The sun creeped over the horizon as the sprawling metropolis stirred awake, illuminating the still empty streets that the fennec fox warily traversed. It took all of hiss willpower to resist the burning urge to turn around and look behind him.
He turned left at a streetlight and ever so subtly peeked over his shoulder before slipping into a tight alley. Between the narrow brick walls, he reached an unassuming blue door and inserted the key into the keyhole.
“Morning, sunshine! You’re in early today.” The playfully sarcastic voice belonged to a young red fox sitting on a lawn chair inside the small room that was mostly occupied by stacks of sealed boxes. “That eager to make bank today, huh?”
“Saw some cops near my place and started to get nervous. Figured I’d start early today,” the fennec replied in a gruff voice that couldn’t disagree more with his diminutive size.
The red fox blinked, incredulous. “You saw cops and you still came to where we keep all the cheap crap we sell at an absurd, dare I say, incriminating markup?”
“Calm your tits, Nick. I wasn’t followed.”
Nick sprang up from the couch and stepped towards the fennec, towering over him. “Are you absolutely sure, Finnick? You know we have enough here to get our asses busted ten time over.”
“I circled the block twice to make sure. Trust me, no one’s coming.”
There was a knock on the door.
Both of them froze. Nick threw a ferocious gaze at the Finnick who simply shrugged and walked towards the door to peer through the peephole conveniently installed at his height and saw two pairs of legs wearing the same kind of blue pants. It was Finnick’s least favorite shade of blue. He turned to Nick and mouthed: cops.
They had to come up with a plan. Fast. They looked frantically around for a possible escape route but there simply wasn’t one. In hindsight, renting a place with no backdoor for their latest scheme might not have been such a good idea… In the end, they had to resort to Nick’s on-the-fly bullshitting skills (as they often had to). Not a plan Finnick liked but at least it was a plan.
Nick opened the door. Two cops. An African lion and a timber wolf.
“Good morning, officers. Can I help you?”
“Nicholas Wilde?” spoke the lion.
“In the flesh!”
“Officer Bob Johnson, ZPD.” He flashed his badge at Nick. “We’re investigating a case related to illegal imports and we’ll need you to come with us so we can ask you a few questions.”
“…I don’t suppose we could talk here?”
“I’m afraid not, Mr. Wilde,” the lion reached for his handcuffs. “Please turn around.”
“Shit! Nick, run!” Finnick grabbed a box and threw it at the cops who only barely dodged it while the foxes bolted between them.
“Hey! Stop right there!”
The panicking foxes ran as fast as they can. Neither of them was particularly fast so being on the run from two fit, athletic cops put them at a disadvantage. Of the two, the wolf was closest to them, his canine legs carrying him at an incredible speed through the still fairly empty streets.
Nick knew that if the chase continued, they were going to get caught. He needed another plan. “Follow me!” he shouted as he made a sharp turn right towards an old factory.
Seconds later, the wolf followed suit, but, to his surprise, the foxes had disappeared. He sniffed at the air as the lion arrived.
“Did we lose ’em?”
“No,” the wolf said, looking at the old, decrepit factory. “They’re in there.”
The foxes were indeed inside the factory, ducking behind an inactive assembly line, waiting patiently.
The lion entered first and confirmed it was safe for the wolf to follow suit. The foxes’ scent led them towards the back of the factory and to the entrance of a small storage closet with its door invitingly ajar. They stepped through, ready to make an arrest.
Instead, all they found was Nick’s crumpled up green floral shirt on the floor.
“Now!”
The foxes sprang up behind them with metal pipes and hit the cops on the back of their heads, knocking both unconscious.
“Fuck, Nick! My criminal record was bad enough without ‘first degree murder’ on it!”
“Relax! They’re just sleeping,” assured Nick, shirtless.
“Then let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Wait! I don’t know how long we have until they wake up. We should tie them up somewhere. They’ve got cuffs.”
“We don’t have time for this, Nick.”
“We won’t have time for much if they bolt right after us when they come to.”
Finnick sighed. “…Fine. Where do we put ’em?”
Minutes later, the two officers lay side-by-side on top of an inactive conveyor belt with their arms tied behind their backs and their ankles bound together.
“Okay, now can we leave?” grumbled Finnick.
“Hold on, let me go get my shirt.”
“Dude, fuck the shirt! You have like a hundred of those!”
“Now hang on. I’m not leaving without my shirt. What if they use it as evidence?”
“Evidence? Nick, they knew about the hideout!” Finnick shouted. “The shirt’s not gonna make any damn difference!” He turned towards the exist and started walking. “We’ve got to skip town. They’ll find us again if we hang around Zootopia.” He realized Nick wasn’t following him. Instead, the red fox was nonchalantly moving towards the storage closet. “Oh, for fuck’s-Fine! If you want your stupid shirt that bad,” he ran towards Nick and jabbed his bare sides, eliciting a surprised squeal from him, “I’ll make you work for it.”
“Fihinnick!” Nick laughed. “T-Thihis isn’t t-the tihime!”
“It also isn’t the time to worry about your stupid shirt so leave it and let’s go.”
