[Rated M for Sick-Nasty. Reader discretion is advised.]


You drunk.

Why you--just--WHY YOU GOTTA CALL ME OUT LIKE THAT?

Drunk.

Just--IMMEDIATE betrayal, what the hell.

Druuuuuunk.

Fuck you, man.

I mean, he wasn’t wrong. I was splayed out on my side, having found the one place where the water wasn’t frozen stiff, where there wasn’t any wet, freezing snow blanketed on the ground. The trees were clustered tightly enough that the cold winter’s chill hadn’t settled here like it was settling everywhere else; I’d chosen to run a patrol (for some fucking reason) but the cold had bit into our bones a lot harder than we anticipated. We skipped-to-our-fuckin-lou into this hole in the wall, finding some comfort--but that’s when the shit show began because, as I laid my fat-ass down to rest, I found myself sitting on some apples.

Shit started out as a dare; they were old and wrinkly, but the skin wasn’t as dark and damaged as it was supposed to be for apples that were so rotten (I guess it was cold enough to preserve something). Chico had pressed me to take a bite and to be honest I was hungry enough to do it, and I was shocked by the sweetness of it, the subtle kick of something that wasn’t right but added to the flavor anyway. I ate it and found another one and ate that one too and there was a few more and when I went to get up and keep going and doing my duty the world decided to tilt and my head spun with it and I was still on the ground several minutes later.

Drunk.

And I was laughing, hissing through my teeth even though Chico was being a huge pain in my ass about it. An avalanche of stuff fell on my face, making me sputter before I realized it was Chico, opening his cradled-wings with even more apples he had gathered. “Fuck ‘s this?” I looked at him with bleary eyes, “Shit’s--gonna ma’ me colic, you keep fuckin’ around. You gonna--you tryna kill me!” And then I was screaming it, my legs flailing in the air with a siren booming out my throat: “YOU TRYNA KILL MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-EEEE-EEEEEE-EEE CHEEK.”

I made to stand again, and this time I succeeded, even if I was swaying dangerously as I reached for the pond. I drank from the chill water (cuz I was so fuckin thirsty all of a sudden) stood back, took a long piss, and returned to where I was before, tipping over with a huff right back on my side, sprawled out and buzzing pleasantly. “Y’ think,” I slurred at Chico, nosing at another apple and thinking about chewing IT too, “y’think Tembo gon’ fire my ass?” It was a rhetorical, but it still made my snicker like an idiot to imagine anyone finding me like this, “Y’ think they gon’ lookat my ass ‘n think, ‘Oh hell naw, nu-uh, this shit’stoo much ova hot-mess t’ keep fuckin’ around with.” I decided to eat the apple, the stinging juices dripping from my lip as Chico left to find more ammo, his bastard ass having ignored everything I was saying.


"talk"

Ros?

“Wha?” I said at the air that had spoken my name. If I were any more diligent, and if it had been anyone else, then I would’ve scrambled as fast as I could to my feet in an attempt to screw my head back on tighter. Not that it would’ve done any good; chances were, I was just gonna end up tumbling my ass into the water in my fumbling, which wasn’t frozen but that didn’t mean that the shit wouldn’t still be cold as hell.

But then my eyes settled on the shadow that had rolled up on me so quick ‘n slick that I had thought that it was a shadow for a moment. And then I blinked the blurriness out my eye, and I saw that the shadow had a face that was white. “Oh” I said, sloppy and loud and relieved, “s'you” I flopped back down on the ground, my too-small tail flicking uselessly against the loam. “That….uh…'Terra guy.” I didn’t mean for it to be like…oh, well shit, it ain’t like he wasn’t anyone important. It ain’t like I was saying he was no one to worry about or anythin’. He was just one of those people that...uh...hmm. How do I say it?

I guess after a certain point, when you know a little bit too much TMI about a dude and his secret biz, you stop feeling self-conscious around him. Like...How the hell was I gonna act all reserved and righteous and fake when I knew the dude’s heart? When I had seen him literally broken somewhere on the hillside, forced to let me bear witness on one of the most vulnerable ways a man can be found? I’m not the kind of hypocrite to deny that this mess at his feet was me and mine, or get all offended that he was seeing it. I owed him at least that much, I feel like; tit for tat, y’know.

