Keto’s Amazing Job!
By: Mikolai
The drain smelled faintly of rust and something older, something that no amount of scrubbing could remove, no matter how hard the cleaning crew worked. The tiles gleamed under the sterile white lights, too bright for comfort, reflecting the twin shadows of the nooses, which swayed slightly in the ventilation system's artificial breeze.

The door clicked open with mechanical precision. A broad-shouldered eagle in a clean white uniform stepped through, his talons clicking against the floor. His feathers were sleek, oil-black with a sheen that caught the light like polished armor. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. Behind him, two figures stumbled forward, their bare feet scuffing against the tile. Their wrists were bound behind their backs with thick, industrial zip ties.

The first boy was lean, his body taut with the wiry muscle of a young German Shepherd. His fur was a rich, dark tan, streaked with lighter gold along his belly and thighs. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen, his muzzle still soft with youth, his ears only half-pricked in nervous alertness. His eyes were a dull amber, like old whiskey left in the sun too long. Short, coarse fur bristled along his scalp in a practical, military crop, the same shade as the rest of him. Between his legs hung a heavy, flaccid cock, its weight undeniable even in its limp state. His breath came quickly, shallow, but he didn’t struggle. The canine's name is David, and he had asked for this.

Beside him, Keto stood taller, his gray skin smooth and unblemished save for a few faint scars along his ribs, old souvenirs from previous jobs. His body was built for water, streamlined and powerful, his shoulders broad, his torso tapering down to lean hips. His Mohawk, short and stiff, was black as oil, save for jagged streaks of crimson bleeding from the top. His eyes were the pale blue of shallow water under ice, and they didn’t blink often. His cock hung thick between his thighs, the tip just brushing his leg as he walked. He didn’t fidget. He’d done this before.

The eagle moved with practice efficiency, his talons clicking against the tile as he guided the boys forward with a single push between their shoulder blades. David stumbled, his knees buckling slightly before he caught himself, his breath hitching as the noose’s rough fibers brushed the fur at his throat. Keto stepped into place beside him without hesitation, his head tilting just slightly to accommodate the loop settling against his neck. The ropes smelled of hemp and something faintly chemical, like the disinfectant used to wipe down the room after each session.

The eagle adjusted the knots with swift, merciless precision. His beak glinted under the lights as he pulled the slack taut, the nooses tightening in unison. David’s pulse hammered against the rope, his throat working as he swallowed hard, his eyes darting to Keto for what? Reassurance? Permission? Keto met his gaze, his own expression unreadable. He gave a single, slow blink, the closest thing to comfort he could offer. This was the job.

Keto exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders back, making the rope creak. "Hey," he murmured, voice low and rough, like gravel shifting underwater. "Look at me." David’s ears twitched, his attention snapping back. Keto smirked, just a little, just enough to show teeth. "You picked the right place, sexy. Clean. They don’t fuck around here." His grin widened, sharp and easy. "And hey, you got me. Lucky, huh?"

David’s throat bobbed against the rope. "Yeah," he whispered, the word cracking halfway. He swallowed again, his tongue flicking over dry lips. "Thanks. For, for doing this with me." His fingers flexed behind his back, claws scraping against the zip ties. "I didn’t wanna be alone."

Keto snorted, rolling his shoulders again just to hear the fibers groan under his weight. "Yeah, well, don’t get all mushy on me now, pup. You’re paying me to croak, not cuddle." But there was something lazy in his grin. Like he’d been waiting for this. Like he wanted it.

The eagle stepped back, tilting his head in silent inquiry. His beak parted, the first sound he’d made since entering the room, a low, rasping click. "Anything else?" His voice was dry, almost bored, like a flight attendant asking about peanuts.

David’s ears twitched at the sound, his breath stuttering for a moment before he nodded. "The lights," he whispered, his voice barely louder than the hum of the ventilation. "Can you, can they be dimmer?" His eyes flicked up to the ceiling, squinting against the glare. The brightness made everything feel too sharp, too real. He wanted shadows. Something softer to slip into.

