Prince Rupert's Drop
By Musuko

As clear as ice. As strong as steel, if you hit it in the right way. You can pound it with a hammer, but it will not shatter.
	But deep inside, residual stresses lace back and forth. Held in an uneasy balance, they lie dormant, but ready. When the right spot is pressured, the energy is released.
	Explosively.

He stared at the glittering shards at his feet. The tumbler trembled in his hand. The silver tray, so recently held aloft by the life-size glass statue, where it had borne six more tumblers, rang like a bell as it spun on the floor, around and around, rising in a crescendo of accusing disgrace, before settling into sullen silence. The spilled liqueur from the tumblers dripped and trickled amongst the shattered glass.
	In the back of Koda's throat, a tiny, terrified whimper snuffed itself into silence, too scared to even make itself known. Slowly, he turned and looked back towards the bar. There, amongst the dozen staring, agape faces, was one that smouldered with the threat of an oncoming hurricane; the bartender, owner, proprietor, king of this decadent little kingdom.
	“I barely touched it,” protested Koda in a squeal.
	Someone coughed. Elsewhere, in a distant part of the bar, around a corner or up the stairs, someone laughed at an unheard joke. The soft smack of a flogger came, followed by an even softer moan. The owner of the Spiral Fetish Bar narrowed his eyes. Koda's eyes, meanwhile, widened, and he quickly hid the tumbler behind his back.
	“Come here,” rumbled the owner. His voice was quiet, but somehow sounded louder than thunder. Koda felt the fur on his neck stand on end. He felt sweat prickle under the chafing leather of his jacket and the denim of his uncomfortably-tight jeans.
	“I didn't mean to...”
	The owner had bared his teeth. When a wolf bares his teeth at you, a wise fox shuts his mouth.
	Someone fished the tumbler from his hand as he threaded his way through the chuckling and muttering patrons. Koda tried not to look at them. It wasn't difficult; the wolf's angry eyes filled the universe.
	“In there,” growled the wolf, jerking a finger towards a door marked 'STAFF ONLY'. Koda hunched his shoulders and lowered his head and scurried on past. Someone behind him whooped and jeered.
	“You!” shouted the wolf to the wag. “You've just volunteered to clear that mess up. Do it or you're barred!”
	More jeers, but this time from the other patrons. They were snuffed out to total silence as the door slid shut. Now, Koda was alone with the wolf inside a tiny office, where a desk threatened to collapse beneath the weight of paperwork atop it.
	Koda backed uneasily against a wall. The wolf was between him and the door. He filled most of the room. If Koda hadn't already been cowed by his powerful physique and fearsome scowl, the full suite of leather; chaps, jacket, boots and cap, would have tipped him over the edge.
	“I'm sorry,” he stammered. “Please...I'll pay for it.”
	“Oh you will?” growled the wolf. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the door-frame. Koda could have sworn the wood creaked. “Do you have any idea how much that statue cost?”
	“I'm sure I can-”
	“Sixteen-thousand dollars to the artist, and another five-hundred to ship it. That's even if the artist is willing to make another one.”
	“Sixteen-thousand!”
	“And five-hundred.”
	“But...but that's...”
	The wolf sighed. “I take it, then, that you don't have that kind of money?”
	Koda tried to think. There was six-hundred in the bank, but he needed four-hundred of that for rent next week. Then there was food, and the utilities at the end of the month. He had the credit card, but that maxed out at two-thousand. Maybe the bank could give him a loan and he could...
	He shook his head. Who was he kidding? There was no way. “Please, I'm sorry. Isn't there insurance or something like that?”
	The wolf straightened up and stepped forward, a hand reaching out to him. Koda's shoulder-blades tried to carve an escape tunnel through the wall behind him. He clenched his eyes shut and braced for pain.
	Papers rustled. Koda opened his eyes.
	Loose sheets of paper cascaded across the piles on the desk as the wolf pulled one free. Koda recognised it in an instant; it was the form he had filled in barely two hours earlier, when he had been first allowed to enter the bar. Koda winced as he remembered signing the waiver; the waiver that said...and yes, now the wolf was helpfully holding the sheet in front of him and tapping a claw against the bold-type text...'ALL PATRONS ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY DAMAGES THEY MAY CAUSE WHILE ON THE PREMISES'.
	“Yes, but...surely you don't expect me to-”
	“You smashed the statue.”
	“But I didn't! I barely touched it! I was just getting a drink and it exploded!”
