Nuggies belongs to  Nuggeez

Roy belongs to me

Art by  Leo-Artis

Story by me


——


Prologue: But I'm making a comeback to where I belong

Roy looked at the diamond field with a hawk-eyed stare, no other expression on his face. It was surprising that the coach of the Louisiana Wolves was so calm, considering the situation of the current game: the Wolves were losing by one point. Normally, this wouldn’t be much of a concern, except in this case, it was the bottom half of the ninth inning, and the batter had two strikes already. On the other hand, things were looking hopeful for the Wolves. As they were the home team, they were the ones batting this half. And the current situation was on their favor: the bases were loaded, and, most importantly, their best batter was on home plate.

Alpha had joined the Minor League 5 years ago, and quickly made the rounds. His talent was undeniable and the German Shepherd-Doberman mix was soon hired by the Wolves’ talent scout. Roy had initially been wary of the quick decision, taken without consulting the polar. But the owners insisted, arguing the dog’s popularity on social media and great record would be nothing but advantages for the team. Without much he could do, Roy simply accepted. As expected by most others, Alpha had spent the past 2 years netting great moments for the Wolves. Many games were won by a miraculous play from the canine. In a decade of poor performances, the Wolves had never gotten as close to winning the National League and proceeding to the World Series than with the young talent.
So it was weird that his coach still didn’t fully trust him. Roy couldn’t deny Alpha’s talent, that was for sure. It was the canine’s attitude, instead, that gave the polar pause. The Doberman-Shepherd was nothing short of one of the most arrogant players the bear had even seen in his decades-long career. He truly believed that he could do no wrong, and acted like it. Most of the team couldn’t support him, or his legions of fangirls (and some boys) that would come and make a mess of things. Two games had been called off for the bad behavior. And yet, the team owners did nothing, since attendance had hit record levels and merch sales were through the roof. And, to Roy and the team’s chagrin, the arrogance wasn’t unearned. Alpha had yet to make a mistake that cost the team a victory. On the opposite, he had helped the Wolves win many games, some single-handedly.

But the polar bid his time. The “hot hand fallacy” was a thing, after all. It was only a matter of time before Alpha screwed up. And then… well, nothing would really happen, but Roy would sport the biggest smile in his muzzle. The game was currently 7-8 for the Wisconsin Robins, mostly thanks to their own star player – a maned wolf who went by Nuggies. The Wolves were actually on the lead until he got two home runs on the last two innings. It was fine though, because Alpha’s biggest talent was precisely on hitting home runs. If he did, with the bases loaded, well, the Wolves would have a sounding victory. And, most importantly, they’d win the National League and go to the World Series. Yes, this was the final game.

The coach grabs his thighs tightly, as the pitcher prepares to throw the ball. This is it. The elephant throws a fast ball at the catcher, and Alpha hits it with his usual technique, and the ball flies high into the sky, almost certainly going out of the park. The dog sets his bat on the ground, not bothering to run, with the smuggest expression possible on his face, while all the other players In the bases start running for it. The seconds turn into minutes, as Roy sees the scene play out on speed 0.1. The ball winds up not going as far as Alpha had clearly intended, and it starts to fall just before completely crossing the field. In normal circumstances, it still could’ve made it outfield. But the polar watched in horror as Nuggies – now a center fielder – leaped across the field to the wall, and, standing on top of his toes, grabbed the ball mid-air before it could pass the structure.

Apparently, Alpha had failed to account that maned wolves are really tall, and have lengthy feet that allow them to reach a ball that would have home run’d. The umpire calls the Doberman-Shepherd’s fly out, as Nuggies throws the ball to the first infielder, who steps on the plate, outing the baserunner who had failed to tag up. Then the first infielder throws it to the shortstop, who does the same and outs the second runner. Even though the third baserunner had managed to tag up, the three outs mean the umpire calls the end of the inning, with a close victory for the Robins, and a ticket to the World Series.

As the players of the other team celebrate on the field, raising Nuggies up in the air, Alpha drops his bat, then falls on his knees, his face not of sadness or despair, but of someone who couldn’t possibly understand what he saw. Meanwhile, as all the other Wolves players were sulking on the bench, Roy’s expression was inscrutable. He had none of the smile he had planned upon the dog’s first failure. If it had come at a less important moment… but not now. No, the polar wasn’t gloating at all. His mind was occupied with another sentiment. “Something’s got to give”, he says to no one in particular.

