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Thanks to DukeFerret for proofreading and editing!

I have a Patreon now! Keep your watchful eye upon this digital land, dear spectator: your eyes shall be lavished in gold. Or piss. Whatever you're into.

Whether or not this has anything to do with Lawful and Indecent is up to you.

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Nick Wilde: Nightclub Stripper

It's called a hustle, sweetheart! That what you wanted me to say? Heh. Thought so. Have a seat. I can do a lot more than that.

Welcome to the nightclub, baby, here's a questionnaire: want a drink? Want a dance? Is that wallet as fat as that dick? Only one way to find out. If you're a rough, grabby cowboy, you'd be happy to know I came in my best bikini, and if you're one of the shy boys, I'll do all the work for you. Serve up, flirt, shake my ass a little bit and get paid. That enough? Fuckboy doesn't like it, he can kiss it. I've heard enough of that talk to fill the bathtub he pissed in. 'Cause everybody wanted to be the hero when they were kids, but buddy, I've seen it through, and the best thing I learned is that sometimes it's okay to be the baddie. Come on, now. You have an urge, and you know that somebody can fix it. Sit back. Relax. Take a walk on The Wilde Side.

Lights flashing, cameras shining, red-cheeked huskies screaming; yep, eleven P.M. Purple and green stitch lights, 'cause Friday's the toxic frog theme. And everybody knows who it is when they hear the high heels click. Black bands snug on the fat thighs and biceps, sunglasses in the dark, bulge bouncing in that tiny bikini bottom sinking further in my ass cheeks; that's me! Wilde Thing. I walk like I own the place because I do. They order up, but I'm always the main course.

Cat calls galore, even the otters; not surprising, I mean, look at me! It's hotter than an oven; a gang of wolves at a nearby table start leaning into each other, trading whispers. Ears up, a sweat drop off my brow lands on the bulge of my bikini bottom, big and stiff from more than a few guests copping a feel. Hey, it's okay; they're allowed. Company policy, plus, the “TOUCH ME" tattooed across my ass for the bonus. And if you saw how their faces twist, you'd know that's all they're after. That jitter in the stomach pulls the strings. So does the useless top. So does the choker. So goes the gossip of leaving me in the middle wearing nothing but that. Never gonna happen, but a pipe dream gets the wallets talking, so you tease what you gotta tease and leave 'em drooling on the tablecloth.

Suddenly I feel a flat object slide between my ass cheeks. I turn and see a guy scurrying away while he giggles. Clawhauser. Don't ask. Anyway, it's a special order for the guys at the poker table. Looking at 'em now, it's a little foreboding. They're all three times my size under the harshest spotlight; rugged, stiff and focused like a screenshot of a rugby tournament, and the closest one has his back to me while he overlooks his pocket aces. Not gonna lie, I jumped. I know I've seen that guy before. Has a feeling he'd come by today. You know when that little “what-if'' turns into a hunch? That's what it's like. I just wonder if he's here for more than poker.

I get closer. They've all got the same memo: dark clothing, leather jackets; love the tats, so I know they'll love mine. I count to three…four…paws on the table, I lean over and ask, “May I get you fine gentlemen something to drink?"

Nailed the croon. Nailed the hips. Aces hit the table face up. Buddy picks it up quick and says something I haven't heard in a day or two:

“Some of you."

God damn. That first look. That flashback of me on all fours, stretched, and the walkie-talkie one inch away from my face. I lick my lips. That's Jason, backup tiger dancer for Gazelle, and they come as big as they seem. I remember the taste of his lips in the alley with my paw down his pants. All the night shifts I parked on the curb, 'cause he liked it raw under the streetlight. Guilty pleasure so guilty I don't even talk about it, now. Well, that was two years ago, but a man like that can live rent free in my head a whole lifetime. I'm happy, but I'm nervous: the kind you get when any familiar face sees you like this.

“Least let me read off the menu before you start doin' what you want with me," I say.

Hungry-eyes laughs at that, looks at my ass. “I'm already reading it."