	The wolf slammed his hand, and the form, down on the desk, causing a landslide of paperwork, and causing Koda to jump and nearly pass out from fright.
	“You were the only one near it,” growled the wolf in a low, threatening tone. “You touched it, it shattered. You are responsible, and you signed the waiver agreeing to that responsibility. Now, how are you intending to pay for it?”
	“I...I don't know. I don't have that kind of money.”
	The wolf sighed and, mercifully, stepped back towards the door. “It'll be for the courts then.”
	“The courts? No, you can't do that, please! They'll bankrupt me! I'll lose my job! You can't be a bankrupt accountant!”
	“You're an accountant, hmm? That could be useful.” said the wolf, glancing back at the paperwork. Koda looked too.
	“Uhh...trainee accountant.”
	The wolf closed his eyes and shook his head, sighing. Koda knew that look. It said; give me strength. “Useless, then,” he growled.
	“There must be...something I can do to pay it off?”
	Koda knew it was a mistake before the words had even left his lips. But it was too late; they were out now. The wolf opened his eyes, and now they were smiling. This was the look his ancestors must have given to deer before they tore away their throats. Koda could see every tooth in that wide, smiling maw.
	“I think I might have a job for you...”

Koda had expected to have to do something that was demeaning and disgraceful. After all, he had rolled out the age-old line fed to so many traffic cops the world over; he had offered to pay for his debt with something other than money. He imagined that would include someone's fly being unzipped, followed by moaning and crying and gasping, followed by a shower.
	He had not expected what actually did happen. Demeaning and disgraceful it truly was, but not in the way he had imagined.
	“What?” said the wolf with a laugh. “You think your little butt's worth sixteen grand? Dream on, little fox. I'd have to fuck you about a thousand times for you to pay that way, and even I don't have the stamina to manage that without a year or so to do it in. Now, hold still while I get these last measurements.”
	“Do I really have to be naked for this? Hey!”
	Koda grabbed his hands down towards his crotch, but he was too slow; the wolf's great big fingers clenched snugly around his balls, pulling them down. His other hand smacked Koda's hands away, then looped the tape-measure around the neck of his ball-sack.
	“Why do you have to measure there?” he whined. “What kind of uniform is this?”
	“Special one,” said the wolf. “One that'll fit perfectly with the theme of my establishment. When my patrons look at you they'll know exactly what kind of fun they can get up to in Ragar's famous Spiral Fetish Bar.”
	At least, thought Koda, he didn't need to ask for the wolf's name now. Some comfort to know that he now had a name for the guy who was fondling his balls. Shame he couldn't have learned it before the fondling started.
	“Hmm,” said Ragar. “You're a little small down there.”
	“Hey!”
	“I won't be able to get you into a full uniform today; I don't have all the parts to fit you properly. But don't worry, I'll have them ready by the end of the day. You'll be fully dressed for tomorrow.”
	“Tomorrow? But, I thought it was just for today!”
	Ragar blinked. “You're kidding, right​?” He looked at Koda's earnest expression, then burst into laughter. “Oh man, you do think highly of yourself don't you? No, little boy, you aren't going to be paying off a sixteen-thousand dollar debt in just one night. You're going to be working here for a long time to come.”
	“How long?”
	“Six months or so.”
	“Six months!?”
	“Or so.”
	“But...but my job at the bank...”
	“Do you work at the bank at night?”
	“No, but...”
	“Then there's no problem. You work your day job at the bank, then at night you join me here to work off your debt. Do you have a problem with that?”
	Koda was acutely aware that the wolf still had his fingers wrapped around his balls. “N-no, no problem.”
	“Excellent. Now, let's get you into the parts of your uniform that I do have ready, and let's get you serving drinks.”
	“B-but I've never served drinks before! I don't know how!”
	Ragar looked at Koda in a way that made the fox want to shiver and curl up somewhere hidden. His legs went jelly-like and his skin felt cold in a way that his nakedness couldn't account for. There was only one word to describe the look that Ragar had given Koda's naked body; leering.
	“I'm sure you'll learn quickly,” said the wolf, with a smile.

The uniform was a travesty of decency! Koda could barely keep his embarrassed whimpers contained. This was awful! He felt like some kind of freak on display.
	The collar wasn't too bad. He had worn something like it a few times before; it was thick, and it was leather, and it was so wide that it nudged against his collarbone and prodded the underside of his muzzle if he tilted his head to look down, but it wasn't all that racy, considering the venue.
