Work Text:
Despite what science fiction movies would try to convince you, sound does not propagate in a vacuum. Thus, the perfect shot Fox McCloud landed on his rival was punctuated by sheer silence - and the flashing lights of the motor exploding, sending the enemy ship into a dangerous, trembling path through the stars. Despite the lack of bombastic explosions, Fox cheered to himself, pumped up. For he knew how hard he had worked for that shot. He knew how difficult it was to land any shot, let alone one with such finality, against those pesky Wolfen ships. Half a dozen other, similar crafts were on his tail, but he did not care; his eyes were honed in on his target, his prize, and he merely bobbed the ship to one side and then the other, evading them with the laziest maneuvers he could muster.
When Fox was on the hunt, nothing could sway him from it. Not that it was needed - he knew he had backup, and right in cue, two other ships from his armada blew up his pursuers, allowing their Boss to focus on his target. For his target was the core of this whole operation. His long-sworn nemesis. The eternal thorn in his side - and finally, he had bothered enough higher-ups at the Cornerian government for Fox to be hired to handle the situation once and for all. There was just one wrinkle he had been firmly ordered to obey - and he did, for Fox followed orders when the client requested them and paid handsomely for them.
Bring him alive.
Which is why Fox made sure to land that shot to disable Wolf’s ship without making it blow up entirely. He fought with a handicap - but he won, for he and his crew were the goddamn best in the galaxy.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the ships of Wolf’s key henchmen - Leon and Panther - activating their hyperdrives and scampering. Typical - no honor amongst thieves, and certainly not a drop of courage. Or maybe Wolf ordered the retreat? It was not in his character to save others at his own sacrifice - but then again, maybe he realized he had lost, and did what he could to salvage enough of a crew to have hopes of a rescue. Or maybe Wolf just wanted to feel he won something on that night, even if that was merely ordering a successful retreat in the correct time. Perhaps his ego would be soothed by that thought.
Doesn’t matter. Fox knew that, with how pissed off General Pepper was, there would be no rescue. Wolf was going to get deep into the system, never to come out. His band would likely fold without their leader to guide them, bunch of scoundrels that they were.
Fox had finally won.
—//—
Wolf growled as he was pushed by Fox and the other military that flanked him, trying to safeguard at least a modicum of his dignity. With handcuffs in his wrists and ankles, though, it was quite difficult. Not to mention the stun rods ready to poke and electrify his back if needed be - he felt them once, and it was enough.
He could recognize he was in a bit of a pickle. He never expected the damned Fox to actually beat him. He never thought McCloud was one to use ambushes. From a fellow cutthroat, he couldn’t deny it was a masterful work. The money they offered him must have been off the charts for goody two-shoes McCloud to accept using underhanded tactics. But alas - those do tend to be more effective when they’re unexpected.
Alas - he did make sure those two buffoons escaped. He didn’t exactly trust Leon and Panther to manage to rescue him… But it was his only hope. Perhaps if he managed to get transferred from this current ship to somewhere else, and they caught wind of it… Perhaps.
He would have to endure until then. Which he would. Wolf was a survivor. This would not be his end.
—//—
“This is his end.” General Pepper said, in a video call with Fox. The pilot nodded in agreement.
“Thankfully. Star Wolf will never bother us again. You can assure me of that, right?”
“Indeed, Fox, indeed. This is a high-security facility, guarded by some of the best in the Cornerian armada. I made sure to take all the measures necessary to not let good old bureaucracy get in the way. He is to be kept here in Alkatraz-05 indefinitely.” he says. “But this does not mean the danger of Star Wolf is entirely contained. His lieutenants escaped. We must capture and neutralize Leon and Panther if we want to make sure the galaxy is safe.” He says.
“Have any leads?” The question didn’t come from Fox, but from another voice behind - Falco, one of his most loyal - if somewhat annoying - allies.
“None, I’m afraid. The message logs of the Wolfren were scrambled before we managed to retrieve them. Gotta give it to Wolf - bastard did not panic even at the incoming defeat.” He sighed. “Which is why I called you here, Fox.”
