Big Cat Afternoon
© 2012 by Digitaltf

Big Cat Afternoon 1: Intro

I leaned back in my office chair and took a deep breath. I looked out the window across the enclosures and the people milling about and thought "What a life. Wish I could…" Then the realization came to me and I mentally toyed with the thought for awhile. I looked at the clock which read 11:45 and I thought to myself "Hm… If I make my own lunch that'd be a half hour, if I grab something from the lunch cart that'd be only 15 minutes… The paperwork is caught up, nothing seems to be going wrong out and about…" I skewed my jaw and thought whether I should really do what I was thinking of doing. "Fuck it, I can skip lunch," I smiled and got up from my desk.

I headed down the stairs and out into the park. Well, "park" would likely be a bit of a misnomer. Well, perhaps not. Most people think of an amusement park or a city park, but this was sort of somewhere in between a picnic place with a couple acres of lawns and a small zoo. Well, at least small by some standards. Coming through a gate marked "Authorized Personnel Only", I joined a clump of people as I walked past the foxes, the wolves, the petting zoo and headed around the loop to the cathouse. Well, at least that's what we tend to call it. It's somewhat of a recreation of a 1911 building designed to house the big cats. The design was tweaked to look like it'd been here next to forever, and was substantially built to play the part, but to also allow for our more modern handling techniques and care facilities.

I held one of the heavy brass-and-mitered-glass doors for the guests to enter as I followed them into the ivy-covered red brick structure. To enter it you literally do feel like you're stepping back in time to an age of polished brass handrails and black wrought-iron cages as you find yourself studying the murals painted on the cage walls, the heavy oak door marked "Private" with frosted impression glass and skeleton-key lock, the iron locks securing the cages that you could readily see being used on a stagecoach's Wells Fargo strongbox.

Personally I enjoy watching the public's reaction to this place. Some are awestruck at the seeming history of it, others are disgusted by it. You can readily tell which is which in the adults, but the children… I fish around my large keyring for the key and enter the door leading to the mezzanine level, the same level at which the cages are accessed. Walking along the brass-railed "terrace" between the cages and the public, I heard shouted up to me. "What are you doing? Going to feed the cats?"

Stopping, I turned as a group clumps near on the lower floor, about two feet below me, and answer questions for a bit, telling them that every so often we check the cats' medical conditions and do training with them. This, I informed them, was something not usually done in may zoos because the AZA – Association of Zoos and Aquariums – frowns upon the practice of having "trained" animals at their member zoos, but that many smaller zoos continue direct interaction with their animals, especially the larger carnivores, in order to better maintain their health with fewer problems and far fewer times being anesthetized for simple examinations that, with training, can routinely be performed with the animal fully conscious. I went on to explain that I was going to be moving some of the cats around for this purpose and to watch out when the male lion comes by, because he liked to play "squirt gun".

That statement always got a mixed reception – those that understood what I meant, and those that were confused. If many were confused I usually ended up explaining that male big cats turn their rump to something they want to mark with their scent and pee backwards on it, much like a dog lifts it's leg, and that some big cats can get a range of nearly 20 feet out of their stream. That usually embarrassed a few people in the crowd, but… oh well. They'd likely be telling their friends and co-workers about it the following day.

I turned and headed towards the lions, which were my target for the day. I watched them for a little bit as a couple milled about the indoor cage. Just as I'd suspected, most had come in out of the midday sun and were laid out taking their catnaps. Pickles – so named because of her affinity for the food, and for any vinegar-based stuff in general – was up harassing Hugo as I figured would be happening. She was just at the beginning of her heat and while she would tease him and crouch, she would get up and move away as soon as he would mount and start to get close to his target. Hugo, at the moment, wasn't playing her game and was voofing and batting at her with his forepaws as he laid with his back up against one of the masonry walls.

I called to her and she immediately padded towards the gate. In the reflection of my glasses I saw the crowd take a couple steps back from the barrier railing as she came right up to the gate while I flipped through my keys to the correct one for that lock. With a roar, she reared up and stretched, putting her forepaws on the cage bars on the gate and I leaned forward and kissed her nosie. In the periphery of my vision I saw more people came over in a semicircle, looking to see what was going on though they stayed a fair distance away due to their own fear of the big cats.

Unlocking the door, I slipped in and immediately Pickles pinned me to the cage bars and licked me. The crowd had drawn closer now that I was inside and I'm sure some were thinking they were going to be witness to a bloodbath.

