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Polishing Wood

Disclaimer: This story features explicit, erotic content involving a "cub", a fictional anthropomorphic "furry" character under the chronological age of 18. It isn't real. The author does not condone any illegal or unethical acts whatsoever. This is fantasy, and nothing more. If you are not legally able to read explicit material under the laws that apply to you, do not continue beyond this disclaimer.

This is nothing but a fun writing exercise. Do enjoy. If you don't approve of this sort of material, don't read it. Like what I do? https://www.patreon.com/kichigaikitsune

Story Codes: M/b (11), machine, bondage, furry, masturbation

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Noah was good at sneaking. He had always been good at it. Whether he was sneaking past the chicken coup to avoid startling the noisy birds, or sneaking past his own parents at night to rendezvous with his friends for some fun in the forest, the eleven-year-old wood-fox was a master of stealth. And when those skills did fail him, he could fall back on his looks. It was hard to stay mad at the baby-faced kit, with his fetching shoulder-length auburn headfur and charmingly perky ears atop his head.

But today was something a little different. It was the middle of the summer break, and while he was glad to get away from the horrors of school, privacy was at a premium in his family's homestead, with his older brother back from college and his uncle staying with them for the next few weeks.

That didn't offer the athletic, precocious boy many opportunities to experiment with his most recent discoveries. Especially not during the day, and he needed the light. He really didn't want his nosy brother or fussy mom busting the door down just to try and catch him doing something wrong.

So, today he decided it was time to put his plan into action. He packed his backpack, changed into his jeans and plain tan t-shirt, and tugged on his hiking half-boots, and snuck away! His destination? Their neighbor's workshop shed, out on the fringes of his property. It was the one place Noah was sure he could get privacy - without getting himself lost or something, anyway.

He'd put a lot of planning into this. His pa used to say "If a job's worth doing, it's worth doing right!" and, while it might be a corny little saying, Noah was clever enough to realize it was darn good advice.

The sun was high above the field as Noah trudged towards his goal. It was a balmy Floridian day, not uncommon this time of year, or any time of year, really, and his family's land had few trees to offer shade. It had once been a farm, a few generations ago, but much of the property had long been sold to the families of those who now lived alongside Noah's.

What had once been cultivated fields were now unkempt fields of tall and dry grass, baked by relentless sun, lazily swaying from the gentle winds. Sometimes, that made Noah a little sad. He liked to imagine what it must've been like, all the fields as one farm, getting up at dawn to tend to the animals!

... That still puzzled him, and he found himself thinking about it as he walked. He'd tried asking his teacher at school why there were people like them if the non-evolved animals still existed. Miss Wheeler just looked at him all flummoxed and mumbled something about God.

Mister Gregson, the owner of the plot of land beside Noah's family's, was an auto-mechanic. A cantankerous badger with no family. Noah had seen his dirty pickup truck leave for town, as he did every Tuesday, and Noah was sure he wouldn't be back for hours at least. Where he actually went, though, the boy had no idea. It didn't really matter.

Noah made a sour face as he climbed through the fence into the badger's property, taking care to not catch his jeans as he slipped through the damaged chain-links. He had no idea what the guy would do to him if he caught him sneaking onto his land. Mister Gregson mostly kept to himself, and barely acknowledged Noah or his brother if he saw them - but he got along just fine with their dad, frequently repairing the family's old, beat up station-wagon.

Either way, Noah had no intention of getting caught. He'd be an hour at most. Probably much less, considering how crazy excited he felt.

Just as he'd confirmed last Tuesday when he scouted out the corrugated aluminum shed, the door wasn't locked at all. Noah undid the latch and pushed the door inwards, wincing as it scraped noisily on the concrete foundation. Once it was open enough for him and his backpack to squeeze through, he did, quickly closing it again.

The workshop on the edge of Mister Gregson's property was sizeable. It wasn't the mechanic's main workshop, which was right by his house, but it was spacious - about the size of a double garage - and was filled with dusty shelves, neatly stored power-tools, metal and wood. Noah wandered over to a workstation table by the far wall, and slung his backpack atop it.

"Whew," he murmured in his musical drawl, "is damn hot in here!" After only a moment's thought, the fox-boy gripped the hem of his t-shirt and tossed it onto the dusty wooden table as well, baring his slender, brown-furred torso to the musty air. It was a good thing he planned to strip down anyway, because he knew he'd sweat buckets otherwise. The summer heat wasn't pleasant at all if you were in a giant metal box.

Hurriedly, he unzipped his backpack and pulled out his essentials. Sure, he brought a sandwich and a water bottle, but he reached past those and grabbed what really mattered: the bottle of moisturizing lotion, his beach towel, insect spray, and... the magazines.

He felt his muzzle go dry and his pulse speed up just holding the things. It was a miracle he'd managed to stay so calm until now. Porno mags, two dozen of them, hidden away in the basement until Noah's curiosity led him to them.

Sure, there was porn on the Internet, but his family had an atrocious connection and the computer in the den was addled by absurd filter software that did nothing but annoy everyone. And very, very visible to every pair of peeping eyes that walked into the room.

But nobody could "filter" these magazines, and they fit into his pack where the computer just wouldn't, obviously. Though he was getting really close to dang well trying before he found the magazines!

He'd already taken a look, a frantic, momentary glance as he stole them from the basement, and had been very, very intrigued. They weren't just guy-on-girl; there were mags full of guy-on-guy, and girl-on-girl. Whoever bought these must've had varied tastes.

And Noah wasn't discerning. He wanted to see all of them. There was so much he wanted to see, and nobody to judge him for looking.

Shaking himself alert, Noah put the magazines down and checked the floor for bugs or snakes. Isolated sheds in Florida weren't the safest locations to get naked, but it seemed like Mister Gregson was proactive about that. There were plenty of bug-killing traps and lures under the shelves, and not even ants crawled along the floor.

