On the House
 
"This drink is fantastic," Castel said, smacking his lips as he stared at the tumbler in his hand. "That's not Bailey's though, is it?"
 
"It's not," the bartender snickered, giving the black jackal a wink as he wiped out the inside of a glass with a dry towel. "We have some special drinks here, one of a kind you might even say. Can you guess what the secret ingredient is?"
 
Castel flicked his long tongue down into his cup, lapping at the dregs of the frothy creamy liquor. "Hmm, if I guess correctly, do I get a free refill?" He asked, slyly. 
 
"No, refills are thirty bucks a 'pop'," the bartender chortled. He waited for Castel to guess, raising an eyebrow. The bar was in a lull, so he had time to banter with the tourist. "You figgered out the taste yet?"
 
"No, but it's really familiar, I know I've had it before," Castel said. He peered up, rolling the last bit of foam along his tongue, and almost snorted it out of his nose. There, mounted on the wall, was a CharnCo portal ring, with a dappled pink and black horse dick and two juicy-looking balls hanging out of it. "What the- no, no way?!"
 
"Yes way," the bartender smirked. He reached up, and tugged on a black plastic ring that had been jutting from the tip of the horse's shaft. A string of three olive-sized bulbs popped free, followed by a gooey sluice of warm horse cum. The feline bartender lifted up a pint class, capturing the thick, drooling ooze. Castel blushed as he watched, the thick slime pooling at the bottom of the pint glass. Horse cum. That was definitely the flavor he had recognized in it, and now the bartender knew he was a cock sucker. If the bartender thought anything about it, though, he didn't say so, focusing instead on capturing the oozing slime from the fully dropped, half hard horse cock. "You know, we have a spare slot..."
 
"Spare slot?" Castel asked, confused. He could feel himself thickening, sheath disgorging his knotted dick as he watched the tiger bartender so casually handling the equine's equipment. The portal ring was keeping the equine's flesh separate, but connected, and the oozing shaft throbbed with a slow realm. There was another portal ring next to the horse's, and the jackal realized with a start that that was the spare slot. "Oh, jeez..."
 
The tiger scraped the smooth edge of the glass along the bulging cap of the horse, then held the  pint up and examined it. He frowned, slightly, then stuffed it back over the cap of the horse, and reached up to grip the horse's saggy balls, gathering the small eggs together and squeezing them playfully in his grip. The scrotum bulged between his fingers, and the horse's dick spit out another thick blob of cum, starting to fill the glass up again. "Actually, I can offer to cover your tab, tonight, if you'd be willing to let me extract some milk from ya..."
 
"Extract, huh?" The jackal said, rubbing against the back of his neck. The door to the bar opened as two foxes came in, and Castel could smell petrichor brought in with them. It was raining out, which meant... It was about to get busy. "Would I be up on... display? On the wall?"
"Yup, though if you are a small guy, and feel self conscious, I Could keep you under the bar, out of sight." The tiger shrugged, and put the now nearly-full pint glass on the bar in front of him. He procured a ring from underneath the bar, and tossed it in front of Castel. "You ever put one of those on? You want help?"
 
"Err, uh, no," Castel said, picking up the ring obediently. He hadn't used one himself, personally, but his friends had shared a story about the 'portal roulette' parties they've had, and he's always been interested. At home, he'd be way too nervous and shy, but here? On vacation? Why not? Head buzzing pleasantly, he casually stuffed the portal down the front of his khakis. 
 
With no undies on, it was easy to flop his wide, elegant sheath through the metal portal ring. While he did not feel anything as his shaft pressed through the ring, no weight staticky tickle like he had expected, he did feel the cool air, the shift in gravity, as it appeared above his head, mounted up next to the horse's cock. He gawked at it for a moment, staring up at the soft tan sheath, the the pierced length of his dick slowly pushing out into the open air. 
 
The horse was larger than him, which was to be expected with a stallion, but, still, having his size on display so close to an equine made Castel want to put his best foot forward, as it was. He pushed the portal ring down, over the bulge of his balls, grunting as they were compressed up and against the root of his shaft before flopping through the portal as well, and dangling suddenly underneath his shaft. Castel quickly pulled his hands out of his pocket, resting them on top of the bar casually, as the two foxes that had entered pulled up stools nearby.
 
The bartender was examining Castel's shaft, lifting and angling it from side to side, frowning slightly at the arrangement of bar piercings jutting through the underside of the blushing tourist's shaft. He gave the shaft a squeeze, tugging down on it and drawing the full length of the jackal's shaft out of his sheath and into the air.
 
"Hey, bartender!" The first fox said, tapping on the bar expectantly. "One 'white russian', if you will - with the top shelf liquors - as fresh as you can make it!"
 
The tiger turned, opening his mouth to say something to Castel, then turned back and picked up the half filled pint class. He began to fill the glass with a clear spirit, but the fox interrupted him.
 
"I said FRESH, not some old cold congealed gunk!" The fox pointed up, at the jackal's shaft. "Give me some of that, his balls look FAT!"
 