Damn, he's good. My legs are already shaking while the bulge in my bottom swells again, fabric coming with it. A pillow rises in my chest as I realize they see the forbidden parts of my inside thighs, and since he knows me well, he starts to feel 'em up. I do a little gasp, and then give him a hip bump, giving him a good look at that boner in his pants with a wink.

“You like that?" I ask.

“Damn right I do."

Now, he's making me smirk. Fingers touching all the right places. His friends over there watch with awe, a little-lotta jealousy. All I'm thinking is how to show off. Make a man smile, and you've made his whole week. Make a man horny, and I already said the rest.

“Turn that chair around," I say.

He puts the cigar in the ashtray without looking. I'm nervous. Not shaken. Nervous. And I know he can smell that.

My voice is a soft croon:

“This one's on the house."

The song booms and smacks, bass shaking the floor to match the heart-thuds as I'm feeling up my own chest. They smooth over my neck and curtain my face. Off go the shades. Paw on the chair, one knee on his lap, I get his eye on me and start dry humping his chest, touching his cheek; trust me, you don't wanna look away. I watch him light up to hot that he's gripping the arms of the chair. “Bum, bum" goes his heartbeat; that deep tremble's what I live for. My paw draws down his cheek. Down, down…got your chin. I lean in, real close, closer, closer…

And I pull away. That's the marionette trick. I swerve around, tail smacking the same cheek while I slide a finger in the strap of my bottoms. Give a little tug. Oh, he likes that! It loosens 'til it slips an inch. Ass goes side to side, unsteady bottle on a plate. He loves the view when I drop it down low, and he loves it even better when I shake it like a cocktail shaker. His breath is a hiss through his teeth when I bring it down, right above his package, begging something to rise but not to touch. He follows the rules and hovers his paws over my hips; good boy. I squat down and slip the bottoms up to a tight “I" over the crack. I smile back, tail flicking while I'm tugging the thin fabric up, less than an inch away from showing that tiny pucker off to the whole club. I know he can't take it. I know he wants to go hard. And the minute I see it coming, I stand all the way up, arms up, sky high: diamond, trapezoid.

Breath on my ear makes it flick:

“How much to get you outta that bikini?"

“V.I.P. only, Stripes. Two hundred big ones with a condom."

“Nah. I wanna see you strip right here, right now."

I thought about it. I definitely talked about this fantasy before. He must've remembered after all this time. That's a hell of a push. But, shit, I own the club, so…

“Slip it in the strap and we'll talk."

I hear him reaching for his wallet and give a little smile for the credit. Bend over again for a good look. Funny how the finest way to get a man to drain his wallet is the same way you drain his nuts. Let everything he wants be an inch away from him and hold it there, only to ask him for more. No matter how stoic, or brave, or strong, they all fall like dominos for a piece of that fox ass.

Money in the strap, he sits back down, and I bend like an acrobat. Slick, I slide my hands up to my top, feeling up the inside for a second. Then wrap around the back and untie the strap, loosening off my chest 'til it's drooping in my paw. They cheer over that. So funny. I toss it behind my head, feeling more exposed than ever, air humping the bad thoughts out as I ready for the next step. The bottom loosens by itself, and the rush makes me gasp. His friends rile up as it slips a bit. And all at once I realize they got a sneak peek to the base of my shaft.

Life hits you fast. I slick my paws down to the last fabric patch, thumbs in the straps as I circle it around. And it hits me, the thrill of this moment: I've never been naked in front of this many guests before. Am I in danger? No, no, calm down, Wilde Thing, you've got it covered. Wait…poor word choice. But I've been curious for a while, and hell, there's a first time for everything. I think, Okay. Okay. Here goes.

Circling my hips, I bite my tongue. Down it goes. My big cock springs; legs rattle like snake, and like that, the panties hit the floor.

A draft. A whisper. That's when the table starts cheering. I straighten back and draw a finger down my pubic hair, pointing to my penis, seven inches hard for the crowd. I'm shaky. I'm confident. I'm everything at once. But all that came to mind was simple: That just happened.