Draping the towel on the floor, Noah rushed to undo his footwear and struggled with his jeans' recalcitrant buckle. He pulled the boots off his paws and dropped them to the side, but the jeans proved to be more difficult, and he stumbled around, stomping and tugging on his cuffs, trying to free his skinny, athletic legs. Eventually, he kicked them to the side somewhat spitefully, leaving himself in just his white, backside hugging briefs and "white" socks.

A sudden, electric thrill made him shiver despite the heat. He was getting naked, on someone else's property. This wasn't his room, or his shower. Then he remember what he was getting ready to do, and he gulped comically.

This was gonna be so awesome.

Grabbing the stack of magazines and the hand-lotion, Noah sat down cross-legged in the middle of his garish, green beach towel. Already, his little fingers were pinching and rubbing at the front of his plain briefs, kneading at his little dick beneath the thin cotton. Sending warm little quanta of pleasure through him.

His mom never bought them fancy underwear, it was all plain stuff bulk-ordered from eCove. "Why'd you want some fancy underwear, boys?" she'd say. "Ain't nobody gonna see!" Not that Noah minded. In fact, he'd recently discovered a new appreciation for them. There was something very... cheeky about them. They weren't for seeing, weren't for showing off - it was forbidden and thrilling to be clad in utilitarian underwear. His own briefs turned the horny kit on, and undressing in front of the mirror for a bed-time shower was something he anticipated daily!

He cracked open the first magazine again. He opened it right to a page showing a teenaged male, seemingly a raccoon, arms bound behind his back and gagged, while a much bigger male lion lined up behind him, intimidatingly huge dick pointing right at the teen's backside. Noah gulped again, by now breathing solely out of his muzzle.

He'd heard about butt-sex. Apparently it felt really good. They joked about it a lot in school.

Noah had nothing to compare that to. It was intriguing, and he pondered it while he kneaded at his own stiffening dick through the soft cotton of his underpants. But the teen's bound and gagged body? That he could understand.

The precocious kit had always enjoyed kidnapping scenes in movies and comics, and his horny young mind would always drift and wonder. He'd ask himself, what would it be like? To be tied up like that? Helpless and powerless.

Heck, his imagination would be sparked just by looking up "helpless" in the dictionary. He imagined himself at the mercy of teachers, of movie villains, of monsters and aliens, and almost every time his youthful dick would express its interest as well by standing up to take a look. His library of fantasies was diverse and kept him entertained every night under his stock car printed bed sheets! Each night, he'd think on it for a moment before 'withdrawing' one and picking up where he left off.

Noah turned the page. The next image was more of a close up, showing the raccoon's bound wrists and pointlessly splayed fingers as the lion's paw rubbed some sort of glistening liquid on the tiny pink star at the center of his exposed cheeks. Unable to stop whatever the heck that beefy feline was doing.

The fox-boy got to his knees, letting them bear all of his slight weight. He slipped his thumbs into his briefs and tugged them down to his thighs, letting his eager, tingling member waggle in the air in front of him. As expected, it was stiff as it had ever been.

"Heh!" Noah snorted to himself, pressing down on his straining tip and letting his cock catapult upwards to his flat belly a few times. From his locker-room glances and comparisons with friends, he knew was about average, roughly three and a bit inches. He wasn't worried - for all anyone knew, he'd be bigger than that lion in a few years! Right now, though, it was big enough for what he needed.

Eagerly, he snatched up the moisturizer container and squirted a generous amount into this paw, starting to slather it over his quivering spike. Another squirt, and he put down the container to use both paws to massage the cold, slick liquid all over his hot, soft flesh. Tongue poking out in concentration.

A few firm tugs, then Noah started on his usual technique. He started rolling his diminutive wiener between his palms, like he was rolling playdough into a cigar, or trying to start a campfire, except the only 'fire' it started was in in his loins! He lidded one eye, forcing the other to scan over the magazine page in front of him, as he rubbed away with short, sharp movements.

In moments, he was panting. The split second he had to stop to turn the magazine's page was agony to him. He eagerly perused the new image, his slender hips starting to buck instinctively as he kept 'rolling.' Running his open eye over the new image of the helpless teen, starting to squirm himself as he imagined fighting against imaginary bondage. The sensations welling up towards a familiar bursting point.

Consumed by his furious, juvenile self-ministrations, Noah had no idea that he was being observed. See, even the best laid plans could fall to random happenstance, and that was one factor Noah hadn't thought about at all...

With a sudden, harsh screech, the workshop door was wrenched open. Noah's eyes flew wide. Having no idea what to do first - pull up his briefs? Grab the magazines?! - he completely froze.

"Reach for the ceiling, punk!" growled the 'intruder'. And Noah didn't even realize who it was at first, his eyes being drawn to the distinctive and bladder-loosening shape of a shotgun pointed right at him. With a fearful gasp, the kit threw his arms skyward.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot!" he blurted, the words forming one big syllabic jumble. "Oh, shit!"

He shut his eyes tight and readied himself for the worst, or at least to be grabbed and roughly thrown to the ground. But instead of the bang of a shotgun, he heard the laughter of someone in disbelief.

So Noah pried his eyes open again.

The badger had come home early, and was now snickering at him incredulously, shaking his head. The shotgun, however, was still more or less pointing his direction.

"Boy, just what do you think you're doin'?" the adult finally asked. "Lookit ya, even now you're still as hard as calculus after a bottle o' bourbon."

Noah glanced down. Sure enough, his dick was still rigid, like hot, molded rubber. His foreskin had been tugged halfway back over the pinkish-red tip, which still smoldered with residual sensation and warmth. "I-I-I'm sorry, M-mister-! I j-just...! I mean!" He moved, ever so slightly, to bring his arms down to cover his privates.

"Keep those paws up, punk." Mister Gregson scowled at him now. "You think you can sneak onto my land, break into my workshop, and just fornicate yourself like it's some back-alley jerkoff booth?"

"Oh, shiiit!" Noah whined, staring desperately at the concrete floor. "D-don't tell my pa! Please!"

The badger took a few short steps towards him. "What were you fiddlin' yourself to? Some stupid..." He trailed off.