Pickles' tongue, like all big cats, had barbs on it much like that of housecats, only proportionally larger and rougher, so her licking was tantamount to a coarse brillo pad rather than just the light sandpaper of a housecat. I turned some and got her in a somewhat-headlock as she moved to put her forepaws on my shoulders in a panthera hug. We stood there "hugging" each other for awhile before she backed off and dropped to all fours, deciding to rub against me like the oversized housecat she tends to be.

I stopped her from pushing me over and reached into my pocket for the webbing leash I usually use. Seeing this, she immediately stopped what she was doing and sat down in front of me, knowing this meant she was going to be going somewhere. Laughter came from the crowd as she did this, and I smiled, both inwardly and outwardly, as they bore witness to training really paying off in keeper/animal interaction.

Looping the webbing around her neck and holding onto the other loop as a handle, I guided her towards the door. There would be no realistic way for me to restrain her using the leash if she really wanted to head out somewhere, but it worked as it should as a guide. Out the gate we went, her tugging a bit at the end to look out at the crowd which had grown silent once again. After I locked the gate again, someone in the crown found the courage to ask "Can't she just… like… eat you if she wanted?"

I turned and nodded. "Yes, she can, but she doesn't want to. What you saw happening in there between her and Hugo, the one male lion, was a prelude to mating. Foreplay, more or less. She's in heat but not ready to receive a male just yet, so that's why I'm taking her out to spend some time in a different enclosure to prevent a breeding." Most of the crowd mouthed "Oh", as I turned and headed towards the end of the terrace and door to the stairs which led down to the main level as well as the "basement", which was really rooms beneath the cages. Pickles followed happily as the pneumatic closer shut the oaken door behind us and we headed down to the basement.

She knew those rooms quite well, as some were treatment rooms, quarrantine cages, holding pens, and a couple of small former-offices now used as storage rooms. She padded along placidly as I moved her to one of the holding pens at the far end of the structure. Nearby was the service tunnel that led to the powerhouse structure that provided heating, cooling, emergency electricity and other services to the zoo complex. It was also connected to many of the buildings in some way or another, and it was connected to the cathouse by a large-ish service tunnel – enough that a golf cart could navigate it alongside the pipes and cables for which it was designed. This was also the way we got the foodstuffs to the big cats from the loading dock at the powerhouse building.

She looked up at me curiously as I flipped on the lights – a combination of fluorescent and incandescent to try to mimic daylight – and shut the gate behind me. Even down here we kept things looking 19-teens and the cagework looked like it belonged to the building, only the locks tended to be different because the public wasn't generally allowed down here except under special educational circumstances.

Pickles nearly mewled and grabbed me again as I undid the leash. "Don't worry, girl, you'll like what I have in store for you later. But it's gotta be a surprise." She seemed to understand and settled herself on a loafing bench – a sort of wooden bench of moderate height for big cats to flop out on – and rolled around a bit to get comfortable. She watched me upside-down as I locked her in and pulled the lever opening the floor drain valve should she feel the need to answer nature's call.

I headed back up the stairs to the mezzanine again. A few of the people from before were still there and had other questions, which I dutifully stopped to answer. That was a big part of my job – or any keeper's job. Educating the public about what we were doing, more or less, was something important so that they could eventually understand that we weren't just sadistic prison guards but instead that much of what we did was to the physical and psychological benefit of the animals in our charge. Though explaining some things we did would be… quite problematic indeed. That was certainly the case with what I was about to do with Hugo when the public ran out of questions. It's not like I could have said "Yeah, I'm going to be doing X, Y and maybe Z to this male lion, most of which you'd find at the very least disgusting, or even severely perverted, but he really likes it!"

