Illusive weaved through the less reputable alleyways of the city using the night and the rain as his cover. There was something in the air that night. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on unless you spent as long in the superhero business as the fox had.
Thunder struck.
For a split second, the shadow of Illusive’s iconic silhouette appeared on the side of a building under the crescent moon that tipped his staff. Ironic, seeing as the real moon was feeling rather shy that night.
He was headed to ‘The Conjured Coyote’, a small shop that sold magical themed trinkets to kids and enthusiast of the genre. A glorified toy shop, was what Illusive thought. If his intel was good (and it usually was), the toys only accounted for a small portion of the shop’s profits, with the vast majority of it coming from shady dealings in less than legal items. In fact, he suspected the shop was just a front for a known criminal organization with firm roots in every bit of the city. The fox was well accustomed to this kind of crime. Police and politicians could be bought and the public looked the other way. But not him. His unshakable moral code was immune to bribery and apathy.
He stood before the shop and peered through the large glass window at the large collection of magic-themed baubles. The shutters were open which was weird considering the time. It had all the classics. Sets of loaded dice, decks of cards comprised entirely of the same suit and rank. There were more unorthodox items too. A set of shoes that boldly purported to triple the wearer’s running speed, metallic nail polish that claimed to grant magnetomancy, a spiked collar that turned you into a werewolf…
Sickening stuff, really. Not the toys, of course, but how they were used to veil the entrance to the city’s rotten criminal underbelly.
“Time for some real magic.”
The fox gripped his staff and concentrated. He closed his eyes and, when he opened them, he was out of the rain.
The shop was comprised of wall-to-wall wooden shelves lines with more toys and trinkets than he could count. There was a small counter in the corner with a cash register on top of it and a funny-looking doll that reminded him of himself.
No, it was him!
The markings were unmistakable.
“That’s weird. I don’t remember signing any toy deals.”
Was the shop owner a fan of his…? Not likely, he thought. He approached the doll cautiously. It was an oddly accurate rendering of himself with the most peculiar of omissions.
“Where are my clothes?”
Even in the absence of garments, the doll was scarily accurate to the real Illusive. The blue of its fabric matched the shade of his fur perfectly and every little marking he had was replicated in disturbing accuracy on it, from the constellation on his torso to the eclipsed moons on his forehead and between his shoulder plates.
He clutched the handle of his staff firmly, ready to teleport himself out of there at the first sign of danger. Experience cautioned him against springing an obvious trap.
The doll began to give off a faint glow unmistakenly magical in nature. He stopped dead in his tracks and prepared to vanish but then he felt… strange. The same glow now shone around him! What’s more, the doll began to move on its own and adopted the same cautious, staff-pointed-forward pose as Illusive. Was it some sort of mimic? He took a step back! He took a step back and…
He couldn’t move his leg!
And his other leg! And his arms and everything else! There were no restraints - not ones visible to him anyway. He was stuck in that position like a poseable action figure left discarded at the bottom of the toy bin.
His eyes darted around in their stationary sockets. Was there a caster nearby? Did he step on a glyph? There was nothing. Nothing but the doll. Illusive tried to teleport away but found himself unable to! Was the doll restricting his powers somehow?
It was moving again. This time it assumed a standing position with its arms above its head which Illusive found his body replicating of its own accord. That settled it. His body mimicked the doll, not the other way around.
A familiar spark of magic bubbled from within him. His eyes went wide as he recognized the feeling that preceded a spell he usually reserved for the privacy of his own home.
“No, no, no! Not here!”
He dispelled his conjured outfit with a flash of light, revealing the three piece nothing he always wore underneath.
“Oh, come the fuck on!”
Out of options and modesty, the intrepid fox tried to wrestle back control of his body. First by trying to lower his arms and then, when that failed, by trying to lift his leg. No luck. It was as if he was encased in an invisible, untouchable steel case molded to his exact proportions. The most he could accomplish was a weak trembling of whatever body part he tried to move. A brief muscle spasm. Nothing more.
The doll gave off a bright aura and moved again, this time by levitating over to a device on a nearby shelf that resembled a miniature St. Andrew’s Cross with… things coming out of it. Things. That was the best descriptor he could come up with for the odd articulated arms that spidered out the back of the miniature cross - themselves alight in the same magical aura which by now he had learned to associate with bad things coming his way.
“Pfft! Hey! Stop that!”