The pilot raised an eyebrow. “You want me to investigate it? I suppose I could round up the boys and go ask some taverns in the outer rims, but…”
“Nothing that inefficient, I assure you.” He says, shaking his head. “As I said - I got past most of the legal paperwork that would give mister Wolf many of his… legal protections.” Fox did not like the tone, or the implications. “He has been considered an enemy of the state, and certain exceptions apply - namely, his civil rights. Which means we can… interrogate him to figure out what we need.”
“Are you proposing torture, General?” Fox asked, unsure on what to feel. Sure - it was Wolf. He deserved it. But… It didn’t sit right.
“I suppose I am - but within limits. We are not barbarians. We still have to obey galactic sentient rights laws.” He says. “By the book, all we could do is psychologically pressure him, but… I have an alternative that may fit the bill and not be too bloody for your tastes. Not bloody at all, in fact. No pain, no sleep deprivation, none of those horrid things.”
Fox leaned back. “... I’m listening.”
“Have you ever heard of Knismoamplifia?” He asks. Fox’s mind could barely grasp the word - he was a soldier, not a scholar.
“Knimowhat?”
“Knismo. Amplifia.” Peppers repeated, patiently. “It is an incredibly rare genetic condition.” At his words, one of the army’s soldiers arrived in the room, with a peculiar package: a pair of shoes. One Fox recognized as belonging to Wolf. “I believe you and Wolf share shoe sizes, right? Please put them on. Don’t worry, we have cleansed them first.” He asked.
What a peculiar request - but the General paid his bills, so might as well. His eyes widened as they fit in and - God, they were soft! “These are some mighty comfortable shoes.” He says.
“Too comfortable, in fact. Wolf needs them to function.” Peppers said, before finally elaborating, almost dramatically. “Knismoamplifia makes the nerves of the body fire neurotransmitters far more quickly than they should. The result is incredible levels of sensitivity to all sorts of stimuli - namely, ticklishness. It also virtually makes his whole body an erogenous zone.”
Fox blinked twice. Those words were not on his bingo for today.
“So you’re proposing we… tickle the information out of him?”
“And sexually exhaust him until he cracks, if necessary.”
Fox smirked at the thought.
“And it gotta be me?”
“Can’t do it officially I’m afraid. The Army cannot be caught torturing a prisoner. But if we hire someone to handle the interrogation - well, what happens between those walls is covered by standard confidentiality agreements.”
“It will cost you extra.”
“Does this suffice?”
Fox checked his portable terminal for the notification of credits transfer. He whistled.
“It certainly does, General.” He turned to the soldier. “Lead the way.”
—//—
Wolf had stopped struggling against his bonds a while ago. He was an angry sort, sure, but not a stupid one. No point in wasting energy when one is about to be faced with an ordeal.
He never expected the military fools to swoop this low, but it seems they were about to torture him. He knew a torture setup when he saw it - he had done to quite a few folks, after all. They had left him spread like an X in a metallic frame. Puzzingly, his shoes had been taken off - but nothing else. If they wanted to make him vulnerable, naked made most sense, right? Then, why the shoes? … He was afraid he knew why, since the light breeze hitting his soles would be enough to make him squirm slightly in place - but he was refusing to face that possibility head-on. There’s no way they’d know that… The three men who ever learned, he killed them himself.
No. Surely it was just a psychological ploy before employing something more conventional, like waterboarding or electrocution.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of the chamber’s doors sliding open. He turned to them with a growl that only grew louder and angrier once he saw Fox entering the room.
“Never thought you’d be the type to get your paws dirty, Fox. Finally grew a spine, did ya? Or did you just take our battles so personally that you had to come see me suffer firsthand? To me they were just business.” He provoked.
Fox scoffed, which sent a tingle of fury up Wolf’s spine.Cocky bastard! If he was untied, he’d shove that smile up where the sun doesn't shine.
“Don’t worry, Wolf. This is just business too, so I hope you don’t take it personally.” He said, as he approached. “I’m being paid some good money to have you cough up where you sent your friends and how to get them. If you make it easy on me, we can be done in ten minutes and we’ll never have to bother with one another again.”
“As if! I’ll be out of here before long, Fox - and then I shall have your head!”
