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Rabbits Rocking Rocket For Johnzaloog By Draconicon

Rocket Raccoon had a reputation for getting in and out of tight situations. Not merely due to his size, but due to all the weapons and tech and traps that he tended to bring along for the ride. If there was anyone in the galaxy that had underestimated the raccoon and lived, they were smart enough to keep their heads down for the rest of their lives.

So, he had gone into the bar to meet with Blackjack o'Hare with an open mind, expecting that he'd pull another escape if he had to, and if not, then at least he could rub his old rival's face in the fact that he was part of the Guardians of the Galaxy these days. If nothing else, the sense of self-satisfaction would have been amazing.

Instead, the moment he stepped into the bar, he was surrounded by guns aimed right at his head...belly...feet...everywhere, really. Even if he set off the bombs that he carried, all he'd have accomplished was doing the job for them.

Rocket had surrendered, the first time that he'd done that in a long time.

It had taken the Black Bunny Brigade no more than five minutes to strip him of everything he owned. Every gun, every gadget, every stitch of his clothes. It all went into a pile in the middle of the bar, and the raccoon was strapped to the floor, arms pulled over his head and his waist, wrists, and neck pinned down with magnetized bands. High-powered ones, too, too big and strong for him to be able to bust through or bite at.

And at the head of the Brigade, Blackjack o'Hare sat, leaning back on a bar stool with a pistol in hand and an insane grin on his face.

"So, Rocket, we finally managed to pin you down."

"Yeah? Well, don't get used to it. I've got a little surprise of my own just for situations like this."

"Heh, I'm sure you did."

The rabbit turned to the pile of gadgets on the floor, and Rocket did his best not to let his grin fade. Not that easy when all of his stuff was laid out in a giant mess, particularly when he was trying to pull a pretty hard bluff.

There's gotta be something you can do, he thought. You're a guardian these days, for crying out loud. What would the guys do?

Well, Quill would pull something stupid like a dance-off. Gamorrah wouldn't have gotten caught in the first place. Drax would be ripping out of the restraints as if they were nothing. Groot...

Well, Groot would probably be playing one of those stupid games of his.

Yeah, stupid question.

Besides, the fact that he was completely naked was something new, and not one that he particularly liked. He wore that jumpsuit for a reason. He liked to keep his body covered up, particularly down there.

Sure, he had something that most raccoons didn't, and that was size. None of that stick-dick stuff for him. It was a standard dick, something that flopped out when he got interested in having some fun and stayed away when he didn't. Now, though...

The Brigade was laughing and carousing around him, and some of them were spilling drinks left and right. Some of the drinks were just booze, and the rest -

The rest was something else. He could feel a little twinge in his dick whenever some of it landed on his face, and he didn't like it. Didn't like it one little bit, particularly as it started to slide free.

Thump!

"Nnngh! Hey, watch where you're putting that stomper!" he grunted as Blackjack brought one big foot down on his cock. "That ain't exactly a welcome mat!"

"Who cares? You popped it out, you're the one that's gotta want some attention."

That big, long rabbit foot kept rubbing up and down along his cock, and despite himself, Rocket was starting to enjoy it. Or at least, his dick was, and that was enough for the rest of his body to start playing along.

He bit his lip as that fuzzy thing kept working his cock, grinding forward, back, forward, back, each stroke giving him another little throb down there. It didn't take long for the floppy thing to start taking on a little hardness, a little rigidity, and after that -

"Hey! Get those grubby things off my dick! It's for the ladies!"

"Yeah? Hey, boys, if he doesn't want my feet on his cock, why don't you start putting them on his face?"

Without warning, there were a bunch of dark-furred rabbits gathering around him, most of them taking their time to take off thick, heavy boots before throwing them to the side. Bare paws came thumping down on the ground, most of them longer than his muzzle was, and all of them with a bit of smell to them. A raw musk that came from rabbits, and only from rabbits.

"Hey! Hey! Don't you fucking - mmmph!"

He grunted as his mouth was suddenly plugged by thick toes, forced wide-open as the toes pushed in. One digit, two, three past his lips, while other paws rubbed along the sides of his face and down along his cheeks.

