Getaway Driver ==== Need I remind you this story and content is all sexual fantasy. Please only do this stuff with consenting adults. I have fun writing and reading stuff like this. ==== Luger habitually spent significant time grooming himself in front of the bathroom mirror, a nightly ritual for him, though he didn't have many people to impress anymore. At 28-years-old, and a hulking 7-feet tall, there was a lot of Doberman to brush. He spent a few minutes clipping stray hairs from his well-toned, athletic body. Having a separate home gym was surprisingly helpful in early retirement. As he started checking his eyes for any stray build-up, a moan rang through the house. Luger paid it little attention and continued, but he hadn't checked on his assets in about 3 hours now. He finished swabbing his ears and started brushing his teeth before he walked over to the bedroom closet. Cato was already whimpering as he heard the closet door open. He had barely moved an inch; not that he could, as the tiny 11-year-old raccoon was tightly suspended to the ceiling, walls and floor of the closet. It was an erotic sight for the imposing Doberman. The raccoon's fur could be seen exposed between swathes of leather straps that wound tightly around his torso and limbs, and wearing a custom pup mask that obscured his vision. The boy's legs were splayed far apart and presenting his tight, squirming rectum, wearily squeezing an electric butt-plug. Around the boy's developing cock was a tiny chastity cage, with several electrodes attached to it. Cum dripped from it unceremoniously as it throbbed and twitched. Luger, toothbrush still in hand, used his other to switch off the power and nonchalantly pulled out the butt-plug. It egressed with a slight pop as he tugged, still covered in oil-based lube. The boy sighed in relief, tailhole closing with a squelch, balls retreating from the relief of forced stimulation. Another burst of cum seeped from the cage as he could see Cato physically slump in his bindings. The 28-year-old man's cock stirred, still soft in its sheath, as he watched the captive boy writhe in front of him. He did a quick inspection to make sure nothing was chafing before he closed the door again to the sound of Cato's whining. "Just a little longer, baby," Luger garbled through a mouth full of toothpaste foam. ==== "Luger, we have to go!" The Doberman stared blankly at his staring wheel. It was usually round, but something was different about it tonight. He pondered the shape of it as his head throbbed, but as Luger reached out to grab it, another hand wrapped around his forearm. He smiled and looked up at Alpha. What a handsome dog - if only he wasn't wearing that dumb ski mask. Luger had one too, he realized, catching a glance at the rearview mirror. Funny. It was hard to think. He felt Alpha tug even harder, so Luger threw him a bone and lurched his body in that direction. Luger stumbled onto the ground and sharp rocks bit his elbows. Everything didn't feel right. Asphalt had a pungent and synthetic odor, and the Doberman didn't want to smell it anymore. So was the smell of burning rubber, which was everywhere, now. The pieces started to click, but his head could still only hold one thought at a time. How frustrating. Alpha was making it easy, though. What a good dog. Even though he was nearly a foot shorter than Luger, he managed to hoist the enormous Doberman onto his feet, and they began to lurch towards Goldie. Luger looked around, dazed and feeling motion sick. He had no sense of place or direction, and he wished Alpha would slow down. Please slow down. "Over here!" Goldie yelled sharply. She was cursing an absurd amount. "10 O'clock, Red Elantra." Luger finally turned his head forward, where she was already holding someone at gunpoint. "BACK UP!" The car was a Red Elantra, and the doors were open. "That's the car," Luger exclaimed, said to Alpha, but the dog had already left his side, shouting at passersby to stay in their cars. "Are we going in?" Alpha was too busy shouting expletives to pay attention to him. Luger trudged ahead and opened the backseat. It seemed like the right thing to do. The man who was driving it was already running away. Convenient! Almost a moment later, Goldie and Alpha were already in the front seats, with Goldie's foot on the pedal. Luger glanced at the rearview mirror and noticed he was still wearing a stupid mask. Silly ski mask. The Doberman pulled it off. "Good, I think we're safe now," Luger mumbled lazily to the raccoon boy sitting next to him in the back. ==== Attached to the bedroom was Luger's "dungeon", which obviously did not come with the house - Luger had to clear the ground, shovel dirt, and pour the foundation himself, and he might have gotten a few measurements incorrect. From the outside, it was obvious the sidings didn't match, but no one was around to criticize his shoddy DIY work; the nearest neighbor was 2 dozen miles away, and the nearest town was triple that. The dungeon was adorned with similarly handmade furniture. Everything manufactured commercially was too big for Cato, so Luger put a lot of hours into research and experimentation. There was a custom St. Andrew's cross, a fuck bench, several interesting types of padded seats, multiple