Two of the arms began gingerly tickling the doll on its stomach and Illusive was shocked but unsurprised to feel as if they were tickling him.
“Hahaha! It tickles!”
Doing his best to look down at his stomach, he confirmed his suspicions that there was nothing there. And yet he felt as if some playful friend was behind him taking advantage of his vulnerable sides for a few cheap laughs.
If only the situation was that innocent.
“Gahaha, wait! Nohot thehere!”
He laughter louder when two more appendages began poking the doll under its arms. One of the many hotbeds of nerve clusters on the fox’s body.
He had to commend whoever was responsible for this. As far as traps went, this one was quite original. Out of every time a mission went awry and he found himself in the clutches of a cat-petting, sinister-laughing, “We’re not so different, you and I…”-monologuing villain, he was never tickle tortured via creepily accurate voodoo doll.
It would be funny if it wasn’t so excruciating. Illusive was, after all, a dreadfully ticklish fox. A weakness known only to himself and a few close friends. There were really only two possibilities: either this villain had somehow gained access to that information and designed this whole scenario around tickling him into submission (which Illusive begrudgingly admitted would have been a good plan) or he was, quite simply, a weirdo. Considering everything else that led up to the current predicament, the latter seemed more likely.
His sides hurt from laughing and he was starting to feel a bit woozy. The little cross’s pokey bits got rougher with the doll, digging into its fabric sides and pits rather aggressively like it was unsatisfied with Illusive’s reactions. Then the doll raised its right leg and the fox did the same, wiggling his toes which he seemed to retain control of. Not like that would help him. The arm that came for the doll’s cloth sole was tipped with a fine tipped paintbrush that felt more like a stiff broom assaulting the sole of his bare foot.
“Nohot my thehehere!!”
There he stayed in what looked like the middle of a poorly executed kung foo move, capable of no more movement than weak twitching and toe-wiggling. Yellow eyes fixed firmly on the doll which magically relayed feelings of prodding arms and sweeping brushes. He laughed until he laughed no more. His throat was dry and his voice was all but gone. More and more arms emerged from the miniature cross to poke and prod and brush and scratch at every bit of the doll. When the arms finally retracted and the doll fell limp, so did he. Inert on the wooden floor of the shop with muscles like playdoh and a mind like scrambled eggs. He commanded his body to get up and leave, but even as he regained control of his muscles, he was still very vulnerable to exhaustion.
Blackness rapidly encroached from the edges of his vision.
[center]***[/center]
He’d seen it all before. The hero falls into the villain’s clutches as is then faced with a choice: Join the villain or meet his demise - options typically laid out to him or her following an insufferable spiel about how poorly society treated the villain and how, if you really think about it, it’s not really the villain’s fault that they’re like this. But, when Illusive opened his eyes expecting yet another instance of this trope, he quickly realized his current predicament was anything but.
He was still in the shop, standing on a strange platform that wasn’t there before. It was a circular cut of dark wood with bright red ink swirlingly inscribed along the border in a script unfamiliar to him that gave off an ethereal glow reminiscent of the voodoo doll. His body was once again not his own. It was stuck in a pose that he might’ve struck if someone asked him for a photo out in the street. Feet planted firmly, chest puffed and staff in hand. Complete with a permanently flexed right bicep and a triumphant grin plastered across his muzzle.
He looked positively marketable.
Although his continued lack of clothes restricted his marketing appeal strictly to the eighteen-plus demographic. That and the bring pink ring around the base of his rock-hard length… Why was it hard?
“Hng! T-The fuck?!”
Words were a struggle. He had to wrestle for control over his own lips as they stubbornly curled back into that cocky smirk. The words (or the rather jumbled facsimiles of words) that did come out were slurred and muffled.
He began stepping off the platform, but, just a second after raising his leg, the inscriptions on the platform gave off an angry glow and he felt himself being pulled back into his initial pose like a spring releasing tension. This was followed by phantom touches pressing his ribs not unlike how a pianist would tickle his ivories.
“Oh, come ohohon!”
The tickling only subsided when he stopped struggling and relaxed back into the action-figure pose. Illusive sighed as he realized the tickling was a punishment for resisting. At least there was a way to avoid it… Not that he intended to stay in this pose forever. He just needed to find a way to-
“Hi Dex.”
His heart sank to the bottom of his chest at the mention of his name.
“Are we enjoying ourselves?”
