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This story was written for Serling as his Patreon commission for October. It contains massage related flattening/folding type transformation involving consenting adult males. :3

As Rough as Required

Harrison had to be honest, he was surprised when he saw the last minute appointment appear on his schedule. Not annoyed, at least not in any meaningful way, he was getting much better about that these days, but certainly caught a little off guard. The bull had at one point been giving a monthly massage to Serling, but after taking a little time off work to figure out some stuff for himself those appointments had been somewhat more sparse. Normally he saw Serling once every two or three months for a single session, and those were planned out well in advance. For Serling to give up his normal masseur and request Harrison in particular... something was up.

Sure enough, as the bare chested black bull was finalising the room and just getting ready to call reception and ask them to send Serling through as soon as he arrived, the door to the room burst open. No knocking. No waiting at the open doorway once the figure within it saw that Harrison was already there. Serling stormed in, shoulders hunched, eyes blazing, hands tensely clenching and flexing in and out of tight fists by his sides. Indeed the bull could see a certain type of twitching at the edge of the coyote's muzzle that suggested were it not for probably a great deal of restraint on his part, Serling might well have had his teeth bared in a savage snarl right from the word go.

Taking a deep, calming breath and remembering his de-escalation training from therapy, the masseur opted not to directly reinforce Serling's behaviour by drawing attention to it. Instead he chose to try and act as though for the most-part this was just the beginning of any other massage therapy session.

"Good afternoon, Serling. How are you today?"

Serling froze on the spot, and sneered as he raised a cocked eyebrow at Harrison.

"What the fuck's wrong with you? Why are you talking like that?"

The bull's eyes bulged, and he snorted loudly as his fists clenched by his sides. He opened his mouth to tell Serling he didn't have to take bullshit like that from clients. That he was a professional offering a high class, high quality service and was due the respect which accompanied that position, if indeed basic decency wasn't reason enough. Before he could do so though, and indeed before his rage could build any more than it already had from the coyote's unusually aggressive entrance, he saw something shift in the coyote's facial expression. He saw the already intensely glaring eyes widen, and yet soften at the same time. He saw the scowl spread across Serling's muzzle twitch once again, and then, all at once, all of the coyote's fury fell apart as Serling stamped a foot forcefully yet undeniably childishly against the ground and let loose a howling, frustrated cry.

"G-Goddammit!"

He looked at Harrison with eyes that were suddenly tearful rather than filled with anger, and though his hands continued to tremble by his sides as his tail jerked sharply from left to right and back again while standing aggressively rigid all the while, it now looked more like he was trying to hold back yet more tears rather than holding back from any sort of violent, frustrated outburst.

"I... I'm sorry, Harrison. I just... I t-thought you might be able to help me. That you might understand, but... I... I s-should just go home. I'm clearly not in the right mindset for any sort of massage. Fuck. Fuck."

Serling turned as though making to leave, but before he could get anywhere close to the back of the door he felt a strong, unshaking hand land upon his right shoulder. Another landed upon his left mere moments later, and with a deep grunt of effort Harrison somehow found the words to express what he was feeling to the coyote who was normally so much better than him at this... talking about feelings type stuff.

"Hey. I get being pissed off, and I get being so angry and pissed off about being angry and pissed off that it just makes you even more angry and pissed off. But... unlike me, I know that you don't get pissed off at nothing, Serling. So, before you decide what is or isn't best for you right now... why don't you at least sit down on the table over there, and tell me why you scheduled a massage with me of all people on a day when you feel this... whatever it is you're feeling right now."

Gently, with one hand now resting against Serling's back and already able to feel the tension inside his muscles even through the fabric of the shirt he was wearing, the bull guided the coyote back to the table and smiled as reassuringly as he could while Serling did indeed hop up onto it.

"So... why am I here? Or rather, why am I here with you, rather than Dave or one of the other masseurs that doesn't... y'know, try to beat the shit of out you with every massage?"

Serling was still tense as he sat upon the massage table, but it was clear to Harrison that the most potent and furious levels of his rage were beginning to fade somewhat. He was looking down at the ground now, maybe to hide a few tears that might have fallen, or perhaps to conceal his growing embarrassment at his earlier outburst. Maybe both. Still, a short while later after drawing in a deep and ragged breath, the coyote did finally answer.

"I... I had a bad day at work. Like, a really bad day. And... I j-just... I just wanted to have some way to get all of this frustration out. I feel like I want to throw something. Or hit something. Or... a-and, that isn't me. That isn't how I like being. I just want these feelings gone. I just want to be... to be locked away in a little box for a while, y'know? Where I can't worry about anything because I'm not in control of anything. Where I don't have to see anyone or listen to anyone or do absolutely anything at all. It was selfish of me to think I could use you for that, though. It was a fucking asshole move of me to call you up like the only thing you're good for dealing with is getting out anger. I... I'm sorry."