cages, a torture rack, and much more. "Up on the stool, baby." Luger commanded. Cato nodded blindly before reaching forward to feel the edges of a padded, articulated bench. He carefully hoisted himself up, trying not to bang his toes on the wooden frame again, and set his knees on both sides with protruding edges before sitting down, directly onto his plug. The sharp sensation as it pressed inside elicited a gasp from the raccoon. Cato was already wearing an impressive set of bondage gear, but for the next activity, Luger wanted to give the boy a bit more motion. He carefully unlocked the buckles and clasps wrapped around his back and pulled off most of the gear entombing the 11-year-old boy. Cato sighed in relief as the neoprene vest encompassing his torso parted with the slick, moist fur underneath. His arms and thighs were next, belts and leather slipping off him with heavy THUNKs as they hit the floor. The boy sat obediently in place, grateful for his fur to breathe. Luger spent the next few minutes inspecting Cato's gray fur and skin. The raccoon needed brushing and de-matting, but Luger's major concern was mold, and any cuts formed from improperly sized gear. Leather made for children obviously did not exist, so the Doberman had to improvise and modify equipment he bought online. After months of iteration, though, Luger was satisfied to see there was no long-term damage from the gear itself. Though Cato was only about 4.5 feet tall now, Luger left in several adjustment notches to account for his upcoming growth spurt. Cato's mask remained on during this process; he was never allowed to see while his own cock was free from its cage. Of all the gear made for the 11-year-old boy, the custom pup mask took the most time and effort to get correctly, and Luger knew he would have to remake it again in the next few years as Cato underwent puberty. The mask was spliced into 4 parts with buckles that fastened them together and allowed room for adjustments. There was also a custom detachable muzzle that had a zipper for the mouth, and attachment nozzles for breath play. Over the course of the years, Luger had piled on more and more features to torture the boy. Cato's skin and fur were not devoid of marks despite the intense care; as Luger parted the fur on his back, he came across many cuts and bruises that were still healing from the previous week. Luger would need to avoid these areas, though the raccoon had an insanely fast metabolism. As he trailed downwards, the man finally reached Cato's perfect little ass. It clenched and squeezed every few seconds, as the plug within him jolted randomly. For an 11-year-old, he was a choice candidate, with a body no adult twink could ever hope to match... Luger's cock throbbed, already at half-mast as his thought drifted back to the task on hand. It was time. He unlocked Cato's cage, a sharp smell of sweat and cum permeating the air. Cato moaned in relief as he felt cool air gently caress his exposed and growing cock. It only came off once a week during playtime. The boy's tiny balls shriveled up and ascended and as the plug within him continued to pound at his prostate. With practiced hands, Luger secured Cato's ankles and knees to the stool. The belts were already attached to them, and above Cato was already a set of ropes hanging from ceiling hooks. The boy stayed docile as Luger roughly clipped handcuffs to his wrists, and gasped in surprise as his arms were hoisted upwards and locked. Cato's hips were free, so he could squirm while remaining fixed in place. The boy already knew what was coming next. He had been through this dozens of times. He breathed in and out and deeply, anticipating the next moment. Meanwhile, the Doberman counted himself extremely lucky. He wondered how many people in the world would get to experience this. He owned this raccoon, forever. The first CRACK audibly bounced off the wooden walls. Luger knew there was no one to answer to, no one to know how much damage he could do to this helpless raccoon, so he didn't bother to add in soundproofing. Cato was hyperventilating from the full force of Luger's whip. His ass convulsed despite the pain, the electric plug consistently jabbing his prostate with unsympathetic cadence. CRACK. The stool shifted from Cato's knee-jerk reaction, his hip instinctively jerking itself away from the source of the pain. A consenting adult would have never let Luger go this hard. This time, Luger had struck the raccoon's soft side, below the rib. He had gotten dangerously close to breaking it before, so the man had spent a significant effort improving his aim. He didn't want to risk a hospital visit. Another intense CRACK across the back caused Cato to lurch forwards, almost tipping over the stool. As Luger went over to readjust the stool, he spied Cato's rock-hard erection standing proudly outside his furry sheath, watching the way it throbbed in tandem with the butt-plug still ravaging his rectum. He took a moment to bring his muzzle close and reward Cato, taking the boy's cock into this mouth. Cato gasped in surprise as his cock swelled from the attention, his hips automatically thrusting into the man's muzzle, his limbs squirming against the ropes that bound him in place. His high-pitched