He skittered his tiny fingers around Nick’s sides artfully, making the larger fox giggle and hop from foot to foot while trying to dodge the incessant pokes and squeezes. Being intimately familiar with all of Nick’s ticklish spots, Finnick knew his partner couldn’t take it for long. It was only a matter of time until he finally gave up and they could leave this damned factory before the cops regained consciousness.
Unfortunately for him, Nick was feeling stubborn.
Instead of giving up, he fought back by sticking his fingers up Finnick’s armpits and wiggling them madly. Finnick quickly withdrew his arms and tried to pry Nick’s fingers off his pits but he wouldn’t let go.
“Nihick! Fuhuhucking stohop!”
“No can do, Finn. You know the rules: you tickle me, I tickle you. Now giggle for me and I might not get your belly button! Hehey!!”
As Nick was taunting him, Finnick managed to grab one of his ankles and pull it up to reveal the fox’s bare sole which he promptly started tickling. Though, this time, Nick managed to keep up his assault on the smaller fox’s armpits.
Both foxes were intent on powering through and force the other to give up, having no choice but to let themselves be tickled and try to tickle harder in return.
“What the hell are you doing?”
The tickle fight stopped and they looked at the bound cops who, to their surprise, were wide awake and visibly flustered as they had likely been witnessing the spectacle for a while.
“Sorry, officers. My associate and I were just… settling a dispute.”
“By tickling each other?” Officer Johnson asked. “In front of the two ZPD officers you just assaulted? Oh, the judge will be in stitches.”
He had a point. The two should’ve bailed long ago. But then Nick had a devious idea. Putting on his suave act, he strutted towards the bound officers.
“You know… We could tickle you guys instead! Since you chased us all the way over here, the least you could do is make you laugh a little.”
The lion laughed out loud at the idea. The wolf didn’t.
“Nick. You’ve got to be kidding me. We need to get out of here!” said Finnick.
“I’m not even ticklish you idiot!” Johnson taunted.
“Dude!” the wolf interjected. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to antagonize them when you’re tied up in an abandoned factory in the middle of nowhere?”
“Why not? Don’t tell me you’re ticklish, Wolfard.”
The wolf’s ears folded back flat against his head and his bare toes curled defensively. “Actually, yes, I am pretty ticklish…”
Their fate was sealed as soon as Johnson dared to utter those words. I’m not even ticklish. Words that someone who’s tied up should never speak unless they’re prepared to prove it.
Nick approached the lion and began studying him. Johnson was fit and athletic, as expected of a young ZPD officer. His brown eyes looked at him defiantly, as if openly saying ‘do your worst!’ which was exactly what Nick was planning to do.
He hovered his hand over the lion, keeping him guessing as to where he would tickle him first. In the end. When he felt like he’d built up enough suspense, he squeezed his side. Almost immediately the lion tensed up which put a huge grin on Nick’s face.
“Oh? I thought you said you weren’t ticklish!”
“Am not!” Johnson said, careful not to let spill some of the laughter that was obviously building up in his throat.
“Oh yes you are!” cooed Nick, as he moved up towards the lion’s armpits and wedged his fingers into the sensitive hollows. “You’re a ticklish little kitty and you know it!”
Johnson didn’t reply this time. He feared that if he opened his mouth, he might not be able to get words out without an accompanying bout of giggles so he chose to keep it shut and endure the torment. Evidently, he was a lot more ticklish than he himself expected to be. Truthfully, Johnson hadn’t been tickled often had assumed he had simply outgrown whatever ticklishness he might’ve had when he was younger. Obviously, this was not the case.
As the armpit tickling went on, he started to crack. First it was just a twitch of his whiskers, then a hint of a smile, the faintest curl of the lips that quickly bloomed to a wide, shaky grin as Nick wiggled his fingers faster and harder. Eventually, the dam burst.
“Pffffahahahahaha!”
“There we go! Tickle, tickle, kitty cat! See? I knew you were ticklish! Let’s see if I can make you laugh louder than that.” He quickly moved down to the lion’s bare paws. Despite their size, they looked quite delicate. Nick grabbed the cuffs linking the cop’s ankles together and began scratching the soles at random, enjoying the lion’s cute giggles and manic struggling.
Meanwhile, Finnick merely observed. Realizing he was not going to pry his partner away from his new toy so soon, he decided he could have some fun with the other bound cop.
“How about you, puppy? Ticklish?”
“A little,” Wolfard replied, flustered.
“Heh. Not going to deny it like your partner?”
“Nah. I was the youngest of three brothers. I know how this works so I’ll just go ahead and admit that I’m ticklish.”
“Ha! Fair enough,” despite the situation, Finnick found himself amused at the cop’s earnestness. “It’s Wolfard, right?” Wolfard nodded. “The name’s Finnick, and I appreciate your honesty but I hope you don’t expect that’ll make me go easier on ya.”
“Well, I guess I can’t do much about it,” Wolfard said, tensing up in preparation for the oncoming tickles. “Be gentle, please?”
“Hmm… no.” Finnick climbed up on the conveyor to examine the bound wolf - every bit as athletic as his leonine partner - and started ticklishly rubbing his belly as if he was petting a dog. “Who’s a good boy?” he teased.
