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The Mad Doctor For ImpXimon By Draconicon

The Imp woke up with a massive headache, and with the feeling that he was tied up. The fact that he knew what being tied up felt like by now wasn't something he was too proud of.

He opened his eyes, glancing this way and that as he took in the familiar sights of a hospital room. The clean white walls, the drip bags that were waiting to be used, the moving bed, the leather straps around his ankles and wrists -

Admittedly, that wasn't SO usual, but he had the feeling that he was in the clutches of a villain again. It would explain the headache, and why he'd fallen asleep while trying to pick the lock to get in.

"Hello? Hello?!"

The Imp shouted at the top of his lungs as he kicked at the edge of the bed. Despite his best efforts, his bare feet didn't do a thing against the hardened plastic that formed almost a wall around him. Even as he tugged with all his might, everything seemed to hold firm. Whoever had put this together was not the normal hospital doctor.

Nor had they seen fit to let him keep all his clothes, either. His red shirt was gone, and so were the red sole-less socks that he wore. The only things left were his mask and his...well, the bottom part of his costume.

Okay, either I'm dealing with another pervert, or there's a legitimate reason for this...

The door opened, and as soon as the big bear stepped in, The Imp groaned.

Yep. Pervert.

He'd heard of this guy. He wasn't another of the superpowered villains that The Imp fought on a daily basis - or so The Imp considered them - but he was a bit player in some of the city's criminal groups. He knew his real name was Doctor Ivarkoff. Most people called him the Bedmaster.

The big brown bear circled around to the foot of his bed. His lab coat was worn more like a robe than anything else, and rather than a stethoscope around his neck, he wore something more like a feather duster combined with a whip. The Imp curled his toes protectively as the bear reached down, stroking a clawed finger along the underside of his left foot.

"Ah, you are avake. Good. Very good."

The Russian accent sent a bit of a shiver down his spine again, but The Imp was nothing if not brave. He leaned up - well, lifted his head up - and glared.

"Doctor Ivarkoff. Finally, we meet!"

"Ah, little man knows big man's name. Very good. Saves introductions."

"You may have tied me down, but I'll escape. And then -"

He broke off in a giggle as the bear brought his feather duster down over his feet, swishing it from side to side. The Imp was a powerful hero...but his feet weren't exactly protected against the dangers of tickles.

"Stop it!"

"It is treatment. You are angry man."

"Because you - hahaha! Because - haaaaaa!"

He giggled, curling his toes and trying to pull his feet back from the bear's constant assault on his soles. The feathers were so light that it was impossible to keep them away, and with the bondage in combination with that...

The bear chuckled.

"I have heard of Imp. He is...what you call, 'pervert'? Not real hero."

"I'm the hero that's going to bust you up."

"Really? Have doubts. But you still pervert."

"No way."

"Then what that?"

The Russian bear's pointed finger nearly touched his crotch at that point, and The Imp had to admit that he had a bit of a bulge. Not much of one, but -

(Hey, it's a revealing costume, alright? I know I'm a pervert, but I'm not like that.)

Nevertheless, The Imp refused to dwell on it. Instead, he kicked up -

And had his leg caught almost immediately. The bear's thick hand was so big that it was able to hold his leg without even trying, even when the restraint on his left leg was removed. The Imp stared as his foot was brought higher and higher, and his face started to go as red as his mask as he saw the bear lick his lips.

"I have heard Imp feet are Imp weakness. That Imp can't fight if Imp feet are played with."

"That's a lie."

"Let us find out."

He could only watch helplessly as the bear leaned down and dragged his tongue along the bottom of his foot. The Imp blushed, biting his lip as his bulge throbbed to new life, and tried to think of anything else. Maybe that porn shoot with that other villain?

No, no, you idiot, he did the same -

"AH!"

The moan escaped his lips before he could stop it, and his cock throbbed in his little costume. The Bedmaster chuckled.

