Prologue
A police car zoomed down the crowded avenues of Zootopia barely adhering to traffic law. At its wheel sat a furious young lion splitting his attention between looking at the road and staring daggers at the smug fox in the back seat through the rearview mirror.
“Aww, don’t act so stiff. You caught me!” The fox raised his hands to show a pair of cuffs around his wrists. “Shouldn’t that make you smile?”
Officer Johnson gripped the wheel with enough force to choke an elephant to death and fought the urge to slam the car into a building. The word ‘smile’ dripped from the fox’s lips like poisoned honey. Johnson knew damn-well what he was referring to.
Nick Wilde was a name well-known to all members of the ZPD. A full-time scammer who somehow always managed to evade the long arm of the law. Usually by smooth talking his way out of an arrest.
But not this time.
This time he and his partner (who sat next to him sporting matching handcuffs and a frown that could make a baby cry) had been caught red-handed surrounded by boxes of illegally imported goods. An easy arrest if they hadn’t resisted, but resisted they did. The foxes managed to tie Johnson and his partner Wolfard (who shifted uncomfortably in the seat next to him) and tickle the living daylights out of them.
“You look so tense! Why don’t we forget about this little incident and go back to my place, Officer? I know the perfect way to turn that frown upside-down.”
“For fuck’s sake, Nick! Would you just shut up?” the fennec sitting next to him said. “You’re making it worse!”
“No, Finnick, I’m reminding our friends here of the fun time we just had!” He paused for dramatic effect and lowered his voice to a sultry whisper. “I bet their friends at the station would love to hear all about it.”
The officers’ cheeks turned red as beets. Becoming the laughingstock (and preferred tickle targets) of the whole station did not sound like a fun time to them.
Finnick rolled his eyes and looked at the timber wolf sitting next to the lion. Their gazes met in the rearview mirror and held each other for a while before reluctantly parting ways. They had a lot to talk about. Back in the warehouse, while Nick was having fun breaking Johnson down into mewling kitten, he was having a very different experience with Wolfard. Or rather with his puppy, as they both preferred him to be called.
But now the tables had turned and the crooks were no longer on top. And while Wolfard wasn’t feeling particularly vengeful, Johnson had plans for Nick beyond what the law demanded. Plans he would soon enact as he parked the car in the garage of the police station and dragged both foxes in for booking.
“I need two rooms,” he told the booking officer. “And have someone deliver the standard kit.”
Chapter I
Who’s a Good Puppy?
The façade fell the moment Wolfard closed the door of the interrogation room and locked it shut. It was small and somewhat scary, with a large reclining chair covered in straps, a desk with a computer and a shelf filled with scary-looking instruments that looked out of place in a police station.
The first thing he did was to unlock Finnick’s handcuffs.
“Please don’t try anything.”
“Heh. Don’t worry, pup. I’ll play along. Don’t want to get you in trouble… as long as you’re
good.”
Finnick pointed down at the floor and the wolf crouched obediently. The emotions they both felt at that moment took precedence over anything else.
“Good boy!” he petted the wolf between his ears. “Let’s talk.”
“About what?”
“About what happened.”
The wolf blushed and looked away. His mind replaying the events that had transpired in that warehouse. His toes curled and his belly button felt funny.
“O-Okay.”
“Aww, is pup flustered?”
Wolfard couldn’t answer. He buried his muzzle in his hands like an ostrich buries its head in the sand. One could hardly tell he was a police officer.
“Did you like it?” Finnick’s tone was different now. Less teasy and more serious. “Did you like doing what you’re told? Did you like making your master happy?”
“…I guess I did.” The were both fully out of character now. “It’s good to just let go sometimes and do what you’re told.”
“That why you’re a cop?”
Wolfard shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe? Being your pup is way more rewarding, though.” He laughed at his own words. “A lot less dangerous and I get to cum!”
“If you behave.”
“If I behave.” Wolfard’s cock throbbed in his pants. “Fuck, this whole thing’s so hot.”
“Wanna keep going?”
“…Here?”
Finnick grinned. “Why not? Door’s locked, ain’t it?”
“I guess.”
“How long do we have?”
Wolfard checked his watch. “An hour or two. Any longer than that and someone will probably come check in.”
“Uh-uh. That thing on?” The fox gestured towards a CCTV camera on the wall.
“Yeah, but it’s Clawhauser on camera duty today so it might as well be off.”
He smiled and quietly slipped back into character. “Then let’s see some tummy, puppy!”
The word puppy pushed a big red button in the wolf’s brain that fired all neurons with the single purpose of obeying whoever uttered it.
“Arf!” he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and lifted it halfway up his torso, presenting his master with his bare, gray-furred tummy.
“Quiet down, pup! I don’t want anyone bothering us.” Finnick said as he rubbed the wolf’s belly, appreciating the dense, soft fur and feeling the abs underneath.
The wolf was slim but still quite athletic as expected from a police officer. He kept his tummy obediently exposed and let his master explore to his heart’s content.
“Now I’m going to find your belly button.”
“Ah! Please!” Wolfard protested, though his wagging tail told a different story. “You know how ticklish I am there! T-They’ll hear.”
“If you get too loud then I’ll just have to muzzle you. You have those around, right?” The wolf nodded nervously. “Good boy!” Finnick’s index finger found the hidden hollow among the forest of fur and quickly invaded it. “Here it comes!”
