"Goin' home already, Chet? You're such a pussy."

"Ay, shut the fuck up, man. My mom's got a dumbass curfew and I got nowhere else to sleep."

"Fine, whatever. See ya, man."

The shaggy, black-furred canine waved a dismissive hand and turned, stuffing his hands into his pockets, though not before yanking his hood over his head. That guy was an asshole-- fuck it, he'll just walk home. He was hoping to get a lift, but he knew that if he asked, he'd just be told to get lost. Thankfully, the walk back to his parent's place was not far: 20 minutes if he was slow, or 10 if he picked up the pace. Considering he was half-drunk and had a pill of ecstasy in his pocket, he opted to take it slow and savour the thought of getting high later, when he's in bed.

Chet moved through residential buildings and took shortcut after shortcut in the dark. He'd check the time, but his phone was smashed the last time he got drunk and he didn't have the money for a replacement. He'd pinched a few things here and there from the mall, but it wasn't even enough to cover-- he'd stole those so he could buy drugs, anyway. His journey through the urban sprawl of the city had him cutting corners and taking shortcuts to try and get home as soon as possible. The darkened sky above and the illumination of the moon made it clear he was already pushing the limits of his curfew, and despite the fact he hated living with his parents at 22, he couldn't risk losing a roof over his head. He was on his final warning as it is.

A scuffle to his right as he slipped between two houses and out the other side made him jump and he turned his head in the direction of the noise, green eyes scanning the darkness beyond. A small clump of trees and hedges on the left side of the path were the only things he could see. He hesitated for a moment, getting a strange sense that something was wrong. However, with no real evidence to prove it, he pushed it to the back of his mind and turned to the right, heading down the path. There was only one more shortcut before he reached home, and it was through the park. It was a fairly run-down area so the park itself didn't even have street lamps, but Chet had taken this path multiple times before. He'd be fine.

The night was quiet. As he walked through the park, all he could hear was the sound of his own quiet breathing and the crunch of gravel and stone beneath his feet. A chill had set into the air that made him feel strangely cold, but he paid it no mind-- his hoodie was more than enough to keep him warm.

The shifting of gravel behind him had him casting his gaze back over his shoulder, and he hesitated, slowing his walk. He assumed someone was walking behind him, but when he looked there was no-one. Maybe one of the rocks on the ground had just slipped? It was fishy...but he had no other explanation.

There was noise was again, the telltale sign of feet upon the gravel, this time from his front. Yet, when he snapped his head forwards, there was nothing there. His heartbeat began to quicken; Chet wasn't normally so skittish, but something about the atmosphere just made him nervous. He couldn't place it, but it felt like he was being stalked. Panic rose through his body to his throat and he quickly made his way down the path, his pace picking up into a brisk power walk. The other side of the park was in sight-- he could see the wrought iron gate that normally stayed open and the street lights beyond, leading onto the street his parents lived. He only had a little further to go, and he'd be in the clear.

A sudden weight on his back caught him by surprise and he staggered, tumbling forwards and landing on his front against the stone. He felt the brief, searing paint of his muzzle and chin hitting the ground before fear and panic swelled inside of him. He squirmed and managed to roll onto his back, trying to see exactly what had attacked him, but his vision was abruptly blinded by a shining, piercing light. He shielded his eyes and stared down from beneath them at his attacker-- or rather, attackers. 

Sitting on his stomach was what looked to be just a kid, clad in all black and wearing a hood that obscured the majority of their face. A mask covered their muzzle, and he couldn't even see their eyes well enough to know how old they were-- but their short, lithe frame made it clear they were young. Some others stood nearby, but they kept to the darkness, and he could only see their silhouettes. His fear dissipated and was quickly replaced by anger.

"Who the fuck are you? Get the hell off me!" The canine angrily cried out, but as he went to sit up or lift his arms, his arms were yanked to the side and forced down against the dirt. The painful weight of knees pressed to his wrists on either side and he hissed through his teeth, his brow furrowing with anger as he tried to make out what the cub in front of him was doing, despite the blinding light above making it hard to see. He watched as the boy slipped off his stomach and down his body, hands trailing his stomach and towards his crotch.