Others rubbed against his chest, some finding little nubs to pinch at, others just treating him as a doormat. The raccoon's eyes were going wider and wider as Blackjack's gang kept pushing him down, holding him in place with big rabbit paws and not letting him get scent or taste without having the smell and taste of their paws forced down his throat.

Gotta get out! Gotta get out!

All the while, Blackjack was grinding his foot up and down on Rocket's cock, occasionally curling his toes to pinch around the head before pulling it back again. It was a slow, lazy tease, something that'd be more like what a lady would do to a lover than what a bastard would do to a captive.

Didn't help anything, of course. All it did was piss him off more...

Piss him off, and turn him on.

Rocket tried to turn his head, but all those paws kept him in place. Some of them ground on him, some of them just rubbed on him, but they were all forcing him to focus on them rather than on staying sane, on keeping himself from enjoying it.

"Hey, you." Blackjack tossed a bottle at the rabbit that had a foot in his mouth. "Pour that down his throat. It'll make him a bit more...willing."

"Mmph! CHOMP!"

Before the rabbit could do any such thing, Rocket bit down, hard. The bunny leaped back, hopping around with his foot in the air, yelping and shouting at the top of his lungs. The rest of the Brigade laughed, and Rocket wasn't that far behind.

However, it didn't do him any good. Blackjack hopped up from his seat, shoving a pistol in the raccoon's mouth and holding it there.

"You think that's funny? Let's see how long you're laughing when you have a full bottle of that stuff."

Some of the other rabbits pulled his mouth open, holding it wide as Blackjack grabbed the bottle again, pulling the cork off. The red liquid inside swirled about as the rabbit shook it.

"You know what this is? Some people call it the Lover's Folly. I just call it Fuck-Wine. Makes you so addled that you'll fuck anything, or let anything fuck you. Heard it's addictive, too; why don't we see what it does to you, huh?"

Rocket tried to shake his head, but no sooner had the liquid been described than the mouth of the bottle was shoved right down his throat. The long neck of it was enough to fill his muzzle and then some, and with his nose blocked, he only had one choice.

Swallow.

He swallowed one, two, three gulps before he managed to toss his head to the side, the bottle hitting the floor. He heaved and gasped, half-hoping to throw up.

But it was too late.

Blackjack stepped on him again, this time grinding the heel of his paw into the raccoon's balls as well as grinding the toes against the tip, and this time...

This time it felt way too good.

He gasped, arching his back, grunting and shaking his head, but his cock had taken the pleasure from that one grind and craved another. Another slow rub. Another fast one. Anything, as long as it came from that foot.

He bit his lips, trying not to moan, but the first grind of those fuzzy toes against his cock made him lose his restraint. The raccoon's mouth opened wide, a moan leaving him, his hips twitching without his intent, grinding him up against that long rabbit's foot.

"Heh, looks like it works for body parts as well as partners, boys. Pick a part. Get started."

Rocket felt his legs being lifted up, dicks pressing against the bottom of his paws. His toes curled on instinct, and as they humped against his feet in a weird massage, the urge to feel more started to grow. Every hump pushed the urge to have something grinding on his feet into his head, making it harder and harder to resist.

Other rabbit paws pressed against his head, grinding down on his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, everywhere that they could find a space.

Still others rubbed across his chest again, finding nipples and pulling on them, pinching them between toes. Anything and everything they could find to tease him, they found and they used. And thanks to the Lover's Folly, his body wanted more and more of it, and it didn't matter what his brain did to try and convince it otherwise.

Sane thought was rapidly fleeing, rushing away from him as he sank further and further into the paw-fueled debauchery. His cock was harder than it had ever been, and his feet were milking the shafts pressed against them with everything that they had, curling his toes around either side of the shafts and pumping them.

"Look at that. The great Rocket Raccoon, nothing more than a paw pet."

And as much as he hated to admit it, Rocket could feel it was true. His brain was twisting about, his needs slowly taking charge over his sense, and soon, he'd not be able to think of anything but the need for the rabbit paws.

The Black Bunny Brigade had won.

The End