The world slowly came into focus. Tavrin rubbed his eyes and picked up the phone, his ear piercings scratching yet another chip in the heavily cracked screen.
“Yeah?” he said, groggily.
A gruff, smoke-scarred voice spoke from the other side. “Did I wake you up?”
“It’s…”, he checked his alarm clock. “One pm. on a Saturday. What do you think?”
“Sorry about that. How about you come down to the Institute so I can make it up for you?”
He frowned. “You working weekends, now?”
“Sort of. I’ll explain it once you’re here. Need me to come pick you up?”
“I haven’t said I’ll go yet.”
“You don’t wanna get tickled?”
Tavrin kicked off the covers and jumped out of bed. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.” He hung up.
Now wide awake, he threw on a pair of navy track pants – same one he used the day before – and a loose black shirt sporting the thorny logo of his fifth favorite melodic death metal band. He checked himself in the mirror before heading out. His fur, colored like leaves in autumn, still kept clean from the shower he took before bed. The clothes that hung from his tall, slender frame could use a quick ironing but there was no time.
His phone rang again. Viktor waited outside.
After a short car ride spent catching up with his old friend, Tavrin found himself climbing the front steps of the monolithic building that housed the illustrious Pokémon Research Institute. Viktor walked by his side. The polar bear wore a pair of blue jeans with an old green t-shirt and black sneakers, having seemingly taken as much care with his outfit as Tavrin had with his own.
They made their way past the building’s revolving door and found a smiling finned dragon in a lab coat scanning the maned wolf with curious amber eyes.
“Is that a Lost Paw tour shirt?”
Tavrin’s ears shot up and his normally dormant tail danced sideways. “You bet it is! Nabbed it at their show last year!”
“That’s awesome! I’m Tagus, by the way.”
“Tavrin. Great to meet you, Vik told me all about you—UNF!” As the maned wolf extended his hand to shake the young dragon’s, the boy wrapped him in a tight hug which he timidly reciprocated. “He did mention you’re a hugger,” he laughed.
As expected on a weekend, the building’s lobby was deserted.
Tavrin crossed his arms and regarded the other two. “So, gonna tell me what this is about?”
“We’re rebranding,” explained Viktor with an uncharacteristic level of excitement. “Turns out some folks are wanna try out the stuff we do to patients and test subjects. Enough people to make it profitable. Who would’ve thought?”
“So we pitched the idea to corporate and they’re willing to give us a shot,” continued Tagus. “We’re running some tests on non–Pokémon volunteers and, if we get good results, the Institute will start offering specialized services for anyone who wants them! ‘Mon or not!”
“Only catch is we gotta do it off the clock, hence why we’re here today.”
That made sense. Tavrin himself had pondered asking Viktor for an off-the-books session for himself on multiple occasions. Now he didn’t have to.
“Fair enough. Can I get tickled, now?”
The polar gestured towards the elevator past the vacant reception desk. “Right this way.”
They rode the elevator to the second floor and walked along the sunlit hall until they arrived at a door with a hand-written label reading ‘A.R.C. Proof Of Concept & Testing’.
The room’s interior looked positively appetizing to the tickle-loving maned wolf. The centerpiece was a heavily reinforced recliner with leather straps and a pair of stocks at the footrest that he couldn’t wait to slide his paws into. Beside the recliner was a wooden table that displayed a variety of objects – some familiar, some not. The rest of the small room was cozily decorated with potted plants, white curtains and even a string of Christmas lights snaking around the frame of the single ajar window that served as both natural lighting and ventilation.
“What do you think? Decorated it myself,” Tagus proudly stated.
“Looks better than my own room and I wish I was joking.”
“I could come over and decorate, if you want.”
Tavrin patted the dragon’s head. “I appreciate it, buddy. But the dickheads I call flatmates would just mess up your hard work.”
At Viktor’s behest, he stripped and leaned back on the recliner. They strapped the straps and locked the stocks around Tavrin’s long, cream-padded foot paws. A loop of wire went around each of his eight toes. The bear grabbed a clipboard and adjusted his glasses.
“How does the recliner feel?” he asked, uncapping a pen.