The eagle didn’t answer. He turned instead, talons clicking against the tile as he crossed the room to a sleek tablet embedded in the wall beside the door. His talons tapped the screen with clinical precision, the faint blue glow casting his hooked beak into stark relief. A few swipes, and the overhead lights dimmed gradually, the room sinking into a muted, twilight haze. The shadows stretched long now, pooling around the boys’ feet, swallowing the edges of the room. The nooses swayed gently, their silhouettes merging with the dark.

The eagle’s talons hovered over the tablet’s surface one last time, inputting a timer, five minutes before stepping back. The soft chime of the countdown starting was barely audible beneath the hum of the ventilation. Keto tilted his head, the rope shifting against his throat as he grinned up at the eagle. "Thanks, Vik," he said, voice rough but warm, like he’d known the bird for years. Maybe he had.

Vik’s beak parted in something resembling a smile, a dry chuckle rattling in his chest. "Don’t thank me yet, fishboy. Last guy who thanked me ended up with his guts in a bucket." The words were delivered with the casual ease of a man discussing the weather, but there was a glint in his eyes, something almost playful. Keto barked a laugh, sharp and sudden, his teeth flashing in the dim light. "Yeah? Well, tell ‘em to save me a seat." Vik shook his head, feathers rustling as he turned toward the door. "Already did."

The door hissed shut behind him, sealing the boys in silence. The only sound was the soft hum of the ventilation and the occasional creak of the ropes as Keto shifted his weight, testing the give. David’s breath hitched beside him, his fur bristling along his spine. Keto didn’t look over. He didn’t need to. He could smell the fear on him, sour and sharp beneath the sterile tang of the room. "So," Keto said, rolling his neck until the rope bit into his skin just right. "Why’d you pick hanging?"

David flinched, his claws flexing behind his back. "I, " His voice cracked. He swallowed, the rope pressing into his throat like a lover’s hand. "I wanted it to be slow." His ears flattened against his skull. "My dad used to say… a quick death’s a mercy." His lips curled back, just for a second, baring teeth. "I don’t deserve mercy."

Keto exhaled through his nose, a slow, deliberate sound. He leaned back against the rope, letting it dig into his gray skin. "Yeah," he said, rolling the word around in his mouth like a pebble. "Slow’s good." His grin was all teeth. "Gives you time to think." His tail flicked, brushing David’s thigh. "Or not think. Whatever you’re into."

David’s breath shuddered out, his ribs expanding against the zip ties. "Does it, " He swallowed. "Does it hurt?" His voice was small, younger than his years. Keto’s grin softened at the edges, something almost gentle in the curve of his lips. "Yeah," he said again, simple as a stone. "But not for long." He tilted his head, his Mohawk casting a jagged shadow across the wall. "And then? Lights out. Dead quiet. Until Vik pumps me full of whatever the fuck juice they use downstairs." He snorted. "Comes right back, good as new."

Keto shifted his stance, the rope creaking ominously. "Though," he added, his grin turning wicked, "the fun part’s right before." His tail flicked against David’s thigh again, deliberate. "You ever hear about the death boner?" David’s ears twitched, his brow furrowing. Keto laughed, rough and bright. "Oh, shit. You’re in for a treat." He rolled his shoulders, the rope tightening. "See, the second that noose kicks in, your blood’s gonna rush south like a fuckin’ tidal wave." His grin was all teeth. "Best orgasm you’ll ever have. And then? Boom. Done."

David blinked, his muzzle parting slightly. For the first time since stepping into the room, something flickered in his dull amber eyes, not fear, but curiosity. A hesitant, disbelieving laugh bubbled up from his chest, quiet at first, then louder, sharper, until his shoulders shook with it. Keto watched him, pleased, his own laughter a low rumble beneath the sound of David’s. "Yeah," Keto said, nodding toward the boy’s limp cock. "Bet you’re gonna be impressive when it hits, huh? Gonna make a mess for Vik to mop up."

