Good Cop, Bad Cop
_Toonces, the Driving Cat, the Cat Who Could Drive a Car
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The handcuffs might have been the only genuine article on the uniforms two men were now wriggling out of. Vince, the Rottweiler with the lone, toned body - the muscles seemed to stretch like taffy to cross the expanses of his limbs - tossed his shirt pointedly into a pile at the corner. He unzipped his pants, peeled them outward, and didn't let them drop but rather glide down his long legs; the display being to the benefit of the restrained fox, who could watch with the benefit of timing and framing to effect the best sense of dread when the meaty cock flopped out of the tight cotton briefs. Vince smiled as the fox's brow furled and eyes grew at the sight.
The dragon, Sternen, undressed more methodically, taking the hat from between the matching horns that sat atop his head. They were short, pointy, almost as if something larger had been broken off. Long whiskers - single, tail-like whiskers that drooped down to his knees and seemed always to have a lazy sin wave running through them. He watched with understanding annoyance as the Rottweiler, fully undressed and half-hard with the pluggish cock sagging under its own heavy burden, took up his spot at the fox's head, who was lying on his stomach on a cheap folding table. He tapped the heavy head of his cock against the fox's nose. Sternen, pressed pants still on, stepped forward to stop the Rottweiler. "Hey now," he said easily, stepping between the two, where the fox could see up close the dragon's dark grey armor-like plate that covered his chest. "That's not necessary," Sternen chided the dog, then turned the fox, casting an affectionate down upon him. The fox, his head down on the table, strained his eyes to see up where the two stood.
Isil, the fox's ID had said when they stopped him with their plastic badges and asked the stammering, nervous young traveler for his information. "These bags looks suspicious," the Rottweiler had said with his eyes narrowed.
"Yeah, suspicious," the dragon had said, mocking the Rottweiler's serious tone. "You got an excuse?" he'd asked.
"I-" Isil had said. "I already went through, they said-"
"Who said?"
"They, they-" the fox remembered freshly his relief getting through screening without being searched. He had waited for it at every moment, the firm grip on his arm and the steady voice that would say "We're going to need you to step aside, Sir." It was, in fact, a thought he had fixated on. He knew what happened when you were searched. He imagined himself standing naked in the room - aware even in his fantasy of his slightly soft, barely bulky, charmingly chubby body - with the man. He fixated upon that image, as if there were a spotlight on him as he stood with his eyes at the floor, and it never progressed past that, when he would force the image out. But there were times where he found himself lost track of the line he stood in as he fixated upon himself standing naked before the other man.
"Was it the guys at the front of the airport?"
The fox nodded with his chin to the ground and his eyes up. "Yes," he said curtly.
"Come with us," Vince had said, putting a firm grip on the fox's shoulder, and pulled him into a small room with only a dim light, a table, and a chair that was soon wedged under the doorknob.
The same Rottweiler stood on his knees behind the fox, both balanced on the flimsy aluminum table. The fox's icy stripes curved gracefully along his arced body. The Rottweiler traced a finger from below the fox's neck, along the spine as it curved gently, evenly. He traced his finger over the cuffed wrists, up the small of the back, and finally took firm hold at the base of the tail. The stout cock grazed along the fox's hole as the Rottweiler humped the tail. He degraded and teased the fox until a blush came to the snowy cheeks under blue eyes, then the rotty slapped the plump cheeks until they matched in pink hue. "You're going to love it," the Rottweiler said, like a taunt. Isil turned to Sternen, who only nodded in agreement, his own pants finally dropping to display another punishing cock. Sternen looked down at his own member built like a police baton, then to the fox's worried glare, and shrugged a slight apology.
Vince pressed the head of his cock against Isil's hole, taunting the fox who protested with stifled moans. Sternen fished through the pockets of his discarded trousers and found a collar that he gently fitted around the fox's neck, providing a convenient handle for Vince to hold onto while he continued to taunt the fox's hole. "Vince, you're not going to fuck him dry, are you?"
"Why not?" Vince argued. The icy stripes on the fox's back seemed to shiver with the threat, and yet only his cock throbbed, as if trying to escape its own meager limits, though it was as yet unnoticed by either. Isil's cock wouldn't be difficult to miss, and the mighty presences of the two men only magnified his embarrassment. He felt small and minor, body confined and bent on the table as the two men circle around him. Vince kept a death-grip on the fox's lovehandles as he humped the bushy tail and pushed the fox forward into Sternen's crotch. The head of the dog's cock threatened to bore open the fox's ass at any minute.