Tavrin let himself sink into the plush foam of the cushion and sighed. “I could fall asleep here if I wasn’t about to get tickled senseless.”
“And the straps?”
The leather bindings around his wrists and midriff were densely padded so no chaffing could occur. The same went for the stocks. “Comfortable as they oughta be. You know how much I thrash around when you get my pads.” He tried curling his toes. “The toe-ties are a bit tight, though.”
“Loosen them up a bit, will ya, Tag? I’ll set up the camera.”
An evidently flustered Tagus shuffled his way close to the maned wolf’s feet, not even attempting to hide his growing tent. One by one, he allowed each of the captive digits an extra half-centimeter of slack, just enough to avoid cutting off circulation but not enough to allow them any freedom of movement.
“Alright, we’re rolling,” Viktor said after setting up a camera on a tripod overlooking the maned wolf. “So here’s the deal. We’re going to use some tools on your paws and you’re going to rate them on effectiveness from one to ten. We’ll start when you’re ready.”
Butterflies danced inside Tavrin’s stomach. He stewed in anticipation. “I’m ready. Tickle my paws!”
Tagus was the first to oblige by dusting Tavrin’s right sole with a stiff-bristled brush. Viktor joined in with a brush of his own and both of the maned wolf’s soles got an effective but ticklish cleaning.
“Haha!! Seven! T-That’s a sehehehven!” he giggled.
“We haven’t started yet, we’re just cleaning the dirt from your paws.”
“You did come in barefoot.”
Up, down and sideways danced the soft fronds of the brushes along the soles of the maned wolf’s long paws, shooing away the layer of dust that darkened the light cream color of their pads. They were sized in proportion to their owner’s above-average height – an attribute maned wolves were well-known for – which meant a lot of ground to cover for the ticklers.
After a somewhat overzealous brushing that left his feet clean and his dick stiff, Tavrin saw the first tool he’d be rating. A handheld gizmo made of plastic tipped with a small disc coated in tiny synthetic feathers. Both of his ticklers held an exemplar each and switched them on to near noiseless operation. As the discs spun, the shapes of the individual feathers melded together to form a translucent disc of pink fluffiness that inched closer and closer.
“GAAAHAHA!! S—SHIHIT!!”
He knew it. Those assholes went straight for his toes. They wedged the discs effortlessly between his tied digits and let the motors do the work. It felt awful (which translates to ‘amazing’ in tickle-fetishist lingo); the speed at which the short but stiff feathers attacked the soft skin between his toes was nothing short of cruel (delicious) and he hated (loved) every second of it.
“NINE! NINE!! BWAHAHA!”
“Nine? I would’ve guessed a ten by how much you’re thrashing,” said Viktor. “What do you think, Tagus?”
The dragon didn’t answer, he was too busy devouring Tavrin’s soles with his eyes, gorging on every twitch, spasm and otherwise futile attempt to fight against the unyielding toe ties. Viktor shook his head with a laugh. He found the young dragon’s tendency to lose himself in other’s paws quite adorable, even though these days he preferred those paws to be his own. Not like he could blame the kid, Tavrin did have a quality pair of feet on him.
“I’ll put it down as a nine.” He jotted a hasty nine on the clipboard, next to ‘handheld feather rollers’, then tapped Tagus’ shoulder to get his attention. “Let’s move on to the next one.”
“Huh? Y—Yeah, right,” he said, flustered.
While Tavrin regained his breath and Tagus adjusted his increasingly tight pants, Viktor prepared the next tool. He placed a plastic control box near Tavrin’s bound feet and slid two metallic rings around his big toes. The rings were connected to one another and then to the control box by a wire. Two more wires connected the control box to a handheld wand with an bulbous metal tip.
“This one’s an iteration of a device that electrically stimulates the skin into thinking it’s being tickled,” explained Viktor while slipping on a pair of rubber gloves. ”Works wonders on subjects that are weak to electricity… And ones who’re not, too.”
Tavrin tensed up at the mention of the word ‘electricity’. “Whoa, wait a second! You’re not gonna shock my feet, right?!”
“Well, yeah, but it’s a really low power shock. Won’t hurt a bit, I promise!” Viktor tried to reassure him. “But I won’t force you. If you want to, we’ll skip this one.”
