.

``Thanks, Boss...'' Ruffles said, looking like they were about on the verge of tears.

``But I fucked up, I dropped a fuckton of pizzas,'' Kuku said, crestfallen, his hood tucked in as tightly as it could go.

``Did you? I didn't know,'' Skinner lied, before chasing it with the truth. ``He didn't mention anything about it.''

``Told you, he's a nice guy at heart,'' Brea said.

``Yeah, honestly... yeah.'' Skinner nodded.

``I think this calls for a celebration. Let's open up some bottles, Kuku, you can throw some pizzas on if you like... and I've got some entertainment for us too.''

He snapped his fingers.

The stag and the rest of the stag-do marched in, smiling blankly, bottomless nude except for a scintillating substance wrapped around their waists, the colour and lustre of an oil spill. The wraps were thin, like thongs, sliding down the cracks of their firm asses, and around the front was a tight round pouch, keeping their packages contained in a spherical bulge.

He left the shitty t-shirts on. A little extra bit of humiliation.

``You can look, you can touch, you can do what you like,'' Skinner said, already lighting up a cigarette. ``You've earned it.''

``Dibs On The Fox,'' Pol said, already on an intercepting course. The fox's glassy stare locked on to the synth's face. The screen was flashing and strobing with monochrome patterns, a spiralling whirlpool with a roiling concentric oval in its centre. The fox's mouth fell open and his eyes went wide, his own eyes beginning to mirror the same pattern.

``Heeey, what's with the lightshow...?''

``That's Right, Fleshie, C'mere...''

Pol grabbed the fox by the wrist and yanked him roughly, taking him back out of the door they came through; doubtless heading for the darkrooms.

Kuku was headed straight for the pigeon, his tongue already flitting hungrily as his thick coils wrapped and pulled him in.

``I'll take Antlers and Big-Eyes,'' Brea said, clapping Skinner on the shoulder as he passed. ``Send `em my way in about 10 minutes, I gotta get changed first.''

``Greedy as always, old man?'' Skinner smirked.

``You know I'll share `em.''

Ruffles nervously watched, afraid to make their move even though they were probably the most flustered person there - their slacks were very tented, too. They were paralysed, rooted to the spot. ``Looks like the kitty cat's yours,'' Skinner said helpfully. ``He's a cute one. Go wild.''

``Uhm...'' Ruffles' nervous, lopsided grin split their snout in half. ``O-Ok! Uh... c'mon... k-kitty...''

The bull took the cat's hand almost like they were going on a date. It was adorable.

As much as he was looking forward to playing with the five-some, it only felt right to Skinner that his staff get first dibs. He had the two Glory Hole-rs to play with anyway.

His clothes burned away with a snap of his fingers. More swirling sigils were scarified into his body, guiding the eye towards his chest, his stomach, and right down to his cock, ending in a heart-shaped fertility symbol just above it.

``You like fucking with something in between you two, huh?'' he asked. ``We can do something about that.''

It'd be nice to take a back-seat and let someone else do all the work. He'd earned the right to be a pillow princess.

``Nn, uh...'' the otter fidgeted, looking a little sheepish, even through his conditioning.

``Something up?'' Skinner asked.

``Could you, uh...''

He didn't need to finish that thought. Skinner finished it for him.

A beckoning claw motion, like he was grabbing a fistful of air, pulled the otter forward, face first. Skinner's palm glowed again, and the otter's eyes turned dark and starry, eyes flutter-shuddering, legs bending inwards as he immersed himself in that wonderful darkness once again.

``Deeper than before,'' Skinner intoned.

``Mmng...'' The otter looked like he had something to say... maybe he wanted a bit more mustard on it. Skinner knew a trance-trigger junkie when he saw one.

``Oh, sure.'' Skinner took a breath in, and for an instant his body unfolded into that exquisitely terrifying void once again.

DEEPER THAN BEFORE.

``Aaahgngh...!'' The otter practically came in his pants right then and there.

``Hold off, hold off...'' Skinner said, his voice back to norma. ``Take your time, flesh... the night's still young. We should pace ourselves. Right?''

He looked up at the grey lizard, who nodded sleepily. He had been trance drunk basically all night, and his dick was standing to attention in his tented slacks.