"Yes. I thought that Imp might have weakness like this. No shoes, always barefoot. Like great big target."

The Imp tried to make a retort, but it was lost in the assault on his foot. Lick after lick dragged along the underside, pulling at the flawless, smooth skin from his heels all the way to his toes. The slick, wet spit started making his feet feel all slimy, particularly when it started squelching between his toes.

He squirmed back and forth, shaking his head and glaring at the bear as much as he could. The little grunts and moans that escaped meant nothing.

(Okay, they meant something. But I had to tell myself something, right?)

They meant nothing, but he knew that the bear was taking them as encouragement. He could see the front of that lab coat starting to bulge out, and he knew that the foot licking would only satisfy the Bedmaster for so long. He curled his toes, trying to protect them as his mind raced to come up with a plan.

The bear only pulled them back, forcing him to fan them out. Slow lick after slow lick teased his foot, the hot breath from the perverted doctor only making things worse. He shivered, his costume starting to darken as he oozed pre.

Before he could really lose it, the doctor finally stopped. Pulling The Imp's toe out of his mouth with a pop, the bear laughed.

"Yes, Imp is weak. Imp will be good toy."

"The Imp - ah! The Imp will never bow to you!"

He kicked again, and this time he managed to knock the bear back. He panted softly, feeling his erection wobbling around inside of his stretched costume, but he had to act fast. With one leg free, he could -

YES! He managed to break out of the other restraint, and kick off the bottom part of the bed. The hard plastic went flying off, and knocked the bear off of his feet and against the wall. As the Bedmaster's head cracked against the wall, he hit the floor, unconscious.

But still very erect, the shaft having popped out of the lab coat when he hit the ground.

Ignoring the sight of the very aroused villain and his big bare bear feet that were pointed towards him, the Imp grinned.

"And that was how I defeated the Bedmaster, the sinister abductor of cute guys everywhere, and the molester of feet."

"Uh huh."

The Imp narrowed his eyes at the dragon journalist, whose fingers had - he realized - stopped typing up the report some time ago. He put his hands on his hips, glaring at the taller reptile.

"What? You don't believe me?"

"No, no, I believe you. But I think you left something out."

"Uh huh? What?"

"How you got out of the arm restraints, for one."

"Uh -"

"And how you managed to break his grip while he was holding onto you."

"Well, uh -"

"And how your feet are your weak point, and why you want so many other people to know this in a report."

The Imp blushed as he looked down and away. There were so many answers to all of those, but all of them were too embarrassing to go into. Instead, he pointed out the window.

"Wow, look at that?"

"Huh?"

The journalist turned around, and with the speed only a super hero is capable of, The Imp grabbed at the typed up piece of paper and ran out the door. Shouted threats and the broken promise of a story aside, it had been a nice enough meeting.

I really need to think about things before doing them, The Imp thought. All the heroes in the comics made it look so easy, having press relationships and getting their stories out to the public at large. Superwolf did it all the time. Then again, he was also his own press agent, so there might be something to that.

The Imp made it down to the street before he realized that he was still being watched. He looked over his shoulder, and he saw the dragon looking down at him from his apartment.

More importantly, he saw the copy paper in his hand.

Ahhhh, crap.

He slowed down, and then turned around. He grumbled all the way back up the stairs, and sullenly knocked on the reporter's door. It opened, and the dragon shook his head at him.

"Did you forget something?"

"Um, yeah...here. Could you maybe not print that?"

"Maybe. But I'd need something to pay for the wasted time."

"...Any chance of an IOU?"

"Not really." The dragon chuckled. "But I have another thought. I know an agency that's dying for another set of a certain barefoot hero's pictures..."

The Imp groaned. He already knew where this was going, but he needed to keep the dragon quiet. And judging by some of the other books he'd seen around the place - stuff on mysticism and magic - he doubted some of his other 'talents' would be enough here.

(Not to mention that I kinda thought it'd be fun to have my pictures taken. But that's another story.)

The End