	But the fist-sized, heavy padlock that Ragar had fitted to it, at the front, where anyone and everyone could see it; that was something else.
	“For appearances,” Ragar had said. “The guests like it when a boy looks locked up.”
	For appearances indeed! Koda hadn't dared to question why the 'cosmetic' padlock had, nonetheless, been properly locked, and why Ragar had pocketed the key. Now, the padlock weighed heavily at his neck, repeatedly bumping into the naked fur of his chest, constantly reminding him that it was there. As if he needed the reminder; the leers of the patrons were enough.
	Not that they were leering at him just because of the collar; each wrist and both ankles were adorned with matching leather cuffs. These too were padlocked on. The ones on his wrists were especially problematic; they bumped and clinked against glasses and bottles as he tried his best to serve drinks. If he wasn't careful, they would...
	He watched in terrified slow-motion as the bottle tipped away from its glancing impact with the padlock on his left wrist. Rocking, teetering, it finally succumbed to gravity and launched itself towards the floor. He flailed towards it, grazing a fingertip against the glass, almost catching it. But 'almost' was of no use at all. At the last moment he jumped backwards to escape the spray of shattered glass and splashing whiskey.
	Ragar sighed and shook his head. His arms were folded across his thick chest.
	“That was a sixty-dollar bottle,” he said.
	“I'm sorry,” muttered Koda. He fidgeted his hands on his thighs. There was one final aspect of his outfit that was making him squirm; the fact that, aside from the collar and the cuffs, there was nothing else. He was practically naked. Ragar had promised him the final part to his uniform later, which he assured Koda would hide the shameful nakedness of his crotch. But 'later' was not now, and right now Koda felt like a shamed child, exposed and vulnerable, under Ragar's scornful glare.
	“Only one hour in and you've managed to do this,” said Ragar. “So, of the original sixteen-thousand, and five-hundred debt, you've worked off ten dollar's worth...and managed to destroy sixty-dollars-worth of stock. You're meant to be reducing your debt, little fox, not increasing it.”
	Koda felt the smirks of the patrons behind him.
	“But...but the padlock...”
	The wolf didn't say anything. He didn't have to. He just raised an eyebrow into an expression that made Koda want to dig a hole and hide in it. The expression said; think carefully about what you say next.
	“N-nevermind,” said Koda.
	“Good boy. Back to work. And I think, given this disaster, we'll have you be a floor angel for a while.”
	“Floor angel?”

Fetching empty glasses, wiping down tables, cleaning spills. It would have been very normal, had he not been nearly naked. Balancing a tray of sticky glasses and weaving through knots of drunken patrons had added distractions; with his hands occupied, he had no way to fend off the slaps and swats and pinches. His butt was raw and sore from all the attention.
	“Five glasses was it? That's another fifteen dollars,” said Ragar after one particularly amorous patron had landed a stinging palm against his rear that caused a pained flinch that sent the tray and glasses flying.
	“You're lucky you didn't hurt anyone!” said Ragar.
	Wiping the tables had its own dangers; Koda was not the tallest fox ever made, and the tables were wide and low. Cleaning the middles meant leaning all the way over and stretching his arms, standing on tiptoes, placing his naked butt right on the edge. His pleas for a stool or stepladder fell on uncaring ears. His shamed cries as patrons fondled and swatted his propped-up butt weren't ignored; they were enjoyed.
	“Presenting for me, fox?” rumbled a Doberman with whiskey breath and thick, bristly-knuckled fingers that prodded under Koda's tail. He tried to stand up straight and escape, but the Doberman leaned the bulk of his weight down over him.
	“I'm just trying to do my job,” Koda pleaded.
	“Oh, so you're not wanting to be fucked right here over this table?”
	“N-no!”
	The Doberman's hand clenched Koda's shoulder and tugged, flipping the protesting fox over. Koda's hands pressed in vain against the leather-clad chest of the canine, who neither moved away nor moved closer; he was at just the right distance to look down Koda's naked, pinned body, and see the half-hard cock his traitorous body was showing.
	The Doberman chuckled. “Enjoy it while it lasts, little fox.”
	And then he let go and sauntered back across the bar.
	“W-what?” whimpered Koda. Nobody listened.
	Cleaning the spills was the worst job. There was no good way to do it without putting himself into some kind of awkward situation. If he crouched, that put his muzzle at crotch height, and one of the customers always happened to wander right in front of him while he was distracted with the sponge. He would lift his head to find his nose bumping right into someone's crotch. If he was lucky, they were clothed.
