He couldn’t even skip a dang rock. Never mind Montgomery Moose had embarrassed him in front of the whole Get Along Gang.
“Stupid horn-head,” Rocco mumbled, not at all liking the sound of his voice. It wasn’t tough enough, not nearly. He found himself wondering where that Rocco had gone. The answer was easy: when he’d joined the Gang and given up being a bully.
Now he couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. Though it was true that he liked the Gang (mostly, maybe except for Montgomery now), he’d also liked having the power of pushing other kids around, the feeling of control over others.
It was Zipper Cat’s fault they’d started to fight in the first place, roller-skating around the caboose like a doofus. He’d lost his balance and tumbled into Rocco, sending his glass of carrot juice flying to break on the floor a few feet away. Yeah, he could make more juice, but that wasn’t the point. The old reaction bubbled to the surface so fast, he’d kicked Zipper in the side before he realized what he was doing. Then Zipper had shoved him down while he tried to get up, and by the time his fist had connected with the cat’s face Montgomery was pushing them apart, yelling over both. Rocco’s old garbage-mouth had reared itself, and the moose had kicked him out until he could “cool down.”
Sometimes Rocco hated that horn-head. Who made him the leader, anyway? He was a softie. He was probably light in the hooves, too. He just knew it.
He threw another rock. It also sank. Rocco swore under his breath, got up, and trudged away from the clubhouse with no destination in mind. Anywhere but there.
The minutes passed as the rabbit brooded, the storm clouds above his head growing darker despite the bright, sunny day in Green Meadow. Whenever he came upon a road or trail he would turn away. Those led to people, and he didn’t want to deal with people today. He didn’t even care how long or how far he walked, as long as it was AWAY.
Except, after a while, his feet began to hurt. Traipsing up and down wooded hills, hopping streams here and there, and almost-tripping more times than he could count...all of it began to wear him down, and soon his legs were sore as well. The light had changed; shadows were deeper. The day was fading, and he had no idea where he was or how to get back.
Rocco Rabbit was officially starting to get scared.
It had been a while since he’d come across any sort of road or trail, so he figured if he kept up in a straight line he had to hit something eventually. Green Meadow wasn’t that big, was it?
By the time he crested a steep leaf-strewn hill, Rocco was in agony from the waist down. His legs were on fire, his knees made of rubber. Not to mention the increasing worry in his mind about getting back to civilization before dark.
Going back to the caboose and apologizing to Zipper and Montgomery was starting to sound mighty tempting.
He didn’t see the moss-covered rock under its blanket of half-rotted leaves, and when he stepped on it the whole mess slid out from under him. Pain erupted from his ankle as it turned under and sent him tumbling down the lee side of the hill, which was dotted with lichen-covered outcroppings. He cried out, paws outstretched to brace against further damage, and by the time he came to rest against a large tree he was bumped, bruised and sore all over. His right ankle wasn’t broken, but it sure was sprained.
This time, when he felt like crying, he didn’t try to hide it. Even so, the tears were silent. Minutes passed, each one bringing a fresh supply. Rocco hugged his knees to his chest, cradling his bad foot.
“Well, well,” came a familiar nasal-tinged voice from behind. “If it isn’t one of the clubhouse caboose chumps.”
Rocco raised his head just as a pair of red-and-white tennis shoes stepped into view. The jeans sported a tear at the right knee, and a thick green tail dragged almost on the ground. “What do you want, Catchum?” He just wanted to be left alone.
Catchum Crocodile squatted before the rabbit, a smirk on his muzzle. One lower fang stuck out like a stalagmite. “Now now, Rocco. Is that any way to treat an old pal?”
“We were never pals,” Rocco spat. “Just because I used to be a bully doesn’t mean we were on the same side.”
“You say potato, I say tomato.” Typical Catchum, butchering even the simplest saying. “Point is, we got something in common.”
Rocco actually couldn’t rightly deny this, so he changed the subject. “Could you just go away? I wanna be alone.”