Castel's dick twitched at the attention, and the jackal tried to pretend he wasn't listening in on the order, surreptitiously watching as the tiger frowned again. 
 
"I literally just got this in, I haven't even gotten a quality control. These piercings are gonna make it hard to extract-"
 
"Do I look like I care?" The fox retorted, sharply. He slapped a fifty down on the bar. "I've seen how you get the dregs out, when their dick isn't responding any more. Just do that."
 
"You're a cruel customer, Priam," the tiger said, as his paw slipped behind Castel's shaft, his warm and thick fingers wrapping around the jackal's heavy ball-sack. "These are pretty juicy, though." 
 
Castel opened his mouth to ask what was 'cruel' about the fox's request, but all that came out was a pained grunt. The tiger had squeezed, the jackal's balls mostly embraced between striped fingers and now being ground together in the bartender's firm grip. He almost knocked his drink over, saving it just in time as his ears burned red with the casual way the feline was handling his junk. 
 
"Dang, you sure are rough with those," he tried to add, the half hearted jest sounding forced and strained as he leaned slightly forward. The pressure of the tiger's fingers was not exactly pleasant, but it was intense, and he could feel a growing ache blooming in his lower belly from the constant, shifting, rolling pain of the tiger's thick fingers.
 
The bartender merely offered a smirk, focused on the task at hand. His fingers danced, probing and squeezing, each clench of his digits deforming the tender flesh of the canine's balls, sculpting them into peculiar shapes that reformed back into big meaty beans as soon as the tiger released his grip. 
 
It looked excruciating, but somehow, there was something to the way that the tiger applied pressure, the way it crushed and then relaxed, never staying in one spot for long enough to become agonizing, that despite the pain, Castel found himself growing quite erect. The canine shaft jutted upwards, pointing towards the door outside, the metal barbells gleaming as they were stretched out by the jackal's arousal. The fox's friend whistled in appreciation.
 
"Hey, maybe we can give us the 'leftovers' after you're done with it?" The fox asked. "I mean, I certainly wouldn't mind a ride on that disco stick." The other fox elbowed him with a snicker.
 
A groan bubbled out of Castel's throat, guttural and pained, as he hunched forward over the bar. The room spun around him as the tiger continued his ministrations, the jackal unable to pull away, to pull his balls to safety, to slap the bartender's fingers away. Nobody had ever abused him in this way, and he couldn't see how anyone could possibly ejaculate from the painful crushing.
 
And yet, somehow, he did. He was more surprised than anything, as a particular spasm of pain was ended with a familiar rhythmic contraction. His hips began to throb, and he lifted his head up, staring at his own junk on the wall as the tiger lifted a fresh pint glass up to it. 
His dick tip pressed against the glass, contracting regularly, and while Castel was not feeling anything that he would call an orgasm, his body nevertheless began spitting out its seed. He could feel the throbs of his groin muscles, his tail curling down over the bar stool as his abs trembled in tension, and above his head, spurt after rich spurt of his milk filled the bottom of the pint glass.
 
The two foxes cooed, clearly impressed. The Priam one gestured, pointing to the inch or so of thick jackal seed at the bottom of the glass. "Perfect. I want that. I'll pay extra, I don't care."
 
"Hey, I want one too," the other fox pouted, and Castel bit his lip hard as the tiger pulled his balls down in a hard jerk. They looked puffy, swollen, his dick still dripping as the tiger put the pint glass down. "Or just give me his, I'll pay extra!"
 
"No need for that," the bartender said. "You can both have a drink. Heck, you can probably have two drinks each. There's a lot of puppy batter stored in those fat jackal eggs, and it came out real easy. Still... I need to make the drink, so..."
 
He grasped the softening, knotted canine penis in one hand, and lifted something long and flexible and black up to it. There was a hint of silver at the end, some kind of metal rounded tube, and then Castel yelped as he felt the sounding rod jammed directly up and into his urethra. The fresh coat of seed helped lubricate it, but it was still thicker than anything that had ever gone in or out of his cock before, and the jackal whimpered into his fist as he watched the tiger spooling the long, flexible sounding tube down his dick. 
 
'Fuck', he thought, his thighs trembling as he watched the underside of his dick bulge with the bulk of the tube going down it. The piercings were pushed against his skin, and he swore that they were going to tear through as they were pushed out of the way by the deep insertion. He couldn't believe how casual the tiger was being with it, just handling the jackal's junk right in front of strangers, treating his cock and balls like just another bottle of liquor. He didn't pause when he heard the jackal whimper; it was like he didn't care at all about what Castel was feeling at all.
 
"M-maybe we should give him a moment," he tried to say off-handedly, still hunched over, still soaked in the lingering pain of the agonizing testicle massage. "I mean, refractory period and all."
 
"Nah," the tiger said, as he turned on the pump attached to the sounding rod. The tip of the tool was buried in Castel's groin, past his knot, and he groaned, his left eyelid twitching as he felt suction, deep in his loins. Fingers gripped the edge of the bar,his hips trying to fuck forward at the peculiar sensation of having seed drawn out from inside him, the jackal's prostate being depleted of the remnants of its stores. The bartender took the freshly harvested jackal seed to the main bar, and poured vodka into it. Immediately, all of the semen that the jackal's testicles had carefully produced over the last week or so was sterilized. Kahlua was poured in afterwards, and the tiger added a scoop of ice, capped and shook it. 
 