Daring to look up, Noah realized the badger was staring in surprise at the magazine on the floor, clearly able to see it despite being some yards away. His heart and stomach met each other half-way and went bungee-jumping. "D-don't tell nobody, sir, please!"

Mister Gregson blinked a few times. Then burst into more incredulous laughter.

Tears were starting to blind the little fox now, and he hung his head in shame. "Please don't do it, my life will be over, sir!"

"Oh, I don't think your life will be over," the grown-up chortled. He seemed to think on something for a moment, but when he spoke next his tone was sharp and commanding. "Stand up, paws on your pretty head, boy."

Shakily, Noah got to his feet, his erection still going strong and his briefs around his thighs.

"Here's what we're gonna do." Mister Gregson nodded at one of the shelves behind the humiliated boy. "You're gonna get over to that box up there and open it up."

"A-are you gon' shoot me?" whispered Noah, still as a statue.

"Not if you git goin'."

Noah's reddish-brown paws started to move down again, to lift his briefs, but the badger barked a warning at him. "Hey! I'm thinkin' you can walk just like that. I think the look suits you, don't you? Git!"

His cheeks flaring with unnatural heat, Noah waddled over to the shelf at the back of the workshop. Trying to ignore his impudent wiener, swinging from side to side in time with his awkward gait. There was only one box on the shelf back there, the rest was covered in power-tools collecting dust.

Trembling, he reached out and opened it up. He expected to find gruesome sights, dismembered body-parts, proof that he had been caught by a maniacal murderer and he was doomed to suffer a painful death - and some small, idiotic part of him wondered if that wouldn't be preferable to having his secret shared around his rural community.

Instead, he found... cuffs. Handcuffs, like a cop's. Except lined with thick, soft felt on the inside. He blinked.

"Take out four of 'em, kid, then get on over to the workshop table." He heard the sound of his bag and shirt being shoved off that table to the concrete floor in a single movement.

"Oh, shiiiit!" Noah whimpered, blinking back tears. He dug out four pairs and clutched them to his chest as he waddled his way to the table again. The gun was still pointed at him, and Mister Gregson's expression was stony.

"Get on the table, boy."

Noah complied, but not without difficulty. His briefs refused to slip further down his coltish legs, so he had to pull himself atop the dusty platform without being able to spread his legs.

"Listen closely, boy," the adult growled. "Get one pair of those cuffs on each of your little wrists and ankles. Then you can go right ahead and cuff the ones on your leg to the railing at the bottom there."

Noah drew a sharp breath, only to release it as a pathetic simpering whine. "Oh no, don't make me do that!" he pleaded.

"Boy, yer doin' it. That's the only way this goes." The horrible sound of the shotgun being racked tested Noah's bladder again - thankfully, he'd gone to the bathroom before this misadventure.

"I'll do it! Don't shoot me!" Despite the tears in his eyes, Noah sat forward and cuffed his left, then his right, ankles. The sound of the ratchets sent a chill through his spine.

"Wrists too. Not too tight. Move!"

Nodding desperately, Noah quickly cuffed his own wrists. Hurriedly, he leaned forward and slipped the first ankle-cuff through the railing - likely for mounting tools or something, as it had divisions segmenting it. He knew what was expected of him, so he had slipped it through the further division on that side, and cinched the cuff closed. He did the same thing for the next, cuffing his legs to their respective sides of the railing.

"Above your head. Right paw. Cuff it."

Pleading to a deity he didn't believe in, Noah nonetheless twisted around and found the same railing on that side of the workstation as well. With no choice, even less now that his legs were cuffed by unyielding, felt-lined steel, he secured his own right wrist to the table. A sob escaped his muzzle.

Mister Gregson stomped over. "Lie back." He didn't wait for Noah to comply, instead pushing the kit insistently onto his back, squashing his tail behind him. "Don't try nothin' stupid." Quickly, he took the last free handcuff and attached it to the railing as well, removing the last of Noah's slender limbs from the equation.

It hit Noah like a freight train. He was being kidnapped. He was kidnapped! He was totally helpless, and both his legs and arms were handcuffed to opposite sides of a sturdy table in a creepy metal shed!

"Don't be screamin', Noah," the adult said, confirming he recognized the kit. "Ain't nobody hearing you, and I would just love an excuse to gag yer ass."

"A-are you g-gonna kill me?" the kit blubbered, looking up at the domineering male with pleading, wet eyes.

Mister Gregson ignored him for a second, checking each cuff was tight enough to keep the boy restrained without doing any major damage. Then, without comment, he hefted his shotgun and pointed it at his own head.

Noah's heart stopped cold. "Wh-what are you-?!"

The badger jerked the trigger. And the workshop was filled with the deafening sound of ... a kind of sharp clack.

"Wh-what?"

"Ya idjit." Mister Gregson turned around shuffled over to a shelf on the opposite, placing the shotgun gently on the middle rack atop some more mysterious boxes. "I damn well checked it was unloaded ten times before I pointed it atcha! I ain't a lunatic."

Noah blinked. "S-say what?"

"It was never loaded. It ain't been in three years." The male laughed and shucked off his jacket, revealing a somewhat stereotypical tartan flannel shirt. "I was just gonna give ya a scare. But when I saw your smut of choice? Well."

"I-I-I don't..."

"So, seein' boys all tied up and fiddled makes you, horny, huh?" He knelt and picked up Noah's bottle of lotion. "Makes your cock hard?"

Noah flushed again. "No, I-!"

"Boy, when I came in here, ya had a boner to be proud of." Mister Gregson appraised the bound boy, running his eyes over his slender, earthy-toned form. Lingering just for a second on the stubborn spike some inches below the indent of his navel. "And it still ain't gone away yet."

Noah struggled to think of something to say, cursing his own dick for its betrayal, before it hit him. What the grownup was saying. His eyes widened.

"What do you mean?" he asked in a small voice.