Skinner pushed the lizard back against the nearest surface, making the hollow metal clang and shudder. He held his breath a little bit with anticipation - was that dick as big as he recalled it being from that little glance?

Fuck yes, it was.

Skinner put his hands on the lizard's shoulders and leapt up onto him, his dextrous pink legs wrapping tightly around his midsection. His pert butt angled forward, his dick rubbing against the soft smooth scales of the lizard's front.

Skinner's thin tail wrapped around the otter twink's throat and yanked him forward, pushing him right down, lips to glans, on the lizard's dick.

``You know what to do,'' he growled, grinding the cleft of his ass on that gorgeous, thick tool.

Once the pair were warmed up, he was gonna have them sandwich him good.

He heard a shuddering hiss, but not close to his ear.

``Hhhoh...''

``You ok?'' Skinner asked, craning his neck to look towards Kuku and his `meal'.

Kuku's head was level with the pigeon's stomach, while his coils were sliding some pizza trays into the oven. He was a good multitasker.

``It's just...'' Kuku was staring at the stone-stiff pigeon; more specifically, down at the low-hanging gut over the pearlescent thong. ``Thisss bit.'' He took hold of the soft underside and squeezed it, lifting it up to feel its heft. He hissed and shuddered. ``Thisss bit of the tummy... it'sss the besst part of a boy.''

It wasn't Skinner's thing. But he smiled as he watched the snake bury his snout beneath that gut. Kuku wasn't even going for the trash-bird's crotch just yet, content to push his head into that weight. His own scaly tail, now tray-free, snaked up that ugly t-shirt and curled around the bird's thick, long neck. The bird's eyes went a little crossed, his cheeks dimpling dopily as a strangled coo escaped his throat.

``Good, Banquet.''

Skinner snapped his fingers, a flint-spark dancing between the fingers. A similar spark appeared behind the pigeon's eyes, and his tongue stuck out as he moaned like an idiot, his enrobed bulge throbbing and pulsing.

``Awwwh, don't worry dude...'' Kuku hissed, his hand reaching down to cradle the shining bulge. ``I'll get right to that...''

Skinner chuckled and returned his attentions to his two thralls, closing his eyes and sawing himself back and forth along the reptile's meat.

He raised his ass up, gripping the lizard's shoulders, and pushed his ass out towards the otter's face. He didn't need to give the otter any orders, much to his delight. The twink lifted his head and grasped Skinner's thighs as he buried his snout between the cheeks. His tongue lapped along his master's balls, up to the taint, and teased around his pucker too.

``Hhhhhfuckyeah...'' he adjusted, widening his thighs so the lizard could keep the legs spread, and lolled his head back as that familiar warm wetness lathered all over his flesh. His ass winked and tensed... maybe tonight was a bottoming night for him.

He couldn't completely focus on the bodies between him, though. His mind was still in manager mode. He needed to make sure everyone else was having a good time...

But he wasn't going to abandon his playthings.

``You are flesh,'' he growled. ``You are conveyance.''

``C..con... wha...?'' the lizard groaned.

``Too big of a word for ya? It means I want you two to carry me.''

The otter was up on his feet, and Skinner let his legs slide down his shoulders, his cock pressing into the back of the lutra's head. The lizard put his hands under Skinner's armpits to support him - damn, they were getting sweaty, maybe they?d need a little tongue-bath - and they lead him along, out of the kitchen, out to the mostly-empty bar.

They'd kept the lights on for ambience. It was basically empty at this point. Ember was striking the last bits of her gear, and the only other people out in the space were...

Ruffles and that snow-leopard. He was slumped in that same booth from before, and Ruffles was looming over him, as if they were waiting to take his order.

With a sparkling finger-snap, Skinner directed his two-man palanquin towards them.

``You doing ok over there, Ruffles my love?''

``N-no, I'm...''

``B...buh...''

The snow leopard looked like he was about to cry. There was conflict in those previously blank eyes.

``What's the matter with him?'' Skinner asked.

``Uh, I think he doesn't wanna play,'' Ruffles said, nervously twiddling their hooves. The bull's cock was flaccid - weak flesh overpowering a willing spirit.