Wolfard huffed and puffed and blew with enough strength to tear a little piggy’s house from its foundations. It took every ounce of self-control he had no to push the little fennec away from him.
“BWHAHAHA! NOHOT THEHERE!!”
“Yes there, puppy! Did you think I forgot how ticklish your little button here is?”
Wolfard shook his head. Every fiber of his being begged him to protect his immensely ticklish belly button but he still managed to keep still. It was his master’s wish to tickle him and good boys obeyed their masters. Wolfard was a good boy.
“Who’s a good ticklish puppy?” Finnick cooed while tapping claw inside of the canine’s hollow. “Who’s master’s obedient tickle slut?”
“MEHEHEHE!!”
Wolfard was deep in subspace and words that might’ve wounded his pride now only served to reinforce his place. Finnick himself was almost drooling over his new pet. Both men quickly sprouted tents in their pants, at which point the fennec was merciful enough to give Wolfard a break.
“M-Master…” Wolfard panted, already looking as if he had gone through the ZPD Academy training course a number of times back-to-back. Finnick caressed his cheek and he leaned into his touch.
“You’re such a good boy for me!”
Wolfard’s underwear couldn’t get much wetter.
“I’m a good boy,” he repeated while his tailed wagged behind him. He was floating on cloud nine, living out the deepest fantasies he didn’t know he had, and with a criminal of all people. He snapped out of it for a second and his gaze fell upon the interrogation chair just behind the fennec, suddenly reminding him of his sworn duties as an officer of the law. His ears drooped and his tail slowed to stillness.
Finnick frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
Wolfard hesitated and worried he had just killed the mood. For the first time since he’d received the order to show Finnick his tummy, he lowered his shirt.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think this is the right place.”
Finnick looked puzzled. “And you’re telling me now? You were fine with it just a minute ago.”
“I was horny!”
“And you’re not anymore?”
Wolfard was going to say something but then he realized he was still pitching a very wet tent. He bit his lip and turned away from Finnick, suddenly feeling overcome with guilt despite having the time of his life just a minute ago.
“Do you know what happens if I get caught?”
“You lose your job?”
“Worse! They’ll tickle me as punishment!”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Finnick stated plainly. “Aren’t you uh… kind of into that anyway?”
“You don’t understand! They tie up in the locker room and everyone gets a free pass to tickle you as much as they like wherever they like! They can even use interrogation tools to do it! There’s this paste you rub on your tongue to make it really rough and tickly! And this ring they put around your cock that-”
“Stop, I’m gonna cum!” Finnick joked.
“Oh, shut up! I’ve seen it happen to other guys and it does not look fun! Well… it does, but I can’t imagine it stays fun after a few days. My point is that I really REALLY don’t want anyone to find out!”
Finnick sighed. Wolfard did have a point. And besides, the thought of anyone else besides him having fun with the wolf irked him a little.
“Fine. Then what are you supposed to be doing right now?”
“Interrogating you on that.” He pointed to the restraint apparatus. “I’m also supposed to fill out your sensitivity chart. Standard practice for every intake.”
A grin as wide as his ears unfurled across Finnick’s muzzle. “Better get to it, then.”
“Are you sure?” Wolfard exclaimed, somewhat shocked.
Finnick threw him a stern look. “Are you disobeying me, pup?”
Within minutes, Finnick was exactly where he should be according to Zootopia law. Stripped naked and strapped tightly to an interrogation chair. The apparatus held the fennec at a slight angle with his arms above his head and legs spread apart - perfect for the ZPD’s standard intake examination. He pulled on the straps and found them able to withstand his strength ten times over. Not surprising considering Zootopia was home to animals much larger than he is.
“Say, how would you strap an elephant to this thing?”
“We have a bigger one.”
“And how about a mouse? Do you have a smaller one, too?”
“Yup. No matter your size or species, we have a way to tie you up and tickle you!” The wolf almost sounded proud of that. “It’s a great deterrent against reoffenders to know that we have detailed info on how to make them squeal. Like how I’m about to do to you!”
“Heh! Have at it! Not like I can do much about it, officer.”
Wolfard grinned. His master was giving him explicit permission to tickle the daylights out of him and he intended to make full use of that opportunity. Looming over the fennec, he gave his side a quick scratch.
“Hnnf!!”
Finnick stifled a giggle and jolted in his bonds, feeling like prey for the first time in a long time. It was exhilarating.
“You’re pretty ticklish, aren’t you, master? I’m surprised you let me do this.”
“Just looking out for my puppy. You have a job to do, don’tcha?”
“You’re right! What kind of officer would I be if I didn’t dish out some justice.”
He attacked both of Finnick’s underarms at the same time and the fennec lost it.
“Hahahaha! Fuhuhuhuck!”
Finnick shut his eyes tightly and shook his head as if that would help him shake off the tickles.
Wolfard, for his part, was having the time of his life. He had tickled many of the least law-abiding citizen of Zootopia and had admittedly always enjoyed the process. One time he took in another wolf for illegally starting a howl and had to contain himself not to overstep his boundaries while tickling the living daylights out of the fellow canine. Another time it was a muscular tiger that had drunkenly started a fight in a club. An hour of full-body tickling sobered that one up real fast. But Finnick was different. With him, Wolfard could let loose without having to worry about petty things like “police brutality” and “gross misconduct.”