"Well, I was your age once, and I had," he paused, "similar tastes. I guess." He grinned wryly. "I had my suspicions when I saw you lettin' your cousin and brother tie you up on Thanksgiving last year. You seemed real keen on that."

Noah's ears flattened. Was he that transparent? Yeah, he'd not really put up a fight when the two teenage brutes decided to tie him up in the field with some itchy old rope. Thankfully, his jeans had masked his surprisingly strong erection at the time.

"Now, jus' what was up with that silly palm-rubbing you were doin'?" The adult raised his paws. "Like tryin' to set your dick on fire?"

The powerless kit squirmed and averted his gaze. "That's how I do it. I can't do it with one paw."

"... You try using the whole thing instead of just a few fingers?"

Noah stared. No, he had not tried that.

"Well, I guess if it works for you, fine. But I'll show you how to properly use two paws on, say, something like what we got here." The adult sidled up to the table now, getting closer to his captive. "A helpless, horny lil boner-boy too cute for his own good."

There was a definite twitch from the kit's stiffy. "C-cute?"

"Damn right. And lucky for you, you just so happen to be my type. Younger than usual, but I'm willin' to make an exception." A slow wink. "Hrm. That little cock of yours looks a little dirty. How 'bout polish it up a bit."

"P-polish it?"

The badger reached out with his left paw. Strong fingers encircled the fox-boy's three inches, just a few fingers and a thumb. The contact made Noah jump, and he strained to look down his body to see.

"Hrm, pretty sure it was harder 'n this when I opened that door." The badger's fingers slowly eased the kit's wrinkly foreskin downward, exposing his most sensitive part to the hot, still air. Then he gave it a few brief tugs, just running his digits over the stiff little tool, letting the loose flesh glide up and down across the pinkish glans.

The feeling of someone else touching, kneading his sensitive member was completely new to Noah, and the kit tensed immediately. There was a clack as he pulled the cuffs taut, and his toes curled. The feeling of his foreskin shifting over his tip sent tingles down his wiener and through his spine in time with its movement.

He gasped, shocked and scandalized.

"C'mon now, kid, don't be acting like this is somethin'."

But Noah's body responded on auto-pilot. His tween body, lithe and slender, boyish and delicate, was nonetheless on the cusp of puberty. Testosterone and days of juvenile fantasies had already worked their magic on him, priming him for release, and in mere moments he was back to near maximum stiffness. Fighting to slow his rough breathing, shutting his eyes tight in shame.

"What are you gonna-?!" Noah mewled.

Mister Gregson smiled, again appraising the squirming boy, with his eyes pinched so tightly. Delicate muzzle hanging open, letting soft, shaky panting emanate into the room. Twisted into a slight grimace. Oh, the boy had no idea what discomfort meant.

He took his right paw, and, holding the boy's dick still, he let his rough palm slide gently over the very tip, drawing it over the soft glans and urethra. Noah immediately gasped and jerked. When the palm went back the other way, he jerked again.

Mister Gregson looked into the boy's dinner-plate wide eyes. "Somethin' wrong?"

Another motion of his palm over the dry, throbbing little member. Noah yelped, flinching. Then another. And another. Each one punctuation by the same response, and a slight hardening of the kit's already erect penis.

"Ah! S-stop!" Noah shut one eye. "I-it's sensitive!"

"Is it?" Another swipe. Another jolt. "It sure is harder now, though. Think it likes it."

Noah shook his head, wriggling his toes uncomfortably.

Mister Gregson let go of him, picking up the bottle of lotion. Without a word, he squirted a generous amount of the white liquid into his paw.

"What-? What're ya-?"

But the adult ignored him. Again, he took the kit's little spike in his fingers, then brought his other paw, palm wet with a copious amount of lotion, and covered the exposed head of the boy's penis. Holding it firm with the first paw, even pressing down to hold Noah's hips in place, he started to move the second in tight circles over the unprotected glans and urethra.

"Sss-!" Noah complained, squirming. It only took a few seconds of the mechanic's rough lotion-lubricated paw swirling over and over before he started to make a very different noise."Aaaahhh!! Oh, shit!"

"How's that feel, little guy? Does it feel nice, knowin' you can't stop me doin' this?"

A shrill, choked cry filled the workshop as Mister Gregson upped both the speed and the pressure. Tormenting the boy's ultra-sensitive flesh over, and over, and over...

It wasn't exactly like he was struggling to break free. The powerful sensations caused Noah's limbs and abdomen to tighten, and his fingers and toes splayed and curled involuntarily as he writhed on the table. He threshed and wriggled as much as the cuffs on his limbs would allow, but it did naught but make noise. Around and around and around did the badger's paw go...

Was it pleasure? Was it pain? Was it such powerful pleasure that it was painful?! Noah had no idea, he'd never felt anything like this before!

"You know, it'll be a lot worse when you cum. A lot worse." Mister Gregson leaned closer, making sure his victim could hear him. "You know what I'll do for you then? I'll keep goin'. I'll keep goin' and you ain't stopping me. I'll make yer little dick sing with feelin' until it can sing no more. I bet yer lovin' this, ain'tcha?"

The words pierced deep into Noah's panicked mind, like a bunker-buster of eroticism. The sensations in his dick were getting steadily more and more unbearable as it not only got more sensitive, but the lotion started to gum up, increasing the friction. The adult's movements only got firmer.

"Ohshitpleasestop! Please!" Noah managed to wail, tossing his head from side to side. He could feel his orgasm approaching, and it _scared_him. How would it feel like this? His dick was burning icy-hot, an overwhelmingly sharp sensation that reminded him of a freezing drink after a hundred mints.

"Come on, little boy. Cum for the big bad kidnapper. Got you all tied up in his shed." Rub. Rub. Rub. Never slowing. Such small, tight movements sending him inexorably over the edge. "Let me see if ya squirt yet."

That did it.

"Nyyeeaahhh!" The kit howled, his entire body going rigid. His dick was frazzled by some incredible force originating from the irritable flesh of his assailed glans, and it flourished out from there like a rushing wildfire until it overtook his entire body.