moans complemented the scene with a spicy, taboo aura. The boy was only allowed a few seconds of pleasure, at least for now. He would have to earn his next blowjob. Luger let his tongue linger for just a moment before standing up and brandishing his whip. ==== Goldie was flush with anger. She had always been short tempered, but Luger had to admit her reasons were justified this time. "Why didn't you just leave him in the other car?" she screamed. "He saw my face, and I wasn't thinking straight." "He's going to say what, a Doberman? How many-" "How many 7-foot-tall Dobermans are there!?" They continued to argue, their voices filling the safe house with echoes of anger and an odd amount of EDM. Alpha had installed plenty of sound proofing, but it didn't matter tonight, as the nightclub directly above them was hosting an event. Parked off to the side was their switch vehicle, a modest Subaru hatchback they had planted at a garage waypoint. Cato was peering at all of them through the back window, wide-eyed. Luger finally sat down, exhausted, and buried his face in his hands. He was covered in scrapes and cuts, most of them patched, and a mild throbbing on the side of his head from the impact, though he guessed that was from the muffled dance music. Still, he was lucky to be alive. "This is a nightmare," Luger moaned. "We were home free. We were out. Everything according to god damn plan." "We're still home free," Alpha interjected. He gave each of them a curt nod before swinging an extremely heavy bag onto the table. The weight of freedom and early retirement. "We got what we came for." Goldie quieted down. Alpha could tell she was putting things back into perspective. They would never have to do this again. Years of work would not be ruined if everyone did their part. "Luger. You crashed the car. You need to take responsibility." She offered a gun to Luger, while Alpha looked on expectantly. The Doberman nodded, his face still buried, unwilling to look at them. ==== Luger slowly thrusted forward, not wanting to choke his toy. He knew his dick was big - 9 inches of red, throbbing hot dog cock was enough to make any man wince in pain. Cato was fighting for air, but Luger shoved the tip directly down his throat; or, up in this case. The raccoon was hanging upside on one of the standing racks. His bent knees were fastened and expertly tied to the top frame. His arms were deftly tied behind his back, so he had to rely on his neck muscles to pleasure the Doberman. Cato found he could grip with his lips and swing back and forth, letting gravity assist his blowjob, but this often went out of sync with Luger's thrusting. Luger sighed, enjoying the sights and sensations of the 11-year-old boy trying his best. The whimpering and moaning stimulated waves of arousal that tickled his skin, and the tongue pressed against his shaft caused him to pulse with carnal pleasure. Occasionally, Cato's cold, wet nose would bump against his balls, filling his nostrils with the scent of cologne and body fluids. Drool and precum leaked clumsily off his cheeks, occasionally dripping onto the padded floor below. "That's right, baby, that feels amazing," Luger muttered, using his free hands to grip the back of the boy's head. The size difference between them was so stark he could grip his head from ear to ear. With some difficulty, he craned his neck forwards to lap at the tight, pink asshole in front his face. He felt the raccoon moan wetly below him, feeling the hot, wet tongue caress his anal sphincter. Cato's thin, tiny dick throbbed in response, sticking straight out, aching for attention. ==== "What's your name, kid?" Cato bit into the toasted sandwich, his bright blue eyes watching Luger with fearful curiosity. The kid had been around his dad drunk many times, but Luger was quiet in comparison. "Cay-tho," the raccoon mumbled through smacks of tomato and cheese. The dimly lit kitchen was dead quiet save for the sounds of crunching bread and the click of beer bottles. Luger stared blankly into space as he downed another bottle. The dining table was starting to fill with glass. His head was swimming in a sea of misery. He wanted to throw up, and he knew it wasn't the alcohol. His mind wandered, but always returned to the gun locked next to his bedside table. "Why are you so sad?" Cato asked candidly. Luger didn't answer, eyes glazed and looking off to the side, refusing to look at the boy. The raccoon was starting to become very nervous, his chewing slowing to a halt. Fuck this. Fuck Alpha and Goldie. "I'm taking you back, kid. Where do you live?" Cato answered too quickly. "Don't take me back." ==== Luger watched Cato force himself onto his cock. It didn't matter how many times the 11-year-old took it; Luger was just far too big for his body. Already, the outline of Luger's shaft was forcing its way through the thin skin Cato's belly. It wasn't simply nestling itself deep inside Cato. It actively shoved his organs aside, wedging itself into place and throbbing like a second heart. It was a part of his body now. They had retreated to the bedroom; all the lights were off, but slivers of moon leaked into the room, illuminating Cato's fur as he straddled the man's hips on the bed. Luger had replaced the detachable