Taking a knee, Catchum appeared to loom over the smaller rabbit. “Aww, poor baby. What, did your sissy friends kick you out of their stupid club? You musta done somethin’ really bad.”
“None of your business.”
“Oh, but I’m making it my business,” Catchum sneered, poking Rocco in the nose so hard he almost fell backwards.
“Fuck you.” The words flew out before the rabbit could think, surprising himself...and the croc.
“Huh. I didn’t know you had it in ya. Points for that, but you’re not off the hook. Now, are you gonna tell me, or do I gotta beat it outta you?”
“I don’t have to stick around for this crap,” Rocco said, twirling to get to his feet...before his bad ankle gave out and he tumbled back down.
Catchum placed a shoe squarely in the small of the rabbit’s back, pinning him. “What were you saying? You couldn’t walk away if you tried.”
Rocco squirmed, to no avail, making the croc chuckle. Everything Catchum had said was true.
“You know what? I don’t even care anymore,” Catchum continued. “I got me a bunny to play with.”
Play? Rocco’s heart skipped a few beats. “J-just let me go, Catchum. Don’t you have Leland for that?”
“I suppose. But the little lizard-breath isn’t here right now, is he? So I gotta make so with what I got.” The weight on the rabbit’s back let up, replaced by a hand pressing into his jeans below his tail. Suddenly Rocco understood. In a panic, he started to scramble away, but the bully croc grabbed his bad foot and bolts of excruciating pain raced through his body. He yelped and dropped back down to his belly, panting, sweat already dripping down his forehead. The hand returned, this time stroking the underside of his tail.
“Please, don’t,” Rocco said meekly. “I’m not gay.”
Catchum twisted the rabbit’s ankle so Rocco had no choice but to turn over. “Huh, maybe rabbits’ feet really are lucky. Catchum Crocodile caught him a playmate.”
“I’m not--”
“Neither am I. I think. Anyway, these are just labels. It don’t matter to me.” This time the hand came down on the front of the rabbit’s jeans, cupping the bunny bits in a way that told Rocco the croc was no stranger to this kind of playtime. And since Catchum outweighed him by at least half, the outcome seemed inevitable. Especially since all the rubbing was having the desired effect. “Feels like you like it, Rocco. It’s not like you’re going anywhere.”
Suddenly, Rocco would give anything for Zipper or Montgomery to be here. Not knowing what else to do, he lay on the hard ground, his ankle swelling in his shoe, and let the croc grope him up. Before long he was full-hard, uncomfortably so.
Catchum noticed. “That can’t feel good. Why don’t you take ‘em off and air out a little?” Without waiting for an answer he went for Rocco’s belt and soon had his jeans open, roughly pulling them--and his underwear--down. The cool air on his bits made him jump. “Aww, it’s so cute! And hard, too,” said the croc, gripping the gently-curving shaft and pulling down the foreskin.
And it felt good. Despite everything...the bullying, the pain in his ankle...it still felt good. So did the finger the reptile ventured under his sac, perilously close to his hole.
“You’re not getting under my tail. You try, and I’ll punch your lights out.”
Giggling, Catchum didn’t seem phased by the threat. Yet his muzzle softened, as much as a crocodile can soften his muzzle. “Don’t you worry. I won’t touch your precious tailhole. Saving it for a big ol’ piece of moose meat?”
Incensed, Rocco swung from his reclined position, succeeding only in punching air and tweaking his back a little. Catchum’s laughter deepened his feeling of helplessness.
The croc stood and shucked his shoes and socks before fumbling with his jeans. They hung on his waist until he pulled the Velcro tail flap, allowing them to puddle at his feet. His plain white briefs sported a decent bulge, wet at the tip, and when Catchum stepped out of them a cock nearly double Rocco's stood out from between his legs. The rabbit had never seen a scaly naked before, and the absence of visible balls jolted him.
“Like what you see?” asked the croc.