"Chet Turner," One of the kids suddenly spoke, and his light, high-pitched boyish voice confirmed his pre-pubescence. "Petty theft, assault and battery...you even took money from your mother's savings. Really?"

"The fuck you talking about? I never--" Chet's excuses halted when he watched, and felt, the cub in front of him loosen and pop the button of his baggy jeans. His eyes widened as the boy innocent yanked and zipped down and reached inside, not even hesitating to bring his roaming digits to Chet's loins, where he grasped and pulled the member free from within his boxers, letting it flop, flaccid, across his own stomach.

"W-Wait, what are you doing?" The black-furred canine stammered, tensing when he felt the cub's digits on his member again, tilting it upright and giving it a few strokes. Instinctively it felt good, but Chet's mind reeled with the connotations of it-- hell, this was a cub that was trying to jerk him off, and he was begin pinned down in the middle of nowhere. Numerous questions ran through his mind: who were these people? How did they know so much about him and, more importantly, why were they touching his cock?

"Today, you will receive punishment for your crimes." The same boy who had talked before answered him curtly, but Chet had no idea what he meant. Still, the cub in front of him jerked and tugged on his flaccid humanoid length, and despite Chet's reluctance and disgust, his body reacted-- blood swelled to his cock and it hardened under the boy's loose, almost clumsy strokes, beginning to harden. He couldn't fight back even if he wanted to-- those knees kept him pinned, and though he hasn't noticed before, someone was sitting on his legs too.

A strangled half-groan, half-grunt escaped Chet's lips as his member pulsed slowly from its limp state to half-mast, and then quickly to full-mast thereafter, all under the cub's influence. Once he was fully hard, they didn't stop: they stroked and stroked, from base to tip, until Chet was panting and huffing under his breath. Any time he attempted to ask them a question, to demand to know what was going on or why they were humiliating him, the cubs remained silent. He couldn't even tell how many there were, for any time he tried to look up at them, they blinded him with the light, which he now guessed to be from a smartphone.

When Chet started to ooze pre-cum and his grunts of reluctance turned into quiet, groaning pants, they stopped, if only for a brief moment. At that moment, the cub in front of him, who had been so lewdly jerking him off the entire time, finally leaned back and reached up to his hood, revealing himself. The light above Chet pulled back just enough for him to see and his eyes widened as he took in the sight of the boy before him: a petite canine, with pristine white fur that was muddied by a horrifying burn mark across the right side of his face, covering from up near his forehead and across his eye, down to his chin. The skin was mottled and darker than usual, but the rest of him was unblemished. He stared with ocean blue eyes, a mop of white hair covering some of his burn and a little bit more before he lowered himself again.

"Wait...!" Chet squirmed and tried to struggle, his eyes bulging in their sockets as the canine boy pressed his muzzle to the tip of Chet's erect, humanoid member. He stuck out his tongue and lapped, ever so subtly, along the underside of the man's member, dragging from near the frenulum up towards the tip, scooping the pre-cum from the top. Chet spotted the shine of another smartphone screen to his right and for a brief couple of seconds, he saw a pair of green eyes and navy blue fur hidden beneath a black face mask and hood. The cub lowered the phone and held it like he was recording, tapping a few times on the screen.

"No, stop--" Chet could tell what the boy was doing and his face flushed at the thought of there being photographic evidence of his sexual assault-- but that's not how anyone else would see it. If those pictures, or even videos, got out then he'd be done for. Regardless of the fact that he was pinned to the floor against his own will, the authorities would take one look at a picture of his cock against the cub's face and arrest him on the spot. The cubs, however, were stronger than they appeared-- or perhaps he was just a little too off his face and a little too tipsy to have his normal strength.