“You’re missing out on some intense tickles,” Tagus added. ”Trust me, I know.”
A few months before, Tavrin had accidentally shocked himself while trying to change a light fixture and decided that was enough contact with electricity for a lifetime. Still, the promise of intense tickles did pique the his curiosity.
“Fine. If you promise it won’t hurt, I believe you.”
“Attaboy, Tav!” Viktor took the wand and turned a dial on the control box. Then he touched the tip of the device to the center of the wolf’s left foot, resulting in a loud snap and an arc of energy.
“Ah, fuck!! You said it wouldn’t hurt you asshole!”
“Fuck, sorry! I must’ve set it too high!” Panicked, Viktor dialed back the knob on the control box and prepared to use the wand again.
“Wait, no! I wanna skip this one! You said—AAAHAHAHA!!”
A finely tuned combination of voltage and amperage slipped beneath his sole skin and slapped his nerves awake many thousands of times per second. The sensation was indescribably alien but his brain interpreted it as an intense tickling without precedence. Rather than thrashing about in his straps like he’d done until now, Tavrin found his muscles firmly contracted by a force that wasn’t his own for as long as Viktor held the cold tip of the wand against the center of his paw-pad, only relenting once the maned wolf fell into silent laughter.
He slumped back in the recliner, inhaling sharp breaths and exhaling residual laughter. His dick was sore from the sheer intensity of his erection.
“I’ll put this one down as a ten,” Viktor said, scribbling in his clipboard.
Tavrin agreed.
Something cold touched his meat. Turning his head, he saw Tagus sliding a ring down the length of his shaft. It felt constricting.
“Sorry, can’t let you cum before we go through every tool. You get more ticklish after you nut, you know?”
“He knows,” said Viktor.
“I know,” Tavrin repeated. “It’s alright as long as I get to cum later.”
It might’ve been his imagination, but he thought he saw his ticklers sharing a knowing smirk. The butterflies in his stomach were back.
The testing continued. Viktor slipped off the metallic rings from the wolf’s toes but kept his rubber gloves on. Tagus slipped on a pair of his own. Fortunately for Tavrin, they weren’t going to shock his soles again. Instead, they coated their gloved fingers in a transparent paste-like substance dotted with sparse red particles. The paw massage that followed served to soothe the lingering tingles from the earlier electric shock. It was relaxing enough to put him to sleep. Or it would’ve been if he wasn’t tied up and hard as an ingot.
Feathers. Long, white, and firm. Two of them. Seagull feathers? He didn’t know, hard to tell when they zigzagged across his soles and swished under the smooth skin of his toe stems. It tickled – as feathers do – but not nearly as much as the previous tools. It was good, even, and not in a torturous way. Just the simple, carnal pleasure of having his biggest fetish gently satisfied – not too softly, not too harshly. The clear substance that coated his soles did not seem to have much of an effect other than making the feathers glide about a little easier.
“So?”
“Hehehe!… F-four! And it f-feels nihice!”
He pondered asking them to feather his dick next, but stopped himself as he recalled that he wasn’t allowed to cum just yet. With those feathers on his meat, he might’ve just blown it then and there.
“Good! Let’s move on.”
Those heavenly quills left his soles. How disappointing. Fortunately, they were being replaced with plumes of a different variety. Colorful, malleable and a lot wider. He grinned and closed his eyes, anticipating another moan-inducing feather massage on his lowest extremities.
Instead, of a light breeze there came a hurricane.
The soft feathers felt like metal rakes snaking between his toes and dragging down his arches. Like the roughest, densest, stiffest brushes fit to scrape rust off of iron. Like objects composed of pure ticklish energy, tailor-made specifically to punish him and his offensively ticklish feet. He threw himself in all directions but the straps held him still. Maw forced agape with involuntary mirth, he laughed, and laughed, and laughed.
“How does it feel, Tav?”
“BWAHAHAHA—”
“Yeah, thought so.” Viktor wrote a confident ten on his clipboard. ”Let’s give him a break, Tagus.” The tickling stopped and Tavrin needed a full thirty seconds to stop giggling at the phantom sensations lingered about his soles.