“At least I can go back to the gang and tell them Catchum Crocodile really is a ball-less wonder.” Rocco had half a second to gloat before the croc was on him, thrusting a hand up into his bits, sending waves of pain through his crotch.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” growled Catchum. “I don’t have to worry about this.” He pulled down on the rabbit’s sac, causing an entirely different pain.
“P-please...”
“Are you gonna cooperate, or are you gonna make me hafta hurt you more?”
Stars in his vision, Rocco made a quick decision to cooperate, if only for the sake of his testicles. His pride was less important than living to paw another day. So when the croc started stroking his flagging dick again, he didn’t resist.
“There. See? It wasn’t that hard. Well, maybe it was,” Catchum sniggered at his own bad pun before leaning down to lick Rocco from base to tip.
Rocco gasped and looked down. The croc’s muzzle hovered just above his erection, tongue out, panting lightly with a hungry look in his eyes. Catchum had said he wasn’t gay, yet...he went down again, this time closing his lips at the bottom before bobbing up and down with just the gentlest of suction.
And he waited.
And waited.
And waited. For Catchum to bite down with his sharp teeth, to shove a finger up his hole, to do anything remotely cruel...but all the croc did was suckle as if he enjoyed having a dick in his maw.
Why else would he do it?
But the bully had said he wasn’t gay.
Catchum pulled off with a wet slurp, smacking his lips. “Mmm, you leak almost as much as I do.” Then he saw the incredulity on the rabbit’s face and added, with teeth bared, “You say a word about this to anyone...anyone...and they’ll have to put you in the ambulance with a spatula.”
Rocco nodded. He knew a secret like this would ruin Catchum’s reputation. And possibly get him in deep trouble with the grownups of Green Meadow. Tattling was tattling, but that was too far. Besides, he couldn’t deny enjoying the attention, even if it came at the expense of a twisted ankle and threats of bodily harm.
After a few more minutes of delicate attention, the croc crawled up onto Rocco’s chest and straddled him. The rabbit put his paws up to ward off the inevitable blows, but none came. When he opened his eyes, Catchum wasn’t even looking at him. He was busy wriggling against the rabbit’s waist.
“What are--”
“If you won’t let me under that little white tail of yours, I’ll take the next-best thing.” He spit into his hand, reached behind and lifted his tail, grimacing and sighing. Rocco was aware of his dick rubbing between Catchum’s legs, and he had an idea where this was going, but he wouldn’t let himself believe it. But then the croc leaned back, grabbing and aiming, and a hot pressure began to envelop him. “Not a fuckin’ word, bunny boy,” he grunted.
This wasn’t how he’d envisioned losing his virginity, pinned down by a power-bottoming bully. But he couldn’t move and he couldn’t fight back. And he couldn’t get soft, either, so in he went, spreading Catchum’s hole, the croc heaving a satisfied sigh once he bottomed out.
“Oh, that’s nice.” Catchum wriggled his hips, seating the rabbit further before looming intimidatingly. “And don’t you go trying to blackmail me, either. Nobody’ll believe you.”
Rocco was sure someone would; the croc had obviously done this before. But who, was anyone’s guess.
Catchum didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he started rocking back and forth with practiced ease, sliding Rocco all along inside his tailhole.
“Aw yeah, that’s more like it!” growled the croc, finding his rhythm. The sensation of tight wet heat, while similar to his own paw on the occasions he used lube, was still altogether new and undeniably pleasant. This wasn’t the same as enjoyment, however. Just because some nerves were being stimulated didn’t mean he liked it, exactly. But he kind of did, too, except...he didn’t really know what he felt, only that his lower half was already beginning to tighten up and his ankle wasn’t quite so painful anymore.
The more Catchum rode the rabbit, the more Rocco could see that this wasn’t the bully’s first rodeo. His head thrown back, the croc panted and rolled his prodigious hips, using his weight advantage to slam into Rocco’s pelvis. Rocco wondered, in between gasps, if Leland Lizard had anything to do with Catchum’s experience. But really, it could be anyone, and the croc would likely never volunteer the information.