Some asked what I had done with Pickles and I explained that she was in a holding pen off public display. A couple wanted to know if she was alright and why only she had been moved. I answered that some of our females were on various forms of birth control, but that some cats, just like some humans, reacted adversely to some things and that Pickles was sort of a special case that required special handling. Some asked about the kinds of birth control methods we used and how we selected which females would be bred. I casually answered that those questions were simple questions with very long-winded and complicated answers and that if they were really interested they could get my email address at the front office. Realistically speaking, I generally sent a form letter to those emails and sometimes ignored them entirely. Another question was what was I going to do next. That was certainly a loaded one but I sort of glazed over it by saying I would be taking Hugo downstairs for a checkup. Someone piped up asking if he was going to get neutered. I couldn't help but laugh at that, as Jake, one of the other male lions in the exhibit, was indeed vasectomized. The group seemed to chuckle along, apart from some who were visibly shocked, but also leaned forward some more as I leaned on the rail and explained that if a male lion was castrated – the same as neutering a dog or housecat – that their mane would fall out if "fixed" as an adult, or not come in at all if sterilized as a youngster, making them look much like a lioness with the exception of head shape. I went on to explain that the only appropriate way of sterilizing a male lion while allowing them to keep their mane is by vasectomy, but that as a breeding facility we weren't inclined to do that unless medically necessary. The public seemed surprised to hear that AZA zoos limit the amount of big cats their member parks could produce, as part of their Species Survival Program matches, and seemed even more shocked to learn about the massive decline in African Lion populations over the past 50 years, since the focus and fundraising has routinely been to keep the feral tiger population afloat.

Hugo, for his part of things, had decided to get up from his nap and, having heard his name, started rubbing against the cage bars for attention. If the bars hadn't been as narrow as they were – one of the tweaks from the original 1911 design – he would have been able to swat my ass as I was explaining things to the people gathered to hear me speak and to learn about the cats. A couple pointed behind me and commented that he wanted to play. Turning around I looked at him and he sat down and let out a loud voof. Yes, voof. It's sort of like a stifled roar and lions sometimes repeat it like VOOF, VOOf, VOof, Voof, voof… several times in diminishing volume and tempo. I smiled and nodded, and stood to full height again and flipped through my keys, nodding to the group and saying that indeed that was what he was after. He knew that I was there for some reason and that he was curious what it might be. Slipping into the cage he headbutted me – right in the crotch, unfortunately, and proceeded to bounce around me a bit as though his legs were spring-loaded, his thick tail out rearwards with tip twitching in anticipation. I'm sure he could smell in my scent that I was in a good mood, and I knew from his reaction to Pickles that he must be somewhat horny. The few glimpses I had of his rear as he circled me verified that he was indeed a bit puffed up in his sheath, not that the public would really know unless they were so inclined.

I winked to the group and started doing something no one should really do around a big cat – started to move around quickly and playfully with him. Hugo had grown up around me, and so I knew I was reasonably safe to do so with him, even though there were others in the cage too, but many times big cats don't quite realize how fragile humans are when playing and tend to crack ribs accidentally, or create other injuries inadvertently in their play.

Hugo's face went first to a concerned expression, then a smile as he started bopping after me, and thankfully the others that were indoors decided to retreat to the safety of the outdoor enclosure or moved close to the walls as the 200 pounds of human and 400 pounds of lion hopped and bounced, dashed and dodged for a bit before I did a trained trick of ours. I ran from the back wall quickly to the cage bars and grabbed a low horizongal bar which was about waist height. Hugo, playing along, dashed after me and with two bounds caught up to me and leaped towards the bars. The look of shock and horror on the faces of the group outside was priceless as Hugo used my shoulders as a big of a springboard, planted both hindfeet on my hands, nearly crushing them, but his pawpads are reasonably soft, and while balancing in a near vertical position put his forepaws one atop the other on my head and roared out loudly.

Some lady out in the crowd screamed, and I couldn't help but laugh loudly as the bit of a performance ended. The crowd soon caught up and realized it was for show and with the command "Hugo, down," he slid down my back to land first on his hindpaws then all fours on the concrete floor. Applause came from the crowd as I looped the leash around his neck and guided him out through the gate to the terrace. One asked if he had been a circus lion, to which I answered that he had been raised here at the zoo, but that things like they had just witnessed not only give the cats something to do instead of being bored and coming up with their own things to do – many of which aren't necessarily a good thing for humans around them or their own health – but it enhances the level of bond between keeper and cat for the times when their health isn't the best, which results in greater trust when things would hurt, like exams, vaccinations, or simple medical treatments that in other zoos would require the cat be knocked out in order to treat them. I also cautioned them that what they saw would NEVER be appropriate unless there was that degree of bond and trust between keeper and cat, as it would result in the keeper quickly becoming a bloody mess being mopped up off the floor and shoveled up after passing through the cat.