"We've got what we need," One of the boys murmured, and the one taking the pictures withdrew the phone, stowing it in their pocket out of reach. "Now let's finish the job."

The only revealed cub of the party raised his eyes briefly to someone that Chet couldn't see, and he nodded his head as if obeying an order. To Chet's surprise, the canine boy lifted his head up and parted his muzzle, dragging his fleshy pink tongue across the man's tip before plunging down, taking the cock in one fell swoop all the way to the base. Chet made something of a whimper, but it came out sounding more like a shuddering groan as his body reacted to the inexplicable warmth and squirming tongue around his cock. He felt strangely disconnected, like his body and mind weren't in sync-- he was vehemently against what was happening to him, to the point where it felt nauseating, but the way his cock throbbed and eagerly twitched in the boy's mouth, almost desperate for more, made him feel dirty. He couldn't understand why his body was reacting this way, but one thing was clear: they weren't letting him go until they were done.

The cub's muzzle slowly began to bob and bounce as his tongue expertly smeared and suckled around the man's black 6-inch length, coating every bit of its surface in a thin film of spittle that made the lewd sounds of their oral sex audible and humiliating. Chet squirmed on the floor, vividly aware of both the cold seeping into his back and the contrasting heat of the mouth around his cock as each bob of the boy's mouth sent a spike of pleasure up Chet's spine. He scrunched his eyes shut, hissing through gritted teeth as the boy started to pick up speed. How was the kid such a natural at this?

It didn't take long for Chet's pleasure to grow more intense, building up over time until a familiar tension formed in his loins, much to his dismay. He tried to bring strength to his limbs, but leverage was his main problem: it was hard to lift when he had such weight down upon him, enough for his bones to ache and his muscles to sting-- when it came to his forearms, especially, he was lacking. The delightful feeling, much as he didn't want it, only grew and grew, until he was sure he stood on the precipice of his release. He strained, desperate to hold it, but the cub's bobbing lips and roaming tongue were too much for a man who didn't really get much action anyway.

With one final groan, Chet rolled his head back and gritted his teeth as tightly as he could, angry with himself that he could even think of busting into a cub's mouth-- yet, here he was. His cock throbbed and pulsed, and thick strings of seed shot right into the canine's maw. Worse still was the boy's reaction: rather than pull back, he instead pushed down, taking the entire cock once more and gulping down every last drop of seed, every spurt and twitch. A shameful feeling washed over Chet in the wake of his climax and he grimaced, feeling the cub suckle and taste him a little more before finally pulling away.

"Let us be clear, Chet Turner," One of the boys spoke, shining the light in his eyes once more. "Commit another heinous crime, and this photography will spread. Live a just and meaningful life, and they will never see the light of day. We'll be watching you."

The weight from Chet's wrists and legs lifted, and when Chet lifted his head, the cubs were gone. Bolting upright, Chet scrabbled to cover himself and clambered to his feet, whirling around and looking into the darkness of the park beyond-- yet, no traces of the boys could be found. Panic struck him and his mind swam with questions and fears. He did the only thing he could do, and turned, breaking into a sprint for home.

Whether he would stay true to the right path or not, only time could tell.



---------- x x x ----------



"What is a city without heroes to protect it? What is a hero without the right tools, the support, the experience? That's the question on everyone's lips. How can our finest protect us if they don't have the capacity to protect themselves? That's why today, for the first time, we're introducing a brand new product."

The slender Russian Blue cat stepped back and raised his hand, pushing the button on a small prompter that changed the massive screen behind him, revealing a slim-looking tazer. The video on the screen shifted and swayed, revealing that the tazer could extend outwards into a baton, and the clips at the top folded down to make it slender and neat.

"The latest in anti-criminal technology," The feline continued. "And the all-in-one tool for any police officer. We call it the Tabaton."

Applause erupted through the crowd, and the feline looked smug for just a fraction of a second before he held his hand up, calming the crowd in the auditorium before continuing his speech.