His voice caught in his throat, and he could only tremble violently as his sudden orgasm scattered his thoughts like particles of sand caught in a dynamite explosion. He squealed for seconds until he realized he was even making a sound, his back arching, thrusting right into the source of his discomfort!

Eventually, Noah's slight body collapsed to the table, but the adult wasn't done yet. He kept swirling, kept rubbing the flaring pink tip, exactly as he said he would.

"Ohh, looks like nothing this try," Mister Gregson bantered insouciantly. "How long you got until the second try?"

The kit sobbed, splaying and curling his fingers and toes. Squirming hopelessly and unintentionally. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined this sort of torture could be inflicted on his private parts! Not with just a pair of paws!

He gasped in time with his orgasmic pulses, his body twitching from what may as well have been electric jolts, contorting his face into an ambivalent mask of agony and pleasance.

That made it all the worse!

When his orgasm faded enough for him to think somewhat clearly, Noah found himself whimpering and squirming still on the table, forced onwards still by the adult's seemingly impassionate paws. The sharp, biting sensations ongoing even as his orgasm faded.

"A-aahh!" he squealed. "P-pleeease, fuuuuck, staha-ap! Uhhnnhnn!!"

"You got no idea how easy this is for me," chirped the badger, laughing. "Barely movin' my paws at all, but listen to you!"

In just moments more of this unceasing treatment, Noah suddenly jerked his limbs inwards, thwarted again by the cuffs. Another orgasm wracked his already overstimulated body, his straining penis buzzing and twitching with unbearable high voltage.

"Ah_-ha-ahh-aahhaah!_!" he keened, suddenly sounding much younger as his vocal chords tightened - along with everything else. He sat up slightly, his abs tensing uncomfortably. It took several, delirious moments before he could crash back down to the table, writhing and whimpering.

When his senses started to recover, the male slowed and stopped. Eventually taking his paws off the fox-boy's hapless, flushed member and letting Noah's uncontrollable squirming finally stop.

"Hm."

Noah's head lolled to the side. When his eyes focused, the badger was grinning at him, leaning with one paw on the side of the table. He blinked at him.

"Yer a tough cookie." The grownup looked down at his paw. "Dunno if you squirted, wasn't much if you did."

For some reason, Noah shook his head. "I-I don't," he croaked.

"Hoh-oh! Ya know what I mean, huh?" The torturous paw reached for him again, but this time it simply stroked the boy's lean belly as it rose and fell. "Hm."

That was true, but only because of playground gossip and quiet discussions in private with his braver friends. Noah knew that one day, something would squirt out when he got that nice feeling, something for making babies. But so far, his infrequent attempts to produce it had been unsuccessful...

He panted, feeling clammy and sweaty after being brutally forced through two climaxes less than a minute apart. The paws on him now were gentle, stroking his overexerted muscles and seemingly exploring his bound body - it made him feel uncomfortable, not knowing the owner of the paws, but he couldn't lie to himself. It felt nice, and seemed genuinely like the guy was trying to calm him down.

"D-don't..." he said anyway, swallowing. "I-I-"

"Sorry, but y'all gave up your rights when you broke into my workshop." The badger snickered jovially, and slowly reached out to wipe the boy's cheeks. Suddenly, his blunt claws scrabbled at the soles of Noah's feet-paws. Despite his fatigue, Noah yelped and reacted instantly. "Them's the rules."

He didn't stop there. Featherlike touches and firm pokes danced from Noah's struggling feet to his straining belly, to the indents of his armpits to the horrifically ticklish insides of his thighs. Despite it all, the boy suddenly filled the workshop with laughter and pleas for mercy!

Mister Gregson just laughed along with him, picking targets at his leisure. Clearly enjoying both the reactions and the chance to feel the lean kit's youthful body and quivering muscles.

When he did finally have his fill, he leaned on the table by the kit's head. "So there," he said, a playful lilt in his voice now.

"P-please mister," Noah jittered. "I'm real sorry, j-just let me go and don't do stuff to me no more."

A finger reached out and tapped his still erect penis, and he twitched.

"I ain't too sure you want that," said the grownup, feigning reasonableness. But then he smiled. A genuine smile. "I reckon you're secretly havin' the time of your life there, even if you ain't realized yet. I know I did when I was yer age. I ain't gon' hurt you, boy."

Noah blinked. "Y-you're not?"

Mister Gregson leaned a little closer, raising his eyebrows. "Unless ya ask me." It was at least mostly a joke, and Noah found himself tittering.

... Now that he thought about it, this had been pretty exciting, and shockingly close to some of his crazier fantasies. There were no aliens or anything, but other than that...

The adult whistled and started to wander to the back of the workshop. "But I ain't gon' let you off easy. Yer gon' regret sneakin' on my land, kid."

Again Noah's stomach inverted. He let out a shaky breath. "What're ya gonna do?" he asked, resignation and supplication both in his voice. He couldn't help feeling a thrill of excitement and fear.

To his utter bewilderment, Mister Gregson picked up something from amongst the dusty power-tools and started to walk back to him.

"Oh shit."

"That potty mouth of yers is just makin' it worse," singsonged the adult, sauntering back to the work-table. He held up a strange boxy device with a protruding metal rod. "Ya'll don't recognize this do ya?" Noah shook his head quickly. "Well, it ain't set up yet. This right here is a metal polisher. Real good for getting small bits of metal nice and shiny."

Noah's jaw dropped open. "Y'ain't serious."

"I did say it needs shined up." Another toying flick on his dick-tip. "Lookit how dirty it is. A dirty little boy's dirty little dick. Ya deserve this, see?"

That sent a little tingle through Noah's spine. He tested his bonds again, and found them still utterly immovable. "Yer paw was bad enough!" he complained.

"Too bad." Mister Gregson tugged open a drawer attached to the table. "I modified this thing, ya know? It ain't half-good at gettin' guys to squirm."

"Yer gonna scrape it off!"

