[17:48]*Martin Anderson watches as the hypnotist launches in to his next trick. He'd pulled up a dime from the crowd, an extra or someone's secretary no doubt, and put her through the paces of going in to a "trance." Martin had scoffed a few times at the proceedings, elbowing the model he was constantly getting another drink for from time to time with a low, "This guy" or, "She's a plant" -- just loud enough for the leopard to hear. As the blue furred cat started to intone with a low but powerful voice, "When I snap my fingers, you'll cluck like a chicken!" Martin turned to the model again, "Dye job, right, it's gotta be!" He gestures towards the cat with his drink, sixth or seventh this evening. A bit spills over the rim and lands on the carpet just as - snap - the volunteer starts to cluck.

[17:58]*Lepard was hearing the skepticism - after all, snow leopard hearing was some of the most attuned of all felines, his ancestors some of the stealthiest hunters the world had ever known. The feline grins, turning a little to face the skeptical face and seeing none other than Martin Anderson watching him. Oh, god. This guy. Not even in the industry for a year and his ego rivals the heads of some of the studios. "Not impressed, hmm? I know something that'll convince you.", he says, turning to the lovely young lady that had just stopped clucking like a chicken at the repeated snap of his finger. The cheetah girl was probably 20, still college-age, with a strikingly curvy figure. Well endowed for a notoriously skinny feline species. The secretary of the studio's vice-president. A Hollywood-worthy dress accentuated her curves, including curving in a V around her cleavage. He leans closer, whispering into the girl's ear so as to not spoil the surprise. He takes a step back and clicks his tongue, the intended trigger. Her hands reach up and peel the top of her dress down, exposing not only the lack of a bra but round, firm, perky cream-gold breasts with small black nipples, which stiffen in reaction to the exposure. She smiles slightly, but still looks distinctly relaxed. A couple seconds later, she slips the tight dress back over herself and adjusts, before standing quite still.
[18:02]*Martin Anderson straightens up as the attention of the hypnotist is directed his way. He cuts an impressive figure in his dark suit, contrasting strikingly with his crisp white fur. The jacket's lines are perfectly tailored to show off a physique that no one is quite sure how he maintains with all the work he does. "Like I said, a plant!" He calls more directly to the leopard, speech slightly slurred with drink, "You could get that from any girl here for a bit role on Safari!" he continues, dismissive. If he were a little more sober, he'd probably subtly shift his weight while he called out the hypnotist to hide the swelling of his manhood at the show he's just been given. Not a lot of room in those well tailored trousers, "First ones you've seen in a while though, I bet."
[18:10]*Lepard smirks, seeing the gently flexing shape between Martin's thighs - after all, his pants are just loose enough to hide those shapes when he's under control, so even a little bit of swell in that sheath makes it press subtly against the fabric. Cocky, indeed - and seemingly well hung, at first glance. He slips a little closer to the wolf, a sequence of snaps of his fingers releasing the girl from her trance, flushing at the memory of exposing herself sticking with her, but she clearly doesn't seem to mind the fact that she had. Closet exhibistionist? He didn't care - his eyes were on Martin. "Not by a longshot, my friend. You know Freya, I'm sure - you just negotiated a movie with her in a starring role if I'm not mistaken", he purrs, fishing out his phone and flicking through a roll of photos before turning it to face the wolf - and there she was, the notoriously beautiful but hard-assed girl that had denied Martin's advances at every turn, using a dildo on herself before a small audience, the same dazed expression on her face laced with instinctual pleasure. "The head of the studio dared me to do it.", he purrs, and it's only just then that Martin recognizes that lavish office as the photo's setting. "He didn't believe me either, but there you go.
[18:16]*Martin Anderson doesn't skip a beat even as the bulge in his dress pants threatens to turn in to a full blown tent, "Nice still, guy." He continues, stepping closer to the snow leopard, separating himself from the crowd, "An overseas animation house can deliver 30 minutes of full rendered smut for someone they've got one blurry pic of in three days flat." Never mind that it would be an inconceivable long shot for Lepard to have faked just the right pic hoping Martin would be there to get a reaction out of him. "I turn down acts like yours all the time buddy. Every two bit mesmer thinks he deserves a primetime slot" He points with one of the snow white fingers wrapped around his drink, fur matted down by the earlier spill, "We laugh after every pitch when they leave the room."
[18:21]*Lepard raises his brow at the reaction, the flexing bulge in Martin's pants continues to flex and thicken. Still just barely discrete enough for most to not notice, but he definitely sees the outline of it. Especially its wonderful twitches and flexes. Rumor had certainly spread that Martin had been trying to get between that dragoness' legs for a while now, so teasing him right now was easy for him. "I work IT for the studio, friend. I don't need a job.", he says, with a grin. "I would, however, like to prove it to you... what about I try my little trick on you? If it's really fake, you can laugh right in my face.", he coaxes, eyes shifting between Martin's handsome, clearly drunken face and the lovely shape between his thighs.