He went lower and groped his firm sides.
“BAHAHA! FUCK! FUHUHUCK!!”
“Aww, did I find a sweet spot? I’ll have to write it down in the report so every officer knows you have tender sides. What do you think about that?”
Finnick thought it was very hot indeed.
Wolfard didn’t want to linger on what was obviously one of his master’s hottest spots so he went even lower and started groping his thighs, getting dangerously close to his semi-erect cock. The fennec let out a series of very unmanly squeals.
“You’re so cute, master! And ticklish all over, too! I’ll be surprised if we can find a spot on you that’s NOT ticklish!”
Finnick knew there wasn’t any. His whole body was ticklish - just to different degrees. The thought made him remember his first tickle sessions with Nick. The red fox was as cheeky as they come when it comes to tickling. All it took for him to pounce was seeing a paw dangling over the edge of the bed or a precariously exposed armpit. Granted, he only ever did this with the intent of getting got right after, which he always did. All things considered, Finnick had much more experience tickling Nick than he did getting tickled by him, and, even then, that limited experience was enough for him to know he was ticklish pretty much everywhere.
Speaking of paws, that’s what Wolfard targeted next. Eight pointy claws scribbled against the bottoms of Finnick’s small feet, getting bubbly, childlike giggles out of him.
“This little piggy went to the market… This little piggy stayed at home…”
“FUHUHUCK OHOHOHOFF!”
“This little piggy had roast beef…”
It was humiliating. It was degrading. It was the hottest thing Finnick had ever done. His mast stood erect while his puppy obediently tickled every inch of him. His every touch was rendered sensual by the lack of movement and agency. He was his pet’s toy and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
After tickling his paws for what felt to Finnick like an eternity, Wolfard finally stopped, giving the exhausted fennec a chance to catch his breath.
“Let’s see… pits, paws, sides, groin… I think I’ve tickled most of you now. Oh! I almost forgot! We haven’t done your tummy yet!”
Finnick’s gigantic ears leaned flat against his head at the mention of his tummy and he suddenly got very fidgety.
“I- Uh- Y-Yeah, I guess.”
“What’s this I’m sensing, master? Is it FEAR?”
“No, it’s just uh… I’m a bit ticklish there.”
“That’s good to know because that’s where I’m about to tickle next!”
Without warning, he dug his claws into the fennec’s belly and squeezed.
“AH!!”
“Get ready, master! Coochy coochy coo!”
Within seconds of starting to tickle Finnick’s belly, it was obvious to Wolfard that that was another killer spot. Maybe even more so than his sides.
“HAHAHAH! SHI- SHIHIHIT!”
“Whoa! You’re really sensitive here, aren’t you?”
He groped and scratched, poked and squeezed, tickled and teased. From the fennec’s waist all the way up to his pectorals, everything was a glowing red-hot spot. But when a wandering finger chanced upon the entrance to his belly button, all hell broke loose.
“AAAAAH! FUCKFUCKFUCK STOHOHOHOHOP!”
Startled, Wolfard jumped back, scared that he might’ve gone a bit too far. Finnick looked half-insane, maw agape with his tongue hanging from the side of it.
“Are you alright?”
Finnick nodded weakly. “Bellybutton… ticklish…” he muttered between labored breaths.
“I can see that.” Wolfard got to work undoing the straps. “That’s probably enough. I’ll tell the guys downstairs you confessed quick. They’ll apprehend the goods and let you off the hook with a fine-”
“W-Wait!”
Wolf tilted his head. “What?”
“Why are we stopping?”
The canine tilted his head and blinked.
“You told me to stop.”
“Yeah but… I don’t really want you to.”
“Really? You looked ready to jump out of your own skin! Your belly button has to be as bad as mine. Or even worse!”
“Why don’t you find out? You barely touched it before I, uh…”
“Almost died?”
“Yeah, that.”
Wolfard sighed. “I won’t lie. Right now, I want nothing more than to absolutely destroy you with tickles, but I don’t think I can do it with you yelling like that.”
“Well, that’s an easy thing to fix, isn’t it?”
Wolfard knew exactly what his master meant, but was still hesitant. “Are you sure you can take it?”
“Nope. But that’s the best part. How long we got?”
Wolfard checked his wristwatch. “About an hour.”
Finnick took a deep breath, almost as if he was still convincing himself to say what he was about to say. “I want you to muzzle and blindfold me. Then I want you to tickle me as hard as you want for an hour. Got that, puppy?”
The canine’s heart skipped a beat.
“Ready?”
Finnick grunted and nodded.
Wolfard set a timer for an hour on his watch and proclaimed: “Here we go!”
He started by sinking his teeth into Finnick’s taut tummy, delivering a flurry of playful nibbles that immediately got the fennec screaming behind the ZPD-branded muzzle.
“MHHHHHH!!”
“You taste so good, master!”
He let out his tongue and delivered a long lick from Finnick’s left flank all the way up to his right armpit. It left a trail of saliva-soaked fur and immense tingling. Finnick screamed again. The wolf lingered on his master’s armpit, nuzzling the small hollow with his cold and wet nose.
“Smell good too!”
Then he licked his armpit and Finnick screamed a third time. Wolfard thought his master was going to scream himself hoarse by the end of the session but he didn’t care that much. He had a feeling the fennec didn’t care either. After all, he asked for this.