The voice was smug and cocky, characteristically villainous even if the bright yellow coyote it belonged to looked anything but. He came up from behind the fox, naked and rubbing himself with nary a sliver of shame.
“Grr! Ho- How-?”
“How do I know your name? I know many things, Dex,” he paced around the naked fox, and Illusive, or rather, Dex, turned his head to keep him in view only to be treated to the feeling of feathers under his chin as his neck snapped back to look straight ahead. “Like how I know there have been some disturbing and, frankly, untrue rumors about my humble little shop of wonders.”
“Yrr t-the ownr-?”
“Oh, where are my manners?” He stopped in front of the fox and took a flamboyantly exaggerated bow. “Welcome to The Conjured Coyote. You may call me Benny.”
Dex rolled his eyes.
“People- wi- will c-come!”
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” the coyote exclaimed with a disproportionate cheeriness that was really starting to get on Dex’s nerves. “That’s why I’ve stocked up on these lovely pedestals and voodoo dolls that worked so well on you!”
“Ba- Bastard-!”
“Are you really in a position to be throwing insults at me?”
Dex growled. He would be throwing many more insults if his lips didn’t insist on snapping back into their magically assigned pose whenever he tried to get words out.
“Ah, cheer up! I promise I’m not gonna hurt you! In fact, I think you’ll enjoy this.”
He didn’t like the coyote’s tone, and he liked it even less when he sauntered over to his naked body and stood eye to eye with him, both men smirking for two very different reasons. Benny lay a finger just below Dex’s belly button and gingerly traced it down towards his crotch, stopping at the pink cock ring. He gave it a squeeze and Dex immediately felt something best described as a mix between intense vibration and mild electric current stimulating his canine phallus. His eyes rolled back as the tidal wave of pleasure washed over him.
Benny grinned, teasing the tip of his shaft with a meandering claw.
“See? What did I tell you?”
“F-Fuhuhuhuhu!”
He threw a punch that barely grazed the coyote’s cheek before his arm bounced back. Phantom fingers began probing his armpits.
“Feisty, are we? Good. That makes for a better show.”
Dex managed an angry glare for all but a second before his face muscles twitched back into a smirk one by one. It really didn’t help that whatever the ring was doing to his dick felt better than any kind of sex he’d had before.
“Hngg!! Go- Gonna-”
“Cum? I’d love to see that?”
Dex would rather deny his captor the satisfaction of seeing him succumb to orgasmic bliss if he could help it. And indeed, that was a big if. His body prepared to spasm in toe-curling pleasure as it neared climax… but it didn’t come. The pleasure kept rising until it plateaued and stayed there. Teetering on the edge but never going over it. Perpetual tension. Blissful tension, granted, but tension nonetheless.
“Wha-?!”
“Figured it out yet?” The coyote sounded too pleased with himself. “That’s right, Dex. You’re not getting off easy. Metaphorically and literally!”
Dex rolled his eyes again. Out of everything he was being put through, Benny’s clever little comments were, by far, the worst. He wondered if the coyote did it on purpose.
Benny reached for his nipple and gave it a squeeze which made Dex yelp and throw another punch only for that attempt to end up exactly like the first and be promptly punished with feelings of feathers on his soles.
“Hahahaha!”
The nipple pinching didn’t stop.
“You look so silly, right now. I mean look at you! Posing like that just for me all model-like.”
“Hehengg… Stpphhh!”
Every syllable was a battle. Every muffled vowel carried with it a giggle that had to breach through his lips - forcefully contorted back into that forced cocky smirk. Benny’s smirk, however, was the genuine article.
“I know your type, Dex. Big talk about ‘cleaning the streets’ or ’taking a bite out of crime’ or whatever the catchy slogan is, these days. All that self-righteousness inflates your ego to the size of your biceps. Which is why I take it upon myself to teach you heroes some humility whenever I get the chance! I guess you could even call it my hobby. I was delighted to know you were coming to my shop.” He gave his nipples a hard squeeze. “You see, I’ve had my eye on you for quite a while now, Dex.”
Benny’s next words froze the fox’s blood.
“You’re my new favorite toy.”
Panic.
The sudden realization that he was dealing with someone far more sinister that the average villain hit Dex harder than any punch or kick could have. Benny was a rogue agent. A deviant. A sadist. And he could do whatever he wanted to the fox. At the moment, that was to gently and unnervingly caress his biceps.
“So nice of you to flex these for me.”