	If he got down onto all fours, he would avoid this danger, but expose himself to another; getting down on all fours when you're naked and in a fetish bar is a sure-fire way to get saucy comments at the least, and gropes and probing fingers at the most.
	Whatever he did, he couldn't go more than two steps without someone stroking his side or pinching his butt or snagging an arm around him to drag him into an unwelcome, booze-breathed embrace. Constantly, he had the feeling that he was dodging a worse fate; that a thin line of luck lay between these gropes and being dragged off into a dark corner to be molested. Thoughts of the Doberman lingered, making him shiver.
	He started to notice the music. It'd been playing all night, of course. But he hadn't really paid any attention to the rhythm. There were no words; just a thumping bass beat and a soft, warbling undertone. There was something like a voice, whispering, just at the edge of hearing. A nice voice. Warm and friendly, but deep and commanding. He couldn't quite make out what it was saying. But, every now and then, he jerked his head up, thinking that someone had spoken his name.
	As the night wore on he felt himself relaxing into the job. It wasn't so bad, really. He was getting lots of admiring looks, and the work wasn't all that hard. And really, the Doberman's threat to fuck him was...well...wasn't that the sort of thing that tempted him to come here in the first place? He didn't want to rush into anything like that, of course, but...
	Ragar snapped his fingers and caught Koda's attention.
	“The rest of your uniform is ready,” he said.
	Koda smiled wearily. His fur was wet with sweat and sticky with beer. His knees ached from crawling around, and his nerves were frazzled. But he had worked hard, and now he was going to get his reward; finally, he was going to get some modesty.
	Ragar smiled back, and it killed the smile on Koda's face. He beckoned for the little fox to follow him into the tiny office.
	“Sit,” said Ragar.
	Koda perched on the tattered office chair. Something on the desk caught his eye; a space had been cleared in the paperwork mountain, and in it sat a small, white, cardboard box.
	“Is that my uniform?” he said.
	“Smart kid,” said Ragar. “Now, spread your legs and keep still.”
	Koda's knees moved themselves apart before Koda had much of a chance to think about it. His brain caught up and made him twitch and blush. Obeying had been so instinctive.
	Ragar opened the top of the box. Koda couldn't resist leaning over to peek. He caught a flash of chrome before Ragar's hand closed over it.
	“What is that?” said Koda, all thoughts of leather shorts or hot-pants dashed. Maybe he'd just seen the belt-buckle of some nice, normal jeans? But he didn't really hold out much hope for that...
	“My customers are rather a raunchy bunch, as you may have noticed. I fill their stomachs with relaxing alcohol and I fill their heads with tempting suggestions. Their hands start to itch and they try to get their mitts on anything that looks appealing. Usually, that's each-other. Sometimes it's the floor angels, when I have one on my books. And when it's a floor angel that looks as cute as you do...”
	Koda flushed and nibbled his lower lip.
	“I intend to get that sixteen-grand's worth of work out of you, little fox. And I can't do that if you're getting constantly distracted, can I?”
	“You could...tell them not to keep touching me all the time?”
	“That's not the kind of distraction I'm talking about. That sort of thing doesn't stop you doing your job. In fact, that's part of your job. It keeps the customers entertained and happy. And when they're happy, I'm happy. But what if you get it into your head to start acting like one of the customers? What if you get itchy hands yourself? What if this starts taking charge?”
	Koda squeaked as Ragar's large hand closed around his crotch. There was a squeeze; just a slight pressure, but enough to make Koda wriggle.
	“I'll j-just concentrate, that's all,” said Koda. “I won't get distracted.”
	“Oh I know you won't. That's what the uniform is for.”
	Ragar lowered himself down onto his knees, squeezing himself into the small space between Koda's chair and the door. For a moment, Koda got the dizzying idea that Ragar was about to give him a blowjob. But then he got his first good look at the chrome 'uniform'; a short metal tube connected to a wider, thinner, metal ring.
	Koda was not entirely naïve. He knew a chastity device when he saw one.
	“Hey, wait a sec, what's that for?”
	“I told you what it's for. It's your uniform,” said Ragar. Already he was fitting the ring, grabbing and tugging Koda's balls slightly downwards to give it room. “To keep you focused.”
	“But...”
	He stopped, feeling frozen.
	Back when he was a young teenager, he had broken his arm falling out of a tree; the pain had been unbearable, once the adrenaline wore off, and he had deafened the poor paramedics in the ambulance and the nurses in the hospital with his screaming and crying. Finally, a doctor appeared, and with him came a needle. Normally, Koda would have fought to get away from it, but he had bigger distractions at the time. The needle went into his arm and the fluid inside the syringe washed its way into his bloodstream.