He chuckles. “Never seen you so slutty in my life."

I look at his friends, a couple of 'em with hands down their pants. All right, I get it. Everybody in this room wants to fuck me, now. Better give this man a show.

“Then you haven't seen enough of me."

I pounce on him and plunge my lips into his, knee on the thigh again while I grab his head. They holler in shock as he kisses back, and he can't help himself; both paws seize my ass and knead the cheeks. And my face flushes hard because I realize what's gonna happen next. He pulls them apart. Beneath the lip-lock, I feel myself gasp. My hole's been exposed to the nightclub for the first time.

The rush I feel is like downing the whole bottle. God, I missed being dominated like this! My breath is ragged, my cock is hard and throbbing the way he swivels the chair, exposing me to his friends. I touch his chest and feel his heart boom, 'cause he wants it, and he knows I want it, too.

“How about a thousand for right here?"

“Put it in the strap, you horny bastard."

A new song comes on: this one fast paced, loud, ecstatic, a bassy quarter note on every beat. Ass out, I bat an eyelash; that's the trick. He slides the cash in my leg band and picks me up by the hips. I gasp, and he whirls me around, bending me over the table so the green fuzz itches my chest. That dominant gaze. That cocky smirk. Yeah, he plays rough. One paw full of my bikini while the other one smacks against my fat ass over and over again.

“You've been a bad, bad fox."

And he spanks me again. And again. And again. Nonstop slapping the moans out of me, and I hope he leaves an imprint bigger than the gape he'll put inside me. He makes that ass ripple and pulse until it stings in the air like jalapeño paste. I turn and see him put the condom on; tell him he won't be needing that. That gets him going good. 'Cause next thing I feel is my cheeks pulled apart and his face up against it, his tongue circling inside me. Surprised, I lean into him, feeling that barbed tongue drag over all the places I need, just deep enough to get my faucet dripping. Scandalous, even for me–and I love every second of it, smacking my own ass just to keep him going strong.

'Bout fifteen minutes pass, and he pulls away. That's when the fun begins. My fingers curl. The tip of his cock inside me already begins to stretch. I grit my teeth, and in it slides. Fuck. Slow strokes do me good, but his grip does me better. The goosebumps spread, moaning as I feel another inch inside me. I'm going crazy for him. His friends lean in for a better look, one of them snagging my top off the table's edge with a little smirk. My pre cum drips to the floor as I give 'em that half-eyed stare. They know they want it, too. And they'd do anything to get it.

He speeds up, pulsing with me as he jerks me up and down like a fleshlight. Can't help but shake my hips the way that dick overwhelms me; flustered silly in front of all those big guys. The way he grunts when he fucks me drives me wild, hot sweat pouring from my brow to my face. The constant slap-slap-slap of his balls against my ass leaves a burn of it's own, and god damn, we're just getting started.

Paw smacking that fat ass, he watches the ripples bounce twice: “Mmph, ride that dick." So I do. I keep bucking back, biting my lip, waves of pleasure on his spear. Closed eyes tell no secrets, but I sure as hell wasn't keeping them. Speeding up the pace, I beg harder and harder 'til my voice goes high, and the filthy thoughts of him flooding me until it pours out onto the floorboards takes me victim…Fuck, it's so intense! I don't care anymore! I don't care! Just take me! Take me!

“Take me!"

I'm shoved against the table, and he goes full force: fast, hard smacks, and he loves the way it cushions his fuckstick, mine feeling harder, slapping my belly, the animals keep watching, the phones coming out, but I'm too busy to pose, too horny, too everything, prostate firing jacuzzi flares from my thighs to my cock as it begs for more, I beg for it harder, harder, HARDER, and the towers of chips topple while I rattle back and forth and back and forth and back and forth until he roars and shoves it all the way in, vice grip, grit teeth, seed flooding me like a riverbank or a flood, don't know which, I'm so tired, but horny, my God, SO HORNY, and the plug is pulled while he blasts the last hot streaks on my back, eyes roll back, haven't spurted a-!