[18:24]*Martin Anderson misses all ill intent in the cat's looks and tone. He thrusts his arm behind him, brandishing his drink for whoever will take it from him, "Gladly." Once relieved of drink, he steps forward again. Truly stepping up to the plate in front of the hypnotist. For now that tantalizing bulge dies back a bit. All for the best. Canines, being what they are, spring ample leaks long before they pop-off. He retains at least that dignity, for now. "Although you'll have trouble getting me to flash my tits."
[18:30]*Lepard had noted the shape of the bulge losing some of its plumpness. He suspected Martin was wearing a compression undergarment to keep himself from popping a full-on boner at the party - perhaps a jockstrap? The bulge hadn't gotten any more distinct, after all. He smiles, watching the drunk wolf take his challenge. "I'm sure more than a few of the girls here at the party wouldn't complain if you lost your pants. I've overheard them gossiping about how big they think your cock is.", he taunts in reply, and he merely makes eye contact with Martin - but his eyes are... glowing? No, it's got to be reflections from the lights above... but the more he looks into those eyes and tries to explain them, the less it matters. Little by little, his worries, his thoughts and emotions, gently make way for a wonderful feeling of peace. And soon, he wouldn't be able to look away from those glowing eyes even if he wanted to. All he had to do was smile through the experience, knowing he'd easily hypnotize this guy.
[18:32]Lepard: (I hate to tell you this, but I'm gonna have to sneak away after your next post. But I'll definitely return. Gotta drive somewhere else.)

[18:34]*Martin Anderson makes eye contact with the Leopard as he speaks, "Big enough and then some, but only a couple of them will get to find out." After this remark he turn-- tries to turn his head to throw a knowing look to the ladies in the crowd gathered around. But he just... doesn't. He could, he's sure, do it. But he doesn't. That last drink must have been way stronger than he thought. Or maybe the last three. He's lost in his head as he mulls this over. Had he even really said that quip at all? He's sure he had. And he's still making eye contact. Well. Anyone else would say staring at this point, at the blue furred hypnotist.

[18:39]*Lepard doesn't at all break eye contact. In fact, he doesn't seem to be blinking - but he'd hardly notice, at this point. Those beautiful, glowing eyes were becoming the only thing that mattered in his world. A world of peace, a world of perfect relaxation. His posture would relax but not falter, the wolf's muscles working to keep him on his feet, standing steadfast... if far more relaxed than usual. "That's a good boy. Don't you feel better already?", he asks, another taunt for the cocky wolf as he sinks deeper under his influence, poking at that secret 'button' all canines had that responded to those two magic words: good boy. It would be easy for him to answer those words. It would feel good to answer.

[19:31]*Martin Anderson falls deeper with each passing moment. More and more of the party seems to fall away. When did it get so quiet? Was everyone suddenly watching him? Had everyone left? How long had it been? His mind swims with these questions as more and more of his surroundings are carried away by the cat's gaze. He feels calm and peaceful. He almost feels as if he's asleep on his feet, albeit with his eyes open until, "Goood," holy shit, is it is it is it isitisitisit? "Boy!" It is! The best thing! He's that much further under with a surge in his groin to match. He'll leak this time, no doubt. His tongue is probably hanging a bit out of his mouth now too, as he slowly pants. Not that he could tell you if it is or is not, or if he answered the cat more directly than with his instinctual hot button being so thoroughly pressed. He has beautiful eyes to look at.
[19:57]*Lepard merely keeps his lovely glowing eyes on the strikingly handsome wolf. Despite having spilled his drink and having slightly matted fur he still showed the signs of being well-groomed. Healthy. His calm smile becomes a shit-eating grin at the response to using the magic words on him, especially at the taut, measured tent returns, his arousal definitely restrained. The feline steps forward, keeping his eyes on Martin as one of his hands reaches out to unzip the wolf’s tailored pants without hesitation, parting his fly and taking a glance downward at the boy’s underwear. “How long is your cock, boy?”, he asks in a quiet voice, their audience secondary to dominating this cocky wolf, happily doing so.
[19:59]Martin Anderson: ((I'm tempted to size him up for effect))
[19:59]Lepard: (Do!)

[20:00]*Martin Anderson feels his arousal straining to become unrestrained. It's confined enough that that sensation punches through even the deep hypnotic haze that he's fallen in to. The word, singular, falls from his muzzle without hesitation, not matching the leopard for volume, practically announcing, "Nine." With or without the knot? The extent of the effect of whatever's containing him isn't known. He doesn't falter when his pants are undone, it doesn't even register. The leopard has moves closer, and everything is better. That's what gets through to Martin's blank mind.


