Whatever fluids still remained in the Machoke’s strained balls were drained out in what must’ve been the fifth orgasm of that session, and yet the milker chugged away unabated.
The Pokémon had lost the energy to struggle a long time ago and had since surrendered his body to the polyurethane straps holding it down to the stretcher. The reason for its once lively struggle was the absurd amount of mechanical limbs tipped with stiff-bristled rotating brushes and rubbery pneumatic pokers that surrounded him and assaulted his ticklish body with extreme prejudice.
Everywhere was a target. From neck to toes (which were at present deprived of the luxury of movement, courtesy of a set of toe-ties) and everywhere in between. The bluish-grey skin glistened under the cold lights of the cramped test chamber, not from the sensitising oil that was applied at the beginning of the session but from sweat.
In the adjacent room, through a one-way window, Russie sat and watched with an uncomfortable erection in his pants. No amount of mental preparation could’ve readied him for the more erotic parts of his new job at the Pokémon Research Institute. Up until then, he’d chiefly handled paperwork, small-scale logistics, and various articles of menial office work before management had finally tasked him with conducting a real session, and all on his own, for that matter, which they justified with the fact that the procedure was to be fully automated — something about a system to tire out hard-to-catch Pokémon — and the panda’s functions were limited to supervision and hitting the big, red “STOP” button if anything went awry.
Russie’s gaze darted over the subject’s body. Watching the rubber pokers drum against the Pokémon’s armpits at impossible speeds made his own pits feel itchy and he found himself clenching his arms shut. Seeing the rotating brushes endlessly swish over the taut soles made him curl his toes inside his trainers.
As his focus jumped from spot to spot, it would always eventually land on the creature’s face, red and tear-streaked. The lower half was unseen, hidden behind a standard PRI branded muzzle, but the sound of muffled guffawing made it easy to imagine the tortured smile that was sure to be found underneath the garment. Nonetheless, half a face was enough for Russie to recognise the effect of the living hell that the Machoke was being subjected to.
He wanted to let his cock out and rub it. It had been made abundantly clear to him by his manager that that was acceptable behaviour within the Institute, as many coworkers shared Russie’s tickle fetish in some form or other. But something stopped him. Each time he nearly worked up the courage to rock out with his cock out, he would end up catching a glimpse of the Machoke’s agonised half-face and stare at it for longer than he wanted to. He shut his eyes and slumped back in the swivel chair, questioning if his dream job was worth the abject suffering of an innocent creature.
A beep-beep rang out from his computer, confirming the successful induction of a sixth orgasm with an extraction totalling an expected 0 ml of semen.
A different sound caught Russie off-guard. Sobbing. It shook him to his core in more ways than one.
Immediately, his hand shot towards the emergency stop button as he assessed the subject’s status. Vitals looked okay, and the machine projected an expected one hour and forty minutes until total loss of consciousness, at which point the session would end normally. By the machine’s criteria, there was no reason to stop.
Russie stood there, hand unmoving over the button, listening to the sobs that snuck past the cascade of interminable laughter, fully aware that ending a session prematurely rendered all of the data collected null and void. He tried not to think about his twitching boner which, rather shamefully, only seemed to grow stiffer.
And then he saw the Machoke’s face again, staring right back at him.
He slammed the button.
His colleagues gave him strange looks as he wheeled a stretcher holding the conscious but exhausted Pokémon through the white-walled hallways of the Institute. He anxiously avoided eye contact as he rushed for the lift and smashed the ground floor button, letting out a sight when the doors closed.
“Is he awake?”
Startled, Russie turned to look at the speaker who turned out to be a short bearded dragon standing at the corner of the lift clutching a clipboard. Quite invisible to the inattentive observer. “Shouldn’t subjects be sedated for transportation within the Institute?”
“Oh! Uhm… Y-Yeah. You see, It’s my first time and I sort of… forgot. Not to worry, he’s quite exhausted!” He laughed nervously.
“I see. If I were you I’d get him down to Containment ASAP. You don’t want anyone seeing you carry around a conscious subject.”
“Right, will do. Cheers.” I’m afraid that ship sailed about twenty seconds ago, he thought.