All the while, the pump thrummed, the vibrations tickling through Castel's dick, his piercings shivering as more and more seed was drawn out from deep in his depths. His prostate burned, crumpled and dried out, and he felt the surreal, almost-pleasurable sensation of seed being drawn up through his cords, a tickle of blobs of his own virility being siphoned away.
 
"What about the horse?!" He groaned, his lips peeled back as he tried to keep it all together, his groin tickled from the inside out as he was being pumped dry. "He's probably got plenty now!"
 
"Jeez," the first fox said, as he received his drink. "I specifically requested this milk. What's your problem, dude?"
 
"Besides," the tiger bartender interrupted, as he picked up the long, flaccid horse hose, revealing the saggy pouch behind it. "There's really not much left in this one. That last drink I made with it..." He cupped the dangling, formless pouch, rolling his fingers through what was clearly a bag of mush. "This keg is kicked, my dude. We won't be getting anything out of this." He let the thick skinned pouch droop from his fingertips, slapping wetly against the wall, and then smirked maliciously at the jackal's open-jawed look of shocked horror. "Oh, it happens, there's only so many drinks in a bottle. Don't worry, though, I'll make sure to wring every last drop out of this pair."
 
Castel whimpered, as the tiger checked on the second pint glass. It was only about half as full as the first one had been after his first ejaculation, and the tiger was clearly not impressed. 
 
"Maybe you should try jacking it off instead!" He offered, hopefully, watching as the tiger's fingers wrapped back around his beefy ballmeats. 
 
"Darling," the tiger said, as he began to churn and crush the fattened eggs once more. "If I did that, I'd have to wash my hands afterwards. Who has time for such trivialities, when there's so much more milk to be harvested?" He listened to the jackal groaning, hunching forward once more as he crushed and kneaded the heavy eggs. 
 
Castel's nuts were, in fact, deflating. While they were still the same size, there was a certain looseness to them, like a basketball that had lost some of its air. They were flexible, the hard outer shells easily compressing and crushing into the flesh inside them. The tiger heard a wet gurgling sound as something was dragged up and out of the jackal's balls, the thick slurry of raw stem cells being replaced with the tissues that had created them. He continued the intense, thorough 'massage', crushing the inner flesh into a soft paste that could be more easily extracted. He could feel the weight of the dog's potency diminishing with each pass of his thick fingers, but his fingers could only extract so much.
 
Castel stared in horror at the thick, slimy clump of pinkish sludge that was hanging out of the tip of his discombobulated dick. His balls felt caved in, and he swore that the inner walls of them were crushed to the point that they were touching each other. 
He raised his hand, cheeks blushing hard, trying to ignore the foxes who were now enjoying their thick and foamy white russians.
 
"I'd like to cash out, please," he said, glancing meaningfully up at his equipment on the wall. 
 
"Oh, leaving early? Well, okay, lemme just finish making this drink," the tiger said, as he took a fresh glass from the supply. The horse's last 'drink' was still sitting there on the counter, but the tiger seemed to want the canine's equipment. "Won't be but a minute." He grasped the fat, dangling scrotum, pulling down to crush the remnants of the canine's nuts together at the bottom of their sack, and squeezed.
 
"Oh, look, it's his balls, isn't it," Castel heard, from very far away, as the foxes stared at him. He couldn't respond, as he was too busy writhing in pain, staring in shock as the bulges of his balls, six feet away and on display for the entire bar, were pulped entirely out of existence. The tiger's fingers crushed and kneaded the churning remnants of the jackal's eggs, pulling down so that even as they were broken down and pulped out from Castel's scrotum, the remnants were still being painfully smashed in against each other. "Pity, they looked so big, I Thought for sure we'd get at least four drinks out of them."
 
"Please!" Castel croaked, but the pain was, worryingly, not as bad anymore. In fact, as he felt one last soft popping sensation, felt one thick slug slide out of the tip of his maleness, he realized that all he was feeling was his scrotum, being squeezed and tugged and stretched in the bartender's fingers.
 
He watched, with dead, unfocused eyes, as the bartender swirled the glass, the thick, pearlescent sludge gleaming in the dim lights. That was the last of his babies, the last of his testicles. He could see his scrotum, dangling slick and saggy and completely empty, every ounce of his masculinity juiced out of it. That masculinity was now merely a drink.
 
The bartender took a long draught of it, licking his chops with easy enjoyment. "Yum." He seemed to notice Castel, then, and snapped his fingers. He handed the jackal a bottle of Bud Light, twisting off the cap. "There ya go, on the house, to thank you for being such a good sport."
 
Castel looked at the foxes, at the tiger, all of them enjoying his drinks, and then down at his cheap beer. He sighed, and took a swig. This vacation was not going well at all.