muzzle on Cato's mask with a ball gag, and strands of saliva and semen dripped occasionally from its sides and onto Luger's belly. Cato's preteen, exposed cock remained erect and dripping with precum. Even through the sharp pains now spiking its way inwards, the raccoon boy roughly descended, forcing Luger even further inside. He stopped every few seconds in between pained groans as his ass parted wider, farther than any boy his age should have to endure. His anal sphincter tingled and numbed as it overstretched, forcefully sliding over the smooth, hard curves of Luger's 9-inch dog cock. Cato clumsily shifted a few times to adjust the positions of his hands, the padded mittens making it hard to feel for a solid handhold. He opted to place both hands on Luger's chest. "You're almost there, baby, just a little more," the Doberman whispered. The man's hands easily wrapped around Cato's thighs as he applied stern, downwards force. Luger's knot hadn't formed yet, but it was difficult to concentrate as the entire sight of the raccoon cub reluctantly taking his cock was turning the man on. He wanted to tie, and it had to happen soon. As Cato stopped to take another deep breath, Luger thrust upwards. The boy shivered and gasped through the muzzle, pain wracking his body as Luger's forming knot slipped in and engorged. Pins and needles formed everywhere, and a sense of heavy weight bore down on Cato's head. The lack of sight made it difficult to focus on anything but Luger's cock splitting him apart. He scrabbled at Luger's chest with his mittens, wanting to hold onto something as the nerve endings pulsing in his crushed prostate spiked upwards, reaching his neck. The 11-year-old boy could never get used to the feeling of his ass stuffed absurdly full. Luger looked down and moved Cato's small testicles to the side out of the way to admire the 11-year-old's anal sphincter quivering around his member. This was heaven; no adult could ever feel this tight. The little boy's pelvic bones were wedged directly against Luger's crotch; as he grabbed the pert, tight ass with both hands and pulled, every movement caused an audible groan or a yelp from his toy. He could see the outline of his cock, now harsh and very visible, through Cato's navel. His undeveloped body was clearly not able to contain and handle the Doberman. Cato groaned and clenched, holding his breath, as something took a hold of him. Luger watched the raccoon's thin, undeveloped cock strain painfully upwards and leak pearly white beads of cum. The little boy squealed, familiar with the sensation as he climaxed slowly; however, Luger had taken so much care to rob the boy of his eyesight during playtime, the boy was unaware he had started producing ejaculate weeks ago. Luger relished the tight control he had over the boy's body. The Doberman began to thrust with gusto and energy, knowing that he wouldn't slip out of Cato anymore, at least not for a while. He had very little motion, as the boy's sphincter had little pliability and tightly gripped the bottom of his knot. Each time he tugged, Cato's core clenched and Luger's cock shifted, pressing against new areas of the boy's innards. The boy shifted around uncomfortably, trying to find a new position that was less intense. Cato's body sunk after a few minutes of this, collapsing against Luger's toned chest, arms still trying to hold onto something. He was getting too overwhelmed to hold himself up; just as well. Luger obliged as he used one hand to loop around the 11-year-old and flipped him onto his back. Cato almost blacked out from the pain of this sudden shift in movement. They didn't usually have sex on the bed, so there were no real places to mount or clip the boy to any fixtures, but Luger already had something different in mind. Reaching across, he unclasped a set of arm cuffs attached to headboard and fastened them to Cato's skinny wrists, below the mittens. He did the same for Cato's ankles, easily holding up his toothpick legs. Like the rest of Cato's gear, these had to be custom made for children. Each cuff had a small, but sturdy karabiner attached, and so both Cato's wrists and ankles were fastened against the straps on the front Luger's shoulders. The boy was terribly exposed, naked, helpless and fastened to the Doberman in more ways than one. He was placed into a semi-permanent missionary position, blindly and pathetically clinging to the man destroying his insides; Luger could literally walk around the house with Cato firmly attached. As Luger peered down, he spied the boy's cock, still rock hard and standing at attention, unknowingly dribbling semen onto his own belly. Luger started thrusting again with intention. Cato looked blindly back at the man, unable to stop the man from obliterating his rectum. There was a sudden shift in gravity as his ass was forcefully pulled off the bed, inexorably tied to the man's cock. This new angle was frighteningly painful as it crushed his prostate over and over, causing waves of nausea and tingling skin all over. There was little Cato could do but groan and complain in short bursts through his gag. For Luger, the feeling was unlike any adult male he had ever topped; instead of the pressure only happening at his base, his entire cock was