The lift ride passed by painfully slowly under the looming threat of any further interaction from the bearded dragon. When they finally arrived at the ground floor, he ran out as fast as he could and skipped past the doors of the Containment Ward and towards the loading dock. Fortunately, it was deserted at that time of day. He wheeled the stretcher down a ramp past one of the loading bays and into the dockyard outside. The Institute was located on the outskirts of the city, and the dockyard ended where the vast woods that bordered it began.
Russie got to work removing the muzzle and undoing the straps holding down the Machoke before helping him stand up. The Pokémon flinched as his soles touched the hot asphalt. The many treatments administered in the Institute had sensitised his previously calloused feet beyond their biological limits. Still, he stood up, feeling the caress of fresh air for the first time in Arceus knows how long.
“Go on. Get away from this place.”
The Pokémon hesitated for a second before deciding to power through pain on his soles, running off without looking back. He disappeared into the woods.
The rest of the day went by uneventfully. Russie went about his business with a conflicting sense of guilt and relief. He violated at least half a dozen rules and was sure there would be repercussions. Still, if this act of kindness was to be punished, he’d take it knowing that an innocent Pokémon was spared from any further tortures.
The next day came, and with it an email ordering Russie to go see his manager first thing in the morning for an ‘urgent matter’. The meeting went pretty much like he’d expected. A harsh reprimand followed by an ultimatum: accept disciplinary action or be let go. Both sounded terrible but he took the former, not wanting to lose his high-paying job.
The manager did not elaborate on what exactly the procedure would entail, only that someone would come and fetch him from his desk by 2pm that day.
At the dreaded hour, Russie waited and fiddled nervously with his thumbs, having barely eaten any of his lunch. Someone portly approached him. A polar bear in a loose lab coat and jeans.
“Russell Redford?” the older man asked in a gruff voice that betrayed a lifelong smoking habit. Russie nodded in response. “I’m Dr. Viktor Tornell. I’ll be performing your disciplinary session. Come with me, please.”
“Yes, sir!” The man led him out of his office and into the lift. He looked down at the floor in shame the whole way.
“You alright?” Viktor asked, peering at him through silver-rimmed glasses.
“Y-yes, sir, it’s just… I’m a bit nervous, that’s all.”
“You can drop the ‘sir’, just ‘Viktor’ is fine. And don’t stress over it too much. Has happened before, will happen again. There’s a reason we have a procedure in place for such cases.”
“I suppose so… But I looked at that Machoke and–”
“You couldn’t bear to stand there and watch him suffer.”
“Yeah, that!. I-I know he was company property but still–”
“Look,” Viktor interrupted, turning to face the anxious panda. “You’ll be fine. We all mess up, sometimes. Don’t let an earful from your manager bring you down so much, alright?”
“Y-Yeah. Thanks, sir– uh, Viktor.” The polar bear chuckled. “D-Did I say something wrong?”
Viktor waved his hand dismissively. “No, no. You just remind me of someone.”
They exited the lift on the third floor and walked towards the eastern section of the building, an area Russie was still unfamiliar with.
“Here we are, then.” Viktor stood in front of a door labelled ‘Disciplinary Procedures’ and motioned towards it. Inside the relatively cosy room, Russie was greeted by a sharply dressed aquatic dragon.
“Hi! I’m Tagus. You must be Russell, right?”
“Yeah, pleasure to meet you.” He shook hands with the enthusiastic dragon, captivated by the beautiful colours of his scales dancing in sunlight that poured in through the room’s single window. If he didn’t know any better, he might have thought the dragon was a Pokémon himself.
“So you’re the naughty panda who needs some punishment, right?”
“Oh! I–I guess you could say that.” Russie giggled bashfully, caught off-guard by the lad’s tone.
“Tagus, be nice. He’s anxious enough as it is,” said Viktor.
“Aww, Vik! But we’re punishing him, aren’t we? Isn’t he supposed to feel at least a little bit nervous?”
Russie stood at a loss of words in the face of the duo’s demeanour. He had expected someone more… chastising than either of them. If anything, they made him feel more comfortable. “Uhm… So what should I do?”
“Strip,” said Viktor.
“P-Pardon me?”
“Strip and lay down here.” He pointed towards an examination table. The kind normally used to contain subjects during testing. Russie’s cheeks turned red under his white fur as the nature of his punishment became clear to him.