“Duhn tuh!”
Don’t touch! Was what he meant to say as he threw a kick that was stopped just short of hitting Benny’s shin.
“Why not? Toys are meant to be played with.”
His firm pecs played host to Benny’s prodding fingers next before they left town and drove south towards the hills of his abs where they frolicked happily.
“N-nahaha! Hnghnghng!”
More feathers sawed between his toes and some sort of brush painted his tummy. None of them were actually there, of course, but the sensations were very much real. The intensity of the tickling was proportional to how much he struggled which, in that moment, was quite a lot. His body was being effectively violated by the coyote and Dex didn’t like that one bit, even if his precum faucet of a penis disagreed. A small pool of the stuff had formed on the platform. Although he did not want to admit it, Dex was hornier than he had ever been. The effect of the cock ring was unlike anything he could describe, which told him with little uncertainty that it was magical in nature.
After he was done fondling every last muscle group in his new toy, Benny decided to do an olfactory inspection, much to Dex’s disgust. The coyote buried his nose into his increasingly sweaty armpit and took a deep whiff while stroking his own throbbing length.
“Grrn! Ghehetohoff-”
“Just taking a sniff.”
As Benny filled his chest with a lungful of Dex’s powerful scent, the fox only struggled harder which in turn made his punishment worse. Ironically, he could feel tongues lapping up his armpits. Feline perhaps, judging from how raspy they felt.
“BWAHAHAHAHA!”
“Struggle all you want, toy! You’ll only make it worse for yourself!”
It was the strangest thing. He could feel (and see) the coyote’s wet nose poking about his pit at the same time that his senses told him there was a tongue licking the sweat off of it and tickling something fierce in the process. The impossible tactile dissonance messed with his senses and made him more sensitive overall.
The one saving grace of this new humiliation was that at least it kept Benny quiet. He was too busy taking greedy whiffs of Dex’s pits. His eyes rolling back in their sockets as he masturbated slower to avoid ending the fun too soon.
“Oh, fuck, I just can’t hold it anymore!”
Benny let his tongue roll out of his drooling maw and began licking the fox’s sweaty armpits, adding to the tickling but mainly just gross-out factor. Thankfully, the overwhelming lust that seized most of Dex’s brain by now significantly raised his tolerance for such acts or else he might have screamed. Heroes shouldn’t scream. Not unless it is to proclaim the name of their signature move.
Benny went over him like a starving wolf would a smoking hot ribeye. He drilled his muzzle into his pits and didn’t stop there. He nuzzled his neck and licked under his chin, much to Dex’s unwanted arousal, and even peppered his muzzle with kisses.
“STO- STOHOHOPFF!”
“Or what? You’ll flood my shop with your tears?”
“ABUHUHUSE!”
“It would be if you were a person. Alas, you are nothing but a toy.” He planted a deep kiss right into Dex’s quivering, smirking lips, and gave him a predatory look. “My toy.”
Dex put up his fiercest bout of resistance yet, breaking the pose multiple times before being corrected back into it and punished with a new burst of tickling. The tickling became so atrocious that the tears welling up in his eyes finally spilled out and rolled down his cheeks.
But he endured.
There had to be a limit to how much force the magic could hold back. He just had to push through as it tried to ‘correct’ his pose. Who knows? Maybe a good punch right in the coyote’s nose would be enough to dispel the incantation. Dex would have really liked that. He gritted his teeth.
Now or never, Dex.
He raised his leg in an attempt to step off the platform. Legions of soft paintbrushes marched on his tummy and his pits and his ribs and his crotch. Farm animals were let loose on his honey-covered soles. A million feathers gathered in a hurricane and assaulted every bit of ticklish skin on Dex’s body down to every last nook and cranny. The pedestal glowed it’s brightest.
But he endured.
He loosened his grip around the staff, letting it fell on the floor with a loud clatter. Benny just smiled at him. The sick bastard was enjoying this. Enjoying watching his mind being overcome with a primal lust that would have already crushed a lesser man. The cock ring’s seismic vibrations would have milked him dry by now if not for its orgasmic denial effect, and the amount of precum on the floor was rivaled only by the thick layer of sweat he was drenched in.
He gave it his all, Dex did.
One by one, his limbs snapped back into place like rubber and even the staff levitated back into his hand. He was stuck.
Stuck. Exhausted. Helplessly horny.
“Got that out of your system?”
Dex gave no reply. He was the very picture of defeat.