"C'mon Vince," Sternen said, pushing the rottweiler aside to take up the position behind the fox. "Give the poor guy a break. He's having a bad day." The dragon smiled over the presented ass, rubbing his hands over it in wide circles, slowly, squeezing the perky mound every time the urge struck him. He could even feel the fox shiver when he sunk his tongue between the two plump spheres. Sternen ate the fox with a slow, facilitated pace, like enjoying a gourmet meal. He spread the cheeks and surged deeper inside, partaking like a true connoisseur, the faintest smile of satisfaction on his lips as he lapped. (And all the while the fox writhed, strained the leather around his muzzle as he fought against the urge to moan, his body reacting as reliably as ever despite the racing of his mind, despite the pounding worries and fears and conflicting sensations that crowded his mind. Even though his paws and toes clenched tight with unmistakable pleasure, the back of his head was hot with the embarrassment of exposure, of his chubby body, of his slight cock, of everything.)
The dragon finished with a slap on the cheeks glowing red from abuse. "He's mine first," Sternen said with all assurance. He climbed onto the shaky table, his hand supporting the girth of his cock. His long whiskers curled at the ends, as did his lips, the wide girth grinding against the fox's hole.
"Now, fox," the dragon said as he pushed a hand on the solid shoulder and shoved the tip of his cock into the tight hole. "This might take a little bit of an effort on your part," the dragon continued as the fox's body bucked on the flimsy table, which creaked with age as the fox writhed. "But if you can ride it out with me all the way to the end..." the dragon pushed on, prying the tight hole open and sounding the deepest depths of the fox's ass. The fox's tail spasmed, feeble and instinctual reactions to go between his legs, though the fox held a tight grip on his energetic tail. Below him, his cock pulsed with hot blood, feeling at the same time as prominent and unnecessary as ever. "You'll find that you really hadn't gotten enough," and with that, the dragon's hips pressed against the fox's cheeks. The snow-white (but glistening with sweat) fellow melted then, his frantic motions dying almost immediately into slight quivers. Only his face seemed strained, contorted into a look of tremendous confusion, the cheeks ripe and red with embarrassment.
This was the height of specialiy, for the fox, when it still quite didn't make sense, it didn't quite seem real. His fur stood and tingled, and the skin underneath seemed to creep with unliving impulses, and he felt at once aware of his body but apart from it. His ears rung with the racing of thoughts, about shame, about pleasure, too many to discern any one thought as any more than a vague sense of guilt, and a light feeling in his stomach. This floating, surreal, bodyless sensation was fucked out of him in deep, full thrusts, from head to balls each and every time. Everything became more concrete. He could feel the claws in his skin. He could smell the aroma of masculinity hovering over him. He could hear the creaking table beneath him, and the wordless sensation earned a word: Fucked. The fox felt himself being fucked, knew he was being fucked, and understood just how easy and immaterial it had been for him to get fucked. It had been nothing at all.
"Goddamn," Vince said, taking note for the first time of the fox's dripping cock. "This bitch is loving it." The rotty tapped his cock against the snow-white fox's nose, let his precum form thin lines between his cock and the fox's muzzle. The tongue shot out and stole a greedy lick at the bottom of the rotty's cock, an almost instinctual lunge, really, but the dragon reigned him in, and soon the fox was rocked back into that moaning lack of consciousness. "Goddamn!" Vince repeated. "He really is loving it! I bet you could fuck him til he shot, no hands."
"If that's a challenge, you're on" Sternen said as he slapped the fox's rump like a doctor testing reflexes. He untied the muzzle, though the fox was immediately impressed with the idea that this wasn't so much so they could hear him talk, but so they could hear him moan. Which was true, and he was right not to talk, as Vince wrapped the length around his own arm to keep it handy, just in case the fox with fur like a brisk morning got mouthy.
Sternen slapped the fox's ass again, wanting to see how loudly the bitch responded, how quickly. He plumbed the depths of the fox's ass with his dick. Sternen, really, approached the innocent-looking fox like an experiment, and he delighted in seeing the fox's varied but subtle reactions. Sternen listened for the subtle cues - the hitch in a grunt, or a momentary change in pitch of moans - to know when he had found a spot perhaps the fox himself hadn't known before, and then he tormented it. He categorized the moans, the grunts, the cries, and if grabbing the fox by the hips and drilling him deep for a few seconds made him moan in a particularly slutty fashion, the curious Sternen of course would have to test if the same curt, rough thrusts would elicit the same dissonant, doleful cry. The constant companion to these utterances was the creaking of the cheap table, which could have collapsed at any moment under their weight and the force of the dragon's hips slamming into the fox's ass.