“W—What kind of bird did you pluck those things from!?”
Viktor contemplated the multi-colored plume. “Good question. Parrot? Or maybe a robin…”
“No way. I’ve felt both of those feathers before and they didn’t tickle that bad!”
Tagus chimed in. “That’s because it’s not the feathers, it’s the gel!” He held up the small flask from which they’d drawn the substance that coated Tavrin’s paws. “It can be tuned to certain sensations and amplify their effect. This one’s tuned for knismesis – or very light tickling in layman’s terms.”
Tavrin was anything but a layman when it came to matters of tickling, but he let the young dragon have his moment anyway.
“I’m impressed! Can’t say I’ve seen anything like that before.”
“That’s ‘cause it doesn’t exist anywhere else. R&D worked their tails off to perfect the formula,” said Viktor. “Do you know how many of their prototypes just ended up working like weapons grade itching powder?” He laughed.
“This place really is something,” said Tavrin. ”So what’s next?”
“That’s it for the tools, actually! We’ve gone through them all.”
“Neato! Does that mean I get to cum?”
There was that knowing smirk again. Now he was sure he’d seen it the first time.
“Well, there is one more stage,” said Tagus, visibly containing his excitement. “It’s an endurance test of sorts.” Tavrin could guess what the dragon was about to say next. “We’re going to measure how long it takes until you pass out.”
He guessed correctly. While Tagus spoke, Viktor was already inserting those dreaded conductive rings around his toes. He bit his lip. “What was the safe word, again?”
Viktor held up that terrible conductive wand again and switched it on. “There isn’t one,” he said flatly before pushing the arcing tip of the wand right against the arch of the wolf’s left foot.
Thrown into hysterics once again, Tavrin bellowed out in tortured laughter while shaking his head sideways. The rest of his body was locked in involuntary contraction on account of the current hijacking his muscles. At least this time Viktor had the decency to give him short breaks in between every few seconds of tickling. Tagus had no such decency, however, and busied himself with tickling the maned wolf’s right paw with one of the handheld feather rollers from earlier. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the amplifying gel didn’t synergize so terribly well with the soft, fluffy fibers of the tool’s feather disk.
As a tickle-lover, Tavrin prided himself on his endurance and regularly boasted about how much torment he could take – and even get off on – to his peers and playmates. But not this. This was different. New. He had no built-up resistance whatsoever to neither the ticklish electric shocks nor the mind-bogglingly effective gel.
He loved every second of it.
When his ticklers each pulled out a second of their respective tools and added them to the mix, that was it. Tavrin screamed, then came, then passed out.
Even after opening his eyes, it took him a while to shake off the dream-like haze that fogged his mind. His vision was stilldubious
“–And since you were such a good sport, we decided to reward you with a very special therapy session,” Viktor’s audible giddyness both excited and terrified Tavrin. “What you’re in right now is called prolonged gargalesis treatment machine, or PGT machine, for short. You can probably figure out what it does.”
“Uh-uh,” said Tavrin. ”If it’ll make me cum then you can go ahead and flip the switch.”
The dragon and the bear shared a hearty laugh.
“Told ya he’d wanna do it,” boasted Viktor.
“It’s not like I doubted you but it doesn’t hurt to ask first,” Tagus retorted. “ I get that he’s a total masochist but the PGT is serious stuff! Like last week, that test subject–“
“Guys!” yelled the maned wolf. “Just turn it on, already! I wanna get my shit wrecked!”
Another hearty laugh. “Yes, sir!”
He heard and felt the machine hum beneath him. The monitor came on and Tavrin was treated to a multiple angle feed showing various parts of his body. His legs were strapped down and spread apart, exposing his groin area to the inevitable torments that awaited it. His feet were bound at the ankles with all toes pulled back by a series of strings – no metal rings this time, thankfully. The neck brace that kept his head still was little more than a hollow frame that provided easy access to his neck. Above his head, his arms were strapped down as tightly as his legs, exposing his hairless pits – as hairless as they could be, given that he was covered in fur. An IV had been inserted into his left arm. That bit did creep him out a little but he was too horny to care.