“I– You don’t– You don’t mean I’m going to be–”
“Tied up,” chirped Tagus.
“And tickled,” added Viktor.
“And made to cum,” finished the dragon.
Russie might’ve climaxed then and there, had his arousal not been somewhat subdued by the shock. He recalled his first day orientation, and being shown the building’s floor plan. Suddenly it made sense. Third floor, East Ward. The Punishment Ward. Normally reserved for unruly test subjects but evidently not exclusive to them.
While his mind recovered, his body was one step ahead and unbuttoning his blue shirt. He sat down on the examination table and began to take off his trainers before Tagus stopped him.
“Let me help you with that.”
The dragon’s slim fingers undid the laces before sliding the footwear off the socked feet. Russie flexed his toes, five on each foot.
“Wow, they’re almost as big as yours!” Tagus said to Viktor.
“Heh, almost,” the bear replied.
He peeled off the socks to expose the panda’s wide paws, dark blue with white soles. Then he tucked them inside the trainers and winked at Russie. “You won’t be needing these for a while.”
Being shirtless and barefoot felt most obscene considering the kind of actions that were to take place, but not as obscene as when he slid down his trousers, leaving only his underwear. Both of his soon-to-be punishers looked expectantly at him. With a deep breath, he threw off his last garment. He was already at half-mast.
“There you go! Wasn’t so hard, was it?” said Tagus, tail wagging like a dog’s. “Now lay down and we’ll strap you in.”
And so he did. The duo gently guided his limbs into position, fitting tight but not uncomfortable straps to hold them in place. When it was done, Russie was tied spread-eagle against the cushioned table with not a single sensitive spot unexposed. The thrill of his vulnerability started to kick in, and he couldn’t suppress an anxious smile.
Viktor laughed. “I see you have the right ‘mindset’ for this, Russell. Good for you!”
“My friends call me Russie.”
“Alright then, Russie,” the polar bear placed both hands on the panda’s belly and he felt the dragon do the same at his feet. “Your punishment starts… Now!” The sensations hit him all at once, discombobulating any last shred of composure he’d managed to keep until then. He giggled like a teenager after telling an inappropriate joke. There was the feeling of claws on his feet, darting around the wide soles in a trek to pinpoint his most reactive areas. Bearish hands groped and squeezed his chubby sides and belly, punctuating his giggles with high-pitched yelps each time they did so.
This wasn’t punishment. It was a reward greater than any raise or promotion Russie could have thought of. Being tied up and tickled by two cute colleagues pushed all of the panda’s buttons and more.
“Coochie coochie coo! This is how we deal with naughty boys who turn company assets loose. Are you a naughty boy, Russie?” teased Tagus.
“Y-Yes! Hahaha! I’m a nahaughty boy!” He could hardly believe he was saying such things to people he’d just met but the duo did have a way of making him feel at ease and less mindful of his inhibitions. It was either that or the overwhelming lust clouding his judgement. Regardless, he didn’t care.
“Naughty enough to get off on his punishment,” added Viktor, proving his point with a quick pump of the panda’s cock. The sudden jolt of pleasure made Russie realise how close to orgasm he actually was. He thought back to the Machoke and the automatic milking machine used on the Pokémon. Would a similar machine be used to induce his own climax?
Tagus switched strategies from poking the panda’s soles to raking his claws from toes to heels and up again, admiring the wild splaying and curling of the digits.
“Bwahaha, my feeheeheet!!”
“Is having ticklish feet a bear thing? Never met a bear who wasn’t ticklish on his paws.” said Tagus. “Right, Viktor?”
“Oh shut it, you. As if yours aren’t ticklish too.”
“Heh, can’t deny that.”
Viktor dragged his claws upwards from Russie’s sides until they met his open armpits and started scratching the hollows. Being tickled there evoked the immediate reflex to lower his arms and made Russie especially aware of his bondage. Though there was still plenty of room to wiggle around, there was no way of protecting his ticklish spots. After all, these restraints were made to hold creatures much stronger than the chubby panda bear. His panicked struggles did little more than provide additional amusement for his captors.
While Viktor busied himself with the panda’s pits, Tagus took an electric toothbrush to his inner thighs, dangerously close to his genitals.