"Kitted with a high amp battery that charges via USB and lasts up to 5 days off charge, the Tabaton functions as both a baton and a tazer, for whatever the situation-- but that's not all. It also comes fitted with a built-in GPS that works in combination with the police force's security systems. Never again will one of our bravest and brightest go missing, never will they be in trouble. With this built-in GPS, all it takes is the push of a button to request assistance."

The video moves with his talk, showing off the features that he was vaguely describing. The hums from the crowd expressed their approval, and as the speech went on, they became more excited. The feline rounded out the presentation with a short question and answer session, before revealing its affordable price tag and announcing it was now already available on the market as soon as the presentation ended. His walk off stage was met with thunderous applause and he sighed with relief and amusement at another successful sale.

To Christopher Carpenter, this was just another part of the job. Did the product work? Of course it did-- customers weren't easy to fool-- but no-one but him and a handful of others knew the blood sweat and tears that went into this project, the people sacrificed, the experiments gone wrong. Chris was a capitalist at heart; it didn't matter who he had to step over or what he had to do, be it destroying competitors, paying detectives to dig up dirt or committing tax fraud as so many big companies did-- he aimed to make as much money as possible.

After handing his prompter to one of the staff and manoeuvring himself out his microphone setup clipped to his tie and body, the feline fully intended to be driven back to the office, where he could go over projected sales figures and discuss with the board about what to do next-- hell, he might even stick around to talk to some of those at the officer's convention to answer questions about the Tabaton, though there were already some around the convention hall who could do it for him. To his surprise, however, his path towards the exit was blocked by a small boy, no higher than 4 and a half foot.

"Oh, hello there," The feline looked surprised and instinctively looked around for his parent, only to find no-one. "What can I do for you, little guy?"

The cub, a possum whose species is known for being distinctly trashy yet harmless, looked barely older than 12, and his eyes were wide with delight and awe as he stood in front of the man. Chris looked him up and down briefly and took in the sight of his loose, oversized T-Shirt and shorts that could just barely be seen underneath the hem of the top, with some sort of toeless socks on his feet. The possum's naturally gloved hands fidgeted together, betraying the boy's nerves.

"Mr. Carpenter, sir!" The possum bowed, barely for a second, before bolting himself upright. "I'm Conner, and uh, I'm a big fan! I want to grow up to run a business one day and you're my biggest inspiration!"

Such a heartfelt, earnest confession would have melted most people's hearts-- but Chris was a cold and calculated man. Even though he had kids and a wife, he didn't care all that much for them-- they were just another thing he could control. However, eyes were on him at the moment. If he treated the boy poorly, then it would damage his reputation, which he so desperately needed in order to make more money. So, instead of dismissing the possum in front of him, his smile widened.

"Well, Connor, I'm mighty happy about that!" He put on a softer voice than usual and stretched his hands wide, trying his best to look and sound both wise and friendly. The possum reacted as he expected, looking excited and pleased that he was acknowledged.

"Um...!" The boy wiggled on the spot. "Mr. Carpenter, I have so many questions..."

"And I would love to answer them, but I have to be somewhere...where are your parents?" The feline asked and once again looked around, trying to find some other possums. The boy, however, grimaced and squirmed on the spot.

"B-But..." He tried to argue, even as the feline gestured for security to come over. Yet the man paused when he felt the possum's hand curl tighter around his wrist, pulling him close. He glanced down at the boy and his puppy-dog like eyes, and it made him think back to his own kids-- not that he cared, but he began to wonder if giving the boy what he wants might paint a better public image. He straightened himself up and glanced behind him to see a number of reporters making their way towards him, and he sighed, curling a hand around the boy's own, reassuring him.

"I can give you a little tour. How about that?" The feline suggested, and Conner's eyes lit up with a mixture of wonder and delight, fervently nodding. With a single nod and gesture to the approaching security guard, the bluish-grey furred feline led the cub from off the side of the side and towards the back, where a hallway that was normally off-limits to convention-goers could be used to get around the hall itself without having to weave through the mob of people. It was just the two of them for a quiet period of time, with nothing but the sound of padding feet.