-

The obvious MVP of the game was carried out by the Robins team crowd surfing-style. He gave the usual 30 minutes of interviews to the press, got a handshake from the Robins owners, and was whisked away by his coach and teammates to celebrate in the hotel they were in. Unlike Alpha, one could hardly say Nuggies was hated by his team. Sure, he could be cheeky and teasing sometimes, but he was usually a nice and agreeable canine. So, the drinking that came after that sweet victory was filled with toasts to the maned wolf, and slurred singings of “He’s a Jolly Good Fellow”. Things started to get hectic when some models, apparently sent by the team owners, arrived, and, as is the natural order, civility was lost. It was at this point Nuggies started to lose his sense of self, the music getting louder and more distorted, faces getting harder to recognize, and his own body refusing to comply with his brain. Strange, considering he had only drank some beer and whiskey. It was almost like someone had put something in his drink…

When he woke, the maned wolf was in his hotel room. Or so he thought; it certainly looked like a room from the hotel, but some things were different from his own – namely the placement of the windows, and the kitsch paintings that every hotel room has (the painted flower pots had roses in them instead of Nuggies’ room’s azaleas). Most importantly, the maned wolf couldn’t bring his arms down. He certainly tried but it was futile. It took some time before his groggy mind looked above his head to see his wrists had been handcuffed to the headboard. It wasn’t your usual police cuffs either – it was the kinky fluffy ones. Soon he realized his ankles had been cuffed together too.

Nuggies snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. The memories of last night were a complete blank to him (weirdly, as he was the type to get stoned out, not black-out drunk). He thought he had probably gotten into some lewd fun with the models, or, scandalously, with another of the players – he was bisexual after all –, and the other party had simply forgotten to free him after the night ended; probably as drunk as him. They’d probably return at some point. Hopefully. However, as Nuggies’ mind started to clear, the maned wolf started to get a bit worried. He didn’t feel like he had a hangover, just that he had passed out, and Nuggies began to think those models showing up was a little bit suspicious. The Robins owners were notoriously conservative with their team image, and this kind of shenanigan was really uncharacteristic of them.

The maned wolf began to rattle his cuffs, trying to free himself from them, but they were sturdy. “Hey! Somebody! I need a little help in here!” he screamed. After some minutes passed, and the sun outside was starting to rise to its peak, Nuggies began to slightly panic. There was no way whoever put him in this would just leave him, right? And even if they did, the hotel staff or his teammates would come looking for him, right!? “HELLO! SOMEONE HELP!”, but no one answered. Soon, however, the door to his room opened. “Oh, thank God you guys, I thought I-“ “You thought?” Nuggies’ words died on his throat as he saw a polar bear walk in the room, alongside many other men that the maned wolf quickly recognized as the players from the Louisiana Wolves… although there seemed to be someone notorious missing. He didn’t dwell on that though, as there were a lot more pressing matters, like the fact he was defenseless and tied up and the team he had humiliated yesterday was all reunited in the same room.

“Uh… h-hi guys, heh. You, er, wouldn’t happen to be the ones that put me in this weird little situation, right? I’m sure there’s a misunderstanding here.” Nuggies faltered, trying to buy some time for himself. Surely his team would notice his disappearance at some point, right? “There’s really no need to-“ “If you’re hoping your little friends will come and rescue you, perish the thought. We told the models to spike their drinks harder. That and they’re as tied up as you are, heh.” Roy said, as if reading his mind. The maned wolf felt a chill run down his spine. If what the bear had said was truthful, then the models were a trap sent by them, and the whole team had fallen for it. But… why would they do that? Did they want to humiliate the Robins by creating some scandal on the press? That’d definitely ruin a lot of the members’ marriages. Or maybe they had more nefarious purposes in mind.

Nuggies gulped. “Please, just… I was just doing my job.” The other team laughs, except for Roy, who simply looks with disgust at the canine, which makes him whine and lower his ears. “What… are you gonna do to us? Are you gonna kill us?” For the first time since he arrived, the polar shows an expression that isn’t negative: he smirks. “Us? Heh. Your team didn’t really do much to warrant what we’ll do, even though I’d love to apply some collective punishment. Maybe I’ll do that later, who knows?” Roy snickers, and looks back at his team, some of whom nod. “Nah. It’s you who’ll bear the brunt of the retribution, mr. Nuggies. It’s thanks to you we lost, after all. You, and your… jump prowess.” The polar looks below at the pair of feet in front of him, cuffed together. Nuggies instinctively covers one sole with the other, despite the bear not making any moves towards them.

“I- I- I- I’m s-sure we can discuss this! W-what do you want, I’ll give you anything, please!” Roy approaches the maned wolf’s head, a puzzled look in his face. “Anything you say?” “YES! Anything!” Nuggies responds loudly and frantically. The polar lowers his head. “Revenge.” The canine’s lips go white in shock as the coach gestures for the team to approach. “Get him on the final location.” He tells his team as he makes his way out of the room. The other players approach Nuggies, who begins to heavily struggle. “W-Wait! Don’t! Don’t touch me! Let me go right now!” He yells to no avail. A tiger, who the maned wolf recognizes as the shortstop of the team, produces a key that unlocks his wrist cuffs. Nuggies tries to jump off the bed, but at least 4 other men hold his arms tight. 2 more hold his legs, as the tiger unlocks his ankles cuffs. As much as the canine tries to flail around, the combined strength of the other players makes his efforts futile. A rhinoceros comes and inserts a black bag over his head.