“Ah! Fuhuhuck!!” While the bristles themselves tickled, the subsequent vibrations travelled up his legs and massaged his private parts, edging Russie ever closer to an inevitable climax. He attempted to close his legs but the dragon pried them open with his free hand.
“Aww. Look at the naughty little panda bear trying to protect himself!” Tagus teased with mock worry. “Too bad he’s all tied up and exposed for us.”
“Yup! And we’ve only just started! He’ll be a model employee after we’re through with him.” Viktor leaned closer, locking eyes with the blushing panda. “And if not… we’ll just have to discipline him again, and again, and again. As many times as he needs until he learns not to violate company protocol.”
“I’m sohohorry!”
“Damn right you are. And you’ll be even sorrier before we’re done with you today.”
As erotic as the whole ordeal was, Russie still felt a pang of shame each time the duo chastised him for his transgression. He was there for a reason, and it wasn’t a good one. Pleasure or not, he’d done something wrong that might’ve cost him his job.
He didn’t dwell on it, though. Not that he could with multiple ticklish spots under attack.
Viktor fingered his belly button while scratching one of his armpits. Meanwhile, Tagus fully focused on his thighs, moving the electric toothbrush with the same level of precision that a surgeon would move a scalpel. His eyes were getting teary and his sides hurt from laughing. The unabated tickling started to take its toll on his rapidly decreasing stamina.
“P-Plehease! I need a breheheahak!”
“Hey, Tag.”
“Yes, Vik?”
“He said he wants a break.”
“Funny.”
“Quite.”
Right, so no breaks then. Should’ve guessed. This complicated matters a little. Not being allowed breaks placed the session firmly into torture territory. Russie loved being tickled, sure, it turned him on like nothing else. But no breaks? That was a little much to bear even for him.
Then the unthinkable happened.
The electric toothbrush was placed against his cock head. At that point, it was pretty much on hair trigger so his body’s reaction didn’t surprise Russie one bit. Most of his seed landed squarely on his belly though some of it stained the table. The electric toothbrush still buzzed against his length.
“What a bad panda! Cumming during his punishment!” chastised Tagus.
“Very rude of him. What should we do?”
“Punish him harder! Get the brushes!”
Oh no.
The densest, most tickly-looking brushes Russie had ever laid eyes upon were in the hands of the two men tasked with the specific purpose of using them to reduce him to tears, one in each of their hands. Each one had a leather handle that wrapped around the back of their wielder’s hand to provide a tight grip with the wooden body. The bristles were like an opaque forest of strawy fibres. Russie curled his plump toes, practically able to feel the brushes already.
And actually felt them.
“Bwahahaha!”
Tagus conducted fast, vertical sweeps against his soles while Viktor dragged his brushes in circles over his belly, often drifting upwards towards his moobs and underarms.
The tools felt every bit as bad as they looked, amplified by the lingering orgasmic hypersensitivity to shake the panda to his core. The bristles were firm enough to part his thin fur and stimulate the sensitive skin underneath unimpeded, and just flexible enough that variations in depth did not affect the intensity of the tickles at all. He felt them underneath his toes and inside his belly button just as much as he did over and around those areas.
Out of the few rational thoughts he could hold under such duress, the most prominent one was of how unfitting a punishment this was given how his cock refused to go soft even after he’d shot his load. Somehow, he knew that was just the first of many.
“These come as part of a kit.” Viktor held up one of the brushes to give Russie a good look at a black number six nicely embossed into the side of the tool. “They go up to ten,” he smiled.
Ten? Russie couldn’t fathom a single brush that tickled more than these ones and there was Viktor telling him there was not one but four! Fear and excitement gripped him in equal measure.
“I think he’s ready for the milker, Vik.”
So they were going to use a machine to make him cum! He’d been hoping for that. While Tagus kept tending to his feet, Viktor fetched a black cylinder that looked just like the one he’d seen on the Machoke. A tickle milker. Rather than relying on suction, this type of device coaxed out orgasms with the aid of several rings lined with tiny nubs, bristles and tentacles that spun around the wearer’s penis to stimulate it. It was exceedingly effective on the Institute’s usual subjects – who had been indiscriminately treated to derive sexual pleasure from tickling – but no less effective on those of the tickle fetishist persuasion.