He took a parting whiff and got his nose out of the fennec’s pit, panting like a labrador in the summer. Between the fennec’s legs raged an erection not of an unimpressive size considering his stature.
“Now what do we have here?” Wolfard planted a lick on the glistening tip, making it glisten even more. “Looks to me like an illegal weapon!”
“Mh?!”
Wolfard giggled, unable to tell if the fox was annoyed at his attempt to roleplay or not. Again, he didn’t care very much. He was enjoying himself.
“And this transparent gooey thing coming out of it! I don’t know what it is but it looks illegal.”
Finnick grunted.
“I see that I will have to teach you some respect for the law.” He started slowly drumming his claws against Finnick’s still slobbered up pecs. “This calls for extreme measures.”
“Hmph?!”
Wolfard rummaged through the tool cabinet, deliberately taking longer than he needed while devouring the bound, naked, muzzled and blindfolded fox with his eyes. His pants couldn’t hold his own erection anymore so he undid his belt and let them fall around his ankles, underwear included.
“Let’s see if this doesn’t turn you into a law-abiding citizen.”
Finnick grunted quizzically before Wolfard inserted something bristly into his belly button. He tensed up, already knowing what it was, and it suddenly dawned on the fennec that he had no way to beg.
Wolfard turned on the electric toothbrush.
“MHHHHHMPHMPHMPHMPH!”
His laughter was muffled and nasal as that was the only pathway that the air that rushed out from his aching lungs could find to the outside world. He twisted and turned as much as the straps allowed - which was practically nothing - in a vain hope to somehow dislodge the intruder that was demolishing his shallow yet pathetically ticklish belly button.
“Good thing you’re muzzled or else my ears would be bleeding right about now.”
Finnick gave a high-pitched shriek that sounded like a pig being slaughtered - if such a thing was legal in the Zootopia.
“And poof! That’s my hearing gone.” He gestured explosions near his ears, as if Finnick could see him. “Good thing you’re muzzled,” he repeated.
In spite of the undeniable masochistic enjoyment Finnick took from having his belly button ravaged without mercy, his body still tried everything in its (very limited) power to try and shake off the intruder, and when said shaking-off proved unfeasible, it autonomously switched strategies to sucking his stomach in as much as it could. Wolfard smiled at this.
“Wanna see a neat trick this chair can do?”
He cranked something on the side of the contraption and Finnick felt a hump growing under the padding of the chair at the small of his back, pushing his abdomen up ever so slightly and completely negated his attempt at sucking it in.
If he was a glistening steak on a silver platter before, now the chef had come out of the kitchen to personally sprinkle him with edible gold flakes, and Wolfard was hungry like a… well… a wolf.
“Told ya we were ready for anything.”
“MPHMPHMPHMPH!” Finnick protested.
“Nope. Not letting you out. Fifty-nine minutes to go.”
The fennec’s ears stiffened harder than his dick which, funnily enough, also twitched rather tellingly upon hearing that he still had most of his torment in from of him. That was a lie, of course. In reality, it had been closer to ten minutes. But Finnick didn’t know that.
“There’s no reason to rush anyway. We’re having fun, right?” He pushed the electric toothbrush harder against Finnick’s taut bellybutton.
The fennec’s cock erupted with what Wolfard initially thought was an orgasm but actually turned out to be just a particularly large discharge of pre-cum.
“Yeah, we’re having fun.”
He poked the fennec’s pit and was surprised to see him barely react to it. He poked harder, and then in the other pit and still nothing. He scratched his head, then scratched his pits and wondered if he had just magically turned off his pit sensitivity. In reality, Finnick was feeling the full extent of the pit tickling - it just so happened that his body had locked up in response to the electric toothbrush still nestled comfortably inside his belly button which stayed there and clogged his neural pathways with extreme tickling, leaving little room for his armpits to complain to this brain about the assaulting claws.
His belly button was just that sensitive.
Wolfard shrugged and kept scratching his pits anyway, now alternating between his sides and flanks as well, more or less evenly tickling all of Finnick’s hotspots above the waist while keeping the toothbrush on the most sensitive of all.
“You’re so cute, master! It’s like you’re one big ticklish hot spot!”
Finnick’s laughter was starting to die down which was his cue to relent a bit. No sense in tickling the fox unconscious just yet. They were only about halfway through the timer.
“Forty-five minutes left. You’re doing so good, master!”
Finnick was on the verge of passing out.
He was barely given half a minute’s rest before the toothbrush made contact again. This time somewhere lower. Right between his balls.
“GRRMPHMPHMPH!”
He had recuperated enough energy to waste it in another futile effort at squirming out of the tickle chair which amused Wolfard to no end.
“It’s useless to squirm but please keep doing it. It’s cute in a pathetic sort of way.”
Finnick growled, then moaned as another lick was lovingly planted on the head of his cock.
“It’s okay to cum, master. You’re not the first and won’t be the last. You’d be surprised to know how many people do it.”
As anyone who is lucky enough to have experienced the fabled ticklegasm knows, earning one is a hard-fought battle. It happens over a prolonged period of tickling in particular erogenous zones. Visions of tickle session past flashed in the fennec’s mind. Recollections of when Nick casually scratched his upturned sole while he was lying on the couch just this week. Or when he held a candy over him just out of reached and forced him to stretch his arms to grab it only to then tickle his pits, the little pick. And the realization that all of those moments resulted in an uncomfortable erection.