	The pain didn't subside, but he no-longer cared; he floated, numb and serene, deliriously peaceful.
	Koda was feeling a ghost of that sensation now, as Ragar eased the cold chrome tube over his cock. A nagging part of his mind was telling him that he should be protesting and fighting, that this was way more intrusive than the collar and the cuffs and the naked crawling. But the rest of him didn't care. A big, warm, fluffy blanket was draped over his soul, and everything was as it should be.
	The padlock went click...

The rest of the night went by as a blur. The music thrummed in Koda's ears. The floor scraped his knees as he crawled and cleaned. The patrons slapped his rear and tugged at his chastity device while he cleared away empty glasses. All the while he floated serene in a morphine-like trance. He still couldn't hear the words the whispered voice in the music was saying, but he could hear the voice all the time.
	Until he stepped outside at four in the morning, wearing the chastity, collar and cuffs, and nothing else, underneath his long coat. The cold night air hit him like a blast of freezing water. The fog cleared from his head.
	“Hey! You didn't unlock...”
	But the door behind him was closed and locked. Above him, the neon sign flickered off.
	In the darkness of the neighbouring building's shadow, a red spot flared and glowed. A drift of smoke rose up to catch the orange hue from the street-lights.
	“Need a ride?” said the Doberman.
	Koda spun around. The fur down his spine rose up against his coat. The street was cold and empty. He shared it with the Doberman alone. This was not good.
	“No thanks,” he said, failing to keep a tremor from creeping into his voice. “I can walk home.”
	The cigarette flared again, then spun off through the air to bounce on the dirty concrete in a spray of embers. The Doberman stepped forward, still shrouded in darkness, but now the street-light glinted in his eyes and on his smiling teeth. “That's not the kind of ride I meant, fox.”
	A heartbeat passed before instincts suppressed in the many hours previously now came surging back; Koda leaped, and started to run.
	“You little...” growled the Doberman. Koda didn't dare turn around and look; he didn't need to. He could hear the Doberman's pounding footfalls behind him, and the harsh, guttural rasp of his panting breathing. Koda ducked his head and concentrated on running. There must be somewhere open somewhere nearby; an all-night diner, or twenty-four-hour store...anything! Somewhere where he could find other people and sanctuary.
	His foot came down hard on a wonky paving slab and his leg wobbled. His entire body was already exhausted from the bar work. Now, it was being asked to sprint. His muscles complained. His stiff joints protested. And, miserably, his pace slackened, and the Doberman, striding on legs longer than Koda's, was gaining on him. The falling feet became heavy thuds, just behind him. He thought he could feel the Doberman's breath on his back and feel the evil in his smile.
	And then a large, powerful hand grabbed his shoulder...

The street was dark. The alley was darker. A tight space wedged between tall brick buildings. No windows. A dumpster, and a slew of detritus around its base, fragments of cardboard and plastic floating in an oily puddle. There were no street-lights opposite the mouth of the alley, and the far end was capped with a high wall topped with spikes.
	The Doberman stood in the mouth of the alley, clutching Koda's coat. Koda's shoulder and jaw ached, bruises sure to form.
	“Going to stop being an idiot?” growled the Doberman through a grin.
	“Go away! Leave me alone!”
	“That isn't a very friendly thing to say, little fox. Don't you know that words have power?”
	“What are you talking about?” Koda glanced up at the wall, wondering if he could scramble up it. The spikes, though...
	“You know what I'm talking about. At least, part of you does.” The Doberman stepped closer, and Koda shrank back against the wall. “Words like 'good fox slaves know to crawl on their knees'. Those are powerful words.”
	Koda's breath caught. The foggy feeling was back, just for a moment. And while it faded, he felt an itchy, urgent need to kneel, as if standing was uncomfortable and being down on the floor was the right and proper place to be.
	“What...what are you...”
	“And then there's words like 'present your rear to anyone who asks.' Remember that one?”
	Again came the wave of pleasant relaxation, crashing against his fear and eroding it. His fingers felt the rough bricks behind him. The urge to turn around was alarmingly strong.
	“What...”
	The Doberman chuckled. He folded Koda's coat in half, then tossed it towards the dumpster. It landed on the lid, then slithered and fell to the ground, half in the filthy puddle. “Words have power, and you're struggling to say anything. What does that say about the amount of power you have, fox? Now, or ever?” The Doberman was closer now, an arm's length away.