The sight of his own body trapped and exposed like that was enough to coax his meat to rise from his sheath for the second time that day, and the sight of many oncoming mechanical appendages approaching all of his sensitive spots made it reach its full length in mere seconds.
They creeped closer at a deviously slow speed, leaving Tavrin to stew in anticipation that would surely make the real torture all that more intense. Then, all at once, they struck.
There were soft buffers polishing his pads while smaller bristly rollers assaulted the spaces between his toes. A small army of quills swished between his inner thighs and balls while a wide, spinning ring with plumes turned inwards descended upon his red rocket and feathered it from every direction at once. Small, vibrating brushes targeted his tummy and neck and wider but stiffer rotating scrubbers delved into his armpits. Not even his characteristically tall ears were spared from a nice feathering, courtesy of two miniature feather dusters.
He howled. It was as if the greatest reward and the most hellish punishment had merged into one and enveloped the poor canine in his entirety. Quite literally everything tickled. It was impossible to pinpoint where each separate sensation was coming from as they all combined into a single unified stream that hammered his nervous system, displacing all other physical sensation in favor of relentless, all-consuming tickling.
He climaxed, and braced himself for the wave of oversensitivity he knew was coming. When it washed over him, his senses heightened tenfold. He climaxed again. The rings feathering his meat were replaced with a suction-based milking machine that got to work massaging his aching dick. His scrotum was still being feathered. He climaxed one more time. Unseen nozzles sprayed him with a cold mist that made the tools glide about frictionless. He climaxed again, only produced a few scant dollops of actual semen. It didn’t matter to the machine. It kept tickling him; milking him.
He caught some snippets of conversation in-between his own ragged laughter.
“Hehe! S-slohower, Tag! I c-can’t keep my feheheet still if you tihickle my t-tohoes like thahat!”
“Sorry, Vik. Got carried away. Let’s do the feather instead, okay?”
“Alright, but I’m having a go at your paws after.”
“Deal!”
Knowing that Viktor and Tagus were fucking around with each other in the same room where he was being tickled senseless only made the whole thing hotter. He whished he could see them. The thought made him climax again. Oh how his dick ached.
Blackness creeped in from the edges of his vision and he knew it would be over soon. All he had to do was give himself in to the tickling and slip into blissful unconsciousness. It had been fun but he needed rest. He closed his eyes, hoping he wouldn’t wake up in yet another weird contraption.
Dark.
A rush of cold invaded his left arm. He found himself wide-awake.
Panicked, he began struggling.
“HEHEYY T-TOHOOHOO MAHAHAHAHA!!” He tried to scream for help but the incessant torrent of laughter that every nerve in his body was forcing him to produce didn’t let him produce coherent words. He could hear Tagus laughing – likely from being tickled – and deduced that him and Viktor were too enthralled in their activities to to pay attention to him. Or perhaps they were intentionally ignoring him. He had no way to know.
New tools joined in to torment him, rubber-tipped pokers jabbed and pushed into his soft sides and belly while an additional pair of brushes tortured the padless areas of his soles. Something changes inside the milker, it switched from using suction to employing a series of bristles to tickle further climaxes out of him. He faintly recalled Viktor talking about this type of milker in the past. He climaxed again and felt exhausted afterwards. Another dose of cold IV liquid forced him awake.
He tried to call for help again but by that point he couldn’t even think in words anymore, let alone vocalize them. At some point, the screen showed him his face. He was crying – sobbing like a cub with his lips contorted into a tortured smile. It was shameful, objectifying, and indescribably erotic.
He came again and was rewarded with another dose of that terrible drug.
How long had it been? Hours? Days? In his dreamy haze of endless tickling he could remember a faint, distant time. A time before the machine, the painful orgasms, and the consecutive rushes of cold on his left arm. Something about an invitation? There was a polar bear… and a blue dragon. The dragon was cute.
When the tickling stopped, he was carried away in the someone’s burly arms. There was a dragon with them. Was it the same one he recalled from before? He was driven to someone’s house and helped to bathe. Then he was tucked into a comfortable, spacious bed.
He drifted off to the feeling of loving hands tenderly massaging his paws.