It was more than clear that Finnick was one big erogenous ticklish spot. And considering how much Wolfard was pushing his buttons, he might just get to taste that elusive ticklegasm.
“But I won’t promise I’ll stop after you cum.”
Suddenly he really didn’t want to cum.
“HMMMPP!!”
“What? You told me to tickle you, and I quote, as hard as I want for an hour. Make up your mind.”
Finnick protested again, but broke into laughter as Wolfard did the unthinkable. He began tonguing his bellybutton. Or at least as well as he could. A timber wolf’s tongue didn’t exactly fit inside a fennec fox’s bellybutton. No matter. It drove Finnick bonkers anyway.
“GRRRRRR!!”
The poor fennec didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. To beg or to moan. To cum or to hold back. He was experiencing a thousand different sensations, all of which contradicted one another. The toothbrush on his balls tickled like hell but it also edged him closer and closer to orgasm, and then the tongue felt like a slimy worm slithering deep inside him and grinding against his entrails but it was also one of the hottest feelings he had ever experienced.
All he knew is that this was the best night of his life.
He just hoped his body could hold out for long enough to experience it.
“Half an hour left! Time to break out the big guns!”
There were five minutes on the timer.
Wolfard took a step back and admired the panting, giggly mess that his master had willingly let himself be reduced too. He smiled, recognizing the immense amount of trust that he had been given, and decided to make the last few minutes of the session the best they could be. It was the least he could do.
A trip to the tool cabinet later and he had everything he needed for the grand finale. A special elastic strap that went around the chest and held electric toothbrushes against the armpits and a clear tube filled with a strange blue paste.
He started with the strap and Finnick protested as soon as he felt the inert toothbrushes poking into his armpits.
“Yes, I know. You’re too ticklish and on the verge of passing out, but consider this” - he flicked on the toothbrushes, thrusting Finnick into ticklish hell again - “you don’t have a choice!”
While the toothbrushes entertained his master, he squeezes some of the blue paster onto his tongue and spread it around with his finger. It tasted like blueberries with a hint of cough syrup. As it coated the surface of his tongue, it gave it a bumpy abrasive texture that was much rougher than a normal canine tongue.
He lay down a long lip over Finnick’s protruding abdomen and made him forget all about the brushes on his pits.
The sound that emanated from behind the muzzle was like the roar of a beast that was part lion, part hawk and part Godzilla.
There was less than two minutes on the clock. Wolfard went ham. He devoured that belly button like the world’s tastiest ice-cream while Finnick convulsed epileptically and made noises that might’ve been words. He couldn’t control himself any longer and actually growled while delivering lick upon hellish lick wherever he could get his tongue, drunk on his master’s scent and taste. There was nothing in the world now that mattered more to him at that moment that providing the most intense sensations possible.
“HMPH!! HMPH!! MPHMPHMPHMPH!!!”
He began scratching the fennec’s thighs and balls alternately. That was the tipping point for Finick who couldn’t take it any longer and erupted in an explosion of milky white pleasure.
Wolfard didn’t care. He kept going.
Finnick screamed and began convulsing again.
The timer rang.
Wolfard continued.
Every touch felt like white hot hell to the fennec. He couldn’t tell where he was being touched anymore - only that he was and that all his nerves were filing complaints.
Wolfard nuzzled his dick and began licking the cum off of it.
It was too much. Blackness creeped in through the edges of the fennec’s already black vision and a high-pitched whistle took over his hearing. He felt less and less of the hellish sensations as he slipped into merciful unconsciousness.
And then came light. Blinding light. Something was in it. A fuzzy shape that came into focus to as a very apologetic looking timber wolf.
Chapter II
What Does the Fox Say?
“So this is what you’re into, huh?” Nick said as Johnson finished securing him to the ZPD interrogation chair. “Most people take me out to dinner first.”
“Quip while you can, fuzz-face.”
It was well known to most of his acquaintances that Nick loved to prod, but even Finnick would’ve found the number of times the red fox antagonized his arresting officer ever since the warehouse to be above average.
It was almost like he wanted this.
The lion took a sheet of paper and set it on a small desk, wrote something on it, then looked at the bound fox.
“Nicholas Piberius Wilde—”
“Full name? I must be in trouble.”
“—You have been found in possession of contraband. In accordance to Zootopia common law and local district law, a tickle examination will now ensue. Your safety will be assured throughout the procedure and you hold the right to—”
Nick fake-snored.
“That’s IT!”
Johnson angrily slammed the table and grabbed an electric toothbrush which he immediately took to the fox’s armpit. Nick’s snout contorted into a smile.
“How do you like this, huh?”
“Pffftthehehehe!!”
“Not so chatty anymore, are you?” He switched began scratching the other pit and grinned as the fox laughed louder. “Nothing like a good tickling to get the mouthy ones to shut up,” he mused to himself.
“Hahaha! O-Oh, thahat’s great, ohofficeher! I-Ihihi’m alost thehehere!”
Johnson’s smile turned into a scowl ugly enough to make a baby cry. He went back to his sheet - which contained the vague outline of a canine with blank labels all around it - and filled in the one pointing to its armpits with a seven.
“That was great! Wanna go for round two, handsome?”