"Don't be an idjit. It ain't like a normal polisher." Whistling tunelessly, he reached into the drawer again. He held up a small polishing pad, although it was both strangely thick and indented in the center, almost like a cone - as if intended for polishing longer, thinner objects.

He turned it over, showing a small attachment point on the conical cushion's back. Then, in full view of the kit, he connected it to the rod jutting out from the machine.

While Noah watched, the adult plugged the little device into an outlet by the table via its thick, orange power cable. He held the device up and pressed a switch on its side. With a loud whir, the rod - and the attached pad - immediately started to spin at high speed.

"N-nonono!" Noah squeaked, yanking on the cuffs again. "Please, that's gonna hurt!"

Mister Gregson put a finger into the divot of the spinning pad. "Nope, not the way yer thinkin'." He held it there without issue, letting the soft pad brush the skin of his finger. "See? Ain't nothin'. Ain't that bad. Soft as velvet. But if y'all insist."

He put the device down between Noah's legs and walked to that far shelf again. He returned with a heavy wooden paddle in his paw. Thick polished oak, with six holes drilled into it, Noah reacted to the fearsome weapon much the same as he had to the shotgun.

"Welp," he said, slapping it against the other paw. "Here's yer alternative. I guess maybe twenty or so licks will make up fer it, but, well, Ah ain't so good at keeping count. Ya might not be able to walk for a day or two, but if it's yer choice."

Noah shook his head fervently. "N-no-no-no!" He searched for something to say. "I-I got a football game on Sunday!"

"Gonna be tough to play if ya can't walk. Oh well." Mister Gregson hefted the paddle again - it was clearly far too big for a young boy, being a significant fraction of Noah's own mass. It was like someone had turned an English cricket bat into a weapon of discipline. "Ya sure you don't prefer-?"

"F-forget I said nuthin'!"

If the machine was anything like Mister Gregson's lotion-slicked paws, he knew it'd be unbearable, but there'd be no lasting damage at least!

Oh shit, he was so... scared?

Smirking, Mister Gregson put the paddle down and sauntered back to the table. Clearly having no intention of using the beast on the kit from the start. Instead he picked up a segmented metal arm from the side of the table.

A home-made construction, it consisted of four sections with articulated joints. Roughly three inches thick and sturdy aluminum with holes drilled in even-spaced intervals along its length. Something clearly put together in a home workshop, but still well made - and, as Noah would discover, good at its purpose.

With the clamp on one end, he attached it to the bottom of the table to which Noah's slender ankles were bound. Bending the first articulated segment, he curved the arm upwards and locked it into place with a tightening screw. Another bend at the next joint, and it curved over the boy's crotch...

Opening his eyes again, Noah was puzzled by what he saw. The adult adjusted and tightened the individual segments of the metal arm until it seemed to be pointing directly at his red-raw dick. Which still seemed to be mostly trying to point back up at it. To his eternal dismay, Noah had been getting and staying hard more easily nowadays.

The arm seemed to end in some kind of attachment bracket.

"What ya-!?" He cut himself off, remembering the motorized polishing tool.

Mister Gregson picked it up and held it to the arm's end. Exactly as expected, there was some sort of bracket on the back of the polisher as well, and Mister Gregson quickly and easily fastened it to the end of the metal arm.

Leaving that protruding, spinning rod, with that worrisome circular pad... aimed right at Noah's young cock.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit!" cursed Noah. He renewed his struggling, making the cuffs clank and clink, but finding no better success. He realized immediately what the adult was planning; it was one thing to have to stand there holding the tool, but there would be only one reason to attach it to a metal arm!

He was gonna leave it there!!

"Stooop, don't do it, Mister Gregson!" Noah howled, the words tumbling from his muzzle. "I can't take it!"

"Ya ain't tried to yet!"

The kit squirmed. "I won't be able to!! This is crazy!"

Mister Gregson turned slightly, gripping Noah's twisting footpaw. "Yer the one that'll be crazy in a minute," he said cheerily, whipping a white sock off a struggling foot. He did the same to the other one and kept them inverted, balling one up inside the other.

"Oh, shit, shit, shiiiit!" Noah kept moaning, not reacting as his paws were suddenly bared.

It was a pity he was thus distracted, because that meant he was totally unprepared when the grownup shoved his own socks - thankfully inside-out - into his muzzle and speedily secured them in place with a soft length of nylon rag.

"GmmF?!" Noah murfled, going cross-eyed instantly. "MMHMM!"

"There we go." Mister Gregson, taking advantage of the boy's shock, knotted the rag off behind his head, managing to avoid snagging or tangling any of the long, auburn hair.

Noah shook his head again, squealing uselessly into the gag. He looked up at the adult in shock, the toe of his ankle sock lolling out from his muzzle and flopping around with every movement. "Mhhm?!"

A finger tweaked his nose. "Now that's just cute." Mister Gregson smiled at him, then burst out laughing. But the grownup bent forward and rested on his elbows by the boy's head. Well, his armpit, really.

He met the boy's hazel eyes and held them with his own gaze, suddenly looking serious.

"Hey, Noah..."

The kit fell silent, blinking.

"I'm not actually gonna hurt you."

A few more blinks. "Mh hm?"

"Nope." The badger grinned. "But yer excited, ain't'cha? It's a least a little fun, right?"

Noah paused.

Fun wasn't quite the right word. But he was definitely excited. He was definitely wound up. And he was definitely realizing how similar his situation now was to his fantasies.

Oh no. Was that why his stomach was fluttering? Why he hadn't been screaming for help once he realized the gun wasn't loaded? Why his dick was as hard as a rail-spike even now?!

His ears flushed crimson and flattened to his head.

"It might be a strong feeling," the adult whispered, "but it's still nice when I make you squirm, in it's own way, right?"

Noah had to nod.

"And it's excitin' to know ya can't stop me, right?"

A weak, mortified whimper snuck past the sock-gag. The kit wriggled again.

The adult straightened again, reaching for the modified power-tool on its precarious, spindly mount. "Don't ya worry, little guy, I'm not gonna break nothin'. But ya still gotta be taught not to trespass, don't ya think?"