He shivered as the device slid down his oversensitive shaft, dragging its numerous tickly rings through the exposed skin as it went. When fully inserted, he could make out three distinct rings: one around the middle of his cock, one lodged just under the head, and a final, small one pressed against his glans. Viktor held the remote in his hand.
“Once I turn this on, it ain’t stopping for a while. Ready?”
For a second, Russie actually thought he had a choice. That thought perished as the polar bear switched on the device before waiting for an answer. Of course. After all, this was still punishment.
“Ah! Aha–! Gaaahahahaha!!”
“Are you sure he’s a panda, Vik? He sounds more like a wolf to me with all that howling.”
“Dunno. Let’s ask him. Are you a panda or a wolf, Russie?”
“P–P–Pahahahaha!!” Russie failed to answer. Any words he tried to get out were swiftly overpowered by hysterical laughter.
“Look at that, he doesn’t know,” laughed Viktor.
“Can’t blame him,” shrugged Tagus. “Pretty hard to think straight when being tickled-milked.”
“You’d know, wouldn’t you?”
“Shut up, keep scrubbing his belly!” said the dragon, flustered.
“Hehe. Sir, yes, sir!”
Russie wondered how the duo could behave so casually in the face of his desperate laughter. The milker felt every bit as amazing and torturous as he had expected. It tickled the most sensitive areas of his cock in ways that only such a purpose-made instrument could and worked to force his next, rapidly approaching orgasm. When it hit, he registered it as a sudden spike in sensitivity.
His soles, belly and cock lit up with renewed receptiveness as the device sucked his panda seed and deposited it in an internal container. External containers were last-decade’s technology and made for tripping hazards.
“These sure like to wiggle a lot,” remarked Tagus, holding back the toes on Russie’s left foot to brush beneath them. “Let’s fix that.” He fetched ten loops of thick thread and ran them around each of the panda’s toes, tying them back to a hook that protruded from the top of his ankle cuffs. It forced his digits to be taut and unable to protect the tender areas underneath. He scraped his claw sideways along the curvature of the panda’s footpad, where it met the toes and smirked as he observed their failed attempt at curling. “There we go! Now we can make these piggies squeal properly.”
And just like that, the last sliver of meaningful defence that Russie still had was taken away from him. From then on, his big, ticklish feet were helplessly exposed to the intense punishment that would be forced upon them – that was being forced upon them! The brushes were back with a vengeance, determined to torment those toes that so naughtily tried to wiggle their way out of a good tickling.
Meanwhile, Viktor had settled for brushing around the lower parts of the panda’s belly as they seemed the most reactive out of his portly upper body. Occasionally, he’d take one brush and very lightly sweep the tips of its bristles under Russie’s balls which resulted in a noticeable increase in moaning.
Russie shook against the straps holding his limbs in place. The same polyurethane he’d seen used on the much stronger Machoke, The position he’d been tied in left all of his most sensitive spots helplessly exposed.
The mixed treatment resulted in yet another orgasm from the panda, one signified by a loud moan that trailed into redoubled laughter as fresh hypersensitivity set in again. It made his torturers wince.
“Fuck, he’s loud!”
“On it.” Viktor fetched a ball gag and stuffed it into the panda’s wide-open maw, muffling his screaming laughter. “Ahh that’s better. Oh and here’s something else for good measure.” He placed a blindfold over Russie’s eyes, then whispered into his ear: “These are from my personal collection. I use them to punish naughty boys like you.”
If everything else about this situation didn’t already bring out Russie’s submissive side, being chastised by the older, larger man surely did. He let out a muffled whine as his tears of laughter matted the blindfold. He was well and truly helpless now. Tied up, blindfolded, gagged, milked and brushed on his most ticklish spots.
If there was a heaven, he expected it to be something like this.
“Ah-coochie-coochie-coo, Russie boy~” teased the dragon. “That’s it! Don’t resist the kitchie coos!”
“Not like he can,” remarked the polar bear. “He’s way too ticklish for his own good.”
Terrible as the tickling and milking were, it was the verbal teasing that really got to Russie and made him have his fourth orgasm. He was dry as sand by that point and the expected bump in sensitivity seemed less intense than the previous ones had been, both to the panda and his punishers.