"What's through there?" Connor abruptly pointed to a pair of double doors on their left, which they were just about to pass. Admittedly, the feline had no idea, and after a quick glance at the boy, he approached the doors and peeked through. It looked to be another corridor, although it was made of brick. Through the walls, he could hear the murmuring of a crowd of people and he assumed that it led around the side of the convention hall and towards the entrance-- perfect.

"The way to go. Come on." He held the boy's hand tightly and lead him through the doors, hoping to just make an excuse to drop him off at the entrance to the building. They walked in a brief period of silence again before the cub began to speak once more.

"Um, Mr. Carpenter, sir..." The Possum slowed to a halt. "I have a confession to make."

"...And what is that?" The feline hesitated, turning towards him at exactly the wrong moment. To the man's surprise, the possum suddenly pressed against his front, looking up at him with his beady eyes, hands clutching to the waistline of the executive's formal trousers. The cat instinctively stepped backwards and staggered, stumbling briefly before he hit the brick wall, his back pressed against it. Despite his retreat, the boy pressed forwards towards him, dipping his head and pressing his mouth pointedly to the feline's crotch-- it was just Chris's luck that the cub was dick-sucking height.

"Kid, what are you doing?" Christ exclaimed, reaching down in an attempt to push the possum's head away from his crotch, yet Conner was more persistent than he looked. His fingers curled tightly around the feline's trousers and he pulled, slipping them down past the man's average hips and exposing his professional, plain black boxers beneath. The trousers fell around the man's ankles and Chris pushed back, using a little more strength than before as he tried to detach the boy from him. Connor, however, remained steadfast, his mouth dipping down to the man's crotch as he clung to his legs with his greedy, clenching hands.

Chris felt a mixture of panic and irritation but predominantly anger at being assaulted by a kid more than half his age. He was surprised, however, at how he struggled to peel the 12-year-old off of his body-- try as he might to push his head back, his attempts to try and yank off the possum's hands only brought the boy's head closer again. He didn't have enough hands to deal with the cub's invasive movements, and before he could stop the boy his boxers were pulled down and the length of his humanoid cock, flaccid but quite the shower, flopped over the possum's snout.

Chris didn't know what to say or think, his lips pursed into an angry, thin line. The possum nuzzled and nudge in the crease between the cat's cock and balls, and his hands rubbed and smeared over the feline's hips. He parted his lips to speak and then closed them again, unable to find the words to truly express his irritation. Isn't that he didn't find the idea exhilarating-- a man's secrets knows no bounds, and he'd dabbled in more than one cub in his years-- but it was the gender of his attacker and the nature of where they were that made him unconsenting, despite his hesitation. He once again reached down to push the possum's head away, but Conner instead began to undress, or at least take off his pants-- he quickly dropped his shorts and suddenly grasped onto the hem of the cat's jacket and climbed his body, using a combination of his feet and hands to mount and lift himself up.

"What are you doing?!" The feline exclaimed, close to buckling under the boy's weight. Connor pulled himself up enough until his head was basically level with the man's own, his hands gripped to the feline's shoulders and his feet planted against the brick on either side of the man's body. He was positioned surprisingly well and Chris was shocked that he was so nimble, but he was ultimately concerned-- in this position, he was well and truly cornered.

"This isn't right..." The man began, watching as the possum lowered himself down, his tail dexterously curling around and stroke the feline's length, trying to get him to harden. Of course, in any other situation, this would have been interesting, but Chris was ultimately not used to a dominant and sexually experienced cub.

"Wait a minute," He began. "I know what this is...I've heard about you. Your group...the Justicars, right?"

The possum froze for a fraction of a second, before he grinned wide, wiggling in his position as his tail continued to stroke. The feline couldn't resist the pleasure he felt and despite his misgivings about the situation, his member began to harden under the possum's touch. The boy neither confirmed nor denied his involvement with the group that the feline was talking about, which only made Chris more suspicious of who the identity of the cub actually was.