I looked at him suddenly with narrow, shrewd eyes that couldn’t focus right. Now that I knew it was him, I knew what signs to look for--namely, the way he always smelled like sweat, like something heady and heavy and too hot, as if his body was always screaming at the top of its lungs I’M A DUDE, I MEAN IT. “The Indomimab--uh,” I blinked rapidly, because suddenly that word was too big for me to chew and I had to actually think about it. “The Indomino-- the Indy--domin--marble.” I paused, then gave a big curt nod, as though I fucking nailed that word. Then I blew a raspberry and fell back on the ground laughing, braying like a goddamn mule, even as an apple rolled toward me and I reached forward almost absently with my lips.

Are you hurt?

“I mean,” I said with sloppy bites of apple-flavored poison, “Cheek’sh clearly tryna poison my ass bu’ it’s’cool, y’know,” I shrugged, but it was harder than I thought to do it on the ground and I’m not sure if he could see it, “jus’ chillin’, y’know. On p’trol but shit’s’cold, son.”

Suddenly I was flopping everywhere, gearing up for an idea that wasn’t clear yet, but I was clearly preparing for. I scooted over somewhat, situating myself on the other side of the apple pile (which was mysteriously getting larger and larger) and offering the warm-spot I’d made. “Here, pop’a squat, tell some stories’n’shit,” I said with an eager hiccup, “S’cold out there, ain’t like you got better shit to do, right? ‘Sides,” the eager look on my face had a bite in it, “you c’n tell me all ‘bout why the hell they call you the Unfuckwithable these days.” I'd heard the name, and it was a sick sort of joke, the way it rolled in my thoughts; how he was known as a king, the Unconquered, when I had met him at his most brutal conquering. But no one knew about that, I don't think--not even Kis knew anymore, having wiped that shit off her HDD, so it was a dirty little secret between the two of us and I wasn't that much of a jerk to blab it.

But for some reason, I felt like fucking with him at this moment. And I'm not sure why.

"talk"

Chico had removed himself to the background, prowling the shadows, because he’d found as many apples as he could find and the added Volterra factor to the mix. He didn’t know what to expect--but he wasn’t put off by his presence, either. Chico planted himself some ways away, in his largest, snarliest, clawiest, fluffiest form he had just in case. More than that, though, Cheek wanted to see what was gonna go down.He didn’t know what kind of thing Volterra was in my head, and this was the best moment to find out how without being outright nosy and asking me directly (not like I knew anyway, hell).

"Well, I was on the hunt for some eligible women to pleasure, but freezing my balls off in a piss-soaked clearing with a giant pile of dodgy apples sounds far more fun."

I decided, in that moment, that Volterra was chill. That whatever tension that remained with Kis’ drama and his heartache was easily brushed aside with an honesty I could dig; at least he admitted to trollin for ass when he could’ve just as easily placed himself on a pedestal above me, morally and physically. I rolled on my back, chuckling, not sober enough to let his comment slide. “An’ what kinda fuckin’ test you been passin’ out?” I accused him, feigning hazy indignation. “Eligible women. Hmph. Wha, I ain’t whatchu lookin’ for? I dun make the cut?” I rolled back onto my side with a hiccup, tickled at the thought. “You don’t like juiciness?” The polite way of calling my ass fat.

"If this conversation is going to get as deep and meaningful as our last one did, then I think I'm going to have to have some of your special apples to help me through it."

I shrugged again, sloppy and weird, reaching for another apple myself just cuz he had reminded me that they were there. “I mean, you got any deep shit t’ say? Cuz I don’t.” It wasn’t quite a lie, because I didn’t remember if I had any deep-seated scruples in that moment. “I’ll lis’n if you gotta confess it,” I said from where I lay twisted on the ground, “ain’t like I’m runnin’ off tellin’ stories anytime soon.”

And then I was immediately contradicting myself, because that’s how an intoxicated brain works; it wanders through weird thoughts and silly shit, resting on whatever idea it finds, logically or not. For some reason, I remembered in that moment that he lived down south. “The Throat,” I muttered, as though thinking to myself, because I actually might’ve been at that point, “my Ma an’ lil Sis lives there, now I think on it.” Once I would’ve thought it dangerous to let that kind of thing slide, but I knew Volterra’s face enough that I could find him later to beat his ass if I needed to. “I’d visit more but the Pa’s a rat bastard ‘n I hate sand anyway.” I was numb enough to the implications of what I'd said, too blurry to be able to linger on it. Another apple, and this one actually tasted good. I cast a sideways glance at Volterra. “Don’t be tryna fuck my Ma, man.” Three-quarters of that was a joke.