[20:05]*Lepard unloops that hand-made leather belt in a lovingly casual way, knowing that his audience had clued into what was going on. A single fingertip unclips the latch on his pants and they fall to the floor with a gentle ‘thunk’, weighed down by his wallet, keys and phone. Suddenly his pants are off, revealing Martun
[20:06]Lepard: Martin’s legs and his choice of underwear to not just the horny kitty but their audience. “Good boy...”, he purrs, rewarding Martin for disclosing the length of his pride so quickly, so easily.
[20:10]*Martin Anderson fills out his jockstrap -- and that is what he's wearing, a damn tight one at that -- as those words are delivered again. It's looking a lot more like that nine inches was everything before the knot by how things are shaping up. Although the waistband of his jock is still covered the bottom of his shirt and suit jacket, it's clear from the protruding of things that the front portion of the waistband isn't even making contact with the short, groomed, pure white fur that covers his pubic area and toned stomach. He can hear his own breath in his ears, unabashedly panting. His tail wags slowly, roughly in time with his breath. More dog and less wolf by the moment.
[20:15]*Lepard heard. A few gasps behind him as the overconfident boy is made into a bit of a showpiece, those feline fingers rising, his hands working together to unbutton Martin’s jacket, undo the meticulously knotted tie, and make rapid work of the buttons on the soft, tailor-made shirt. All at once the upper garments are slipped over Martin’s shoulders, rendering his entire upper body bare in mere seconds. He discards them on the floor, carelessly, absolutely savoring the moment to conquer this cocky young wolf. “Going to get nice and hard for me, boy? Prove you’re nine inches long...” He wondered if he could make the jockstrap snap under the fierceness of his hypnotically induced arousal... and grins at the prospect.
[20:17]Martin Anderson: (I'll leave the final say on snapping up to you, after all it's going to be closer to 11, knot included)
[20:17]Lepard: (Yee, it breaks and flies across the room. <3)
[20:21]*Martin Anderson feels nothing but pure warmth pouring in to his groin, he doesn't even hear the cat's voice purring in to his ears, nor does he feel the coolness of the room on his now almost totally naked body. His panting picks up in pace, and his tail furiously wags as his cock obeys without question. The crowd can literally see each heartbeat pumping up the cocky wolf's cock. The beats are even more obvious as the garment, meant for show and not for actual athletic duty, is stretched to its limits. It's clear there's nine inches in there already, and unless the wolf is secretly packing a human cock, there's still a knot to go. If it's quiet enough, the closest observers probably hear a few stitches go. And still, the wolf's two biggest, thickest inches inches need to emerge.
[20:25]*Lepard watches as the cocksure wolf obeys his every syllable. A perfect pup. A sublime bitch. That poor jockstrap stretched to its very limits before, suddenly, the elastic at the waistline just splits in two. Like a catapult Martin’s jockstrap gets fucking launched, flying out an open window and landing who knows where. The party’s at the top of their skyscraper, after all. “There’s my good boy... your cock’s just aching for attention isn’t it? You want to show me how big it is, don’t you? To prove yourself...”
[20:31]*Martin Anderson has his mind pierced by those words again. Third time's a charm, as far as getting fully erect goes. In a silent room anyone would have heard his knot spill from its sheath, the wet sliding of flesh on flesh. In a silent room they also would have been able to hear the gob of pre launched from his cock-tip at those two wonderful words splat on the floor. The jockstrap, black as to not show it, was already soaked. Now there's nothing to contain the wolf or his fluids. Anyone familiar with canines knows that a dog cock, especially one of this size, might as well be a faucet. Mere moments after the praised produced plop of his precum on the floor, another dewy bead has gathered at his cock head, and moment's later spills down his bright red shaft. It travels down, deflected first by veins and then by his knot before disappearing in to his sheath fur.
[20:39]*Lepard huffs at the sight of Martin standing there, totally nude, completely erect, nothing about him hidden from the hypnotic feline or his coworkers, looks of shock rippling through the audience at his spectacular body is on such perfect display. “Pose for me. Show off your body however you desire.”, he says, sidestepping to allow some of the audience forward, phones out and photos getting snapped in abundance. He didn’t need eye contaxt anymore, the pup was totally and completely hypnotized. At his every whim. “Bend over and show off your ass for me, boy.”, he orders, thinking it somewhat unfortunate that he can’t soak in the humiliation of the moment. Of being so utterly dominated when he was so eager to seize control.
[20:45]*Martin Anderson had snapped immediately to striking poses for the watching crowd, mugging for the cameras and flexing his best. At least he hadn't exaggerated a single thing, a perfect specimen. He even grabs his cock on a pose or two, brandishing it and flicking pre towards the crowd. Showing off, being cocky, this he knows how to do at an almost instinctual level. It makes it all the more jarring when he obeys the cat's next command. His tail hikes up, he bends over. To what extent does he bend over? If there's a convenient piece of furniture nearby he might bend himself over that, maybe he even falls to all fours in front of the feline. Tail hiked as it is, the cat probably has a view of his pert pucker, nestled in his short white fur.

[20:55]*Lepard watches as Martin poses, looking to the spot where Lepard had been standing before stepping aside, ending up looking straight into the cameras. People alternate, orderly taking their turn to get their chance at photos of this startling wolf. They know not to touch him, even if they want to. They instinctively knew he belonged to Lepard. “C’mere boy. On your feet.”, he purrs, drawing attention to the thoroughly zonked pup that his master had moved. The feline’s fingers reach out, gently wrapping around Martin’s length and finally touching the wolf stud, fingers easily wandering the length of it and spreading its precum to make all eleven of those inches glisten like polished marble.