The morning sun shone through the tall windows of the combined kitchen and living room area. Tavrin sat at the breakfast table munching on a piece of heavily buttered toast. Opposite of him, Tagus and Viktor sat with surprised looks on their faces.
“So you’re not mad?” asked Tagus. “Not even a little bit?”
“That’s right,” Tavrin said while chewing. “Kind of a dick move not to let me go even when I begged for it, but I can’t lie. It was insanely hot.” His body ached all over, like it would the day after an intense workout or a long trek through rough terrain, yet his mind felt fresh. Limpid. “To be honest, I feel great!”
Viktor took a sip of coffee before declaring: “You’re the biggest tickle slut I know, you know that?”
Tavrin laughed. “You’re not too far behind yourself.”
“How did you guys meet anyway?” said Tagus.
“Met him working at a café I used to go to,” explained the bear.
“Shit job…”
“We started talking and one thing led to another… before we knew it, we were meeting up for tickle sessions every now and then. That’s basically it.”
The dragon frowned. “No, that’s not even remotely close to being ‘basically it’! I want the juicy details, not the bullet points!”
“It’s a long story, I’ll tell you about it some other time,” said Tavrin, biting into his second piece of obscenely buttered toast and flashed his fangs in a devious smirk. “After I’ve had my revenge, that is.”
The couple looked surprised, but did not object. After all, it was only fair after what Tavrin had endured. After breakfast, they and moved back to the bedroom where Viktor kindly put his vast arsenal of kinky instruments – and himself – at Tavrin’s disposal.
Tavrin’s first order was simple. “Strip.” Both bear and dragon took off their sleepwear. Viktor’s body he’d already seen many times, but not Tagus’. He took a moment to appreciate the vivid aquamarine that covered the young dragon from head to webbed toes, accented by piercingly beautiful green fins.
Vik, you lucky bear.
He commanded the bear to lie down and spread out his limbs which he then tethered to the bedposts with rope. Then he ordered the smaller dragon to lay on top of the bear’s large belly and do the same. The resulting stack of naked men, exposed and ready for fun, was nothing short of delicious to Tavrin.
He selected a pair of soft makeup brushes from Viktor’s collection and knelt at the end of the bed, taking in the beautiful sight of the two vastly different pairs of feet. The bear’s broad, fully padded soles were like blank canvases in need of one (or several) coats of imaginary paint from a very real, very tickly brush. By contrast, the dragon’s smaller paws looked delicate, almost feminine by comparison – webbed toes shyly curled.
The question was simple. Bear paws or dragon feet? The choice was obvious. Both.
Dexterously, he painted imaginary circles on Viktor’s left sole and lengthwise lines on Tagus’. His reward was a symphony of tenor giggles and baritone guffaws conducted by an octet of wiggling toes.
“Kitchy coo, boys! This is what you get for using me as a lab rat.”
“Y—You agreheheed to ihihit!!” Tagus complained.
“That’s besides the point, buddy,” he joked. “Should’ve been you on that machine, you know? Your laugh is so much cuter than mine. Would you laugh a little louder for me, please?” He plunged both brushed into the crevice under the dragon’s digits and swiped sideways furiously.
“GYAHAHAHA!”
“Ahh, there we go!”
The blue dragon writhed in laughter atop Viktor’s belly, tickling him in the process.
“Shihit, Tag! Stop wigglihing!”
“I—I cahahan’t! My pahahaws!”
Tagus tried to trap the brushes under his curled toes but the soft fibers would simply slide right out of their grasp and inflict more maddening tickles in the process. Both men were already erect and leaking – a sizable bearish member sprung from between the dragon’s legs and pressed against his own smaller but no less respectably-sized member.
Contemplating those monolithic expressions of excitement gave Tavrin an idea: Make them pay. Make them feel what they put him through.
In this sudden bout of vindictiveness, he sifted through the pile of toys to find two vibrating cock rings. They gasped when he slid them down their lengths. Turning back to the pile, he picked up the two biggest, roughest brushes he could find. Then he went to work.