I fall down. They all give me a minute with a round of applause. Jason turns me around and makes out with me for a bit. Minutes later, a stack of bills flops on the table. It's the panther. He's buff, taller than Jason, and his fat dick was flopped out of his fly: thick foreskin and all.

“Suck my dick for five hundred, cutie," he smiles.

And I catch his tone. He knows what's up. The thrill of being naked in public and used only just began. I take the money and put it in my arm strap, now, drop to my knees and give a little lick on the shaft. He likes that, so I get his balls, too. I hold that cock up to my wrist as he gets hard and give him a wink. I can see it in his eyes. He knows that I've got this. I lick my lips and start sucking on that tip–but just then another stack of bills, and another dick.

“Hey, can you blow me, too?"

Fun fact: leopards have spots on their dicks. Or, do they? This one did. And I'll bet you never guessed he's as happy as could be. I'm woozy at this point, overstimulated, but money talks, so I grab 'em both and start smirking the harder they get. They're both eager and thrusting, thirsty for the snag as if they hadn't already got it.

Then another stack of bills. And another. And another. There's his friends, all five of 'em and counting. Each time I manage to say “Yes," mouthful of meat and happy customers. The whole poker table surrounds me, and I have dicks in my hands, dicks waiting to be massaged and sucked, paws all over my back, chest, ears, ass, genitals, everything; like the ocean itself giving me love taps.

Ecstasy doesn't begin to describe it. Their paws smooth through my back muscles and probe at my abs. My balls get fondled, two fingers up my cum-filled ass milking the prostate. Bobbing my head on that dick leaves all of them hungry, so I take the panther's in deep, give that green-eyed stare and make him lose whatever's left of him. He can't take it; he grabs my head and facefucks me, and I gag and gag until his warm semen blasts all over my tongue and down my throat like a dirty secret. Even when he pulls out, he's not done, jerking out thick spurts that go cascading down my cheek and snout while I gasp for breath. Guess I'm not the only one serving drinks around here.

Two paws on my hips pull me back on a new cock. The leopard takes my head and gives it a new taste, more of them touching me everywhere it counts, the future reshaping to nothing every smack he gives to me. I jerk them all harder, and I feel whoever's behind me fuck harder, and the club's bass thuds loud enough to sink with them busting; one in the back, the other on my face, the next in my mouth. Well, this is how the night will go? I'm all in.

The second one unplugs, I'm in a new position. The beefy bull of the crowd picks me up and jerks me up and down his cock, still standing, while everybody watches. Then I'm on my knees, jerking and sucking a ring of dicks. Then they put me face up on the table, surrounded by bills, and hold my legs up while a king-sized dick rams my coin-sized hole. Staff walks by to see what's up, and I could tell they're all jealous when I'm squirming and hollering on dick after dick after dick. Snatch, jerk, fuck, cum, switch, all night, going “Tight slut," “Nice legs," “Queen of cock," every word a painting. They pass me around 'til I'm numb and fuck me over and over again, cumming inside, on my chest, legs, face, and hell, one of 'em busts between my thighs. Aces high. Flop, turn, river, and all those chips belong to me.

On the floor now, I'm in a shivering haze after the umpteenth rough dicking. Gasping for breath, I feel Jason's paw clasp around my hard cock, his friends now taking selfies with my naked, cum-covered body.

That's when the lights go out. A red glow fumes up behind the steam of the main stage. The announcer booms:

“All right, it's time for the main event!"

That's right. One pole dance left. Me.

“Wilde Thing should be coming up any minute now!"

All that strength comes rolling back. Even standing, I have to look straight up to see the circle of smirking, satisfied tops, all with their suits still on and dripping from their cocks.

“Go up," Jason says.

I laugh. “I need my bikini back."

“Nah. Shake that ass naked."

I feel a weight drop. Usually we keep enough on to let the imagination do the work. But I'm so horny, it doesn't matter. I slink up to his body, a finger on his chest.