Fox shook his head. “Not this time, Wolf. It’s over. Seriously - just cooperate. It will be easier.” For a moment, Fox’s voice shared some genuine empathy - but as Wolf growled back, it turned into a scowl, and back to a smirk. “Fine, then. Have it your way. I would say I’ll get no pleasure in this - but it isn’t true. You deserve it.”
“As if you can break me, McCloud! I’ve endured pains you have no idea of.”
“Oh, but I will use no pain.” Fox quipped back, and the fearful knot in Wolf’s stomach tightened as the possibility and realization became clearer and clearer. No. He couldn’t have found out. It’s not possible. “We’ve learned something… Interesting about you, Wolf.” NO!! “Apparently…” Fox stepped closer. Wolf saw his right hand leaving his flank; Wolf followed his gaze, which was locked on the villain’s bare paws, which started squirming and pulling against their bonds with vigor. “Someone is very…” The fingers made contact; Wolf’s howls quickly swallowed the next words, which still reverberated into his soul. “Ticklish.”
Wolf was in hell. Utter, complete hell. How could this be? How was this possible? How did these fucking bastards figure out his major weakness?
Everything got lost in the ticklish tidal wave that engulfed him. His defective, cursed nervous system, which had created so many troubles for him throughout his entire life, now turned on him once more, to knock him off his perch in his moment of defeat, to seal his horrid fate at the hands of his most accursed of his many, many enemies. He roared in anger and fury, for these were always his first response of emotions; and yet, he saw no relief. He pulled against his bonds, but didn’t feel them budging to any degree. And yet, his anger and his fury and his fighting seemed to do nothing to improve his situation or free him from his ordeal. As a creature of violence, that was unnerving to Wolf in a level he could not consciously comprehend. The predator within raged and raged, and yet not only it didn’t make the horrible sensations vanish, the rage seemed to be swallowed as well by something bigger, something more intense. A feeling Wolf was not used too. A feeling Wolf loathed. Couldn’t recognize at first, but when he did, it made his very being convulse in repulse.
He was afraid, for he was starting to understand he could not make that overwhelming, destructive tickling stop, no matter what he tried. He was at Fox’s mercy. And the bastard had barely started! He was just dragging one lazy finger up and down one of his soles, the lightest and less committed of touches, and Wolf was already growing crazy.
And the worst part? It wasn’t just crazy with suffering. That was the curse of his nervous system - tickling wasn’t just intense. It was also incredibly arousing. He yelped in a higher pitch when he felt his member growing within his pants, rubbing the reddened flesh within his rough-textured garments to add an extra layer to the torment. For, naturally, heightened sensitivity everywhere else meant heightened sensitivity there too.
And to be made to feel such horrifying torment and such unbearable pleasure at the hands of goddamn Fox McCloud, of all the beings in the universe, was a massive strike to his ego. He wanted to growl and curse, but from his mouth only poured laughter, and the growls that left his soul turned into pathetic yelps and squeals within his throat. And that, too, he hated - like he hated everything else.
“You sure you don’t wanna talk, Wolf? We can keep doing this all night, but I don’t think you can handle it.” Fox teased, and Wolf felt once again a most unfamiliar feeling, one even worse and more alien to him than the previous: He felt like crying. He felt like his entire world could fall apart at any instant.
Did he want to talk? Not particularly. Not out of loyalty to Panther or Leon, no - they knew what game they were on, and he knew they’d sell him out in a second if they were in a situation even remotely like this one. No - what held Wolf’s tongue back was the fact they were the only hope - feint as it was - that he had of maybe seeing liberty again someday. He knew the situation he was in - if the government had decided to get Fox to torture him, he was about to vanish into the system. He’d become a phantom, as if he never lived, for now he knew a dangerous secret atop all his crimes and the bounty on his head: He knew what the Corderian military was willing to do to captured prisoners.
Well, that was what he tried to think. Some portion of his mind seemed to manage to do it, but the thoughts arose into his head as if whispered from the great beyond; they almost felt like conclusions drawn by someone else, for he could certainly not have come up with them himself - not in this situation, not while laughing his mind off.