They squirmed in moan-pierced laughter. Expected, but not enough for Tavrin. He coated their feet in massage oil and resumed the torment, deliberately targeting the most reactive spots on their soles. This was undeniably more effective – as evidenced by the increase in noise and thrashing – but still not as dire as what he had gone through. He ditched the brushes for pinwheels, yet their screaming laughter wasn’t enough to satisfy him. He wanted more. Those bear stompers and dragon peets deserved to be annihilated!
One by one, he tied their toes back to the rope around their ankles with thin pieces of string. And, one by one, he applied every single instrument, device and substance at his disposal to administer what felt to him like deserved punishment to the pair.
By noon, their soles had been feathered, dusted, oiled, clawed, raked, shocked, socked, unsocked, brushed, scrubbed, kissed and licked raw. Their bodies were drenched in sweat and their cheeks were matted with tears. An intense male odor permeated the air of the bedroom.
The rings still buzzed away around the tied men’s cocks.
“T—Tav,” wheezed Viktor. “Please… L—let us cum.”
“I need it…” begged Tagus.
The wolf flashed his sharp canines in a vicious grin. They were desperate to cum. Perfect! He would deny them that luxury. Make them beg, promise to give anything and everything in exchange for release and then say ‘no’ right to their faces. Then he would keep tickling them until sunset.
He laughed, tail wagging and tent pitched.
Tavrin could never do such a thing to his friends. That just wasn’t him, despite how fun it was to toy with the idea. He held up a pair of black feathers.
“Have you boys learned your lesson?”
They nodded frantically.
“Good boys!”
As the feathers swiped over their engorged glans, both men tensed up and experienced a well-deserved climax. Tavrin undid the ropes and allowed them a moment’s rest and a drink of water.
“Gods, Tavrin. That was a—ma—zing!” said Tagus as he wet wiped himself clean.
Viktor puffed on a cigarette by the window, having already cleaned himself. “For a second there I thought you were gonna keep going.”
“Nah, I’m not that much of an asshole,” Tavrin joked. “Besides, I like you guys too much.”
Viktor smiled. “That’s cute.”
“Yeah, I am.” He held up two milking cylinders and put on a sheepish smile. “Up for one last game before lunchtime?”
Viktor glanced at Tagus who nodded excitedly. “Let’s do it!”
For the final time that day, the bear and the dragon offered themselves to be tied up. They sat side by side on the bed. Arms bound behind their backs and ankles secured together. Blindfolds covered their eyes and toe cuffs kept their feet together. The milking machines pumped their cocks tirelessly while their oiled feet received the attention of two horse brushes.
“Ooohoho, fuhuhuck!!”
“Haha I—I cahan’t hold ihihit!” Tagus leaned his head on the polar bear’s shoulder.
“C’mon, guys. You gotta hold out for as long as you can! Remember what happens if you cum first!”
Tavrin dialed up the milker’s speed and both men threw their heads back in a long, drawn-out moan. Their toes splayed and curled madly in response to the brushes. They did their best to resist but all the signs of an oncoming climax were there. Toes curled, muscles tensed, laughter waned as the body focused all sensation on the epicenter of an inevitable quake of bliss. In the end, it was the bear who held out longer – though not by much.
Tavrin got to work undoing Viktor’s bondage as Tagus was left to writhe in the throes of post-orgasmic sensitivity.
“Ah! Turn it off! Turn it off!”
“No can do, buddy.” Tavrin poked his claws into the dragon’s underarms. “You lost so now you have to suffer the consequences.”
“Hahaha! Vik, hehehelp!”
Viktor held back the dragon’s toes and scribbled his claws underneath them. “Sorry, Tag. I don’t make the rules.”
Tagus howled, overwhelmed. He couldn’t figure out which was worse, the heartless milker pumping his agonizingly sensitive cock or the pair of raging knismophiles having their way with his helplessly ticklish body.
Unsurprisingly, he climaxed again.
Fortunately for Tagus, they relented after his second orgasm. As he took off the blindfold, Tavrin planted a kiss on his snout, just above his nose.
“Gods, you’re adorable. No wonder why Viktor likes you.”
“It helps that he’s a great cook,” Viktor half-joked. “Speaking of, anyone hungry?”
“Yes,” they sounded in unison.
“Then wash up and let’s go get lunch,” he grinned. “My treat.”