That brought laughs from some and disgusted looks from others, and stares of awe from the kids in the crowd. Hugo decided he wanted to go and headed for the door to the stairs with me in tow. The crowd sort of walked along with us as they continued asking questions and I answered them as simply and quickly as I could. Having reached the door, I gave a couple tugs on the leash as a signal to Hugo and decided to show them one last thing. "Hugo, hug!"

Hugo turned and reared up, putting his forepaws on my shoulders and stretching beween me and the ground, then put his chin atop my head and wrapped his forepaws around my back, hugging me to him. That drew "Awwww"s from the group and I turned the knob, opening the door, and down we went with Hugo leading the way, clearly knowing something was in store for him that he'd likely enjoy. Through the closed door I heard a couple youngsters in the crowd asking their parents if they could get a pet lion, causing me to have hope for the future. If those kids kept that awe and mirth as they grew, then hands-on keeping of big cats would indeed continue instead of being stamped out by the naysayers.

Big Cat Afternoon 2: Hugo has some fun

Down the terrazo stairs we went, Hugo leading the way but not in any big hurry. We passed the door to the ground floor and headed down to the basement. I knew Hugo could smell the scent of Pickles as she had passed this way mere minutes ago, but figured that he wasn't too intent on breeding her just yet, given the display earlier in the indoor cage.

Having turned the corner, we reached the first, larger, exam/treatment room and I unlocked the door. The interior was dimly lit in a predawn manner by the light coming from the frosted glass panels along one edge of the ceiling, pouring light in from the main floor above. The windows were just below the terrace, and on the cage side of the public barrier rails, and in addition to providing some degree of light they also opened a bit to provide natural ventilation. People a hundred years ago thought long and hard before putting hammer to nail, or in this case putting mortar to bricks, and this building was no exception.

I flipped on the lights as Hugo padded into the room, and closed the door behind us. The sounds from the main floor told me the people had seen the change in lighting and some openly wondered what that was. I smiled as I knew their curiosity would be even greater if they had the first clue as to what was happening down here, or, more accurately, what was going to happen down here. Many would likely be disgusted, others intrigued, and quite a few sexually aroused. But that was why we didn't let people watch such things without intensive checking first. Kids would have too many questions and parents would be indignant about it all. Really a sad commentary about modern society, which seems to swing back further and further to Victorian prudishness every day, but that's something for another time.

Much like Pickles had done before, once the door was shut Hugo sat down and patiently waited for me to remove the leash, presuming he was where he was destined to be at the moment. I reached down and readily unlooped the leash from around his neck and knelt down to give him another hug. He returned the gesture with one paw around my shoulder and I murmured to him. "I think you'll like what you're down here for. You seemed to in the past, but today might be something a bit more."

Hugo drew back for a moment and seemed to study my face in reaction to that comment. His pupils little round black dots in a sea of amber as his expression was blank. He seemed to make his decision about what he thought of that somewhat enigmatic comment as his face relaxed into a leonine smile. I stood up and fuzzled his mane and he stood to follow me.

Over to one of the counters lining the periphery of the room I went and, looking through the contents of a couple drawers, I found what I was looking for. I broke off one dose from a foil-backed blister pack and tucked it in my armpit for the time being, it being the warmest safe place while I turned around and started checking Hugo by running my hands all over his pelt, including his massive mane, checking for anomalies and other signs of trouble. Around his front chest, both forelegs, I lifted each paw individually and checked it thoroughly, extending each claw in turn as Hugo just stood there, balancing on whichever three legs were available. He even licked my face apologetically when I made a sour expression after he pulled his right forepaw back prematurely because I hit one of the ticklish spots between his toes.

Along his spine and back to his rump I ran my hands, checked each hindpaw, ran my hand along his tail in a grasping manner, then lifted the appendage and touched his slightly-swollen scrotum. "Been saving up, Hugo? I'da bet that you would have licked yourself happy with Pickles teasing you like that." As I cupped his orbs he turned his head and smiled huge. Could it have been that he was expecting a day like today would be in his immediate future, even with Pickles tormenting him in such a manner? Either way, he wasn't telling, but his thickened sheath and tail kept up without my holding it told me he was enjoying my touch.

Getting the blister-pack out from under my arm, I peeled off the foil and then slid the semi-slick thumbtip-sized white bullet into Hugo's tailhole, which brought about a voof from the front and reflexive muscle squeezes on my finger in his rear. He looked back and, apparently having realized what was going on, pushed back a bit so my entire finger slid into his somewhat-loose pucker, his tail tip swishing a bit as it stood firmly out to the rear. I couldn't help but laugh. "I think you DO know what's coming… and that you'll be cumming, too." Again he turned and smiled at me.