Finally, Fox stopped. Wolf had no idea how long it had been - he knew not much, but it felt like an eternity. And yet, when he finally gathered the nerve to stare at Fox, the sight filled him with terror - it was not a break done out of mercy or even the need to check anything, but one done out of fiddling with tools. He was searching a little box besides the rack, and from it emerged a most odious implement: A feather, fluffy and white and most happy to see him suffer.
And, as soon as it was applied, making him suffer it did. It was soft! It was so goddamn soft!! It was almost worse than harsher implements in a way, like the fingers, because it caused a tingling that lasted for a few instants after the contact. For a normal person, it would dissipate quickly, being more amusing than truly tormenting. For Wolf, it was as if the implement was multiplied tenfold; as if it were a hundred feathers rather than one. The sensations overlapped in a way that didn’t make sense for his nerves, which made them go haywire as they tried to reconcile the reality of the stimuli arriving to them against the faultiness on the system - and, of course, of fucking course, seemed to make it tickle more somehow.
More of that ungodly mix of torment and pleasure shot through his spine, into his brain. He contorted in his rack, but he had to praise the architect of that thing - it was built to last, and built to restrain. He had no chance of making it budge a single inch. His body, thankfully, still had enough control over itself to stop him from twisting an arm in the effort to escape, but just barely; the metal cuffs still dug into his wrist, and the pain was almost a relief. He knew pain. He understood pain. He could deal with pain. Much, much more difficult was dealing with that roaring, tormented laughter pouring from his lips. With those electric shocks of ticklish mirth spreading through every nerve in his body with the intensity of a thunderstorm. That tingling afterglow of ticklishness still racking his paws…
And then Fox started to slide them between his toes. He once more jerked on the rack, trying to sit up as if his life depended on it - for, to his brain, it did. It felt like it did. Any more of that ticklish torment in such a sensitive spot and his mind would split open, destroyed in the mighty, encompassing ticklishness and arousal. And yet, he was forced to endure more. Another slash, and another, and a third and many more. They were slow, even a bit imprecise - Fox was not a specialist in this and it showed, but it also didn’t matter when dealing with someone this intensely sensitive.
Wolf felt something building within. It felt as if his chest would burst. No, not his chest - it was more like at the pit of his stomach. It built and built and made him panic - there it was again, the cursed fear he hated so much. But he couldn’t help it! He didn’t know what that building of feeling meant. He just felt like he was about to burst… And any second…
And he did, although a different type of burst. The life of a mercenary left little time for sexual activity, and he had never cummed due to this before… and yet, the feeling was undeniable once if truly hit. He left out a long, shameful moan, which even made Fox stop for a moment in shock. Wolf almost cried of relief, for it allowed him to ride the blissful wave for at least a second without the cursed ticklishness ruining it. But as he crashed back down into reality, he returned with the horrifying realization that he had just climaxed in front of his enemy. In front of Fox. Oh god. No…
His ego couldn’t take it. The shame somehow was even stronger than the ticklishness. He needed this to end. He needed this situation to vanish, NOW. It got him so close to cracking that he could barely believe it…The words were almost leaving his mouth…
And yet, it was his ego itself that held his tongue. He couldn’t. He couldn’t let Fox win like this. He just couldn’t. A part of him really, really wanted to - but he couldn’t.
He was almost thankful when Fox went back to tormenting him, because if he had asked again if Wolf wanted to talk, he would have likely not been able to deny it.
That thankfulness vanished fast when he felt the new tool. Brushes - hairbrushes specifically, with stiff plastic bristles that raked on his soles, inducing utter madness. This. This was hell. He wanted the feathers back. There was no lingering after-effect on this one - it was the full effect, a hundred times worse, all upfront. It felt like it could tear through his skin, although he knew that was just his mind playing hypersensitive tricks on him. Perhaps he’d prefer if they did - again, he could deal with pain. This was much, much worse than pain.