“I think our friend needs a break.”
“Aww, do we have too?” The aquatic dragon brushed the panda’s arches enthusiastically. “He’s nowhere close to passing out!”
“Tagus…”
“Fine!” he pouted, begrudgingly withdrawing the brushes from Russie’s soles. “It’s not like you to be this merciful, Vik.”
The milker shut off and Russie was finally granted respite. So there are breaks, after all, he thought. The blindfold and gag were removed as well – temporarily, he hoped. His heart raced. His soles, belly and genitals still tingled. Sides hurt from laughing and his lips still formed the outline of a shaky, forced grin. He was drenched in sweat.
“Here, drink up.” Viktor held a water bottle to his lips and helped him take leisurely sips in between laboured breaths. “You okay?”
It took Russie some time and a couple more sips of water before he answered the question. “Y–Yeah. That was amazing!” The post-tickling mind-haze made it easier for him to speak his heart uninhibited. “Please tell me we’re not done.”
Both dragon and polar bear snickered in unison.
“Nowhere near,” said Viktor. “There’s something I want to show you. Tag, mind fetching Teddy and Basco for me?”
The dragon nodded and left the room in a hurry. Five minutes later, he was back with two Pokémon in tow.
“Russie, meet Teddy,” Viktor gestured to a portly Ursaring. “And Basco!” And then to a muscular Incineroar.
“It’s short for Tabasco,” Tagus chimed in.
“Oh! Uhm… Hi, guys!” He felt more than a little embarrassed from presenting himself in such a vulnerable position to Pokémon he’d never met. They didn’t seem to mind.
“Teddy. Basco.” As Viktor called their names, both ‘mons looked at him like an obedient dog awaiting its master’s command. “Who wants a tickling?”
Like synchronised dancers, they fell into position. Butts on the floor, legs straight out in front of them, arms up above their heads. They giggled preemptively, giddily awaiting what came next.
Viktor and Tagus kneeled in front of Basco and Teddy respectively. They began tickling their underarms. A cute duet of gruff and mewling giggles filled the room as both Pokémon did their best to hold their arms up.
“Who’s a good ticklish kitty? You are!”
“Keep those arms up, Teddy! If you put ‘em down I won’t tickle ya anymore.”
Russie could hardly believe it. He’d never seen Pokémon give themselves up for tickling so… voluntarily. In fact, they seemed to rather enjoy it! If not for their adorable giggles and struggling to keep still, it was made apparent by their growing erections.
The tickling moved down from their pits to their belly, then to their sides, and finally to their feet. Basco’s were firm but soft with large toes and feline paw-pads while Teddy’s were broad and fully padded, much like Russie’s own panda paws.
When the tickling stopped, both creatures were left with raging boners and leaky tips. They dared not lower their arms.
“I’ll let you in on a secret, Russie,” Viktor said. “All Pokémon that we tickle here at the Institute start to enjoy it sooner or later. Just as much as the staff enjoys tickling them.” He paused as if to give the panda a moment to process his statement. “Some take a session, others take twenty, but every one of them start to get off on tickling eventually. Hell, all of us too.” He looked down, drawing Russie’s attention to the tent over his jeans. He saw that Tagus had one too.
Amazing. Everyone in this room is just as horny as I am, he thought.
Viktor continued. “So there you go, hurray for us freaks! Anthro and Pokémon alike.” He undid his belt and let his jeans fall to the floor before sliding down his underwear, flopping out his sizable member. Tagus followed suit, his cock was a piercing aquamarine colour, every bit as captivating as his scales. Russie blushed as he looked on.
“Oh! Wow, I– I guess they did warn me that folks here had some… quirks.”
“Hard to believe, yeah? Turns out this sort of job tends to attract like-minded individuals of a certain sort.” Viktor wrapped an arm around Tagus and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Not the first time I’ve had to show the ropes to a nervous rookie.” The dragon was unable to contain an embarrassed smile.
Russie felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Now that he thought about it, that Machoke sure came a lot for someone who doesn’t enjoy tickling, even if it was forced upon him. Perhaps after a few more sessions he’d jump at the chance to be tickled just like the Incineroar and Ursaring before him! Whatever the case, one thing was for sure. He felt a lot less guilty.