Having extricated my digit from his rear, I looked to see that it was actually rather clean and perhaps he didn't need the suppository after all, but… it was part of things expected for the day so no worries either way. I opened the door to "the park" and patted my leg for Hugo to follow.

"The park" is really a smallish room between two of the exam/treatment rooms with pseudo-natural decor. There's the similar windows to the main floor providing some illumination, astroturf on the floor, with perca-tile and drains beneath it, and some other "natural" accoutremants. Its intent was to give the cats a contained place to relieve themselves when being examined, and for a few other purposes in which somewhat-close containment would be helpful, but a humanistic indoor environment wasn't advantageous. On one wall was a large padded loafing shelf, enough for three big cats side-by-side, which really contained the spray-down equipment and other controls and tools relative to the room, but making a lovely place for cats to snuggle up to each other, or their humans.

I sat down on the edge and, having made a patrol check of the room, Hugo jumped up to join me, flopping out on his side and then rolling to the classic spreadeagle that most big cats enjoy. I gave him his favored tummyrubs as we waited for the chemical reaction within him to do its work. Soon he started shifting around, clearly becoming a bit more uncomfortable. I moved around and scooted about. Moving above his head and putting one leg to each side, I reached to each forelimb and dragged his upper body to lay against my stomach and chest, folding him a bit in a manner I knew would temporarily alleviate some of his intestinal discomfort. He allowed me to manipulate him as I saw fit and he licked my forehead in return when I leaned over and kissed his nosie. Having worked with, cuddled with, and medically examined Hugo in the past, I knew he enjoyed being able to look down his body when unusual things were happening to him. Or even some somewhat-usual things, like would be happening fairly shortly. Each cat has their own individual personality, of course, but just like humans they can also be grouped into personality types, and Hugo was one that was frequently curious, but thankfully not to the degree in which would have gotten him into trouble for having investigated things he wasn't supposed to stick his nose into.

I could hear the rumbling within Hugo's guts, and now and again physically see tremors of his lower abdomen. He shifted his head to look up to me with a pleading expression. I couldn't help but smile down at him and nod. "Go ahead, you can do what you need to. I'm not going to be offended by you getting up from us cuddling," I told him. His expression softened into a smile. His gaze again fell to his own sprawled form and he let out a grunting sigh, though he remained there with me for a bit longer. Soon, though, the workings of the medication became too much and he grudgingly rolled himself over and padded off to the far corner to take care of the insistent bodily need that befell him. I nearly laughed out loud from the audible squirting-squiding sound that echoed off the masonry walls from Hugo's evacuation, and felt a little sorry for whatever member of the janitorial staff would be assigned to clean it up.

I just watched him from where I was sitting, and after a bit he padded back over to me and put his left forepaw on my leg, extending his claws a little, and tugged at my jeans. His inquisitive expression spoke volumes. "Come on… that part's over, now on to the fun?"

I couldn't help but laugh and scritch-tug through his mane between his ears. "Ok, ok… I get the message. You certainly seem ready," I commented as I scooted off the padded loafing shelf and followed Hugo to the door back to the larger exam room.

Opening it again, I flicked another switch which illuminated a red light outside both doors that led to the room, signaling to other staff that the room was in use and not to be disturbed. This is essential, especially when working with conscious animals in either training, preparatory, or actual medical situations because undesired activity, such as someone coming into the room unexpectedly, can have serious consequences to those working around large predators. Or even when an animal is anesthetized it can startle a surgeon and put him off his game, so to speak, to the degree of causing unintentional errors in judgment or even surgical screwups.

Hugo padded over to one of the surgical/exam tables and, with only a bit of effort appropriate for his mass, leaped onto it and rolled again into the spread-eagle position. His rump was right at the bottom edge, tail dangling over the edge and though the table was a bit longer than his nose-to-tailbase measurement, he long ago learned that this was the position expected of him. I smiled and moved over to the table, having grabbed a paper towel along the way. I wiped his rump for him, cleaning any mess left behind, and tossed the used toweling to the dustbin. Hugo made no real reaction to my cleaning apart from raising his tail a bit to try to cover his butt at the initial contact, but relaxed after a second or two. He watched me with his amber eyes as I moved about the table. I petted his soft tummyfur as, one at a time, I lifted the somewhat y-shaped legholders and clicked them into position. He, without provocation from me, casually lifted one of his hindfeet into position, hooking it in the padded metal brace, though couldn't quite hit the other one on his own, so I helped guide his leg into position before using the vinyl straps to secure them there, keeping his hindlegs spread somewhat widely. I then went about and got two padded sandbags, used to position animals in surgical situations, and lifted his head and shoulders to prop him up some, letting him look down his tummy as he was wont to do. I also enjoyed watching his face as I performed these procedures on him. Hugo was always quite expressive when it came to being collected.