A click, then a whir as the polisher burst to life, the conical pad becoming a white blur.

The sound Noah made then would've made no sense even if he weren't gagged.

He barely even noticed when the lubricant - retrieved earlier from the shelf by the polisher - was squirted onto his dick. He did notice the fingers start to tease his little shaft, urging it to regain its former stiffness.

"Mmhhmff!" he mumbled, trying to will his dick to pay no attention. If he didn't get hard, it probably wouldn't be so overwhelming. But that wasn't going to happen. The battle was lost with the first stiffening 'twitch.'

Truth be told. Noah was hornier than he'd been in his entire life, and it punched clear through what anxiety he had left. Part of him wished he still at least thought the grownup was gonna hurt him!

If things weren't bad enough, the adult seemed to make an "Oh!" sound and ducked off to a shelf by the wall yet again. Coming back with a wide, black strap with a metal buckle on one end. Wasting no time, he tossed it over Noah's bound body, just below his navel, and between the table and wall. Fishing it out from under the table, he slipped it into the buckle and pulled...

Noah's bemusement didn't last long. When cinched tight, the belt pinned his waist to the table and took away much of what little movement he'd had left!

"Mghhmf!"

"I almost fergot!" Mister Gregson said, slapping his head. "Can't let you squirm away from the fun. Let's keep ya right where I want ya so ya can't get away."

The words sent a bolt from Noah's ears to his dick. He tested, and found himself unable to move up or down the table more than an inch either way, and arching upwards was completely impossible.

A pair of fingers encircled the bottom of his shaft, and, humming insouciantly, Mister Gregson took the loudly whirring device and started to pull it down towards its target. Bringing the rapidly spinning polishing pad closer and closer.

Noah huffed and snorted, breathing deeply in nervous anticipation.

Would it be worse than the adult's palm? Would it be better? Would it be milder?! Would it be unbearable?!

He found out in a second.

The pad skimmed the side of his glans and contacted his already raw urethra, eliciting a girlish squeal. Noah's body went rigid as though electrocuted, and for a split second he wasn't too sure that wasn't exactly what was happening to him. Again the cuffs clanked as he instinctively yanked on them, trying to flinch away, but again utterly foiled by them.

The sensation was too strong, and his tormented member too raw. Even though it only skimmed lightly over his straining, pink flesh, that most sensitive part of him usually kept sheltered by his generous, soft, foreskin, it excited his nerves like nothing ever before. Not even Mister Gregson's merciless paw from minutes ago.

Noah's chest heaved in time with his desperate, shallow breaths. His stomach muscles tightened, almost cramping, but to no avail. His head tilted back and his muzzle opened in a silent cry, but nothing more than his shaky gasps for oxygen could escape.

Even the thought of pleading for mercy vanished as he was consumed by the sharp, flaring heat that seemed to consume his privates and radiated to his extremities. Again, his fingers and toes splaying, flaring, and curling, limbs twisting and tugging uselessly on the padded cuffs. His eyes shut tight, the 'pain' - for what else could he call it? - dominated his senses.

"N-nhhnnuuuhh!" he managed to whine. Despite it all, the fox-boy felt another climax building up, as if the sheer voltage from his torture was being stored in his cock and somewhere inside of him just behind it. As if orgasm capacitors, reaching their explosive limit. Threatening more post-orgasm sensitivity.

But he couldn't even process that, and it was building fast. The eroticism and thrill of his situation clashed with his genuine distress, and Noah was like a stick of dynamite, primed and ready to blow.

And blow he did.

His nerves overloaded and another climax tore through him like a rushing grassfire. Already tensing and twisting helplessly in his bonds, the only outward indication it had even happened was his muzzle opening in a silent, breathless scream. He shook in the grasp of a forced, unstoppable orgasm. The third that day.

Muscles within his defenseless body pulsed rhythmically in time with the potent energy moving through his nerves. Trying to do what they were as yet too young to do. But the whirring polisher saw no reason to stop.

When he finally found his voice again, Noah could only gasp repetitively. "Ah!Haah! Ahh!"

A paw gently stroked his leg, though it was lost utterly in the storm of feeling the velvety pad was inflicting.

Unbelievably, his dick was so rock hard, three inches of high pressure, that it felt good all on its own. Undeterred by the unnatural stimulation, it seemed almost eager in the way it stiffened and pressed itself firmly into the source of its own abuse.

The kit was vaguely aware he was being inspected by the smiling adult, who just seemed to be enjoying the spectacle.

But he couldn't look for long, or try to communicate, because those capacitors were starting to charge up again. Blurring his vision and sending his eyes rolling backwards. Contradicting its earlier effort, the boy's body stiffened and straightened, his legs and arms fighting the cuffs that way instead.

Of course, they had no better luck this time, so in moments he was hit again by a crashing tidal wave that swept his senses away.

Time melted away. Noah's thoughts were consumed by the duality of his situation; the pleasurable pain of his overstimulated raw nerves; the thrill and eroticism of being bound and helpless also brought anxiety. The harsh, sharp feelings of the constant friction on his glans blended inexorably into the bliss of orgasm then back, in a cycle of irresistible sexual torment.

As he was pushed onwards, a tiny rowboat on a tumultuous, stormy sea, he briefly wondered if he could take it. If he'd reach the land on the other side and still be in one piece.

Trembling violently, the brown-furred kit fell as still as he could, no longer able to fight. Exhausted already, shivering from that storm's chill with his eyes tightly scrunched shut.

Could he take this? Would his vengeful neighbor let him go in time?!

Eventually it happened. The whirring sound slowed and stopped, and Noah was able to slowly open his eyes...

It took seemingly forever for them to focus, and Noah had to blink a dozen times before he could make sense of the shapes. His head was spinning, and even though he could see the metal arm being bent backwards, taking the horrible torture implement away from his dick, his dick still tingled and prickled.

"Huuunhff," he moaned. Then he remembered he had a sock in his muzzle. "Mhhff..."