“Thanks guys!” He smiled. “But you could’ve let me know sooner! If you did, I wouldn’t have set that Machoke free.”
“On the flip side, we wouldn’t be having this session,” rebuked Tagus. “Speaking of which… I think your break’s gone on for long enough.”
“Ha! Fair enough. Just one more question, though. Are you two… uh…”
“Dating?”
“Fucking?”
“Tickling each other senseless after work on a daily basis?”
“Yeah.”
“Yep.”
He laughed, already used to the duo’s unapologetic casualness. “No more questions, then!”
“Good!” Viktor shoved the ball gag into the panda’s mouth once again before finishing the job with the blindfold. “Because that was your one and only break until the session is over. And this time I really mean it. Teddy, Basco.”
Oh no.
“Lick.”
Two tongues assaulted his body. A long, wide one lapped sideways across his belly – likely Teddy’s – while a smaller but much rougher appendage slurped his sole from heel to arches to toes – Basco’s. He went hysterical. The break had done nothing to soothe his sensitivity, serving only to regain a modicum of energy that was now forcefully channelled towards laughing and fighting the straps.
The milker came back on, next. It self-lubricated automatically before kicking into high gear, spinning the terribly tickly rings over his overtaxed cock faster than before. Only this time they moved vertically to stroke it in addition to tickling it. The panda screamed every time all three rings placed themselves over and around his glans. They stayed there just long enough to wring out the most unbearable pleasure from that part of his member and left just before he had a chance to get used to it only to return a few seconds later.
“Let’s skip seven and try level eight.” Viktor and Tagus took up brushes once more and set them against the panda’s sweat-soaked, struggling body. Tagus favoured Russie’s right foot, begrudgingly resigning his left foot to Basco and his feline tongue. Viktor used a pair of brushes to torment his armpits while Teddy took care of his wide belly.
To someone who didn’t know better, the muffled noises that barraged from Russie’s throat might’ve been misinterpreted as the dying screams of a man being burned alive, electrocuted and kicked in the nuts by a hydraulic piston at the same time.
He couldn’t think.
His mind simply could not devote any of itself to anything other than the all-consuming pleasure-laced tickling flooding in. No coping mechanism in existence could help lessen the effects of having his feet licked, toes brushed, cock milked, belly teased and pits scrubbed by a small army of extremely horny men and Pokémon.
Before, there had been a spot of guilt clinging to the back of his mind, gnawing at him and preventing him from fully enjoying the raw carnal pleasure of the situation. Now he understood the punishment’s true purpose. It was not to penalise but to educate, to welcome him into the fold of the Institute, where any given colleague was more likely than not to share in his perversions in some form. Where the so-called “subjects” developed kinks and fetishes from mere exposure to them.
Before, he thought this might be the best job in the world if such cruelty was not part of the equation. Now, he understood that that cruelty was an avenue for pleasure and perversion. A sort of ‘tough love’ that ensured subjects would find their time at the Institute to be the most enjoyable and fulfilling of their lives. If not at first, then in due time.
He was certain of it. This really was the best job in the world.
“Time out, Basco,” he heard Tagus say as both him and the Incinerar stopped tickling his soles. He heard a pop. A cold liquid poured down his restrained toes, first on one foot then another. Oil. “Help me rub, boy?” Soft, delicate hands massaged his right foot while less delicate but supple-padded hands massaged his left. It felt heavenly considering how raw his soles felt from ceaseless tickling. It upset the delicate balance of tickling and pleasure in favour of the pleasure half, and resulted in another orgasm.
“Shit, did he cum from a foot massage?”
“Looks like it.”
“How fucking sensitive are these?!” Tagus admired Russie’s bare bear foot, slick with oil. Basco imitated him.
“Only one way to find out. Level ten here we go!” They switched brushes yet again, this time to the most intense ones available. “Teddy, Basco, go nuts! Tagus, you too!”
“Sir, yes sir!”
What followed was torture, bliss, punishment and reward all rolled into one.
The brushes felt unreal. But they were very real. Viktor wasn’t lying earlier when he alluded to how much more intense they could be. They assaulted his belly and feet. The bristles had a will of their own. He couldn’t see them but he swore he could feel them move in patterns and counter-patterns that should not be possible for simple old-fashioned brushes. Some of them felt stiff and coarse while others felt soft and fluffy, sometimes both at once!