The canine’s laughter tapered off into a breathless grin, his teeth flashing white against his dark fur. He ducked his head, ears twitching, suddenly embarrassed. "Shut up," he muttered, but there was no bite to it. His tail, though bound, gave an involuntary wag, thumping once against his thigh. The shark boy’s teasing was stupid and juvenile, yet it worked. For a moment, David wasn’t thinking about the noose, or the drain below, or the timer ticking down. He was just a kid laughing at something ridiculous with another kid.

Keto leaned forward slightly, the rope tightening against his throat as he lowered his voice. "Seriously," he murmured, his grin fading into something softer, almost conspiratorial. "After the pain? It’s all heaven from there. No more real-life bullshit." His pale eyes flicked toward the dimmed lights overhead, then back to David. "No more bad dreams. No more waking up feeling like you swallowed glass." His tail brushed David’s leg again, a fleeting touch. "Just quiet. Just peace."

David’s breath caught, his ribs expanding against the zip ties. He hadn’t expected kindness, not here, not from someone whose job was to die with him. His throat worked against the rope, the fibers rough against his fur. He wanted to ask how Keto knew, how he’d guessed the nightmares, the ache in his chest every morning, but the words stuck. Instead, he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging. "Yeah," he whispered. "Quiet sounds good."

The timer chimed softly, a gentle ping that shouldn’t have been loud enough to make David flinch. But it did. His claws dug into his own palms behind his back, the sharp sting grounding him for half a second before the nooses began to rise. The ropes creaked, slow and steady, the pulleys above them groaning under the weight. David’s toes curled against the tile, instinctively seeking purchase as the ground slipped away. The shark boy beside him didn’t resist, didn’t tense. Keto just tipped his head back, baring his throat to the rope like he was stretching after a long nap.

David’s breath hitched as his feet left the floor, hovering a few inches above the drain. The rope bit into his fur, the fibers rough against his windpipe. His pulse hammered against it, wild and frantic, his lungs seizing as the noose tightened. His toes twitched in empty air, claws flexing uselessly. Beside him, Keto’s chest expanded once, slow and deliberate, before he exhaled through his nose, his gray skin flushing darker as the pressure mounted. His lips parted slightly, his jagged teeth glinting in the dim light.

The ropes stopped ascending with a metallic click, leaving them suspended, swaying gently like grotesque pendulums. David’s vision blurred at the edges, his ears roaring with the rush of his own blood. His throat worked against the rope, a choked noise escaping him as his body jerked instinctively, his bound arms straining against the zip ties. The pain was sharp, immediate, a white-hot line cutting through his thoughts. His cock twitched between his thighs, a sudden, shameful throb of heat that made his stomach twist.

Keto’s body arched slightly, his gray skin flushing darker as the rope constricted his airway. His tail thrashed once, violently, before he forced himself still, his muscles locking with practiced discipline. His grin was gone now, replaced by something raw, something primal. His eyes rolled back slightly, his jaw slackening as the pressure mounted. A thin line of saliva dripped from his lower lip, glistening in the dim light.

David’s vision tunneled, the edges bleeding into blackness as his lungs burned. His claws dug deeper into his own palms behind his back, the sharp pain a dull distraction against the agony in his throat. His hind legs kicked involuntarily, his toes curling and uncurling in empty air. A low, strangled whine escaped him, muffled by the rope. His cock, heavy and hot, jerked against his thigh, the sensation sharp and shameful. His thoughts fractured, half panic, half something darker, something hotter. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t want to.

Keto’s body twisted violently, his skin slick with a sheen of sweat as his muscles strained against the inevitable. His tail lashed, striking David’s hip with a wet slap, the impact shuddering through them both. Blood roared in his ears, his pulse hammering against the rope like a trapped bird. His teeth clenched, his jagged canines biting into his lower lip until the coppery tang of blood filled his mouth. His cock throbbed, thick and aching, the tip brushing his knee with each frantic twitch. He didn’t fight it. He leaned into it, his breath coming in ragged, wet gasps.