enveloped in wet, warm, oscillating pressure. Every flex of his knotted dick was met with squeezing resistance. He sped up, feeling his own orgasm approaching, increasing the length of his strokes as it tugged at Cato's gripping sphincter. Luger's breathing grew shorter, his face flushed, his toned physique prepped for dominating this weak and defenseless child. A pleasant heat began to ride as he focused on overwhelming the raccoon. Surprising even himself, Luger's climax activated on a dime. Though disappointed he couldn't ride out the line further, he gasped and thrust with quick, short pumps as his cock ejected streams of semen into the 11-year-old boy. He felt his cock and knot swell in intense pleasure as it pressed outwards. Cato's belly stretched even tighter, actively revealing Luger's pulsing member as the boy's whining increased in volume. A soft gurgling noise punctuated the fold, and Cato felt something hot permeating his lower half, adding another layer of sensations to the wracking pain. After many sessions, the boy had learned to submit against the mounting pressure, allowing his pelvic floor muscles to relax as he climaxed, letting the pleasant, spicy heat blossom and propagate against the sea of painful sensations. He felt the tingling travelling from the end of his cock down to his taint, up his anus and into his spine. Stars formed in the darkness within his mask as he clenched his eyes shut. Cato had stopped panting, holding his breath and moaning, feeling no relief from the endless forces. He was unaware that he had ejaculated an immense load onto his belly; his body temperature was far too high to feel it through his fur as it dried. Their breathing eventually slowed as Cato was thoroughly pumped with semen. His limbs ached and he was starting to sweat from his high heart rate. Eventually, Cato relented. "Mm hmm mm mmm." The safe words. There was no immediate exit strategy for being tied, but Luger nodded. "Okay, baby," he said in a particularly soothing voice, though he had to pause in between grunts, as his cock was still ejaculating. Luger flipped onto his back again, allowing Cato to rest on top again, sitting on top of the man. He carefully unclipped the karabiners for Cato's cuffs, and with his other hand, reached for one of the larger chastity cages on the table. It was big enough to contain and conceal Cato's erection, but small and secure enough that it was still impossible to take off. The pup mask and ball gag soon came off after, revealing the raccoon's soft, moist but matted fur and deep blue eyes. He took deep breaths, and although the room was dimly by the moon, he squinted and took some time to adjust to the light after having his eyesight robbed all day. He clung to Luger's slim, athletic torso, his head barely reaching the tops of the Doberman's pecs, not realizing the drying cum on their bellies was his own. "Are you okay? Do you want to watch something while we wait?" Luger offered. "Can we take a bath?" Cato suggested. He was still out of breath, and every shift of Luger's cock within him activated convulsions, but playtime was only once a week, and he didn't want it to end yet. "I want to blow you again... please?" Luger smiled. "Of course, baby," he whispered, dick throbbing at the suggestion. ==== Cato was excellent at video games, and the one he was playing now was no exception. Luger appreciated they could now be downloaded directly to console; there was no need to visit a store. Luger's controller laid forgotten on the floor, after having been died for the 10th time in their campaign. He was happy watching the boy while lazing on the couch; early retirement was great, and his laundering business was all online and automated. He was free. "How'd you do that?" The Doberman asked, genuinely curious. "I picked up a sword from the swamp zone and-" Cato explained, excited to share his findings. He didn't get to play video games often on weekdays, but the raccoon had hammered out the last few sections on Algebra in one sitting. Luger wasn't much of a teacher, but the boy was well adapted to home schooling and self-study. It barely felt like the man had to parent him. Cato quickly finished out their campaign, and the credits were already rolling. He looked over and smiled. "What do you want to watch?" They chatted about movies for a bit. There was a lot that Cato hadn't seen, mainly because of his dad. Luger had dropped by their old town several times, on the fence about returning Cato; he knew how risky it was to do so, since the boy knew exactly what he looked like and where he lived, but he couldn't bear to follow Goldie and Alpha's suggestions all those years ago. Luckily, only a two visits of tailing Cato's father confirmed everything the boy had told him. No chance he was bringing the raccoon back to that household. Fuck that guy. The movie started. Luger smiled and popped open another beer, but Cato instantly snatched it, snickering. "No, no, no, you're way too young to be dr-" he stopped, because the raccoon started crawling on his chest. Luger's temperature spiked, the heat rising in face as Cato dropped the beer on the carpet. The raccoon weighed so little. So fragile. So soft. Cato was blushing even harder as he dove in for a kiss.