Of course, the pleasure side was also going haywire. It was as if each stroke of the brush was someone sucking his member, as far as making his pleasure build went. Problem was - he was already spent. Which didn’t stop it from building, and building. That feeling of explosion once more at the pit of his stomach, like a blazing fire pit. This time he was not as afraid - he knew what was coming. He even looked forward to it, to a degree. But then the shame struck. It got in the way. It delayed his orgasm for a few moments - but not much longer than that. The brushes were far too intense. He cummed once more, his member twitching with a few weak huffs and managing to find more semen to drop in his trousers, which were now cold and sticky in the most uncomfortable of ways.
Unlike last orgasm, he was not afforded the decency of enjoying it in peace. The brushes continued their work. He howled, much like - well, a wolf - in complete disarray. The physical aspect of the torture was starting to take its toll now, and that was a much more sizeable thing than one would think; Wolf was a creature in peak performance, fit and combat-ready, capable of outperforming almost everyone in the galaxy in physical feats. The life of a mercenary accepted no less. Even that magnificent physical specimen was now feeling the utter exhaustion that followed all those minutes twitching and pulling against his bonds, while his lungs ached with a lack of oxygen no single breath could quench, his head felt light and the world was spinning lightly, almost rocking him in a lull - except for the flurry of sensations traveling up his spine, which made him anything but sleepy.
The third orgasm didn’t take too long to arrive either, and that put real fear in his heart. His cock twitched painfully now, with no more to give, and yet pushed forward by a biological impulse so powerful that it threatened to crash against the physical reality of the emptiness of his ballsack.
He hated the words that came out of his mouth next.
“PLEHEHAHAHAHAHSSHEEHEHEH!! STOHOHOHOHPP MCMHHMCLLL… MCMCHHD… FOHOHOHOXX!” The first crack on his invincible shield of an ego. He pleaded. He begged. Wolf has never begged in his life. No matter how dire the situation was, he always blazed a path through it with violence and fury.
But tonight, those tools were useless, and he begged for mercy. He could not recognize himself… And, with not a small amount of horror, realized he did not really care. Making the tickling stop took precedence. If it cost the most important thing in his life - his pride - then he would accept it.
But… McCloud did not stop. Why was he not stopping?! Wolf had already given him his pride, what else could he possibly want??
Oh… The information. That’s right.
But… He couldn’t. He needed a chance to leave this place. In his panicked state, he started wondering if he’d just be tickle tortured forever. Milked dry of his last drop and then some, locked in some contraption in a forgotten corner, left to rot in madness.
It… Didn’t seem like the type of thing those bastards would sign-up for normally, but… Neither was any of this.
He couldn’t risk it. No matter how badly it tickled. No matter how hard he howled, how much he suffered. He needed to think long-term…
But it was almost impossible to think! His willpower ebbed and flowed like the tide, multiple times per second as the cursed brushes continued their work. He needed to hold on. Hold on…
A brief pause. He didn’t dare feel hopeful this time; he used the seconds to catch his breath and try to understand what was going on. His eyes wandered. There was another implement being brought closer - something that pointed down, above his soles, like squirting tubes. McCloud was talking to someone.
“Like this, General?”
The answer back from the communicator was muffled, but Wolf’s sensitive hearing could still make out the words.
“Yes. Activate it. I’m sure it will be helpful.”
McCloud pressed a few buttons, and Wolf’s soles were engulfed in a new, weird sensation, as the tubes started pumping out an oily substance. By itself, it made him shiver and clench his teeth, as the very sensation of the droplets of oil running down his paws set his nerves ablaze - but after what he had been enduring so far, that would honestly have been a reprieve.
But he was not an idiot. He knew that was just step one. And when the brushes connected once more, he let out an ear-piercing howl. They could travel so much faster through his oiled paws now. He no longer felt that horrible feeling like his skin risked being torn by the bristles, but he now missed it dearly. Because the tickling portion - the one that was actually destroying his mind - increased in intensity tenfold.