“I’ll go for round punch-you-in-the-face if you don’t shut the hell up!”
“Ah! Police brutality!”
Before Nick tempted him to actually make good on his threat, Johnson pressed the head of the toothbrush against his flank and was pleased to hear a squeal.
“Like that, huh?” He alternated from flank to flank. “How’s this for round two?”
Nick was beginning to feel the heat in more ways than one. His tumescent foxhood stirred awake inside his sheath. Johnson didn’t care. Like Wolfard, he was rather used to seeing people get excited during this procedure.
In fact, he hoped Nick would get excited.
He reached over and scribbled an eight on the sheet, this time not stopping the tickling. He wasn’t going to give the fox another chance to talk if he could help it. His nerves could only take so much.
“You foxes like holes, right? How about this one?”
Foxhole was a military term. What Johnson was thinking about was a fox den, but that wasn’t such a good analogy for Nick’s belly button which was promptly invaded by the electric toothbrush. Much like how a foxhole might be broken into by an enemy force.
“Bwahahaha! S-Stohohop!!”
Johnson’s lips curled into a satisfied grin now.
“I like you better when you beg.”
“S-Stohohop gohohoing easy ohon mehehehe!”
It took every ounce of Johnson’s being to not turn the fox into a decorative rug right then and there.
Sensing this, and displaying an impressive lack of sense of self-preservation, Nick went in for the kill.
“I’m offended. The least you could do is show me a good time in return for how much I made you roar back at the warehouse.”
Johnson calmly went to the desk, took the paper sheet and put it in a drawer.
“Are you done filling that? Pits, sides and belly button? That’s it? While there’s still so much more of me for you to tease and tickle?” Nick practically sung.
“We can worry about that later,” Johnson stated calmly which did make Nick worry. “Right now, I want to focus on that attitude problem of yours.” He collected a bottle from the tool cabinet.
“Attitude?” Nick exclaimed with mock offence. “Officer, I assure you that my attempts to bring some levity to the situation are not—”
“No. Shut up.”
He drizzled a clear oily substance over Nick’s toe.
“Officer, I believe it’s my right to—”
“Shut. Up. Just shut up.” Johnson said exasperated, and rubbed his temples. “I get it, Wilde. You like this. You have a massive boner right now and you like this.”
It was true. The fox’s mast stood tall and proud for a while now.
“So fine! You win. I’ll give you your damned tickle session.” He leaned closer until his nose was touching the fox’s. “I’ll tickle you within an inch of your life.”
For the first time, Nick looked uncomfortable.
“Hey now! Let’s not get carried away. What will your fellow officers say when they see you brutalizing a poor defenseless fox?” He looked at the camera.
The lion smiled, picturing a fat cheetah in the monitoring room with a donut in his mouth and a phone glued to his face.
“There are as many people watching this as there are snakes in Tundratown.”
Nick’s ears folded flat against his head and it crossed his mind that he might’ve actually be in over his head. He was about to say something but got cutoff by the buzzing of the electric toothbrush and the subsequent feeling of bristles between his toes.
“BWAHAHAHA!”
He curled those ticklish digits but that just meant grabbing the brush and holding it there so he tried shaking it off instead.
“Nope!” Johnson said and held the fox’s paw. “You wanted tickles so take them.” He pressed the brush the between another pari of Nick’s toes. They curled around it.
Nick thrashed in his restraints with a look on his face that was decidedly less cocky than the one he’d been sporting ever since his arrest. This pleased Johnson greatly who took it as a sign he had won in finally tickling Nick beyond his limits. And now he weas going to push the mouthy fox as far as he could.
The standard Zootopia Police Department tickle chair came with many nifty tricks to aid officer in convincing the city’s less upstanding citizens to see the error of their ways. One such trick was a number of small elastic strings by the ankle cuffs that Johnson was currently binding Nick’s toes with, pulling them back and exposing those nooks of soft skin that were, commonly, one of the most sensitive spots of ticklish-footed creatures.
Nick was no different.
“NO! NOHOHO! STOHOHOP!” he screamed and convulsed on the tickle chair as Johnson pressed not one but two(!) electric toothbrushes right up against the fox’s toe stems.
“Oh, now you want me to stop?”
Nick nodded with tears in his eyes.
“That’s just precious.”
He dragged his sandpapery tongue across the pad of one of Nick’s soles and sent the fox into balled-fist hysteria.
Officer Johnson was never one to abuse his authority but, as a relatively junior member of the force - and one with a chip on his shoulder at that - he did have a tendency to go overboard whenever he felt disrespected or had his authority undermined. Nick had made the error of doing both of those things and a whole lot more.
The lion reached up and pressed one of the toothbrushes against Nick’s bellybutton while slurping his toes like a tasty pawpsicle.
Nick arched his back as much as he could and shook his head.
“GAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“Should’ve let me finish the tickle test,” Johnson stated before going back to devouring the fox’s beans and ravaging his belly button with the brush. He did this until he was sure Nick was going to pass out if he continued. Finally, he stopped. He stood next to the exhausted fox - panting and drenched in sweat - and pulled the chart out of the drawer and wrote a big fat ten near the figure’s feet. Then he turned his attention back to the fox. “Now I hope that taught you something about provoking an officer of the law.” He showed Nick the chart. “We have your sensitivity map and will not hesitate to you use it should you reoffend.”