“Ah-hahaha! Plehehease!”
Unlike his partner, Wolfard could not - and did not - hold back his laughter, which Finnick found to be absolutely adorable. Digging his tiny fingers deep into the larger predator’s firm abdomen filled him with an addictive rush that made him want to tickle more and more. Spurred on by sheer adrenaline, he grabbed the officer’s shirt and pulled it halfway up to reveal the most enticing abdomen he’d ever seen; thin yet firm, with subtlest outline of a six-pack and a cute, small belly button.
“I’ve played with a cute puppy or two before but I think you’re my favorite.”
“Oh yeah?” asked Nick. “Officer Johnson here is my first lion. Not impressed so far, he seemed like a tough kitty at first.”
“Fuhuhuck you!!” cursed the lion.
Nick stopped tickling the cop’s paws and looked at him in mock indignation. “Do you really think you’re in a good position to disrespect me, kitty cat?”
“S-Shut the hell up, you bastard!” spat Johnson as he tried to catch his breath. “When I’m out of here I’m going to take you in if it’s the last thing I’ll ever do.” He did his best to sound intimidating but there but such a thing simply wasn’t possible in his position.
“Oh, that is precious! Kitty cat still think he can catch me!” He touched his finger on the lion’s nose and just barely avoided getting it bitten off. “But now that I think about it, I guess you’re right. When you eventually get out of those, you’ll go after us, won’t you?”
“Damn right, I will! And so will Wolfard!”
Officer Wolfard was busy laughing as the fennec buried his short snout into his abdomen and blew a long raspberry. Impressive lung capacity for such a small guy, no doubt!
“I would feel a lot safer if you didn’t do that,” said Nick, as he massaged his temples, pretending to be deep in thought. “I know! I’ll just tickle you until you’re too tired to move! That should give me and my partner plenty of time to escape.”
“W-wait, hold on!”
Nick began rolling the lion’s shirt up, revealing a chiseled set of golden-furred abdominals which seemed to quiver fearfully. “I’m sure you understand. You made your intentions pretty clear so don’t blame me for reacting accordingly. You ready, kitty?”
“No! Stop!”
“That’s too bad.”
Nick’s hands shot towards the lion’s abdomen like they were predators going in for the kill on cornered prey. Ravenously, they poked and squeezed at random on the lion’s sensitive midriff from sides to abs to belly button. Johnson threw his head back and laughed as his own cuffs were tested to their limits. With that unrelenting barrage of mild touches, the smaller fox had the large lion completely at his mercy, playing him like an out-of-tune instrument.
Oh, how it pleased Nick to see the lion’s eyes go wide whenever he scratched around his belly button and how desperately he squealed when his hips were squeezed.
“That’s it, kitty! Don’t resist! I’m going to tickle you until you’re too insane to do anything other than beg for more!”
He had only realized the sexual undertone of those words after they had left his mouth - but, then again, he had been sporting an erection for a little while, now. Glancing over at his partner and his wolfish toy, he confirmed he wasn’t the only one whom the situation excited.
“Getting a bit fired up there, Finn?”
“I hate to admit it, but staying behind might not have been such a bad idea after all.”
As he nibbled and scraped his teeth across the wolf’s quivering abdomen, Finnick unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall by his ankles, revealing his leaking erection before doing the same to the laughing canine. The sight in front of him was positively to die for. Wolfard’s beautiful red rocket glistening with pre all from being tied up and tickled.
“Such a good puppy~ Nice and hard from being tickled like all good dogs should!”
Nick had to stop tickling Officer Johnson to make sure it was really Finnick who said that. “Really? A thing for canines? You?”
“Don’t judge me. You’re pitching a tent too.”
“Can’t help it when I’ve got such a fun lion to play with!”
Realizing there was no reason to hide it anymore, Nick pulled his own pants as well as Johnson’s down and let both their cocks air out. His was as hard as it could be while Johnson’s was merely semi-erect.
“I can see this is turning you on, kitty. No shame in being a tickle slut! Heck, I’m a bit of one myself.” He leaned close to the lion who gritted his teeth in anger. “Tell me, what’s your worst spot?”
“Like hell I’d tell you!”
Nick shrugged. “Fine by me. Just means I’ll have to tickle you everywhere until I find out.”
That threat stung particularly hard with how exposed Johnson now felt, practically shirtless and pantsless. He wasn’t used to this degree of vulnerability with anyone he trusted, let alone a criminal he had been trying to arrest mere minutes ago.
Nick took a step back and very deliberately eyed the lion from head to toe, and Johnson could swear he was able to feel the fox’s prying gaze drag itself over his ticklish body - ticklish to a degree previously unknown to him. Despite not being touched, he curled his toes, scrunched his neck, and pulled in his arms and legs as if the lightest feather was already stimulating his bare, naked form.
The fox prepared to begin his examination.
“I know your pretty peets are pretty ticklish.”
A single, naughty, teasing claw scratched the sole of his left paw.
“Hehehehe!! N-No!’