The fox had more buttons than Sternen could push, and like a child in an elevator he mashed any one he could reach and settled in for a long ride with his passenger. Time passed. A lot of time passed. Positions changed. The fox found himself on his back, his legs in the air, the dragon's noodle-like whiskers teasing over his body as he was fucked. The fox found himself pressed against the wall, his cuffed arms behind him holding his tail. The rotty's dick popped in and out at times, the eager and impatient dog at least keeping his dick wet in the fox's muzzle every time the dragon moved the fox into another degrading position.
"Are you going to make the bitch cum or not?" Vince complained as he shoved his dripping cock in the fox's muzzle again.
"Have you ever read a book so good you didn't want it to end?" Sternen replied as he put the fox's feet up on his shoulders, rolled the fox with stained fur backwards so that his ass was high in the air. "He's going to pop, I can feel it." The dragon's sweat soaked into the fox's fur as he humped the now loose hole, and for a moment a new look of concentration came onto his face. Suddenly the fox wasn't like a puzzle he could toy with, but rather a real problem, an equation he couldn't balance, and where technique failed him the dragon moved to brute force. The dragon picked up his pace into a rapid, punishing drive, and he held it there. "C'mon, bitch..." the dragon pleaded through clenched teeth. "Shoot it, I want to see you drench yourself," but the fox only moaned in reply. Sternen raped the battered ass, mashed dumbly all the buttons he had found earlier, practically pounded them with his fist, shook and beat the uncooperative fox like a broken machine. "He's close!" Sternen insisted, maintaining his driving beat, the muscles under his his skin starting to bulge with the exertion. The dragon was breathing deeply now, gasping for breath as he fought against exhaustion. His stomach went light, and he knew it was time to make his closing case. He assaulted the fox's hole with a determination tinged with panic, ordering the fox to shoot with curt, breathless commands, and then he went silent. The silence, and the deep thrust the dragon held deep in the beaten ass for a long time, was the fox's cue to shout and writhe. The dragon flooded the fox's ass, poured his hourlong work into the thoroughly used and abused hole, emptied his heavy, bouncing nuts into the little fox who, for the first time, he finally saw as a slut. From his back, the fox only looked up, his eyes narrow slits, a whimper in his throat. The small cock was dripping with precum, but still just as hard, just as unsatisfied, and the look on the fox's face only begged for the coup de grace.
"Shove off," Vince said, pushing the defeated, if satisfied, dragon aside and taking his spot between the fox's legs now. Isil still had his legs lifted, of his own power. He had either accepted what was coming next or wanted it. The rotty held his pulsing dick in his paw, and tapped it, taunting, against the fox's nuts. He seemed impatient, annoyed at the long wait he had suffered. He comported himself with the air of a man who had an important lunch in fifteen minutes,
"You wanna shoot your load? You wanna cum all over that pristine white fur of yours? Well," Vince said, turning a derisive grin toward Sternen, "You're going to need someone to treat you like the horny little slut you are." He grabbed the fox by the neck and squeezed, and as the little guy gagged and spit for air, the rotty sunk his dick easily in the loose hole, the rising of the fox's chest suggesting a tremendous scream that couldn't escape the dog's clamp. He gave a few quick thrusts, then let go, letting the fox gasp for breath and writhe while the small cock pulsed and twinged, nearly shooting precum from its slight slit.
Vince didn't bother with positions. To him, it was all the same if the fox had simply collapsed into that specific setup, and so long as the hole was open and ready for a dick, he was in the only position he needed to be in. Vince took advantage of his position, keeping his eyes fixed on the fox's, waiting for the soft blue eyes to meet his before quickly averting. The fox's eyes tested his every few moments, but the rotty's pupils were fixed and set. Only when the fox kept his gaze averted downward - perhaps watching the fat meat violate him as his own helpless, slight member bounced and dripped and twitched - did Vince turn his eyes away, happy with the effect he had had on the fox. He latched his teeth onto the fox's shoulder, clawed his nails into the milky skin below the soft fur, left his physical marks everywhere on the plump body.