"talk"

I'm rather partial to juiciness, but, ah, I was hoping for something with no repercussions.

I shrugged at that like it was a throwaway gesture, cuz that was the game I was playing. “C’aint get mad at a thing you ain’t know about,” I said sagely, as though it were some deep wisdom. It was a clue that I was giving him, a sign of things that had happened that he wasn’t aware of--but I wasn’t conscious that I was giving it, cuz in my head, I was playing the part of someone doing naughty shit with a bad boy she shouldn’t have been. We were criminals in this, hooligans flirting around an idea of a thing that was buzzing around us.

But in my head, at that point--it was all innocent. I was daring myself to act this way just to see cuz I was loose enough for it. It was a part of life I hadn’t explored, a piece of being that had eluded me, that I’d avoided on accident for so many years--so you gotta understand, it was exciting to joke with it, to fumble around and spew whatever I had in my head and mix it with whatever he had in his, especially since it was all honest, and light, and fun. But I was happily oblivious that I was messing around with a very real--very hot--flame.

So when he asked if my Ma and my Sis were hot, I didn’t trip over it. Instead of getting indignant over him musing over the attractiveness of my family members, I entertained the thought myself (at least in part) cuz nothing was real and it didn’t matter and it was just--talk. “I mean, one’s a baby and I don’t think’ you’re into that sorta thing,” I said with another sloppy shrug on the ground, “Ma, though. I ‘unno, I ain’t really look at her that close. You might be her type tho; her man’s as big an’ black as you are.” Basically. It was an approximation and a messy, throwaway comment that had nothing to do with the complexity of my Ma’s emotional attachments to anybody and more with how fucking hilariousthe outrageous thought was.

M'kidding, m'kidding. Ya don't shit where ya sleep, can't go porking ya herdmates.

I nodded at that, cuz more drunk wisdom, but it was gonna be a thing that I’d remember, even if I didn’t know it yet.

He asked about my Pa and there was a “What?” cuz that shit didn’t make sense at first--until I realized he misunderstood what I said (that was my line of reasoning, instead of acknowledging he wanted to know more about the God I came from, because it was a thing I didn’t feel like facing when I was topsy turvy drunk as balls) “Ah dude, no I was--uh--talkin about my Sis’ Pa. My Ma’s...uh, man or whatever. He’s the rat bastard.” I said, my transition between Pa’s smooth as smilk (?). “He jus’--he ain’t never like me, I ‘unno why, an’ I wouldn’ care ‘xcept he obviously dun knocked my Ma up,” I spewed with a vague irritation, because this was an anger and a sadness I’d swallowed long ago, and the looseness I was feeling was incapable of anything serious to stick; it was safe to talk about. “I mean, whatever, tha’s her business ‘n I guess she like him ’n as long as he treats her like he oughta then I c’aint really gooooooooooooooodDAMN.”

IT WAS A PENIS.

And Chico was already laughing in the background at my reaction but I didn’t notice, cuz I’d rolled right-side up and leaned forward with wide, ogling eyes, because usually this was a thing I would turn away from, disgusted and intimidated by the size and shape and everything about it, but now when everything had a haze of unreality and looseness I was able to indulge my curiosity and stare at as long as I wanted. And I did. “Uuugh,” I said, squinting my eyes and I watched how his balls kinda splayed on his thighs, gravity being unkind to the form of the ballsack. Everything, from the wrinkled skin of his sheath to the veiny surface of his half-baked floppy shlong caught my interest, even if it did sit on the brink of nausea. “Augh jeez, I’m sorry,” I said, rolling (wobbling) to my feet, cuz I had to piss again; it was a thing I hadn’t anticipated cuz, y’know. Bein’ drunk.

“That shit looks so heavy though,” I said, even as a thick frothy stream left me from behind (I was facing him so he wouldn’t have to see the nasty, but it wasn’t like I was being inconspicuous about it, hell) “Ain’t it uncomfortable?” I couldn’t imagine something like that swinging between my legs all the time. I couldn’t imagine there was even room there, cuz my thighs still chafed from time to time, and that area was clear of debris. My eyes caught his expression for the first time though, and my fascination broke with snorting laughter. “Oh stop, don’ gimme that face,” I choked, “but like, no, seriously, where would you even put that?” I mean, I knew, but the logistics of size wasn’t sitting well in my head.