“Oh yes! But I know you can laugh a lot louder if I tickle more up…” he dragged that claw up Johnson’s leg and along his side only to then drag it down to his hip. The lion flexed hard towards his right to try and move away. “…Here. Fuck, I could squeeze your hips all night long.”
“Shihihit!!”
Then Nick moved inwards towards the lion’s abs, tracing their outlines with his claw - that single claw that was worse than any torture instrument conceivable. A single claw that could turn a big, tough lion into a mewling, begging kitten.
“Plehehe-Plehehease!!”
“Oh, so now you remember your manners. That’s good, but it won’t save you.”
The claw spiraled around the lion’s belly button, getting closer and closer to the center until, suddenly, it dipped into the small hollow.
“Aaah! Shihihit! Bwahahahaha!!”
“Found your sweet spot, have I? Good! Well, err… good for me, anyway, not for you. You, my friend, are fucked.”
“Okay, okay! We can work something out! You really don’t have to tickle me anymore! Not there! Not my belly button! Please!”
“Way past the bargaining stage, kitty cat. Ready or not, here I go!”
The claw went back in at triple its previous speed and intensity. Johnson went wild.
The factory became filled with the lion’s roaring laughter. For a second, not even Finnick could hear Wolfard’s cute giggles over the tortured sounds of his fellow officer. An outside observer might have mistaken the tickle torture taking place for something a lot bloodier if all they had to go off of were the feline’s screams.
Never in his life did Johnson even consider his belly button could be so ticklish. Any and all semblance of self-control was gone, same as his bravado and tough act. In that abandoned factory, naked and tied up, he was nothing but a helpless kitten to be used and abused by Nick. Condemned to scream in ticklish agony as punishment for ever thinking he was more than that.
In other words, he was learning the hard way that he really wasn’t as tough as he thought he was, and all it took to break him was a single claw in the right spot.
Next to him, Finnick had been merciful enough to grant Wolfard a break from the tickling. Both of them observed quietly as Nick utterly destroyed Johnson.
“Hot, isn’t it?” Finnick asked.
“Yup. Was bound to happen sooner or later,” the wolf replied.
Finnick’s cocked a curious eyebrow.
“Oh yeah? Why is that?”
“Ah, well, I really shouldn’t say it…” murmured Wolfard, seemingly flustered.
“Do I have to tickle it out of you? Not that you’d mind,” Finnick punctuated his statement by touching the canine’s sensitive cock head which elicited a surprised yelp from him.
“W-Well, it’s just the boys down at the station like to tickle each other every once in a while. Johnson has just been lucky enough to avoid it.”
“…Say what, now?”
“I couldn’t believe it either! Until one day a few of them snatched me in the locker room tickled me for hours. They said something about hazing but I know that’s bullshit. They just really wanted to tickle me. I got to tickle some of them afterwards too!”
Finnick was dumbfounded. And yet he detected no falsehood in the wolf’s words.
“How often does this happen?”
“Pretty much every day.”
Finnick let out a cackle. “Man, that is wild. But something tells me you like it.”
Wolfard laughed in turn. “Can’t deny that. To be honest, I’m pretty used to being tickled. My brothers used to tickle me all the time. They would tie my hands behind my back and take a paw each! Man, I used to scream my head off when they did that.”
“Oh yeah? Were they rougher than your colleagues at the station?”
“In some ways. Down at the station things are more varied. Sometimes we do tickle fights, endurance contests, you-laugh-you-lose… I really, really shouldn’t say this but sometimes, when we apprehend certain substances, we take a bit for ourselves.”
“For tickling?”
“For enhancing it. There’s a whole black market for illegal sensitivity enhancers. The hot new thing is this paste you rub on your tongue to give it a rougher feel. Makes it tickle like hell when you lick someone somewhere sensitive. We use some of that stuff during interrogations. Works wonders.”
“I might look into getting myself some of that.”
“You sure you want to say that in front of a cop?”
“A very loose-lipped, easy-to-blackmail cop.”
“You won’t do that.”
“Oh yeah? Why not?”
The wolf grinned. “You just don’t strike me as that kind of crook.”
“What kind am I, then?”
“My kind.”
“Such a naughty boy.” Finnick said as he grabbed the wolf’s cock and gently massaged it. “You shouldn’t tease me like that unless you want me to turn you into a giggling pup.”
“Who says that’s not exactly what I want?”
“Oh, you’re in for it now!”
Five tiny claws scribbled around Wolfard’s glistening cock head, driving him wild.
“Hahahahaha!”
“Aww, look at that. Your dog bone is ticklish! Now I know exactly what to do to drive you crazy.”
As was the case with most men, Wolfard’s penis was exceedingly sensitive, doubly so given how aroused he was. The densely packed clusters of nerves in that organ made it oh so receptive to the fennec’s light touches, amplifying them tenfold and pushing the poor wolf to the verge of howling.
He couldn’t decide which tickled worse - when Finnick teased his urethra and frenulum or when he scratched the outer rim of his swollen knot. Contrary to Johnson, who was shaking like a hyperactive fish out of water, Wolfard’s natural reaction to extreme tickling was to tense up and hold still, almost as if forcing himself to let it happen. Perhaps this reaction had developed within him as a result from the many, many times he had been tickled in the past. His body knew it was pointless to expend precious energy struggling to resist the inevitable.