“Good! Let’s continue then.”
Benny resumed his play session, indifferent to the sobs of his now truly broken toy. He grabbed the fox’s length and stroked it.
“Aww, cheer up! Being a toy isn’t so bad.”
Dex could only manage a pathetic whimper through his smirking lips as pleasure built up infinitely in his gonads with no chance of release. Benny then wetted his index finger in his mouth which gave Dex a pretty good idea as to what he was about to do. He would’ve at least covered his anus with his tail but it too was stuck upright. In went the finger and out came the laughs.
“Relax, Dex! You don’t want to make this harder than it has to be, do you? Although I do like it when you flex those muscles for me.”
He kept resisting despite having already lost, telling himself that he was still in possession of his dignity or what little of it remained. Benny’s finger tickled his prostate and made his eyes roll back in their sockets. A wave of pleasure momentarily ceasing his struggles.
“Did I find your love button?”
His entire pelvis screamed for release. Like an immortal creature trapped in an electrified steel cage that had been welded shut. Constant suffering with no physical possibility of release. Except in Dex’s case, the pain was pleasure and the cage was his own body.
Benny kept fingering him for agonizingly long. About as long as it took him to learn the exact motions that made the fox flex his legs so he could see those lovely quadriceps bulge, accompanied by a spurt of pre and a giggle.
It was an adorable, if rather pathetic spectacle.
But every show had to come to an end.
“Good toy!” he praised, planting another kiss on Dex’s nose with a lot less resistance this time. “I can see you’re quite pent up.”
“Cuh… Cuhuhummm…”
Tired words from a tired fox.
Benny giggled. “Silly Dex!” He ruffled the fox’s hair, throwing beads of sweat everywhere. “Toys don’t cum.”
That statement dashed whatever hopes he still might’ve had about being granted release at the end of all this. No. The coyote was simply too sadistic for that.
“But now that you mention it, I am quite pent up. See?” Benny held his throbbing length in his hand. “Take a closer look.”
He snapped his hands and the platform glowed, casting both he and Benny in a red light from below. It made the coyote look every bit as monstrous as he was, his large shadow cast on the wall-to-wall shelves lined with those innocent little trinkets.
Dex’s body moved by itself. It knelt down on the platform and put him face-to-cock with Benny’s slick wet member. His knees were wet with something. He looked down as best as he could at the ridiculous amount of pre ejaculate he had secreted. Was that absurd quantity all his…? He started getting up but was quickly pulled back down mid-motion.
“Good toy! Now have a taste.”
No sooner than those words left the coyote’s mouth, his shaft entered the fox’s own. He was forced to give his new master a very giggly blowjob.
“Fuck…” Benny let out a contented sigh and placed a hand on the fox’s head. “You’re so good at this!”
Dex bit down hard which the pedestal both stopped and punished. He was forced to take in the coyote’s wet meat again and again…
“Wait! Slow down! I have an idea.” He took his shaft out of the fox’s maw. “Jerk me off, toy. Aim for your face.”
“NNGGN! N-NOHOHO!!”
He protested. He resisted. He laughed. But he took the coyote’s cock in his hand all the same. Looking at his twitching tip - seconds away from bursting - was like looking down the barrel of a loaded gun. Except it was his finger on the trigger. Hot, sticky seed covered the once-hero’s face and irreversibly crushed his psyche. He offered no resistance as the platform moved him back to his previous action-figure pose.
“Like I said, Dex. My new favorite toy.”
Dex looked straight ahead. If Benny’s face so much as nudged his peripheral vision, he was sure he’d have an aneurysm.
“I’ll be back in the morning for more fun. Enjoy yourself in the meantime.”
The door to the shop opened behind him and then closed.
Dex shut his eyes. It can’t end like this, he thought. But he was still within the spell’s grasp - forced to stand in that stupid pose, face stained by a fresh load of coyote seed. Helpless, exhausted, and horny. So, so horny! Without thinking, he reached for his dick but barely touched it before the pedestal glowed “no” and pulled his hand back.
Another torrent of tickling.
Nipples? He managed to pinch them, making himself moan loudly but that was that. Hand snapped back. More tickling.
He needed a plan. ANY plan to get out of there before the coyote came back! He racked his brains for one but kept drawing blanks. In his current position, he was entirely dependent on outside help. The realization made him deeply regret having never told anyone about his mission to The Conjured Coyote.