	“Turn around,” said the Doberman, his voice low and soft, rumbling. “And present your rear to anyone who asks. And I am asking you to present your rear.”
	Slowly, shakily, Koda turned around to face the wall.
	Reflecting later on what happened next, Koda decided that it could have been a lot worse. He could have staggered home with more than a sore rear and a tight-feeling chastity device. He could have been killed.
	The pop of the plastic cap was like a gunshot, making him jump. He felt the Doberman's presence right behind him; the heat of his breath on his neck, the waft of scent from his fur. And then a new scent, accompanied by a squelching, squirting noise. Lube.
	“Please be gen-”
	“Shut up!”
	Cold fingers pushed down between his cheeks, smearing frigid lube. He clung to the wall, claws scratching at the bricks, and hissed between his teeth.
	“You think that's uncomfortable?” said the Doberman. “Just you wait.”
	Clothing rustled and a belt-buckle clattered. Koda turned his head, but the Doberman slammed a hand against his cheek and ground his muzzle against the wall, pinning it there.
	“No peeking. It's a surprise.”
	The probing fingers pressed up against his hole, claws raking against the sensitive flesh. Koda started to struggle, and the hand on his head pressed harder. Raw, sandpaper pain blossomed in his cheek.
	“Present your rear!”
	Koda's tail rose. He lifted onto his tiptoes, his boots creaking. A soft, confused whimper escaped his lips. He felt the Doberman press his body against his back, clothes against naked fur. His tummy crushed against the wall. The chastity device scraped the bricks and pressed uncomfortably into his inner thighs. He felt a pulse, a surge...the definite dribbling sense of leaking precum. He closed his eyes and tried not to whimper again, as the pressure of something far larger than a pair of fingers worked its way between his lube-slick cheeks.
	“I know exactly what you need, little fox. There's a voice speaking to you...it wants you to want this.”
	The Doberman shoved forward, against Koda, into Koda. A pain unlike anything he had ever known drove deep inside. His claws carved scratches into the bricks. The Doberman's heavy breath washed over his ear.
	“Good foxes love to be fucked,” whispered the Doberman. Instantly, the happy fog rolled back in, and his body slumped. The pain faded. A soft, mewling whimper filtered out with his panting. The Doberman started to thrust. There was no patience. Hard, fast...deep. Just the way that good foxes like it, said the whisper in Koda's head.

“See you tomorrow,” said the Doberman, tossing Koda's wet and dirty coat onto the ground in front of him. A parting gift of shame, for Koda to shiver inside on his aching walk back home.
	Standing in front of the mirror, Koda inspected himself. His fur was lank and filthy with dirt and sweat. He looked exhausted, and he felt it. His inner thighs were slick with lube and the Doberman's cum. And then there were the collar, cuffs and chastity. All of them were padlocked on. None of them responded well to being yanked. It only served to make him yelp in discomfort. Especially the chastity. There was no give there. The slightest tug felt like his balls were being slapped. No wonder Ragar had taken such careful measurements. It couldn't possibly fit any more snugly.
	“Great,” muttered Koda, staring at himself, at the collar on his neck, the collar that in no way could be hidden under a shirt. “Guess I'm calling in sick tomorrow.”
	He showered. He slept. And that night, he dreamt of shattering glass and leering perverts and clicking padlocks. He woke at six in the morning, and then again at seven and nine, each time yanked from his slumber by the unpleasant ache of an erection that had nowhere it could go. The first two times, he was able to get back to sleep after completing some complicated equations in his head. But the third one would not quit. Back to the shower he went. Cold water this time.
	He made his call, pleading illness, and got his day off. Now, once more, he inspected the padlocks and wondered if bolt-cutters would get through them. Not that he had any, of course. He could go out and buy some...but that would mean showing off the collar to the world.
	He almost slapped himself when it finally occurred to him; why not just cut through the leather? It wouldn't get the chastity device off, of course, but it would release him from the rest, and then he could dress normally, go outside, go to work, and be normal. He got all the way to the drawer with the scissors before he paused and reconsidered. How much were they worth? How much more in debt to Ragar would he be?
	How easy would it be to cut them off anyway, get bolt-cutters for the chastity, and then just...run? Start a new life somewhere new? People did it all the time, surely.