Well… that might have been part of the reason anyway. The other part was a lot easier to figure out: he loved being tickled.
“What a good boy! Standing still and letting me tickle his dog bone until he howls! Did you hear that, puppy? Goooooood boy!”
Praise. Every canine’s biggest weakness.
“I’m a goohood bohohoy! I-I’m aha goohoohood bohohohoy!!”
Johnson might have chastised him for giving in to his instincts like that, provided he could hear anything besides his own laughter.
The tiger was a mess. That was the only way to describe him in that moment. Sweat, tears and drool. He was still struggling on autopilot but much less intensely.
“You’re probably thinking this can’t get any worse, aren’t you, kitty? Well, I have bad news for you.”
Nick bent over the bound lion and stuck his tongue out close to his abs. Johnson knew what came next and tried to prepare himself for the moment that slimy appendage made contact with his ultra-sensitive belly button. Unfortunately for him, nothing could prepare him for that sensation.
From the moment the fox’s tongue first slithered past the opening to that hollow up until the third or fourth full lick, the lion laughed silently. His throat could no longer keep up with the violent contortions of his diaphragm. If one claw had been enough to make him submit, the tongue was going to break him. A fact that would have worried him if he still had the brain capacity to have any worries at all.
There was one thing on his brain and one thing only: how much it tickled.
For Nick, the advantage of using his tongue to tickle the lion was that his hands were free for other things, such as masturbating to the feeling of said lion squirming under him. He ate that belly button out like a scoop of delicious ice cream, fully licking over, around and into the sensitive hollow, leaving no micromillimeter of it unstimulated. Tasting it. Savoring it. He got caught up in it to the point where he himself was moaning in sheer pleasure. This sort of play was something he would surely explore again in the future.
“Fuck, you’re such a pathetic lion. All I need to do is lick your cute belly button and you’re mush. Guess you won’t be coming after me after this, huh? Not unless you want me to do this all over again.”
To his surprise, Nick found the lion’s previously semi-flaccid penis now just as hard as his own. It seemed that, whether consciously or not, the lion did have a bit of a masochistic streak in him.
“What a poor excuse for a cop,” Nick teased. “Getting hard from me tickling your belly button with my criminal tongue. What would your fellow boys in blue say about this?”
They wouldn’t bat an eye. But of course, Nick had been too busy tickling the daylights out of the lion to pay attention to Finnick and Wolfard’s conversation just a few minutes ago, or else he might have an idea of what the other officers might think of Johnson finally getting tickled. From Wolfard’s words, it was fair to assume they might even join in!
“Naughty, naughty!” chastised Nick as he gently masturbated the lion. “Maybe I should edge you for a bit as punishment. What do you think?”
Johnson shook his head frantically.
“No? Don’t want it? Now I’ll do it for sure!”
Something between a sobbing mewl and a panicked yelp whistled out of the lion’s maw as Nick began rapidly pumping his shaft while ravenously eating out his belly button. He pumped and pumped until he could feel Johnson’s thighs tense up - his queue to halt the action and instead start rubbing the sensitive head with his thumb, replacing the pleasurable sensations with sheer overstimulation, killing the lion’s imminent orgasm.
“Nuh-uh! Bad kitties get their cocks edged and their bellybuttons eaten out!”
Such demeaning language made Johnson irrationally angry, but even as he tried his best to get a ‘fuck you’ out, all he could muster was a mess of strangled yelps and pitiful giggles as Nick once again began jerking him off while devouring his overstimulated belly button and its surrounding areas.
Meanwhile, Finnick was winding down Wolfard’s ’torture’ to a slow drag of his claw around his pulsating knot.
“You like this, puppy?”
“Yes, master!”
Master
Never in his life did Finnick feel as powerful as he did when Wolfard - a large predator and police officer - debased himself by called him that word. It filled him with a sort of confidence he hadn’t experienced before. He felt like he owned the wolf.
Like he was property.
A pet.
He could tease him, tickle him, fuck him, and do whatever else he wanted to him while still being well within his rights to do so. The wolf himself accepted that. And yet, Finnick had no desire to do any of those things. Contrarily, any thoughts of causing the wolf any suffering that he couldn’t also enjoy repulsed him.
He petted the soft fur between the wolf’s drooping ears tenderly, gazing into his tired, teary eyes.
“You’re a good boy, Wolfard.” Finnick could hardly believe those words were his. “Say it.”
“I… I’m a good boy!”
And he could hardly believe how aroused it made him to hear the wolf say them back to him. He leaned closer to the tired canine and whispered in his ear.
“What do you say to another round of tickles? If you can take it, I’ll have a nice reward for you.”
“Yes, please, master!”
That word again. Shivers coursed through Finnick’s little spine.
“Good boy! Now… I want you to tell me where you’re most ticklish. Tell me what to do to make you scream!”
Wolfard clammed up for a second. Submissive as he was at that moment, revealing his weaknesses to someone so bluntly intent on exploiting was scary.