``Why wouldn't he-''

Skinner looked at the snow leopard's dazed face. Then down at the second face on his t-shirt.

``-Oh. Yeah. Oh that's fine, he's probably been cheating on his fiancee already, haven't you, meat?''

A flash from his fingertips. The snep sat up and stared directly at the sparking shapes left in the air.

``Answer truthfully.''

``I...I...'' the cat looked ashamed. Shame was one of the more powerful barriers to trance. No wonder he was putting up a bit more fight than the others.

Not that it'd matter.

He snapped his fingers again.

``Answer Truthfully.''

``Mmnnh...'' his chest surged outwards and his eyes fluttered like camera shutters. ``I...''

Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap.

The fifth snap opened the floodgates, and the words fell in a desperate, breathless croak

``I was going to try and fuck someone tonight in case I didn't get another chance...''

``Good, Banquet.''

One last snap and the leopard gasped like he was cumming his brains out. Maybe he was.

Ruffles was watching all of this. It wasn't the first time they'd seen Skinner brainfuck someone this hard... and it never failed to make them hard. Their cock was jumping back to attention.

``There you go.'' Skinner said, looking back at Ruffles. ``He's a cheating piece of shit anyway. You're blameless. Let him suck you off, he clearly wants it.''

``I-I don't know...'' Ruffles gulped nervously and stepped forward to straddle the cat's shoulders. He pressed his nose to Ruffles' bulging cock, purring softly, looking up at them with doe-eyed adoration.

``So good...'' he mumbled, only slightly puppeteered by a little mental nudge from Skinner's influence.

Ruffles giggled nervously, and that giggle turned into a gasp as the snep's mouth slid around their dick.

``Ah, n-no!'' Ruffles pulled back, seeming even more nervous. ``Ahh... I don't know, this feels-''

``Ruffles.''

Skinner guided Ruffles' gaze to his, still on his two-slave throne. Smoke and permission poured from his lips as he spoke to the bull, slow and even. Droplets of orange spread through Ruffles' pupils.

``You deserve this.'' he said. ``Fuck this kittycat. Then you can fuck me after. You want to fuck. I want you to fuck. And...''

``I want... what you want,'' Ruffles moaned, their eyes fluttering.

``Mmh. Good creature.'' Skinner smiled. He'd never hypnotised Ruffles, but they'd heard that mantra of his enough times to know the words already. Good.

From the way Ruffles slumped and shuddered, Skinner understood how deeply the poor thing had been craving this.

``That's a good bull. Now, what're you going to do?''

``What... you want.'' Ruffles said, resolute in their lustful trance.

``And what do I want you to do?''

``Fuck...''

``Good. Enjoy.''

The look of un-disguised hunger in Ruffles' eyes was gorgeous to behold.

He turned and left Ruffles to their fun, just as Ember was heading down the stairs, lugging her backpack and DJ gear.

``What's goin on?'' Ember asked. ``Did you order strippers?''

``Nah,'' Skinner said, raising one of his arms to wrap around the lizard's head as he adjusted himself. ``I recruited a few.''

``Oh, you cheeky prick. Wish I could stay,'' Ember said with a sigh. ``I'm knackered...''

``Take one for the road,'' Skinner said, ``There's plenty to go around!''

Her eyes flashed electric blue, her tail tip flicking from side to side. ``Oh, well, if you insissst, what about...''

She glanced past them, fingering the sleepy stag who was now staggering towards the darkrooms.

``That one. The big guy.''

``Brea dibs'd him, sorry...''

``Ah, that's all right,'' Ember shrugged.

``Tell you what - soon as we're done with him, we'll deliver him to you.''

``Ooooh, fuck yes.'' she said, the spark returning to her eyes. ``I could use someone like him in the morning... my paws will need a rub.''

``Cool. Get home safe, yeah?''

With that, Ember slunk across the dance floor, though she did take some time to linger and take in the debauchery.

It was a shame she couldn't stay. Maybe next time.

Kam was nowhere to be seen - they were understandably a little salty about having their brain fucked with, but it?d be easy enough to smooth over later. Besides, they left arm in arm with their sea lion boy toy.

Skinner could put that out of his mind for now.