Sensing the rabbit’s impending climax, Catchum slowed down, eliciting a whimper. “Oh no, not yet. I ain’t done with you. Don’t want you blowing too early.” That might have been the cruelest thing he’d done so far.
The pattern continued, for how long Rocco couldn’t tell. It could have been three minutes or fifteen, but Catchum would slam and rock and grind until the rabbit’s balls pulled way up, and then stop until things calmed down. Around the third or fourth time, Rocco raised his head to watch his shaft disappear up the croc’s backside. Catchum leaned back, his hole sucking in and stretching out as his legs pumped. The point of no return approached again; he couldn’t help thrusting up to meet the bully.
“Nope,” Catchum grunted, pushing the rabbit back down. “I call the shots. I get to say when you come.”
Rocco made some sounds he wasn’t proud of. They sure made Catchum happy, though.
“Beg me for it,” ordered the croc.
“No!”
“You had better, or I’ll climb off and leave you.” Catchum stopped to clench, the rabbit teetering on the edge, making Rocco think it would have been better to take a beating than this teasing. They stared each other down, the croc leaning forward to apply more weight.
Rocco couldn’t breathe for a couple seconds, and though he knew Catchum wouldn’t go so far as to choke him, he hadn’t expected it to go this far either. His head swam, his muzzle gaping as he passed the point of no return. From there, everything took off like a day at the races: his cock twitched, his legs pumped, and the croc let go just in time. Bellowing (at least as much as a rabbit can bellow), Rocco Rabbit lost himself in the bully’s gleaming blue eyes while he emptied his balls up into Catchum’s tailhole.
Once the croc figured it out (or maybe he felt the cum, who knew), he used his skills to gently milk the rabbit for all he was worth. With just enough friction to extend the orgasm without exacerbating the attendant supersensitivity, Catchum closed his eyes and muttered, “Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah” more to himself than anything. Rocco felt some of it trickle down his dick, past his balls and onto his own hole. He couldn’t remember ever shooting so much. He held himself stiff until the feeling passed, then collapsed when the effort proved too much.
Catchum kept clenching while he caught his breath, caught up in his bliss. Once he’d come sufficiently down, his face hardened, once again conscious of projecting a tough exterior. He even slugged Rocco in the chest--albeit softly--for good measure, leaning down until their noses touched.
“Not. A. Word.” Catchum’s breath blew warm but inoffensively over the rabbit’s face. “Or I’ll make sure you never forget it.” With that, he got a foot under and gingerly pulled off, dripping a good bit as he stood. Rocco struggled to his elbows. The croc’s underside was sticky, but Rocco himself was a mess. Not only had he spooged all over, but also Catchum had come without touching himself. Rocco’s navel and belly were coated in crocodile cum.
“Sorry about that. Actually, not sorry,” said the bully, using his underwear to wipe up before putting on his jeans commando-style. “Good luck with your foot,” he added insincerely, tying his shoes. “See you around, bunny boy!”
Rocco listened to the footsteps as they faded away, waiting a good bit after he couldn’t hear anymore to move. Not that he was scared. He just didn’t want to interact with anyone right now.
It took him ten minutes to gather himself up and get standing. Instead of wiping off with his underwear too, he just pulled his clothes together and began limping in the general direction of the clubhouse caboose. His ankle throbbed dully but he ignored it. He was too busy trying to think of an explanation for how he sprained his ankle and covered himself in spooge.
Wryly, it occurred to him that Montgomery wouldn’t really care what happened, only how to get the rabbit cleaned up and his clothes washed before he had to go home and really explain himself. Rocco sighed: even with the fight earlier, he could always count on the moose to be understanding. And if it took an apology to Zipper, well, maybe that wasn’t so bad after all.
Sometimes it was just easier to get along.
8/25
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Story by \r\n\t\t\t\t\t
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Art by @Unknown1000
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