But he was a pet. Finnick’s pet. So, Wolfard did what good pets do and obeyed his master’s command.
“Paws…” he admitted, curling his bare toes, “My paws are really ticklish. I can’t handle having my toes touched. My cock is really ticklish too when I’m horny. Especially around my knot like most canines.” He continued, red as a tomato. “I can’t stand anything rough on my belly button either. Like a toothbrush, for example,” he hesitated for a second, then sighed. “I uh… don’t do well with brushes in general. It’s common knowledge down at the station, actually.”
“Very good boy!” Finnick praised, petting Wolfard’s cheeks with both hands. “You really are a good puppy! Now, are you ready to laugh again?” he teased as he got in front of Wolfard’s bare paws.
“Y-Yes, master!” the wolf stammered as he covered his left paw with his right. An utterly useless gesture but one that his body did on instinct. Perhaps Finnick would be merciful enough to gently tease him instead of going all-out from the start.
“Ah! AHA! AAAHAHAHAHA!”
Nope. Of course not.
“BWAHAHA SHIHIHIHIT!”
He cupped the wolf’s left paw and pried his toes apart so that his tongue could slither between them, stimulating the soft, seldom-touched skin of that area. He devoured them like a tasty treat.
Wolfard wasn’t lying. His wild struggling and crazed laughter made it clear that he really couldn’t handle having his toes tickled. He felt small and vulnerable. It wasn’t often that a predator like him was made to feel that way - like prey being toyed with by its hunter.
It was exhilarating.
Johnson, however, had a very different opinion.
“Stah… Stahahahap…”
“Fuck, you’re so hot.”
He was clearly exhausted. If Nick was any less horny, he might’ve recognized it was time to give the lion a rest, but he was having a very hard time separating his lips from that luscious body. If Finnick’s indulgence in Wolfard’s toes was like him eating dessert then what Nick was doing to Johnson was comparable to pigging out on an all-you-can-eat buffet.
“You are, without a doubt, the most delicious kitty I’ve had the pleasure of tasting.”
“Ahaha… I-I… Ahahaha… C-Cananah’t…”
Every part of the lion’s body was like a fine cut of meat that left the fox salivating. He was on all fours on top of the conveyor belt, hunched over the bound feline and tasting every inch of him like a mindless beast gorging on a fresh kill. He nuzzled his armpits and nibbled the incredibly soft skin under the thin layer of fur, poking it with his canines. He dragging his raspy tongue south along his ribs before turning east towards his midriff - all in a single lick. Then he slurped over that furry set of abs an obscene number of times before sinking into that delicious belly button once more.
It was a full-course meal of pure, delicious, ticklishness.
“Plehehease, plehehehease, pleheheahahahase!”
By that point, Nick had become completely deaf to the lion’s pleas. Johnson wasn’t a person to him anymore. He was just a beautifully sculpted tickle toy, tailor-made for him and him alone. Oh, how it thrilled Nick to see him shake and squirm as he licked and nibbled that poor, poor belly button! Even as the struggling eventually died down into a very silly-looking wiggling. It was obvious that the lion really didn’t have a lot of energy left.
Not that Nick cared. He was just having too much fun.
At times, Nick would grab his own erection and masturbate until he was just about to cross the point of no return. He needed every ounce of self-control to keep himself from ending the fun too soon, both for him and for Johnson who he hadn’t stopped edging ever since relieving him of his pants.
Despite the unbearable tickling and soul-crushing humiliation, the lion couldn’t help but find himself aroused by the treatment. Perhaps it was the feeling of being tied with his own handcuffs, or maybe seeing his partner turned into a submissive, obedient pup right next to him. Or it could have been something deeper. An urge he didn’t know existed; an unknown desire hidden deep within that compelled him submit. To give up and simply enjoy being a plaything to the ravenous fox.
It didn’t matter.
Johnson was barely conscious. Meditating on his sexuality was well beyond his current mental capacity.
Finally yielding, he decided to try and at least focus on the feeling of Nick’s paw around his cock. The fox wasn’t going to let him cum anyway, he thought. And for a few minutes of mind-breaking tickle-edging, he was right. Nick was getting better at it, too. He was learning to push the lion a bit closer to the point of no return with each consecutive edge, driving him crazier every time.
“Fuck, I wish I had abs like these,” Nick commented as he rubbed his cheek against the lion’s midriff. “And your sides are so cute! Kind of like Finnick’s. Oh, and you’ve got big paws for a lion. Speaking of big…” He grabbed Johnson’s throbbing erection once again, causing the feline to tense up in anticipation of the orgasm that he knew wouldn’t come.
Except this time, it did.
A glorious explosion of pleasure as rope upon rope of lion seed stained his fur.
One, two, three, four…
It felt unending.
Six… Seven…
For a second, Johnson was locked in a state of perpetual bliss. His world converged around his groin until nothing else existed other than the intense pleasure bursting from it and sending shockwaves throughout his body.
Nick said something degrading but he didn’t hear him, his brain too overpowered by pleasure to process anything else. Time lost its meaning. Despite the restrains, the humiliation, the sweat, tears and cum coating his body, Johnson felt like a shapeless blob of pure happiness.