``Take me to the darkroom.''

 

When Skinner entered, he could see the hypnotic glow of Pol's screen pouring over and illuminating the fox's face. The fox?s eyes were spiralling to match the synth's. Pol was sitting in his lap, its tail and rump hotdogging the vulpine's dick. It was wearing that stupid hat of his, too.

``Cum,'' Pol ordered, and it was then that Skinner noticed the growing splashes of cum on the floor just in front of them, now joined by another spurt.

``Anng... ghhnnahn...'' the fox moaned, pathetically.

``Cum.'' another order.

``HhhahAAAHn...!'' the fox mewled, still bucking as more of him emptied out.

``That's Right, Fleshie. I'm Extracting Everything From You. My Spirals Are All You Need. Feel How Warm My Printer Is? I'm Printing Something Just For You. Cum.''

Skinner was about to gently remind Pol not to heat up the whole place with that printing process. But he knew better than to interrupt that synth when it was on a mission, using all its processing power on one person.

So he focused his attention on the other three.

Skinner didn't know how Brea was able to change so quickly, but there he was, in full leather-daddy attire, complete with a steel-studded muir cap perched on his head.

Brea was old-school in so many ways.

The robin was sitting on one of the benches, with the owl on all fours next to him. Brea had two fingers inside the other bird, and was teasing a third around the rim of his tensing, puckering ass.

The stag was prostrated on the floor, planting kisses and licks along the bird's thick, wide combat boots.

``There we go,'' Brea crooned. ``That's it, bootslut. Polish `em for Daddy.''

The owl let out rather effeminate little moans, his eyes rolling up, his head tilting almost 180 degrees to stare at his master. The stag's tongue dragged along the vamp of the boot, long, slow, methodical licks.

``Looks like they're naturals at it,'' Skinner remarked as his two pets ferried him inside.

``I had a suspicion,'' Brea said. `` Guys like these are always at least a little bi curious. Just need a little nudge to get `em outta their shells...''

To accentuate his point, he wriggled one of the fingers inside the owl, making him shudder and dribble through the shining thong. Brea had found his g spot clearly.

``This one's having trouble with finger number three, though.''

``Let me give you a hand,'' Skinner said, giving the otter's head a squeeze with his thighs. ``Down.''

The otter knelt down, and the lizard lowered Skinner until his feet touched the floor. He walked over to sit next to Brea, taking the liberty of letting his paw rest on the older bird's crotch. His other paw snapped and pointed at the owl. His gaze instantly locked on, little sparks of orange appearing in those deep, huge pupils.

``I want you to follow my finger,'' Skinner said, voice laced with that mortal-melting tone once more. ``You want what I want.''

``I wh... want...'' the owl moaned, head still turned, body wriggling against Brea's hand.

``You feel those fingers inside you. I want you to let them in. And you want to let them in. It felt good when you let me into your mind... didn't it?''

He dipped his finger up and down, and the owl nodded - as best as he could with his twisted neck, anyway.

``So that must mean it'll feel good when you let my friend in. One more finger, and you'll be able to take his cock, and you'd like to take his cock very much.''

``Very... mmmuh...'' the owl whined again. Brea's ring finger was still tracing around his sub's cloaca. It was tensing hard around his fingers. Definitely wasn't quite ready for a third.

``There's tension in your body, and that's keeping you from letting him in. There's something holding you back, and we're going to remove it. It's a little knot in your chest and it just needs to be unwound. So focus on my finger as it unwinds...''

The rodent's finger traced a slow circle in the air. The owl followed, his right eye half closing, his left eye trying to stay open.

``And unwinds...''

Skinner kept twisting his finger.

``And unwinds that tension. So you can just expel that tension with a nice long breath out.''

``H..hoooo...'' the owl exhaled.

``And keep breathing as we unwind and release more and more of that tension.

``Hhhhhooo...''

``Ohhh.'' Brea chuckled. ``I can feel it, he's giving way...''

The third finger prodded gently, the muscles relaxed, and it slowly slid in.

``A-ah!'' the owl gasped, body going tense, almost forcing the finger back out.

Skinner snapped his fingers.