After getting him relatively set up, I moved about the room getting the collection tubes and water-bath tray from the incubator, set some slides on the warmer, turned on the microscope light, got out a half-dozen or so sterile pipette tips and other supplies for doing the sperm count and then flipped on the video refractometer and the computer-actuated camera atop the microscope for doing progressive motility rates. Even though what I had planned was somewhat for enjoyment – both Hugo's and mine – it was also an opportunity to prepare for something I had planned for later, and that would be helped by doing the routine paperwork of just an ordinary semen collection.

Hugo watched with mild curiosity as I moved about the room and eventually put a few things on the wheeled cart next to the table he was on. I opened the latches of the case on the top and flipped the lid open to reveal a Siremaster Pro electroejaculator. This device is originally meant for cattle but it had one feature I found indespensible – a semi-automated sequence called autoTHROB in which the pulses of current are given in an evenly timed manner, but the intensity of the current is controlled by the control knob… In other words it can stay pulsing at the same low rate for awhile before it would be increased, and requires less effort on the part of the person operating the machine. This was the secret to my success with semen collections in big cats and other animals with the technique I developed. Cats like Hugo would no longer have to be knocked out to be able to cum for their keepers, and even relatively intractible cats could give a better semen sample than they would if totally anesthetized, since the process would be closer to natural ejaculation rather than wholly artificial.

Hugo didn't care about that right now, though… what he was thinking of was likely the fact that I was caressing his lower bellyfur, sheath and balls in a gentle kneading motion. His eyes had mostly closed and his jaw hung loosely in a semi-smile as he started to pant a little bit. His sheath firmed up as I opened a couple of the other cases on the lower shelf of the cart. Therein lay a number of commercially available probes for use with the electroejaculator – probes specifically meant for zoo animals – as well as some custom-made ones created just for me. Fortunately, few other keepers got the curiosity to check out these supplies, and of those who were interested enough to go snooping, they almost universally shared my enjoyment for bringing pleasure to their charges, whatever animals that might be. One or two, however, were simply curious about the process, but that's for another story.

Hugo's eyes shot fully open as the click and sqidge sounds echoed through the room followed quickly by the scent of gel lubricant as I applied some to the semi-rounded end of one of the probes. Made of medical-grade grade plastic, about an inch and five-eights diameter and 14 inches long, this particular instrument was meant for the backside of tigers, not lions, but I felt Hugo could take it reasonably readily. If things went how I figured they would, it would be the smallest thing going up into him today.

Hugo's rump muscles contracted as the cold lubricant touched his most intimate of openings. A bit of belly petting and leaving the probe-tip in place resulted in him relaxing after a moment and, with some gentle pressure, the end started spreading his pink pucker. The end was both rounded and somewhat tapered, and it opened Hugo's experienced rear quite easily, readily sliding into him as it widened into the full diameter. I kept it slow and the pressure gentle as his body accepted the instrument at its own rate, right up to the three copper electrodes that would carry the current to my maned friend's prostate and internal glands. The coldness of the metal caused his rear to twitch in a somewhat amusing or cute manner as his butt tried to figure out what it wanted to do about the uncommmon sensation. His face was awash with feelings – his eyes alternating between concern and erotic euphoria. His sheath firmed more and more with each passing moment, causing me a bit of concern in that if he swelled too much inside his sheath that I couldn't get all of his member out into the open as the opening wouldn't permit it.

Having decided, I pushed the probe more firmly and it sank rather quickly into his back passage, and used my cupped hand pushed his sheath down towards the base of his penis, the phallus now fully exposed in my hand. His reaction to the combined sensations was to roll his head to the side for a moment, tongue lolling out of his mouth, and he began drooling. His forelimbs were curled in sort of a puppy-begging manner, and he adducted them – drew them closer to his body – as well. He turned back when the probe had settled in and my hand stopped moving and remained enveloping his maleness. He then twitched his hips, softly voofed, and smiled at me, as though to say "Well, come on, I know what comes next and so do you. Let's do it!"