For about three seconds.
“SHIHIHIT! HAHAHAHA!”
Nick stopped neither masturbating nor tickling him. And now that his body had been racked by an orgasm, it at least thrice as sensitive as before.
“Coochie coochie coochie coo!”
His belly button was still being ravenously devoured while his right armpit got the claw treatment. Worst of all was his poor, spent cock. Nick alternated between roughly masturbating it and polishing the head with his palm.
They were both going crazy for different reasons.
Even Finnick had to stop to slurping Wolfard’s paws for a second to witness in disbelief as his friend surrendered to his own lust and tortured the mewling feline with a level of viciousness he had never shown before. Even as he came himself, his appetite for feline destruction remained.
He was still horny. Still hungry.
Nowhere on the lion’s body was safe. Neck, ears, armpits, chest, sides, ribs, abs, belly button, cock, balls, thighs, knees and paws. Not a single inch of ticklish lion skin went unexplored: Nick tickled it all. Again, and again and again… Until every part of the once proud lion had become intimately familiar with the fox’s claws, lips, nose, teeth and - most unbearably - tongue.
A hurricane of sensations raged on inside Johnson’s mind. He wasn’t angry anymore, just desperate. He would have done anything within his power for the torture to stop.
What possessed him to taunt the fox? Why did he have to be so ticklish? And why, oh, why was he so turned on by all of this?
“Got to admit that’s pretty hot,” remarked Wolfard.
“Who said you were allowed to look?” Finnick chastised as he gave a quick scratch to the wolf’s sole.
“Ahaha! Sorry, master!”
The fennec climbed back up on the conveyor belt and looked down on the wolf.
“Damn right you are. You don’t want me to have to punish you for disobeying me, now, do you?”
“No, master! I’ll be a good boy!”
Finnick grinned. “You better be if you want a reward at the end of all this.”
“I promise I’ll be good!”
“We’ll see if you can keep that promise. For now, I think I should make you laugh a little more, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, master!”
Finnick practically melted at the wolf’s puppy-like enthusiasm. He planted a loving kiss on the canine’s cheek.
“God, you’re adorable. Beg!”
“Please tickle me, master!”
“Good boy!” he gave him a quick pat on the head before jumping down from the conveyor belt. “I’ll be back in a second, pet. I spotted something earlier that I think we’ll both enjoy. Don’t go anywhere!”
He stepped away and made his way to the storage closet where Nick’s shirt still lay discarded. He grinned. To think he wanted to leave that place before the cops woke up. Before he got to play with Wolfard. For once, he was thankful for his Nick’s stubbornness.
On a shelf inside the storage closet was a box filled with brushes of various shapes and sizes - likely once used to clean the factory’s machinery.
“Don’t do well with brushes, eh, pup?” he mused as he grabbed the box.
The wolf was equal parts scared and eager when he saw his master return with that box.
“I gave them a quick rinse so they’re clean,” he said, holding up one of the brushes in front of the wolf - a particularly tiny one that resembled a toothbrush. “Hey, Nick!” he called.
No answer. The fox didn’t even stop nuzzling Johnson’s balls.
Finnick sighed tapped Nick’s shoulder.
“W-what?”
He handed him the brush. “Here, use this.”
Johnson had dared to think things couldn’t get any worse for him but realized his mistake as soon as Nick jammed that tool into his belly button, swirling it around the soft skin of its walls while teasing the rest of him with his free hand. It made the lion yearn for the sweat embrace of unconsciousness.
Smirking, Finnick turned back to the wolf and grabbed two more brushes from the box, one slightly larger than the other. He twirled them in his hands and made sure Wolfard could see.
“Now, where should I use these? Maybe I should brush your paws? I could get all the dust off from them with these brushes.”
The wolf whimpered and curled his toes.
“Or how about we try your pits? I bet that would make you scream.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head.
“Or how about… here?”
Wolfard’s eyes shot open as he was jolted awake by the feeling of harsh bristles scrubbing at his knot.
“EEK! AAAHAHAHAHAHA!”
He went hysterical (as any canine would to having his knot tickled). His wrists and ankles were hurt from pulling against the metal cuffs. He made an effort to keep still for his master but the sensations were too much. A wolf’s knot was made for the gentle caress of a paw or another person’s body, not the dozens upon dozens of rough bristles.
When he thought it couldn’t get any worst, Finnick brushed his tip.
“AROOOOHOOHOOHOO!!”
With a mighty howl, Wolfard climaxed. Even as Finnick brushed his cock all throughout the lengthy orgasm, the pleasure felt intense enough to cut through the tickling that just a minute ago felt like torture for the sensitive wolf.
“There you go! Good boy!” praised Finnick as he withdrew the brushes from the spent organ as his pet’s orgasm subsided. He sat beside him and gently caressed his ears. “My good boy.”
“Master…” he murmured.
“You love being tickled. Say it.”
Wolfard blushed. “I love being tickled.”
“Yes, you do!” Finnick threw his arms around the wolf and held him close, savoring the moment. Earlier that day, he wanted to get as far away from that wolf as he could. But now? He couldn’t imagine being far from his loyal pet. “You did very good.”