“I have yours too.”
Johnson frowned.
“What did you say?”
A weak smile appeared on the fox’s face.
“I know all about your ticklish spots too, kitty. In fact - and you’re gonna love this - I have the whole thing on video.”
Johnson blinked, taking a moment to process Nick’s words and assert the likelihood of them being true and not another attempt at fucking with him.
“You’re fucking with me.”
“You bet I am,” Nick laughed, having spontaneously recuperated some of his spent energy. “But no, really. I do have a video. If you hadn’t brought me here, I’d be at home watching you scream in 4K.”
Johnson stared, astounded. Regardless of if what Nick said was true, he was still provoking the lion after receiving an overdose of tickle torture. The lion was impressed. Unfortunately for Nick, he was also seething with rage. He reached for his walkie-talkie.
Two more entered the room. Officer Jackson, a tiger, and Officer Delgato, a lion of the same variety as Johnson himself.
“What? Am I not enough for you?” Nick quipped.
Johnson took a deep breath - the kind you take when you’re convincing yourself out of doing something you’ll regret later. “See what I mean.”
“And you’ve been interrogating him for how long now?” Delgato asked.
Johnson checked his watch. “About an hour.”
Jackson peered at Nick’s tickle chart. “Tender paws, eh?”
“Belly button too.”
“Have you tried his dick?”
Nick’s rocket was throbbing.
Johnson shook his head. “Chief Bogo says we shouldn’t. Bad PR.”
Delgato huffed. “Fuckin’ hypocrite. He feathered that Lynxley guy’s junk ’till he creamed twice last week. And then he kept going!”
Johnson shrugged. “Perks of being chief.”
“Yeah, fuck that.” Delgato picked up one of the electric toothbrushes and flipped it on. “Let me show you how it’s done.”
For a complete and total tickle slut like Nick Wilde, tickling was as sexual as penetration. After an hour of it, he was practically on hair-trigger.
“Whoa!”
“Shit, it’s everywhere!”
Nick came but the toothbrush stayed and buzzed it’s bristles right up against his oversensitive cockhead.
“GWAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHA!”
“See? Works like a charm!” The lion pointed at the fox’s paws. “Go on! Post-orgasm sensitivity only lasts a while.”
Johnson took the other toothbrush and went for Nick’s belly button while Jackson took place at the fox’s feet. Delgato rand the toothbrush in irregular circles over the fox’s spent cockhead before punishing his knot - a common weak point for canine penises as it housed the most nerve endings - simultaneously tickling and overstimulating the copulatory reflex which caused a few extra strands of cum to reluctantly shoot out.
Jackson employed his sharp claws to scratch all over Nick’s brown paw-pads while devouring his toes, coating them liberally in tiger saliva before. At one point, he undid the toe ties so he could have the pleasure of holding two of Nick’s digits apart with his own fingers, feeling them try to curl as he tongued the space between them.
As for Johnson, he clawed fiercely at Nick’s sides while French-kissing his quivering belly button with more gusto than he’d ever kissed any of his partners. He delighted in hearing the fox’s screams of agony as he was gang-tickled. For his colleagues, this was a bit of fun. For him, it was revenge. At one point, he applied a liberal coat of the same paste that Wolfard had used on Finnick to his feline tongue and resumed the make-out session with the fox’s navel to screaming results. When he eventually got tired of that, he pried Delgato off of Nick’s cock and slurped that instead. The rough pebbly texture of his pasted-up tongue running against Nick’s meat (which had been tickled raw long ago) was the closest the fox had ever felt to dying. In fact, he hated it so much that he came twice more, and just before he drifted into blissful unconsciousness, managed to tease Johnson about the supposed video he had in his possession.
“What was he talking about?” Delgato asked a very flustered Johnson.
“Nothing! He was just trying to fuck with you!” the lion stammered.
Delgato didn’t buy it, and he and Jackson spent a good half an hour tickling the truth out of their colleague.
Even in defeat, there was still victory for Nick.
Epilogue
Wolfard came to work and was greeted by a rotund cheetah who squealed with glee upon laying eyes on him and his new fashion accessory.
“Oh. My. God.”
“Hi, Clawhauser.”
“Who’s the lucky guy?”
Wolfard giggled bashfully. “Can’t tell.”
“Well, give my regards to Mr. Can’t Tell.”
He went into the locker room to change and spent a good minute looking at what was effectively a tickle orgy with Johnson at his center. The lion had been stripped naked and tied by his wrists and ankles to the bench. Five male officers, all of them varying degrees of excited, tickled the poor lion into tears like they had done every morning for the past few days.
They slurped his soles, feathered his cock, nuzzled his armpits and nibbled his tummy.
Wolfard considered joining but he decided to take advantage of the fact that his fellow officers were too busy tickling the lion out of this plane of existence to notice him and quickly changed into his uniform.
“You can’t wear that.”
Wolfard jumped, and looked to his left to find a very unamused Chief Bogo glaring. The buffalo stepped forward and Wolfard shrunk.
“Take it off.”
Wolfard didn’t try to argue. He sighed and took the bright red collar off. The metal tag glinted with the words “Finnick’s Tickle Puppy” engraved on it. He carefully placed it in his locker and suddenly felt naked.