``Good boy, you're doing so well. Just keep breathing. Keep breathing. Relax. And unwind. As I unwind...''

Skinner's foot rested on the top of the stag's head, tracing his shoe up and down his thick rectangular snout. He groaned lowly.

``Goood boy...'' Brea cooed. ``Let Daddy in.''

``You are a good boy,'' Skinner agreed. ``You're doing a great job, and you're going to have so much fun letting the rest of your new Daddy in, aren't you?''

``Hoooh... yyeesss...'' the owl moaned.

``You're a wordsmith, kiddo,'' Brea chuckled. ``Thanks.''

``Deeper.'' Skinner commanded, snapping his fingers sharply again. The owl and the stag both writhed and moaned with visible, intense pleasure.

The stag's eyes were opaque and orange, and his jaw hung wide open as he lathed his tongue along the now very thoroughly spit-shined boot. After seeing how he puffed himself out and asserted himself so aggressively earlier, seeing him like this - meek, submissive, compliment - was fucking delicious.Brea raised his foot upwards and lifted the stag's head up, slowly dragging the sole against his snout.

The stag looked like he could have came just from that, kissing the crevices of the sole with a surprising hunger.

``The bigger they are, the harder they sub,'' Brea chuckled.

Skinner turned his attention to the lizard and the otter once more. They were staring at him, very much at the ready to serve with their cocks standing to attention and their eyes wide and fearful. Skinner smiled.

``You two boys've done pretty good. Have a seat.''

``Yes Master,'' they said - the lizard did so breathlessly, the otter did so gratefully. They took up seats on the bench. Skinner nestled in between them, letting himself get sandwiched in the comforting weight of their bodies. He grasped their wrists and pulled them to his lap - a scaly paw on his cock, a softer one under his balls.

They got the picture from there. As they stroked and massaged, Skinner closed his eyes and relaxed, sighing contentedly. His own paws roved to stroke their shafts in turn. He was feeling a little exhausted after... well, everything, and he felt like he'd be content to just sit back, relax, and watch his team reward themselves.

His slender stomach rose and fell. The worry lines seemed to vanish from his face as his head lolled back. He listened to the little symphony. The sound of tongue and breath on rubber. Lubricated fingers exploring velvet flesh. The heat and hum of the spiralling screen.

``There... It's Ready,'' Pol chirped. ``And You're Ready To Wear It For Me, Aren't You?''

``Hnnhhgnnhnuhuh...''

Skinner opened an eye. Pol was standing now, Its vulpine prey staring up at it with a drooling, tight grin and wide spiralling eyes.

The synth was holding a sleek dome-shaped visor, made of off-white polymer.

``While You Wear The Visor,'' Pol crackled, ``You Won't See The Outside World Anymore. You'll See Nothing But The Spirals In Your Mind. And Think Of Nothing But Obeying Me And My Commands. Understood, Fleshie?''

``Yyyyeaah...'' the fox gurgled.

``Good Fleshie,'' Pol said with a vocoded giggle, before slipping the `visor' over the fox's head.

Of course, there was no actual technology in there, Pol's printer wasn't that advanced. But judging from the way the fox gasped happily and his cock jumped and dribbled, his mind was well-conditioned enough that that wouldn't be an issue.

``Y'know,'' Brea piped up, drawing Skinner's gaze towards, ``I was gonna put these boys in the swings, but, uh...''

``But what?'' Skinner asked.

``There's only so many swings, and it'd be rude to kick him out.''

``Who're you talking about- oh fuck.''

Brea gestured up towards the corner of the room. Skinner already knew what he was going to see up there.

``Ohhhh, fuck.''

Skinner let go of his playthings' cocks, and brought his hands to his forehead, squishing pre-cum from his palms against his cheeks.

``Fuuuck.''

He'd completely forgotten about that cat. At least he was still moving and moaning, probably too deep in hypnotised subspace to even realise how much time had passed.

Instantly, Skinner forgot to relax, and was right back into `manager' mode.

``Right, let's get him down, get him some water... he's probably had his fill for the night, let's not force him to join in.''

``Nnno...'' the voice came from up above, sounding lucid, but still subby. ``I'mmm fine, just a drink'a water and I can join...''

He pointed at the otter and lizard. ``One more task for you.''