Viktor sweeped his pudgy belly with vigour, making sure no patch of fur was left unscrubbed.
Tagus glided his own pair of brushes on the panda’s paws, cruising across the slick soles frictionlessly. Every so often he’d dedicate them solely to scrubbing the bound toes. At times, the foot tickling was so all-encompassing that it felt akin to wearing socks that tickled every nook and cranny of the wearer’s feet at all times.
Teddy and Basco did their part too.
The Ursaring poked his long claws into Russie’s pits and dragged them down his sides, repeating the journey backwards before looping back. His tongue was put to use by teasing the panda’s ears and neck. It made him feel warm and buttery in contrast to the harsher torment he experienced everywhere else on his body.
Basco had shorter but sharper claws that he used to tease Russie’s inner thighs and hanging balls.
All four ticklers complemented one another beautifully, working with the synchronised precision of an orchestra. One that played a single instrument: Russie.
The sheer variety of sensations forced upon him was enough to drive any man insane. His raging tickle fetish and unrelenting horniness were the only two things keeping him sane. Like a crumbling brick house held together by duct-tape and positive thinking, ready to crumble at the merest gust.
There really were no breaks, this time.
Tagus used both brushes on one foot. He climaxed. Viktor brushed his sides while Teddy drilled into his pits. He climaxed again. Basco licked his inner thighs while scribbling his pointy claws under his scrotum. The milker drew yet another orgasm.
Russie was on hair-trigger after a certain point. Any slight variation in technique or intensity would immediately force another orgasm and a subsequent increase in sensitivity. His refractory period was null and void.
As they forced an endless string of climaxes from the poor panda, they often spared a hand for themselves or one another. At some points, Teddy and Basco were ordered to tend to their masters as well as each other.
They kept him on the edge of sanity for as long as they could before the inevitable signs of imminent loss of consciousness became apparent. His breaths became shallow, his struggling weakened. He went from bucking, to shaking, to quivering, and then to no movement at all. Though blindfolded, he felt a second darkness creep in from his peripheral vision. His senses numbed.
“Stop!”
At Viktor’s command, all ticklers halted.
Carefully, the polar bear removed the blindfold to reveal a barely conscious Russie. His whole face was red as a tomato, streaked with tears and matted with sweat, as was the rest of his body. He winced as they removed the milker, finally granting his cock the luxury of going flaccid.
One by one, they undid the straps holding him down and helped him sit up. He guzzled down a bottle of water and rested for a spell. His muscles felt like jelly.
“Welcome to the Institute, Russie,” said Viktor.
“And consider yourself punished!” chimed Tagus.
“I certainly do!” he laughed. “Damn, I’m a mess.”
“There’s showers in the locker room. We’ll help you get there if you can’t walk. Don’t worry about getting dressed, everyone’s left already.”
“Wha– What time is it?”
“Eight o’clock.”
“What?! We’ve been here for six hours?”
“Yes.” They said in unison.
“I hardly noticed…”
“Time flies by when you’re having fun!” smiled the dragon.
“Can’t argue with that, I did have fun!”
Though he was tired, Russie felt light and carefree. As if he’d completed an intense workout. Just this morning, these two were total strangers to him. Now he felt like he could share his deepest secrets with them. In a way, they made him feel safe and secure of himself. So much so that he went for a daring comment. “In fact… I may be setting a couple more subjects free if it means I’ll get to spend another day being ‘punished’ by you guys.”
They stared at Russie for a couple seconds before breaking the nervous tension with uproarious laughter.
“Russie, mate. All you gotta do is ask! No need to upset the big cheeses.” said Viktor.
“We’re quite open to these things!” added Tagus. “Group hug!”
“B–But I’m all sweat– UMPH!” His new friends sandwiched him between dragon scales and bear fur. With what little strength he still had, he hugged them back.
After a quick shower, he said his goodbyes and made for the lobby of the building. Although he offered to assist with tidying up the disciplinary room, they insisted he was already weary and promptly sent him home.
As he exited through the front of the building, he saw a familiar silhouette sitting on the steps that led to it – a Machoke.
I guess he didn’t hate it that much after all, he thought before approaching the Pokémon.