David’s vision pulsed red at the edges, his lungs screaming for air that wouldn’t come. His bound arms jerked uselessly, his claws scraping against the zip ties until they tore into his own flesh. His hips bucked involuntarily, his cock stiffening against his thigh, the heat of it unbearable. A thin, keening sound tore from his throat, muffled by the rope. His toes curled and uncurled, his legs kicking wildly, his body refusing to accept what his mind had chosen. Saliva dripped from his slack jaws, spattering onto the drain below, joining the dampness already gathering there.

Keto’s body convulsed beside him, his skin flushed dark as veins stood out along his neck. His tail thrashed violently, smacking the tile beneath them with a wet crack. His teeth were bared in a silent snarl, his eyes rolling back before snapping forward again, unfocused but burning with something fierce. His cock jerked against his thigh, thick and heavy, the slit leaking pearly fluid that dribbled down his leg. He arched his back, the rope creaking under his weight, his breath coming in wet, choked rasps.

David’s own body betrayed him in ways he hadn’t expected. His cock pulsed between his thighs, swollen and aching, the fur around it damp with pre-cum. Every twitch sent a jolt of shameful pleasure through him, mixing with the agony in his throat until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. His claws dug deeper into his palms, the pain a distant anchor as his vision blurred. His ears rang, muffling the wet, ragged sounds of Keto’s struggle beside him.

Keto knew this feeling. The white-hot burn of the rope, the way his body fought even when his mind had long since accepted it. The pleasure was always worse than the pain, thick and insistent, coiling low in his gut with every desperate twitch of his cock. It wasn’t fair. The more times he died, the longer it took for his body to finally give in. His lungs burned, his muscles seizing as his tail lashed wildly, smacking against David’s hip again. His cock was hard as hell, throbbing against his thigh, the slit leaking steadily onto the tile below. He hated how good it felt. Hated how much he loved it.

David’s whimpers grew ragged beside him, his body jerking violently as his legs kicked at nothing. His cock twitched against his thigh, pulsing with each choked gasp, the fur around it darkening with slick pre-cum. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, just felt. The rope bit deeper, his vision tunneling into pinpricks of light. His stomach clenched, his cock stiffening one last time before hot stripes of cum painted his thighs and the drain below. The shame was drowned out by the sheer, blinding relief of release, his body going slack as darkness swallowed him whole.

Keto watched from the corner of his fading vision, his own climax crashing over him in waves, his cock jerking wildly as ropes of cum splattered the tile. The shark boy’s breath hitched, his throat working uselessly against the noose as his orgasm dragged on longer than any living body should allow. His muscles spasmed, his tail thrashing one final time before going still. The last thing he registered was David’s limp body swaying beside him, his muzzle slack, his amber eyes half-lidded and vacant.

The German Shepherd boy’s face was strangely serene; his fur ruffled only slightly by the air from the vents. His toes twitched once, twice, claws scraping faintly against nothing before his legs went slack. A thin line of drool dripped from his parted jaws, mingling with the mess below. His cock, still thick and glistening, pulsed weakly against his thigh before finally softening.

Keto, on the other hand, grinned like a fool, lips curled back over jagged teeth, eyes half-lidded but gleaming with something triumphant. His body jerked in small, involuntary spasms, his tail flicking one last time before settling. His cock hung heavy, still dribbling cum onto the drain below, but his expression wasn’t one of discomfort or shame. It was satisfaction, pure and stupid, like he’d just pulled off the world’s dumbest prank and gotten away with it.

Then, slowly, the light left his eyes too.

The room fell still except for the soft drip of fluids pooling beneath their suspended bodies. The drain swallowed most of it: blood, cum, saliva, but soon the scent of something sharper, saltier, joined the mix. David’s bladder released first, a steady stream of urine pattering onto the tile below, his limp cock twitching weakly as warmth gushed down his thighs. It splashed against the drain’s grate, mingling with the mess already there, the sound almost peaceful in the quiet.