``Kid!''

Skinner looked at Brea again. A fourth finger had slipped inside the owl's guts, and he was quivering like jelly.

``Relax...'' the robin said, and Skinner realised he was talking to him. ``You've been working way too hard. Take a breather.''

They hoisted the cat back down, slow and gradual. Skinner had to give them a bit of assistance un-buckling and untying the matted-up cat, but soon he was slumped in a chair, dazed, panting and parched.

``Let me get the water,'' he said. ``You all relax.''

``And Are You Gonna Relax?'' Pol asked, squishing its synthetic rump against the fox's still-pulsing dick.

Skinner laughed. ``I'll try.''

Stepped out from the darkroom and headed toward the kitchen.

Kuku was on his way out. Several pizzas were balanced on his arms - and the pigeon's - as he slithered towards the darkrooms with a wink.

Skinner took the liberty of grabbing a piece off of one of the dishes. Juicy, char-marbled pineapple and angry red seitan chunks lingered on the surface of cheese.

The rat knew even before he took a bite that it was going to be the tastiest thing he'd eaten in weeks.

But Kuku wanted to see that look on his face, Skinner could tell by that expectant stare.

As the crust crunched beneath his bottom teeth and the sauce spread onto his tongue, Skinner realised that he'd forgotten to eat today.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. It tasted so good, he wanted to just crumple down onto the floor and pass out.

``Mmmmfuckin...beautiful.'' Skinner said. ``I love you sho much.''

``Ah, th-thankssss!'' Kuku said, nervously giggling. The pigeon cooed along with him, probably not even understanding why he was laughing.

Ruffles was making their way over towards the darkrooms, practically crushing the snow leopard to their firm frame.

``Ruffles!'' Skinner waved them over. ``Try Kuku's latest before everyone else gets some.''

``I think I'm good,'' the bull said, before grabbing the snep's babyface by the cheeks to make him pucker. His feet scrabbled for purchase on the floor as they spat into his mouth, and chased it with a possessively hungry tongue.

The snep's tail twitched and corkscrewed as he suffocated on the bull's tongue. Skinner could see hints of Ruffles' tongue distending the cat's cheek.

Damn. There was a horny beast lurking under that timid exterior.

Skinner made a mental note to take advantage of that tongue later. He could already imagine the places it could go...

``I think he'd make a good ashtray too,'' Ruffles added, their eyes still gleaming. ``Wanna give me a smoke?''

Skinner laughed.

``I love that you're having fun, but you don't need to take up smoking. Maybe I'll have a try later.''

Skinner winked at them, the same way he'd done at the start of the night, and there, for a moment, was the nervous bull beneath that hypnotically induced dominance.

``I'll see you all in a bit, ok? Head in.''

Skinner brushed past them, glancing over his shoulder as Ruffles, Kuku, and their playthings continued into the darkrooms. It was going to get even steamier in there, and the sounds were getting louder...

But for the moment, it was distant enough for Skinner to ignore it.

The rest of the club was quiet. Behind the bar, he filled up a pint glass with water, not bothering with ice. He devoured the rest of his slice and washed it down with the entire pint in a single gulp.

``Gaaah, fuck...'' the rat shuddered with relief, letting his head rest on the table.

He took a cigarette from beneath the bar (part of his secret stash) and lit it up with a little puff of magic. When he exhaled, he let the smoke linger in the air a little longer before he wafted it away.

Just enough to let the ribbons of grey float through the quiet space, without setting off the smoke alarm.

He took in the (relative) quiet, feeling the night's residual charge still lingering on the dance floor. The lingering ghosts of all those drunken, entranced revellers. The remnants of his own stress. The heat and sweat and ecstasy slowly settling and dissipating.

It was in that stillness, that aftermath, that Skinner felt, for the first time, like this could work. Like Operant could be busy like this for decades.

Even if he got one decade out of this place before his patron came to take his due... that'd make what would come after worthwhile.

He quenched his thirst with a mouthful  - the cat didn't have to know- and returned to the darkroom, to join the writhing cluster of bodies within the rustling sheets of plastic and the gleaming lights within, to let himself be engulfed in an orgy that would last until dawn.

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