“I love you, master.”
Finnick felt a warmth in his chest.
“Yeah… I love you too.”
They stayed there for a tender moment, simply sharing each other’s company to the ambience of tortured lion noises. They didn’t know it, but there were both thinking the same thing:
What now? Where do we go from here? Where can we even go?
For now, neither of them had an answer to those questions. Least of all Finnick who was still very horny and very much in need of release.
“I think it’s time for your reward.” He kneeled down next to his pet’s head and put his arms behind his head, exposing his torso. “What do you say you put that muzzle of yours to good use and give master a few tickles.”
Wolfard’s eyes lit up like stars going supernovae. In that moment, nothing was hotter to him than the sight of his master willingly exposing himself to him. Even if he was still tied up, he had no trouble reaching the fennec’s torso with his long snout so he craned his neck and slipped his nose under the fox’s shirt, giving his small belly a tentative lick.
“Heh… Hehehehe…”
For Finnick, it was a strangely erotic thing to be tickled by his submissive. Not entirely unpleasant but it did require a good bit of resolve not to lower his arms as the wolf ticklishly licked his torso. Even so, Wolfard was careful not to overstep his boundaries and risk losing his reward, limiting himself to slow, tender licks across Finnick’s belly, purposely avoiding his belly button and other areas that might be a bit too ticklish. At least until…
“Goohood bohoy! Y-You cahan go a bihit haharder!”
That was all the encouragement he needed.
“AH! Gahahaha!!”
The fennec recoiled, but managed to bring himself back within his pet’s range, even lifting his shirt a little to give him better access to his torso.
That large canine tongue was enough to cover him almost from hip to hip which, luckily for him, dulled the tickling a little bit.
But then the wolf went straight for his armpits.
“Nghn!! Hahahaha!”
He closed his eyes and relaxed, letting his pet indulge. After all, this was nothing compared to what the wolf went through for his pleasure, so he took the tickles as they came to his sides, pits, belly button and… cock? His eyes shot open as he looked down to find the wolf’s pointy snout prying past the waistband of his pants to lap at his erection - which, by now, was dangerously close to reaching orgasm.
Even when given free reign to do as he pleased, master’s pleasure always came first to the wolf.
“Fuck… You’re such a good pet.”
Their previous soundtrack of lion laughter and screaming had fallen silent as Johnson’s throat stopped being able to keep up with the tortured administered by Nick who was currently alternating between swirling the brush inside the lion’s tortured bellybutton and using it to massacre his extremely spent cock.
“Aww, kitty can’t take a few tickles on his big dick? Such a weak little thing.”
Johnson was nonverbal at that point. There was simply no point in resisting - by then he understood Nick got off on that. His pride was broken. Shattered into a million pieces he could never hope to pick up again in his life. Whatever he did after this, he would always be the cop who got outsmarted and completely humiliated by a criminal.
He orgasmed again, just as Nick assaulted the tip of his cock with the brush for what felt like the millionth time.
Maybe it would just be better to give in like Wolfard and recognize Nick as his master. Perhaps then he’d receive gentler treatment. Who knows? He might even enjoy submitting. Praise and rewards for submissive behavior didn’t seem so bad compared to what he had been enduring. He toyed with the keyhole on the cuffs binding his wrists together, ruminating about how being tied up didn’t feel so bad. If only he had the chance to do it with someone whom he trusted rather than the tickle-crazed fox.
Click.
Something moved inside the handcuffs as he slipped his claw inside the keyhole! They were still locked but he realized he could push the individual pins inside the lock using his claws if he just angled them right!
He wasn’t sure how he was going to manage that while enduring the next round of tickling but he had to try.
“Get ready, kitty! I’m going to tickle your tail off!”
Tail! His tail was free!
He knew what to do.
“Hehehey!” Nick giggled as Johnson brushed the tip of his flexible tail against his tummy, hoping that would distract him for long enough for him to break free. “No fair!” Nick dropped the brush and reverted to using his claws to tickle the lion’s sides as he desperately tried to pick the lock of his handcuffs.
Johnsons was exhausted, on the verge of passing out even, but he willed himself to hold on just a little longer! To power through for just long enough to give himself a chance to break free!
Click.
Nick began licking his belly button again. It took every bit of strength he still had not to slip his claws out of that keyhole.
Click.
He swished the tip of his tail over Nick’s cock, but that only made the fox tickle his armpits in retaliation. He couldn’t take it! It tickled too much!
Click.
The second those cuffs slipped from his wrists, Johnson lunged towards the fox and threw him on the ground, quickly restraining the physically weaker male and binding him wrists behind his back with that same pair of handcuffs before unlocking the ones binding his ankles.
Johnson was free. Free and very angry.
“Wait, wait, wait, w-we can talk about this!” stammered Nick with fear in his eyes as Johnson cuffed his ankles before quickly turning towards Finnick who was too distracted by Wolfard’s expert maw enveloping his genitals.
“H-Hey! Hold on, I’m almost there!” he complained as the lion pulled him away from the fellating wolf and threw him on the ground next to Nick.
He snarled: “You are under arrest.”