“STOHOHOHPPP!! I BHHEHEHEGG YOHOHOHOUHUHHU!!!” He screamed, and he was almost scared to realize he did not feel anger or shame when those words left his mind. His personality had been shattered. Wolf was no longer Wolf, for being Wolf brought him no closer to making the torture end. He was willing to be something else, anything else, to make it stop. “FOHOHOHOXX! PLEHEHEHAHAHAHSSHEHEHEH!! IHIHIHIHLLL TAHAHAHAHALLKK!!” He didn’t decide that. Even as the words left his mouth, he felt it was a mistake. His paranoia-filled ideas of losing his chance of escaping and being tickled forever assaulted his brain again. But he also realized he was no longer in control of his actions, not really. Something deeper, more primal, had taken over. The prime directive: Make the torture stop. Wolf still thought talking was a bad idea, but he also knew he was going to do it. The pilot of his body demanded.
As the tickling stopped, Wolf reluctantly handed the coordinates that he had given for his lieutenants to travel to, and what base, on what planet, they would be gathering at to rebuild and figure out next steps. Wolf knew not enough time had passed for them to clear shop and formulate whatever plans they would do next, even if they suspected Wolf would betray them, which they probably did not - as far as they knew he was dead, after all.
It was over. Wolf had lost.
And yet, McCloud spoke again, and the words painted an unacceptable picture.
“I know you, Wolf. First thing that comes out of your lips is always a lie. Don’t worry, though…” He said, and as he did, a soldier entered the room once more, bringing two dogs with him. Tough looking bastards. Hungry too. Fox started pressing buttons on the oil dispenser, and the fluid changed consistency - and aroma. It smelled like some sort of meat-based broth, though still oily in nature…
The dogs barked excitedly, trying to rush forward, barely held back by their handler.
“I’M TELLING THE TRUTH! I SWEAR! KEEP THEM AWAY!! PLEASE, MCCLOUD!!”
Fox merely smirked. Wolf’s eyes filled with tears for the first time in his life. The bastard was enjoying it. He was suffering, he was broken, and the bastard was enjoying it. Was… Was that what his victims have felt before?
Did he deserve this? No one deserved this…
The dogs were introduced to his paws, tongues lapping happily through the fluid that tasted like heaven to them. Wolf couldn’t understand how this was possible; he was sure he had met the worst thing in the world when the brushes were introduced, but somehow, this was even worse. The tongues were rough, and their speed was only slightly lower than the brushes’, but they were much more malleable and could thus get between his toes and other crevices of his paws.
He wanted to shut off. He wanted to close his eyes and stop existing, stop feeling. He wanted to be anywhere else but here. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything except exist; exist and laugh and beg and try to convince McCloud that he was telling the truth.
“I SWEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHARR THAHAHAHAT’S THEHEHEHEH PLAHAHAHAHACCHEHEHEHE!!” He screamed, trying - and failing - to stare at Fox. He needed to see the truth in his eyes, but the tickling forced them shut once more by reflex. “MAHAHAHAHAKHEHEHEHE TYHEHEHEHEHEMMM STOHOHOHOHPP!! FOHOHOHOHOXX!! MCHCHCHCLOHOHOHOHUHUHUHUDDD!!! MEHEHEHEHERRCYCYYHYHYHY!! YOHOHOHOHUHUHUH WIHIHIHIHNNN!!!”
Over the next while, he confessed to many things. He begged for forgiveness for his past mistakes. He started selling other info he had about his company and partners - other bases, chain of command, flight stratagems. When he resorted to praising Fox and self-deprecating, Fox even got uncomfortable. In that short space of time, Wolf orgasmed four more times, each and every single one of them ruined by the ticklish assault, each and every one making his member strain further for nothing.
“Come on, Wolf, that’s pathetic…” It was no longer fun. Fox did want to see him suffer. The apologies and recognition for mistakes, honestly, was appreciated. But now, it was just sad to see - a broken creature, devoid of any pride. He pressed his communicator and did his best to whisper, though he was sure Wolf would hear it anyways… “Come on General, I think he’s telling the truth…”
“Just a bit more, Fox. We’re going to confirm the data soon. Don’t take pity on the bastard. Remember his assault on Fichina, and the time he had Slippy on his grasp? Did he show him any mercy?”
Wolf’s heart sank to his stomach at that.
“You’re right.” Fox said, narrowing his eyes in fury at the memories. “We can keep this up for a few more dozen minutes. Be sure to investigate the planet thoroughly.”
Wolf howled in horror.