…

It must have been what, 2 hours since he was this way? Nuggies struggled, but all he managed to do was fall over to the side for the millionth time, and also for the millionth time, one of the Wolves players came and fixed him back into the original position. The maned wolf had been carried over to a vehicle (how no hotel employee witnessed his kidnapping and called the police was beyond him). They drove him somewhere, and arriving there, he was stripped naked. It was a good thing he was still wearing the bag, as that made the canine blush heavily. Then, they put on some clothing on him, which Nuggies instinctively recognized from touch and smell as his uniform from the day before.

When they removed the bag, they instantly shoved a baseball on his mouth, and tied their team’s bandanna around his maw, effectively gagging him. And, at last, they used ropes to tie him into a tight hogtie, before putting the Robins cap on his head and carrying him outside of the room. The sun light blinded him temporarily, but when Nuggies’ eyes adjusted themselves to it, he quickly realized he was on the Louisiana Wolves arena, the same he played yesterday. The canine is dropped at the center of the field, where he’s currently at, waiting in dread for whatever the other team had planned for him. And after a while, he could see on the distance Roy walking calmly towards him, whistling “Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?”, which often was chanted by the Wolves fans during a victory.

The polar takes an excruciatingly long time to arrive where Nuggies is tied, and is met by a look of abject terror from the maned wolf’s eyes. Shame he couldn’t talk with that ball in his maw, but he damn sure tried, whining and screaming. The coach sits on the grass, facing the bound man, legs crossed, as he looked up. “It’s a good morning right now, dontcha think? Clear sky, no signs of rain. Birds are singing. Yes, a perfect time to serve that dish best served cold.” He snaps his head back to the ground, not looking at Nuggies’ beautiful, pleading green eyes, but behind him. “I had many ideas in my mind for that. But what I arrived at was punishing the biggest thing responsible for that catastrophe in the end of the game. After all, we would’ve had a home run if it wasn’t for those jumpy appendages of yours back there.”

Roy smiles without showing teeth, before he crawls to stand behind Nuggies, now facing his legs. The maned wolf turns his head back, eyes wide as he looks both at the polar bear behind him, and his own upturned soles in front of the man. The coach himself is staring intently at them, a predatorial look on his face, admiring their details. Like any maned wolf feet, they were lengthy and big, easily able to cover Roy’s face. The back was smooth, with fine brown fur that extended to most of the sole. There also stood out 4 brown paw pads on each of the toes, with a large fifth one below. And when the polar put his hands on those feet, which made Nuggies whine the loudest he had done so far, Roy could feel how fluffy the fur was, how silky the pads were, how warm the limbs were.

“Wow… you take really good care of them, huh. Who are you trying to impress, hmm?” The maned wolf blushes deeply, not even whining to respond. “Well, good for me. It wouldn’t be too fun to work on diseased paws.” The polar bear grabs the paws by both sides and lowers his head, getting close to them. His snout comes into contact with the top of Nuggies’ toes, and the coach sniffs in deeply, the scent of grass, sweat and… weed? coming into his nostrils. Roy smiles, and starts to repeat that action on the rest of the maned wolf’s soles. Nuggies’ response is not to whine, but to giggle uncontrollably. “Oh, that sensitive, huh? Good. I was afraid you wouldn’t be. Then we can start the retribution.” He digs his claws in the fur on the canine’s heels, and begins dragging them up and down, scratching the warm skin underneath. As the polar got to the pads, he presses his claws even harder, the squishy things giving in.

Nuggies had gone from giggling to laughing. He started to struggle again, but the bear was holding him in that position, no way of him falling to the side again. And then, Roy got to the toes. He pinched them, circled his nail around the stem, scratched between them. His hands then made their way back to the heels, starting to travel the same path they had done just now, except now they were being moved faster and pressed deeper. Nuggies’ muffled laughter had raised a pitch.

…

An hour had passed and the maned wolf was breathing heavily, his head laying on the grass below, full of sweat, tears and drool. The rest of his clothes were also matted with the former. Roy had been thoroughly cruel, as he had threatened; the polar spent no less than an hour torturing those poor, lengthy soles. The scratching never stopped, only becoming more and more intense, activating the nerve ends on the canine’s soles non-stop. At some point the coach decided to make them his next meal, as he started to lick them from heel to toe, his big and rough bear tongue driving the poor man mad. He all but screamed when Roy started licking between his toes. And that was all an hors d'oeuvre before the real meal: the bear got a hairbrush out of nowhere and started raking Nuggies’ soles with its bristles, his own saliva having reduced the friction from that action and making it ten thousand times worse.

It exhausted the canine beyond belief, so much so that he barely realized that the rest of the Wolves team had started to gather round the scene. “I’m done.” As Roy got up and dropped the tool on the ground, Nuggies shot him a look that would make anyone’s heart melt. The polar coldly smiled, showing his predator dentition. “What? You think you are done too? Hahahaha. Nah, it was just my turn, honey. The retribution doesn’t end until all who’ve suffered get their cake.” The canine didn’t really understand what that meant until he looked back and saw all the other men. Particularly, the shortstop tiger was sitting where Roy had just been. He was checking his own claws, which were significantly sharper than the coach’s, before he grabbed Nuggies’ much tortured paws.

“All 8 of them.”