For a short while the two of them sat and stood in silence, before the bull snorted softly, not in anger but more with thoughtful introspection, and looked at Serling with open sincerity.

"I can't make your feelings go away. I can't tell you how to deal with them in a heartbeat or what to say or do to make it feel any less shitty. If I could, I wouldn't be half as messed up as I am most of the time. But... there is something I can maybe do to help you, if you're actually interested. If you want to... I dunno, take a time-out. Shut yourself away until you're able to calm down and process whatever it is that happened in a more rational way. If that's something you wanna do? That I think I can help with."

Without waiting for Serling's answer, Harrison walked with heavy strides over to the far side of the room and reached down into a cupboard, one of the smaller and lesser used cupboards of those that contained various pieces of equipment potentially required for certain massage techniques. When he rose upright once more and turned back towards the coyote, Serling saw what looked like a small metal box in his hands, and as he got closer and set it down on the table beside the coyote, Serling frowned curiously. It was a small metal box, about the size one would expect to fit something like a bowling ball, square and with a metal catch that would have fitted a padlock, though currently there was no such lock present.

Tapping the box's lid, Harrison looked at Serling with a wry smile.

"Is that what you had in mind?"

He pulled the lid open, revealing a surprisingly well cleaned, rust-free interior. Serling looked up at him, brow still furrowed, unable to summon up any kind of smile in that moment.

"I... I mean, yeah. But... why do you have that? Why do you have it here, I mean."

Harrison chuckled, but beneath his pitch black fur there was a slight rosy glow.

"I, uh... I might have, once or twice, gotten a little out of control with my temper. More out of control than I was the time I met with you. And... when I got that way, our boss... the Spa's owner, she would... put me in the box until I calmed down. Not against my will or anything. I gave her full permission to do it whenever I was out of line. But, yeah. Thankfully it's been a long time since she's had to do that. We keep the box around though. Just in case."

He tapped the lid again, looking more warmly at the coyote.

"It doesn't have to be a punishment, though. Not if you don't want it to be. Just consider it more of a... a private retreat. A one person getaway."

Serling looked at himself. He looked at Harrison. Then he looked down at the box, a slight blush forming beneath his own furred cheeks.

"Okay, but... how am I supposed to get into a box that small, even if you flatten me out?"

Once more the bull chuckled, and he saw the blush upon the coyote's face intensify as he cracked his knuckles loudly and pointedly.

"The same way the boss got me into it. By being as rough as was required to do so."

Serling swallowed. He looked back at the box once more time, then at the bull. Then he closed his eyes and paused for a moment, thinking about all he had been through that day and feeling the rage inside himself boiling closer and closer back to the surface with each passing second. He opened his eyes again, and immediately nodded at Harrison.

"O-okay."

He murmured bashfully, but with a pleading desperation behind each word.

"Okay. Do it. A-and... like you said. I want to get into that box n-no matter what, so... please. Be as rough as required, just like your boss."

Harrison smirked, shaking his head even as he moved back across the room to gather the required massage oils, not to mention giving Serling a chance to begin removing his clothes.

"I'll do my best, Serling. I promise. But... trust me, no-one can be as rough as the boss."

*********

"Aaaa-ahhhhh!"

Serling howled as one massage-oil coated hand grabbed his shoulder and squeezed tightly, deforming its already glistening, oil-softened surface and squishing all that lay within, bone, flesh, muscle, to an absolute pulp. The bull's other hand grasped roughly at his arm and began to pull, stretching and tugging the limb out like taffy, drawing it thinner and thinner, longer and longer with every tug, each one overwhelming the coyote with a muted pain and yet also an intense surge of relief as all the tension held in his stressed out body wasn't just eased away, but torn asunder and rendered utterly useless as the muscles in which the tension was held found themselves turned to goo.

It took less than five minutes of Harrison's brutally rough technique, at times leaving Serling feeling like he was being punched in the small of the back rather than massaged, to render the coyote in a similarly gooey liquid state to that he would have found himself in over normally half or even three quarters of an hour of more traditional massage. Traditional at least by the standards of this particular, uniquely qualified spa. But as rapidly became clear to Serling, he wasn't even close to being done yet. From that already goo-like state, more oil was added to his body. And as he felt his whole form tingling and trembling in that most pleasant of ways, Serling tried to cry out, though of course he had no intact muzzle by which to do so as Harrison began to knead him like bread dough. To stretch him out like pizza, to pummel him and now to truly pound at him with the flat base of closed fists.