Mister Gregson's paw reached for his face. Instead of undoing the gag, it stroked his headfur gently. "How ya doin'?" he asked. "Look like ya had fun."

Noah just panted at him, slowly opening and closing his eyes. Exhausted.

The adult looked down his body. "Ya see? Still attached." A finger touched Noah's twitching member, brushing the urethra gently. He squealed immediately. "Yep."

Mister Gregson reached into his pocket and withdrew a tiny key. Noah idly wondered if he'd carried it on him all that time. "Hold still," the grownup warned. "Yer gonna be a lil sore. Ah won't hurt ya, so don't run away like yer tail's on fire. Yer gonna be okay."

The cuffs on his legs were undone first, and then his wrists. Gently, the adult helped the sweat-drenched boy lower his arms to his sides.

It was only then that the knot behind his head was undone and his sporty ankle socks removed from his muzzle.

"Just have a rest there. I got a drink for ya."

A water bottle was held at Noah's chest, and a big paw helped him sit forward. He managed to take a swig before weakly raising a paw - he was thirsty, but drinking like this was so difficult, and he was too exhausted to even sit up.

So Mister Gregson let him lie back down. "Might wanna wait a bit before ya pull up yer tighties," he said, tweaking the waistband of the briefs down by his knees. "Gonna be sensitive down there."

Noah nodded. "No kiddin'," he croaked.

"Took that like a champ, buddy." The adult sounded genuinely impressed. "How many was that?"

"Th-the feelin'?" Noah thought. "I-I dunno, it all blended together like."

"Can see that." Again, Mister Gregson put his elbows on the table and leaned down. "Wish I still had that stamina." He nodded at the boy's still - still! - erect penis. "Ya liked it, huh?"

Noah felt really small all of a sudden, lying there naked, exhausted, and damp with sweat. "I dunno." What could he say? He did!

"Yeah, I know. Gotta think about it." He sighed. "Apple ain't far from the tree."

He got up and wandered over to the magazines strewn on the concrete, kneeling to pick them up. He put them down by the kit's side on the table.

Noah managed to shift and roll onto his side so he could better see. He felt a little embarrassed, but dismissed it as idiotic: for better or for worse, he'd just been thoroughly dominated by the adult. Naked and helpless and his body forced to dance to his kidnapper's tune. It was ridiculous to be embarrassed about porno mags now.

"You liked this stuff, huh?" Mister Gregson asked quietly.

Noah sucked it up. He nodded. "I guess."

"Outta these two, which one would you rather be?"

"The one tied up." The boy gave a sheepish smile. "The raccoon."

"Raccoon?" A laugh. "Ya see a tail anywhere on that ass? You didn't get past these pages, did ya?"

Baffled, Noah shook his head. "N-no, sir."

"Sir, huh? I like that." Mister Gregson grinned. "Kid, that's me. That's a bondage badger, bound and butt-fucked. I got paid real well for that one, too."

The fox-boy's jaw dropped. "W-wait, f-for real?"

"Sure is for real. I did this shoot when I was seventeen." Mister Gregson leaned closer. "We told the editor I was eighteen an' the dumbass just believed us. That's our li'l secret."

Noah reeled slightly. He blinked. "Th-that's crazy!" he exclaimed. "It's too much of a coinci... Uh."

"Coincidence." A gentle finger poked his nose. "And ya think so coz ya found these in yer house, right?"

"Yeah."

Mister Gregson flipped to the back of the magazine, as if he knew exactly where to turn to. He spun it around and put his finger on a spot.

Noah frowned. "Uh. Photogra-" He trailed off. "Dad?!"

Mister Gregson smirked at him. "We were a sure sight better looking twenty-five years ago, little buddy. Though I reckon I held up well!" He laughed. "If you'd opened the right mag, next edition I think, you'd see yer dad swap places with me." Another poke of the nose. "Like I said. The apple ain't far from the tree."

Noah was bowled over. He was stunned.

But, oddly, he was relieved.

"I'm sorry, kid, if I pushed ya too far." The badger leaned close to him. An almost boyish grin on his face. "I mighta overdone it. I mighta misjudged ya. But I reckon I know when a boy's curious and hungry for adventure. I jus' dun want ya scared or ashamed fer what you feel. Neither does yer dad, I know it." He paused. "Can ya forgive me for now?"

Lost, Noah blinked at the adult. Then a cheeky smirk found its way onto his muzzle. "Yeah, maybe."

Like lightning, a paw stroked his tingling dick just once, and Noah contracted into a squealing ball.

"There. That's another thing for ya to think about."

Somehow, they both found themselves laughing.

*

A few days later, there was a knock on Alan Gregson's front door. Frowning curiously, he put his morning coffee atop his dining table and wandered over to the door. Stepping around the antiques he was busy restoring - which, like a true bachelor, he kept in his dining room - he called out. "I'm comin'!"

When the door creaked open, he was none too surprised to see a shy, auburn-haired fox kit scuffing his front door step.

"G'mornin', Noah!"

They traded smiles, though young Noah quickly averted his gaze. "Uh."

"What's up, buddy?"

"Well." Noah shifted his weight a few times, then shook his head, shaking away his nervousness. "Well, it's Saturday, and I asked my dad if I could come, uh, help you around the house."

"Yeah? What ya tell him you were gonna do?"

"I said we were polishin' some wood." The kit smirked.

"And what'd he say?"

"Told me to bring my own tools." The kit held out his backpack. "Y'know?"

"Really? Well, shit, come on in." Stepping aside, Mister Gregson beckoned the boy inside. "Be glad to teach you some tricks of the trade."

Noah beamed. "He said y'all gotta teach me about plumbing too."

"I reckon ya know enough from the sounds of it..."

... ... ...

FIN.

Copyright 2017 KichigaiKitsune - All rights reserved.

Any resemblance to any event or person, living or dead, is purely unintentional. The actions in this story are not condoned by the author and are almost definitely illegal. This fictional story is pure indulgence in fantasy and fun.

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