Bogo nodded approvingly and turned his back to the wolf. Before walking off, he said: “…Ask your master for something more discrete. Like a chastity cage.”
Annex I
Officer Johnson’s Report
I arrested Nick Wilde and his partner with the help of Officer Wolfard after confirming he was in possession of illegal goods. After a brief chase and a momentary setback at a warehouse near his apartment that resulted Wilde committing assault, we brought him and Finnick in for interrogation.
Officer Wolfard took charge of Finnick’s intake while I did Wilde’s. This report details the information obtained during the intake procedure.
Nick Wilde is extremely ticklish and reacts sexually to most forms of ticklish stimuli. His tickle chart is as follows:
Armpits: 7 / Sides: 8 / Belly button: 9 / Hips: 8 / Knees: 6 / Feet: 10 / Genitals: 10
The best tool, by far, to be used on Wilde is the electric toothbrush. His fur is relatively thin and so the bristles can get to his skin rather easily. It’s also perfect for use in his sensitive belly button as it is reasonably deep, meaning that the entire head of the brush can fit in. It makes for a great toe-tickler too.
For the pads of his feet, application of oil prior to tickling is recommended. Brushes work well, electric or not. Toe-ties are strongly recommended as he tends to curl them during tickling.
I used my tongue several times to lick Wilde’s paws and belly button with great results - as is to be expected from the tongue of a feline predator. I used standard issue tickle paste which yielded very positive results - in particular on his belly button and genitalia.
His sides are soft but relatively firm. Squeezing and light nibbling are the optimal methods here.
Wilde became quickly aroused and orgasmed several times during the session, despite my best efforts to deny him that pleasure. Regardless, I followed protocol and kept tickling him all throughout his refractory period with the aid of Officers Delgato and Johnson.
It is important to note that Wilde clearly enjoys being tickled and will provoke his arresting officer into delivering more intense punishment. The only way to get around this is to either deny tickling (impossible as it breaks protocol) or, more effectively, to overwhelm him so much that his body cannot take it regardless of how good it feels. Any sensation can be torturous in excess and pleasure is no different.
The session lasted roughly an hour and a half but yielded little result. Wilde showed no signs of regret by the end of it and merely kept egging the officers present to continue tickling him.
My recommendation as his arresting officer is to bring him in for periodic tickle sessions (once a week at minimum) with a minimum duration of two hours. Due to Wilde’s overwhelmingly strong sexual response, intense edging is recommended alongside the regular tickle sessions. Weaponizing his own arousal against him might be the most effective way to curb his criminal tendencies. Recommended use o aphrodisiac to maximize arousal and heighten the senses. Use of a muzzle suggested.
An evaluation of progress should be conducted after two months of regular sessions. If this regimen proves unsatisfactory, I recommend entering Wilde into one of the ZPD’s Involuntary Predator Reform Programs.
Signed: ZPD Officer Bob Johnson
Annex II
Wolfard’s Guide
I’m meeting with Master again later tonight. In preparation, I’m writing this guide on how to make him happy! I’ll be updating this after every session with him.
I guess I’ll start by saying that, back at the station, he wasn’t mad at me. I was sure he was but no. After we were done, I untied him and helped him up.
He kissed me! And called me a good boy!
That was a good day.
I wasn’t sure about the whole petplay thing we had going on, but now I’m sure that I want to keep doing it. I’ve worn the collar since he gave it to me. I only ever take it off to clean it and during work because… well… Chief Bogo says I can’t wear it. I’ve considered asking Master for something more discrete but I’m afraid he’ll think I don’t like the collar.
Oh, right! This is a guide, not a diary. I should write something useful.
Let’s see…
Master is very ticklish and he loves being tickled like I do, btu we’re ticklish in different places. Well, some of the anyway.
I can’t stand having my bare paws touched, but master’s soles aren’t as sensitive as mine. It’s his belly button that makes him scream. I wasn’t sure he liked it at first until he made me tickle him there. I think he likes it when I use my tongue!
Master isn’t very big, so I can lick a lot of him at once. This works great on his armpits too. Is it bad that I don’t mind the smell?
His sides are very sensitive too! He squealed like a pig when I nibbled playfully on them! I must be careful to not hurt him when I do this.
Although Master does like it rough… I think his favorite thing is not being able to see or beg. I’ve already “borrowed” the muzzle and blindfold I used on him from the interrogation room. I hope I don’t get into trouble…
Master is extremely cock ticklish too! Just like most other men I’ve interrogated (and myself), he can’t stand to have his cock teased either pre or post orgasm (although the latter is definitely way worse.)
I guess I’ll write a bit about our relationship too. Like I wrote earlier, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to seriously go through with this until our time at the station. I thought I was going to be used for pleasure and then thrown away, but then he told me to use him* for my *pleasure! It opened my eyes to how this can benefit us both… Or maybe I just like being told what to do.
I’ve thought about that a lot lately.
Either way, I’m committed now. I’ll be the best pup I can be because, so far, Master has been amazing. He doesn’t look it, but he’s actually a big (small) softie.
He cares. Truly.
The sessions are intense but I love them, and afterwards he always showers me with words of praise that melt my heart! I don’t care if people judge me for wearing a collar. I’ll wear it with pride because it means I have someone who I care about and who cares about me in return.
I’ll continue later. Master is calling me.
Signed: Wolfard, Finnick’s Ticklish Puppy