“Would that make your night?"

He smiles and nods.

“Then you better finish mine."

Ever been paraded in the nude? This is a first. And what I learn is that everything flips on its head. The shame is beyond exciting. Everyone knows what I did. Everybody can see the stacks in the straps, and best of all, they know I run this place. I did what I did, and I'll never be sorry. My cheeks burn while Jason's finger in my ass guides the way, and my rock hard cock waves like a white flag; I moan loud just to get more attention. The spotlight is on me–literally–and some of them gasp when they see all the men who just fucked me trailing behind, but I know the look they're giving, and I know the stories they're gonna tell after tonight. No such thing as bad press. Don't you ever forget it.

The podium's right there, but they won't let me have it. On the first step, Jason grabs my hip and pumps his finger in and out, and I feel the cum splash out around it and drip down my thighs; then he takes it out and spanks me for the punishment. All his friends go rogue: paws all over my booty like a tight pair of underpants, plus one big paw squeezing my nuts to hold me in place. Jolting, I'm at their mercy as they get a grab, a push, fondle; and they get really dirty when they stretch 'em, lick the cheek and finger me all over again. My eyes roll back; I moan so hard I start laughing. My dick throbs harder than the pole they'll make me dance on, and if I cum right here, they'll only find it more amusing. Just like that, they shove me up the steps and wave goodbye like sexy pricks. But you don't see me mad. Their humiliation means nothing. And as I step to the stage, my body shakes when I hear the roar! My hard cock drips, and I can't get this smile off my face!

Applaus, wolf whistles, cheers; I giggle like the virgin I was all those years back. Can see a canine or two jacking off already; I'll give the janitor a raise. Nothing to do but perform, so I swivel my hips, lowering on the pole, body like oil while the music ramps up. I swear they all move with me when the tail goes up, and they like it even better when I wink and blow a kiss. Flashing lights, dripping cum, naked on display for dozens of animals, all of them cheering like I'm dishing out winning lottery tickets. They chant my name: Wilde Thing! Wilde Thing! A watermark for somebody's favorite porno. I drop my ass to the floor and they go nuts. My tail flicks; I roll up and bend backwards, “Look at me, Look at me," losing it from my words to my actions. I admit it: I'm a slut! I'm everybody's whore! I spread my dripping cheeks with my tongue out! My legs in a V, spiraling the pole, I show them everything, and no dignity stands left but the hard cock swinging in their faces!

I have no choice. I drop to my knees and start jerking off. The whole crowd explodes: cheers to the skies, drinks raised, even some gasps, and every minute makes me throb even harder. My knees slip, tongue out again. I'm the one guy who hasn't cum yet! I need this! I want them all to see me like this!

My face contorts as it shoots out from the tip and sprays out to the edge of the stage. The cheering was ear-splitting, some yelling for encores, and I wonder if they knew the night I had. Well, they will when it hits the internet. Pleasure shoots through my body like my blood's made of sugar, and at last, I collapse on the ground, tongue lolling out as the stage grows dark.

The curtain closes. Everything goes dark. Just me and my puddle of money and cum. A few minutes pass before I even find my breath. I peek through it. I realize, it hasn't been a few minutes; it's been a few hours. Everybody's gone. Including Jason.

And he took my uniform with me.

I laugh a little bit. If only he knew that was what I showed up with. If only he knew how accepting this town was. And if only he knew what he just made me do.

Dressing room's locked, but not the shower.

Quick wash.

I feel lighter, all of a sudden.

So I turn the lights out.

Cash goes in the register.

I lock the place up.

And I strut my stuff like I meant every second.

Sun's out.

Arms up.

Hips swing.

Tail's up.

Boys see the tat and make sure to ask twice.

It's a damn good day to be alive.

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Full version was out a month early on Patreon! We've got writing advice articles, rough drafts, early releases, and so much more down the line.

Thumbnail: Bikinick by SamurShalem. Also, he writes Zootopia stuff, too! Check him out!