He felt his already softened body growing ever softer with each slam of the bull's fists against him. He felt such intense and overwhelming surges of sensation, flashing between pain and pleasure that was so equally intense it was almost sexual. He heard the fists hammering against him move from creating soft, thick splatting sounds as they impacted upon his dough-like body to making far more watery, liquid-like splashes. Indeed before long Serling wished he could have whimpered once again as he began to feel parts of himself trickling away from the main body of his gooey form and running towards the edge of the table, only to be swept up by a strong hand and moulded back into the overall form of his being, rendering him less and less solid throughout.

There came a point of course when Serling was too wet, too gooey and liquefied by the devastating pummelling that he had received from top to toes that the greyish brown form of his jelly-like body was simply impossible to keep intact upon the tabletop. Only then did he feel his mass being swept away from the centre of the massage table, and only then did he at last feel the cool touch of metal against his jiggling, primarily liquid form. He whimpered silently, helplessly and yet joyously as he felt what he could only assume was himself being poured into that box, and then once more he felt hands upon his upper surface as he moulded himself against the square sides of the tub, pushing and forcing him violently downward as he listened to Harrison grunting.

"C'mon. C'mon you cute little bastard. You're smaller than me normally, you can fit! I'll make you fit!"

Had he been solid enough to do so, Serling might have blushed at hearing Harrison call him cute. Under the circumstances though, he couldn't do anything. And indeed, as finally he heard the clank of a heavy metal lid and heard Harrison give a muffled, distant grunt of triumph, that thought rang loud and clear through his head once again.

He couldn't do anything.

He couldn't move.

He couldn't speak, or see, or feel, or even hear much. He couldn't be seen, and aside from Harrison no-one else knew where he was to even look and try to see him.

He was helpless. Utterly at the mercy of the bull.

And... that meant he couldn't worry about his work issues any more.

What was the point, after all, when there was quite literally nothing he could do about any of them now? Now, and for as long as he remained in here.

He felt his already liquefied body soften even more if that was possible as even the tension in his mind rather than his body lessened in this state of absolute vulnerability, this state of absolute dependence upon others for his safety, for his well being, for... basically for everything. And whether it lasted an hour, or two, or the whole of the weekend, every minute that passed was another minute he would be able to spend not worrying, and hopefully to prepare himself to worry less even when he was in a position to do something or indeed anything about his situation once more.

*********

An hour or so later, Harrison strolled casually towards his car. He paused however as he heard a voice calling out from the front door of the spa, turning and seeing one of the receptionists waving to him urgently.

Clutching the metal box tucked in the crook of one arm a little tighter, the bull moved back towards the door, at least as far as was required for the red panda to be able to call out to him from where she stood. He braced himself, waiting to be asked where Serling had gone as he hadn't checked out, or to be asked what he was doing taking some company property off premises.

"Sorry for not grabbing you on the way out, Harrison, but the boss just called down. She... uh... she wanted to ask if you'd signed up for your overtime this weekend?"

The bull raised an eyebrow.

"Overtime? I didn't apply for any overtime."

The red panda folded her arms, an expression of focused thought crossing her features just as they did the much larger male's own.

"That's what I thought. But, she insisted. She said it was fine, but that to make it official, you needed to sign the forms. She even faxed some over that you just need a signature on. It... uh... here, it says... yeah. Forty eight hour overtime for... specialist observation of a trusted client? Holy shit. Forty eight hours paid overtime?! And the boss agreed to this? W-what did you do to get into her good books so well?"

Harrison blinked down at the forms being held up in front of him, then glanced down at the metal box tucked under his arm. He chuckled softly, and with his free hand carefully signed the forms as required.

"I... uh... I dunno. But, you know the boss. Sometimes, it's like she knows what the clients need before they've even realised they need it themselves."

The receptionist nodded, though still more than a little wide eyed.

"And... there's a client that she thinks needs a forty eight hour supervision? A client that she thinks you'll want to babysit?"

The red panda blushed slightly, realising how that might sound.

"Uh, n-not that you're not great at that. I mean, it's just... y-y'know..."

Though he cocked an eyebrow at her, Harrison just smiled as he shook his head and began to turn away, to walk back over to his car and to begin heading home for the weekend.

"It's all good. I'm sure the boss knows what's best for everyone involved."

He took a few more steps, then paused and looked back over his shoulder, smiling broadly.

"Oh, and if she calls back for anything else before the end of the day... tell her thank you. From both of us. I... I won't let her down."

By Jeeves

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