I couldn't help but laugh at his expression and insistence. "Ok, big guy, you got it." The electroejaculator was already connected and turned on. You do this before inserting the probe just in case the electronics are screwed up a little as you don't want a pulse of unmoderated current freaking out your animal. Pushing the "Go" button, I gave the control knob a gentle nudge and I could tell immediately that it was working. The end of the probe handle which remained outside Hugo (it was only in him about 4 inches or so) started moving a little as his internal muscles were being stimulated to contract by the low-level electric current. It was barely perceptible, but it was there, and my hand around his shaft could feel it throb a bit, engorging more and more as the machine helped stimulate the big lion.

Hugo's eyes again became slitted and he was visibly panting, though his mouth remained relaxed and showing no signs of objecting. I nudged the current up a bit after about a minute and this caused the twitching of the probe handle to increase a fair bit. Hugo showed no reaction to this. Minute after minute I nudged up the current and soon his cock was completely hard in my hand. I slipped one of the warm collection devices over his member, his tip meeting the ring of the glass collection tube, and he opened his eyes to see what I was doing.

Looking down his body from his propped position, I must have been an interesting sight. One hand holding this odd object over his erect cock, a cord trailing up over his one leg to a box that was causing his butt to squeeze beyond his control on some thick up under his tail. However, after he satisfied himself that things were alright his eyes remained open and they lost focus as he groaned a little and tipped his head back a bit. His hindlegs stretched a little in their bonds and from the feel of his shaft I could tell he was close to blowing his first load of the evening.

I bumped up the current a fair bit more. Now the probe was readily bobbing as his ass grabbed it quite firmly with each apogee of current. His leg muscles were starting to engage and his cock was bobbing and throbbing along with the probe. He stared at me with a totally blank look, which could be read as any number of things, though I knew he must be right on the cusp of exploding given his unfocused gaze and the fact his forepaws were waving some, trying to find something to grip. His jaw was working on its own, too. Not exactly gnashing his teeth, but as though it was aimlessly trying to loosely grip something that wasn't there.

With one strong thrust of his hips upward into my hand, he gripped his forepaws tight to his chest and let out a tremendous roar. I could feel what he was roaring about from the hand encircling his cock. Pulses of lioncum started flowing through the pulsing pickle in my hand. I quickly hit the button on the ejaculator tripling the pulse rate and bumped up the voltage a fair bit. I then gripped the handle of the probe and moved it so the tip would push even more firmly against the lion's inner pleasure gland and the reaction was clear. More cum spurted into the tube than would normally happen and Hugo started to wriggle his front end while trying to thrust his hips, the machine prolonging his orgasm substantially.

Lions usually cum quite quickly when in their mates, and don't usually produce that much semen when they do ejaculate. However, it seemed that my process, or perhaps just the cats that took pleasure in it, seemed to produce far more. I quickly zeroed the control knob and unclicked the button increasing the pulse rate, letting my leonine lover come down from his earthshattering climax.

Hugo lay there panting, limp as a plush toy, as I carefully removed the collection device and set the tube into the warmed water bath, preventing cold shock to his little swimmers. I moved to the side and pet his chest and cupped his large muzzle in my other hand. If others had been there, I certainly wouldn't have done things this way, but it was just he and I, so I kissed his nose.

Hugo's eyes opened wide and suddenly came into focus at my kiss. He must have been a little startled but then his expression softened and his eyes slitted. He licked my face back in a return show of affection as his mind continued swimming in it's abyss of orgasm-induced euphoria. I sat down on the nearby stool and just continued petting him until his breathing returned to closer to normal.

I couldn't help but laugh as every now and again the cord and the probe it was attached to would wiggle a bit. I knew the electronics weren't causing the contractions, but that it was Hugo's own body signaling its pleasure at something within him. I figured that he would enjoy what I had planned for later all the more.

Hugo was dozing a bit there on the table, and I didn't have the heart to interrupt him. I pet through his mane, along his muzzle, down his chest and he made no move at all, but for a bit of ear-fwipping when my caresses tickled the sensitive appendages. "That's it, big guy, rest a bit. There's a lot more to come before the afternoon is done. And you'll be doing most of the cumming."