	But Ragar had seen his ID. He knew his name, all his details. Hell, Koda had offered most of it willingly when he signed that damn form. Unless he changed his name and went into some kind of weird witness protection scheme, there was no way to stop a determined hunter from tracking him down. Debts always catch up to you. And that's just in the legitimate world. What techniques would Ragar use?
	Koda groaned and put the scissors back. He was trapped, just as much as his cock was. The only real way out would be to declare bankruptcy, and that would mean saying goodbye to his career. Besides, good foxes...
	He stopped the thought before it could finish. He coughed, wandered back through his house, feeling a little dazed, and tried to find something to distract himself. Idly, he fondled the chastity tube, trying to squeeze through the metal. It didn't occur to him until halfway through the afternoon that he hadn't bothered to put any clothes on. Well, that made sense anyway; good foxes don't...
	He bit his lip and whined. This was crazy! Not even one day with his cock locked away and he was already thinking weird things. He checked the clock and made a decision; surely the bar would be open by now, at least just to start stocking up and taking the chairs down from the tables. He grabbed his coat, wrapped up as best as he could, tugging up the collar, and set off.
	Forgetting, still, to put any other clothes on. Because good foxes don't hide their bodies with clothes.

“You're early,” said Ragar. “I think I like that. Eagerness is good.”
	“I'm here because of these,” said Koda, tugging at the padlock on his collar. “I couldn't go to work today because of this.”
	“You should have just asked for the key.”
	“I did!”
	“Did you?”
	“I...think I did.”
	Ragar smiled. “Well, all you need to do is ask. So don't forget to ask tonight, and I'll make sure you're unlocked when you go home, alright?”
	“Does that include...” Koda rubbed awkwardly at his crotch through his coat.
	“Sure, why not.” Ragar turned to stack a bottle on a shelf. “Oh, Koda? Good foxes don't hide their bodies with clothes.”
	Koda was halfway out of the coat before he realised; the voice he had heard whispering in the music was Ragar's.

People. So many people. In and out and swarming around him. On his feet, cleaning the tables, or crawling and mopping the floor, clearing up spills that seemed to happen unusually frequently when he was nearby. Slaps and pinches to his rear. Grabbing fingers tugging at his chastity, making him yelp. And music, softly whispering, bringing the contented fog.
	“New one?” said one of the patrons, within Koda's earshot.
	“Yeah,” said another. “Broke the statue.”
	“Ah,” said the first. “One of those. Poof!” He made an explosion motion with his fingers, then turned away with his companion before Koda could hear anything more.
	The Doberman made his presence known by catching Koda's wrist and squeezing it. His toothy smile filled Koda's view.
	“Sleep well?” he rumbled.
	“Yes,” said Koda. “I was...very tired.”
	“Good. I'm glad you're well-rested. Maybe you won't waste energy running tonight, and you won't be so tired. Maybe you'll be a good fox from the very start.”
	Koda said nothing. The Doberman let go and laughed as he sauntered away. Koda felt a chill, reminded of the cold alley. Fucked by a stranger, and he didn't even know his name. All because...
	He hurried over to the bar and gripped its edge, leaning forward and shouting for Ragar's attention. A drunken patron at his side draped an arm across his naked shoulders. Koda ignored him.
	“You put something in the music, didn't you!”
	“Did I?” said Ragar.
	“You're...doing something with my head!”
	“Don't be silly, little fox. That sort of thing doesn't happen for real. All that magic mind-control stuff in movies? You can't make someone do something they don't want to do.”
	“Yes, but...”
	“Why do you ask?” Ragar leaned forward over the bar. His weight and presence was enough to make Koda shrink back. “You been doing things that you wouldn't normally do?”
	“N-no, no reason. Of course not. I, uh...”
	“You've got work to be doing.”
	“Yeah, I've got work to do. I best go...”
	“You'd best go be a good fox. And don't forget to present your rear to anyone who asks.”
	In a fog-headed daze, Koda wandered away, in search of a table to clean, his tail held high.
	He left that night wearing his uniform and his coat. The door closed behind him and the fog lifted.
	“Fuck,” he said. He had forgotten to ask for the keys. How could he be so stupid? Another night of frustration in the chastity. Another day of pretending to be sick so his employers didn't know he was trapped in a collar.
	“Yes, we will,” said the Doberman, walking towards him, smiling. This time, Koda didn't run. He was a good fox.

Ragar's smile was surprisingly sympathetic. Koda sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Ragar reached over and stroked his cheek. Koda leaned into it. He was used to being touched.
	“So, then, they demanded that I come into work or provide a note from my doctor, or I would be fired. And I forgot to ask for the key again the night before...”