If the fox's body couldn't be described as chubby, and it couldn't be described as skinny, it was simply ripe. It was shiny, lively, seemed to contain within it all the essence of vitality and health. And if Isil was a ripe fruit, Vince was the Juicer. He clawed and nibbled the skin, he slapped and squeezed the fox's rump, he clamped the muzzle shut and listened to the muted moans as he berated the helpless fox with pointed words. "You'll see, you little slut, you'll shoot that little dick all over and you'll wonder why the mean old doggy got you to blow like you never did before." Vince paused his monologue to nibble the fox's ear. He was whispering the words, so only the fox could hear through the clouded perception that over an hour of rough treatment had developed. "You'll shoot your load, and we'll leave, and you'll sit there wondering how you'll ever feel so good again, even while you're cleaning the scratches I left on you." Vince slapped the two cheeks with both hands, pulled them apart, and burrowed deep - an almost meaningless activity to the now thoroughly stretched an numbed fox, though Vince certainly enjoyed exerting his will, and the fox in turn enjoyed having that will exerted upon him. "And then what you'll do, you little slut, and this is the real travesty," the dog spat in the fox's ears, "is you'll go looking for guys just like me. In seedy bars, in back alleys, you'll search in pain for another guy to rape you just like I did, and make you shoot that load like I did." And Vince plowed, and plowed, and plowed, and the fox whined and whined and whined. The fox didn't speak, but Vince could see the realization of his words settling into the fox's eyes. The knowledge was at once unbelievable and obvious. The fox couldn't seem to want the travail to end, but he didn't want to dog to just get up and leave. He didn't want the pair to take their costumes and go. He wanted to cum. He wanted them to leave a little of themselves, and take a little of him.
Vince's fucking was unremarkable. Machinelike, almost, but not quite inhuman enough. Businesslike. Like the slow, methodical, wavelike movement of bureaucracy or court proceedings. He didn't attack Isil with the same relentless onslaught. He spared the fox the full punishment, even though the unit, which had pried and searched the last remaining inches the dragon's instrument had been unable to reach, was capable of much more. The fucking, then, slowly faded into the back as more and more derisive words ate into the fox's dignity, preserved through rough treatment but vulnerable, as always, through the ears. The thrusts were a thudding beat of bass drums backing up a righteous, operatic performance.
Isil whined. He writhed. "But you'll never get it like this, you slut," and Vince bit the other shoulder. "You'll get raped like this once, and you'll only ache for it the rest of your life, you little slut." The dog's dart hit its bullseye. A warm radiation of realization seemed to spread over the fox's body, which relaxed in a wave then immediately tensed and a thick, pearly jet of cum shot straight onto the fox's nose. It soaked into the fur of his cheek, sat like an obscene globule on his nose, and then more came. More jets. One blinded an eye, another found his tongue. He tasted himself for the first time, the cum mixed with blood from a bite he put in his tongue in the fervor. And his dick continued to shoot, the dog saying "yes, yes, now you see!" while the tool spasmed and emptied. It seemed for both to last for hours. What didn't naturally find the fox's muzzle the dog scooped into a paw and shoved in, deep into the fox's muzzle, shoving the fingers back into the fox's throat. "Feed on it, bitch, you'll never cum like this again so you better commit every scent and taste to memory. You'll be looking for these exact senses in all the bars and bathhouses you spend the rest of your life in, but you'll never see me again, and you'll never feel this again." And then the fox's cock was only drooling, almost like melting into a sticky, matted, wet spot on the beautiful belly.
The dog stood up, moving his lips finally away from the ears which had received perhaps the most vicious treatment of all.
"Jesus," Sternen exclaimed, his jaw dropped at how quickly and easily the dog had made meat of the fox. "What were you saying to him?"
Vince smiled down at the fox, whose eyes were closed. He was gasping. He was messy. He was a mess. His cock was still hard, as if it had never shot at all. He turned the heap over, unlocked the cuffs around the wrists, then turned the freed fox back over. Isil simply laid there. "I told him I wasn't going to waste a load on sloppy seconds and that I wanted to make sure he knew how a real man treats a real slut." The dog grabbed his uniform and shoved his half-hard cock into his pants. "Keep fishing, as they say, right?" He pushed Sternen toward the door.
"Don't you think that's a bit mean?"
"He came, didn't he?"
"How do you think he feels?"
"Wet and a little sick." Vince pushed the other costume into the dragon's chest and started directing him toward the door. The dragon dressed quickly, and only neatly enough to blend back into the airport crowd without exciting attention.
"Thanks!" Sternen shouted awkwardly over the dog as he was pushed out the door. And the dragon was gone.
"Keep fishing," the dog repeated to the fox, lying unresponsive on the table except for a lazy paw rubbing a forehead sticky with his own cum.