"talk"

Wai', wai', hold the fuck up....you sayin' y're a virgin?

I’d never been asked that question so plainly before, that kind of space never having intruded in my world--so it only increased the level of unreality. I gave a jaunty cock of my head. “So what if I am?” I challenged, all hot spit and piss and fire about a thing I’d never given myself a chance to chew on before, playing it off like it was a deliberate thing. “What, what, think I’m ‘ntrested in jus’ any ol’ dick com’in my way? Wha’iff I’m savin’ up for oh god it’s moving.”

And my attention was pulled away again, captured the sight of his lance corporal twitching from its place docked in his sheath. Wait, no--it was extending, which was blowing my mind all on its own, because I hadn’t even considered that it could get any bigger than it was already. BUT JUST LOOK AT IT.

I stared at it, my mouth agape, my eyes wide and my face cocked with all sorts of alarmed question marks under the skin. Somehow, though, I was drawn forward, willing myself to get a closer look, because behind the game I was trying to play and the ridiculousness of the whole situation, I was still curious as shit, and struck on how alien this piece of seemingly ordinary anatomy was to me. It was just so…freakish and new--how could I not stare?

And dudes live with this kind of thing daily? Boys are fucking weird, man.

Worst's when I'm runnin', and balls just slap around…

My attention was broken again, with a drunken snort-hiccup-thing of laughter bubbling out of me; it was amazing how quick my drunk-ass head was when it came to switching between thought processes. I began imagining the scenario of balls flapping around and I gotta admit I’d never really paid attention to a runnin’ man’s junk before but now that the image was in my head, I had to admit it was a damn funny one.

I’d asked him where in the hell you even put peen this big--before it got even bigger--and he answered it anyway, even though the question was rhetorical, even though I was fully fuckin’ around when I’d blurt it: Want me t'show ya?

And my dumb ass didn’t even consider for a second that his offer was legitimate in any way. I snorted and drew back from him, striking a pose full of sass ‘n ’tude. “Shiiiiiit, I dun’ even think you coul’ handle this kinda shit, boy,” I taunted, turning from him and stumbling sauntering away from him with full ass in view. I already had a walk that swung my hips but I exaggerated it anyway, cuz it was such a ridiculous, hilarious motion. If having a huge ass is good for anything, it’s comedy. “Ya couldn’ even catch me if I decided t’ run from yo’ ass,” I said, teasing with everything from my voice to my hip, pushing that limit as I made to wobble walk away from him.


"talk"

Ros, Ros, Roooooos.

“What, what, whaaaaaaat?” I echoed, hissing over my shoulder and breaking down in a fit of laughter. He was going on and on about the benefits of fuckin’ and it honestly just make the whole idea even more surreal to me. I had no context to pull from; the very idea of a thing going inside me from anywhere other than my mouth was just…unthinkable. I couldn’t relate to it, but the idea of bodies together, touching and grunting was a different kind of association in my head all together. “So it’ss’like a fight you mean?” I choked out through my giggling. This boy was stupid and I couldn’t stop laughing.

Except I did when he rolled to his feet and I learned that his dick apparently had a final form. My idiot grin slid off my face again, and once more my eyes boggled the fuck out because holy shit. “That don’t even make sense,” I said to him, somehow skeptical even though I was watchin’ it twitch and wave beneath him at that moment. “But--how--where does it come from? How all that fit in there? It’s like another leg!” And as soon as I said it I was laughing again, cracking the fuck up thinking about his fifth, shriveled pink leg jutting from his ballsack. Shit was weird and funny as hell, okay.

I was laughing so hard I didn’t realize he had come up on me, wobbling sneaking up all stealth like a ninja. I didn’t know how close he had gotten until I felt his teeth on me--which made me squeal wordless and primitive, shocked for a second, my impulse being to swipe at his muzzle with a flick of my tail. But he was still crowding me, and I could feel how big he really was as his chest bumped up against my ass and I could feel just how hot his heart beat.

Wanna bet?