	Just like the night before that, and the sixteen nights before that. His balls throbbed all day and night. Nights were restless and filled with achingly-arousing sexual dreams. Every night the Doberman would be outside the bar, waiting for him. Sometimes it would happen right there, between the buildings. Other times, it would be an alley, or in the bushes in the park, or in the back of the Doberman's car. Never his home, though. Not yet, anyway.
	“What did you do?” said Ragar.
	“I went into work. I had to. I tried to explain, but they saw the collar right away. And...and they fired me on the spot. What am I going to do? I've got no money! I owe you thousands. As soon as I fail to make rent next month I'll be homeless!”
	“Poor little fox.”
	“Could you...could you maybe forgive the debt? Or at least let me pay it off later?”
	Ragar shook his head. “Sorry. But I can do something even better. Follow me.”
	The room in the back was little more than a store room, stacked with boxes and crates of beer. A single light-bulb hung on a naked wire. The walls were painted breeze-blocks. There was no heating. Koda shivered.
	Ragar shoved aside a crate. It must have weighed more than Koda, but the wolf moved it as if it were nothing. Behind it was a dog cage. It looked old; the paint on some of the bars was flaking, and the bars themselves were thick and strong, not like the light-weight modern equivalents. Inside was a tattered old blanket. It stank of feral dog musk, and from the looks of it the fabric was more dog hair than cotton.
	“Rex used to sleep here. He was a good dog.”
	“Uh. Okay...”
	“You need a place to live, don't you?” Ragar nudged the cage door open. Koda noticed the padlock right away; that wasn't old and decayed. It was shiny and new.
	“You want me to sleep...in there?”
	Ragar put his arm across Koda's shoulders. He put more than his weight on him, coaxing Koda's knees to buckle, for him to drop down onto all fours, inexorably pushed towards the open cage.
	“Rent free,” said Ragar. “And you won't have to worry about anyone seeing your uniform if you forget to ask for the keys again. And you'll be here all day and night; you'll work off your debt even faster!”
	Koda wasn't thinking about any of that. His thoughts were on his aching, straining cock, as he crawled forward into the snug, musky cage. Close behind him, he heard the all-to-familiar sound of a padlock clicking shut.
	“You'll have it paid off before you know it, little fox.”

Eight and a half months passed. Koda's balance meandered up and down, depending on breakages. But slowly, and with patience, the debt depleted, until finally, one day, Koda arrived to the bar, fresh and clean and naked aside from his uniform, to find Ragar and the regular patrons, including the Doberman, waiting for him. A gunshot pop made him jump as the cork flew out of a bottle of sparkling wine.
	“Congratulations,” said Ragar. “As of tonight, assuming you don't break anything, your debt to me is officially clear!”
	The patrons cheered, each one grinning. Koda flushed and smiled, walking towards them. A hand offered him a glass, and he took it.
	“And I have one more surprise,” said Ragar. He cast a great arm up to point across the room. There, stood in the place of its predecessor, was an elegant glass statue of a naked fox.
	“It's...me!” cried Koda.
	“I thought it would be fitting; you're replacing the old statue, in more ways than one.”
	They celebrated. In turns, they admired the statue. Koda drank and laughed and smiled. Still, he fetched away glasses and brought fresh drinks out. His rear still caught slaps and pinches. He still felt the foggy euphoria of being in this place. In a few hours he will be free. Ragar would take the chastity device off. He would finally get to cum. He would be allowed to leave the cage in the back room. He could have his life back. It would all start afresh.
	Ragar called him over. He handed Koda a rag. “One last job for you,” he said. “Polish up the statue. I want it looking as shiny as possible for its first proper showing tomorrow.”
	Koda smiled, flushed, slightly drunken, his cock aching in its prison, obsessed with the upcoming temptation of freedom. He wandered over to the statue, smiling up at the mirror-image that smiled back down at him. He didn't notice the tiny loop of steel wire that wrapped around the claw of the second toe of the statue's left foot. He had no way of knowing that the wire connected to a tiny motor, hidden in the plinth beneath the statue, nor could he know that the remote Ragar held hidden in his pocket would trigger this motor. Such a tiny motor, only able to tug the wire with the tiniest of force. But when that force is on exactly the right spot on a glass statue that has been cast as a Prince Rupert's Drop, a tiny force is all that's needed.
	Koda reached up with the rag, thinking of freedom. He touched it to the glass cheek of the statue's smiling face.
	Ragar pressed his button.