It didn't take long for the man's member to become fully hard, and given the position they were in, he knew what was coming next. Keeping his hands to himself, the feline sucked in a breath as he watched the possum ease himself down, pressing the heat of his tight ass from between his cheeks against Chris's cock. The head of his member twitched instinctively in response to the potentially warm orifice, and as he slid in, he became vividly aware of how lubed up the possum was already-- that only confirmed his fears of who the boy belonged to.

Despite that, he couldn't deny to himself that the cub was tight. Every inch of his inner walls clenched and squeezed like a vice as the feline's erect cock slid deeper and deeper, and the possum huffed under his breath, very clearly enjoying himself as he pushed his body down. His tail inevitably loosened from around the cock once he'd found purchase against it and his hands gripped firmly to the feline's shoulders, using the man was leverage as he slowly began to ease back up, lifting himself from the man's cock and plunging back down.

Connor began in on a slow yet steady rhythm, panting under his breath as he rose and fell, sinking himself down on the cock each time as the feline rolled his head back and stood there, pinned against the wall by the fervent, horny possum. He couldn't just throw him off now with his cock firmly embedded in the cub, lest he injure himself in the process-- and as much as he didn't want this, he couldn't deny it felt good, and this wasn't exactly the first time he'd had sex with a cub either. The more that the possum moved, the greater it felt, but the cub ultimately had all the control-- he moved at his own pace and the feline was forced to take it.

Chris eventually began to groan under his breath, low yet audible, as the possum steadily picked up the pace, beginning to get used to their awkward position. The cat was tempted to raise his hands and get some leverage of his own, but his arms were ultimately pinned to his sides by the possum's legs, so he couldn't move them well without sullying the position they were in. In the end, he didn't really need it-- the pleasure grew and grew until the feline couldn't help but just slightly push his hips up, feeling his loins tingling with desire.

He looked down between them, glancing briefly at the possum's crotch but focusly entirely on their rhythmic movements and the pleasure surrounding his pelvis. The possum moved faster and faster, beginning to huff and whimper under his breath as his fingers dug tightly into the feline's shoulders, claws pressing against Chris's jacket. To the man's surprise, the possum pushed down and began to slow, shuddering and gasping, and the feline looked down between them to see the possum's little cock, humanoid in shape, twitching wildly and oozing minuscule droplets of cum. At the same time, his insides clamped and periodically pulsed, milking his cock-- the feline inevitably couldn't hold himself back, and the few rhythmic squeezes of the possum's insides coaxed his own climax to fruition. He painted the boy's insides shortly after the possum's own orgasm, leaving the pair of them quietly panting.

The click of a door to the feline's right immediately caught his attention amidst his orgasm, and he snapped his head to the side to see the door at the end of the corridor closing shut. Panic washed over his body and his skin paled beneath his fur at the thought that someone had watched them-- but this was common amongst the Justicars, he knew that. He had plenty of sources in the city, and many of his underground contacts spoke of a group who collected dirt on people via a 'honey pot' method. Realising he was now victim to such a thing, the feline squirmed, and eventually simply pushed, loosening the possum's grip on his body.

With a cry, the possum fell to the floor hard and groaned, his back bouncing off the concrete floor. His legs spread-eagled and his hole oozing with cum, the possum scrabbled backwards briefly, his eyes wide with fright for the first time in their encounter. The feline took one look at him and grimaced, before crouching down and pulling up his boxers and trousers. The possum attempted to sidle to the side to escape, but the man quickly grabbed the cub's arm, wrenching him upright.

"You're coming with me." He growled in anger, and the possum turned into a wet noodle in his grip, intimidated enough by his tone for his fight or flight instincts to kick in. Leaving the cub's shorts behind, Chris dragged the possum across the floor and back the way they had come, reaching into his pocket to message his driver to pull up around back.

The Justicars had messed with the wrong men-- and this time, they'd be stopped.