Keto followed moments later, his piss hitting the ground in a heavier torrent, the liquid darkening his skin as it coursed down his legs. His cock, still half-hard, dribbled a final bead of cum before joining in, the two streams merging beneath them like some grotesque baptism. The shark boy’s grin never faded, even as his body emptied, his expression locked in that same lazy triumph, as if this were just another part of the joke.

Ten minutes later, the door hissed open again. Vik’s talons clicked against the tile, the sound sharp in the stillness. His oil-black feathers gleamed under the dimmed lights before the lights were turned back up bright, as he surveyed the scene: the swaying bodies, the mess below, Keto’s stupid, slack-jawed grin. The eagle’s beak parted, a dry, rattling laugh escaping him. "Figures," he muttered, shaking his head. "Leave it to you, fishboy, to look like you won the fucking lottery with a noose around your neck."

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a cellphone with a cracked screen. The camera app flickered open at his talon's tap. Vik angled the phone, tilting his head to frame the shot just right, Keto’s dangling form in the foreground, his own feathered face smirking beside it. The flash illuminated the room for a split second, bleaching the shadows stark white before fading back. Vik’s thumb swiped across the screen, tagging the photo with a caption: ‘Fishboy’s latest stunt. Bet he wakes up happy.’ He sent it to the Snuff, Inc. group chat without hesitation.

The replies came instantly. A string of emojis- laughing faces, thumbs-ups, a lone eggplant- followed by messages dripping with affectionate exasperation. ‘Classic Keto.’ ‘Bro really can’t die normally.’ ‘Tell him his favorite energy drinks are on me when he reboots.’ Vik’s beak twitched. That was the thing about Keto: no matter how dumb the death, how messy the aftermath, the kid always got a round of applause. Even the clients who came in trembling before killing the shark left with stories about the boy’s stupid grin. It was infectious. Annoying as hell, but infectious.

Then the notifications shifted. The bids started rolling in. Vik’s brow furrowed, talons scrolling through the sudden flood of offers. Some were tagged for storage, the usual requests: organs, fur samples, a few special collectors asking for teeth. Routine. But the bids under David’s name? Those weren’t for parts. Every ping lit up the screen with escalating numbers, each higher than the last, all marked with the same tag: doll prep. Vik exhaled sharply through his nostrils. Of course. The pup was young, intact, lean but well-built under that fur. Prime material.

He pocketed the phone, clicking his tongue against the roof of his beak. The room smelled like salt and copper now, the scent thickening as the fluids pooled beneath the dangling bodies. Vik stepped forward, his talons avoiding the worst of the mess with practiced ease. He paused beside Keto, eyeing the shark boy’s slack grin, the way his cock still glistened faintly in the light. Without ceremony, he reached out and gave Keto’s ass a firm slap, the sound echoing off the tiles. The flesh was warm, pliant. Vik smirked. "Better wake up hungry, fishboy," he muttered, fingers lingering just long enough to squeeze.

Keto’s body swayed slightly from the impact, his tail twitching in a phantom reflex. A thin string of saliva dripped from his parted lips, joining the mess below. Vik snorted, shaking his head. Even dead, the kid managed to look like he was in on some private joke. The eagle stepped back, talons clicking against the tile as he turned toward the door. The boys would stay like this for another hour, standard procedure, before the cleanup crew arrived to hose them down and prep Keto for revival and the other as a sex doll. Keto would wake up ravenous, grinning like an idiot, already cracking jokes about how this death tasted better than the last.

The door hissed shut behind Vik, sealing the room once more in silence. The only movement now was the gentle sway of the ropes, the slow drip of fluids into the drain, and the occasional shudder of Keto’s cooling muscles as his nervous system fired its last, futile signals. David’s body hung limp beside him, his fur damp with sweat and other fluids, his muzzle slack, his eyes glazed over. His toes curled slightly, a final, unconscious twitch, before settling into stillness. The drain gurgled softly beneath them, swallowing the last of their offerings.