“Bet,” I hissed back at him, forgetting instantly exactly what we were betting on. My next instinct was to piss all over him, cuz not only would that have been protection but it would’ve been funny as shit. But oops I realized too late that I’d already pissed not too long ago, so now all I was doing was winking a nasty thing with nothing but an empty bladder to back it with. Which made me laugh even harder, but this time at myself for being such a dumbass.

Ros.

…

Ros.

..Wha? I realized that was Cheek’s voice in my head, which snapped me back for a second, cuz I’d legit forgotten he was there.

But he was. Watching everything, seeing plainly how the night was progressing, realizing even though I was oblivious on what was being set up to happen; me, tail up and flashing, him behind me, hot and sweaty and in full swing. Chico was emanating an emotion at me, something a lot more serious and concerned than what I was fucking with in my head--something that felt so out of place, it was ruining the buzz, and I pushed him out of my head irritably.

Ros--

Leave me aloooone, jeez.

Ros.

Holy shit, jus’ fuck off, I’m fine. I...know what I’m doing it’s cool.

And you know what? He did fuck off for a sec. He remained where he was but he vacated my headspace, and I guess there was a part of me that he recognized (even if I didn’t) that was telling the truth.

Volterra was talking but I didn’t catch it, cuz Chico’s intrusion scrambled my attention for a moment. I backed up a step, shoving the flat of my ass into Volterra’s shoulder, and the joke I’d been laughing at came back to me. “What, gonna show me how to fight?” I was back in the upside down headspace where everything was funny, everything was a joke, “Learn me a few moves, 'Teach?”


"talk"

Somehow, I had the audacity to act shocked.

He’s in the air, and I’m laughing my ass off--and his legs find my hips, hooking me into place, gripping me with his knees, and my laugh breaks off into a ragged, gasping yelp, a primitive noise from deep within my suddenly-pounding chest. His full weight is on me and it’s warmer than I could’ve ever imagined--so warm that it’s hot, it’s uncomfortably hot, and he’s huge and he’s pressing down down down so hard my knees are buckling underneath him.

I don’t breathe; the air flutters too much when I try to take it in. It’s a hot second, an instant that drags on for eternity where my body decides--not to run from underneath him. To not escape his too-hot flesh, the hook of his limbs on my hips, keeping me in place for obvious reasons. Because there’s a piece of me that isn’t shocked, after all; the nerves of my body are held taut, wires ready to trip the alarm at any second, but my heart’s beating is like a countdown until it happens, because this was just the natural progression of events, the logical next-step I’d been daring to take to cross that line--and now my body was preparing itself for the next thing to come, the sensation I’d never asked for, the experience I’d always avoided, naive and clueless until this moment. The moment where I decided that I…

…wanted this?

…

…

…

...but nothing came.

The instant ended with a confused Huh. It was enough to clue me in that something was off, and if that second hadn’t ended when it did, I would’ve been left truly afraid, at a loss of what was wrong with me. But then he started…moving against me, making my knees shake even more, distracting me from the possible crisis. Close enough, he was saying. “C-close enou--enough??” I asked, my voice strained under the heavy movements of his body, “What..What do you mean close en--”

-sssskkkkppppppLLLLAAAAAAAAAAT-


Something even warmer suddenly burst onto me, hitting my sin with a boiling hot hiss, and there was a moment of utter confusion as Volterra fell from me with a satisfied sigh but I was left with this too-warm sensation on my hip--

“Uh?” I said--

--but then it started to move, that is, DRIP down my leg in a long, goopy rope and like--

“Uhh??”

….okay, see. I’ve been slobbered on by a homeless man before; I’d let him get all up in my space, where I could smell his stank, and he had put his mouth and spit and tongue all over my hair and I’d flipped total complete shit--

“Uuuuuuuuughhghghghghhg???

--and even though I was older, calmer, wiser than that child on the beach, I could feel my heart beating faster and my body break out on a cold sweat even as the stuff kept dripping down my leg with a crawling sensation of a familiar horror growing inside me--

“UuuuuuuUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!”

--and I was RUNNING and BUCKING and SCREAMING and Chico was over off to the side and he couldn’t breathe cuz he was screaming too but it was from tearful laughter--

--and it was still cold outside even though we were in the grove and I made a DIVE BOMB for the water, to douse myself, cleanse myself, anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything anything to get the PENIS JUICE off of me away from me away from me away from me--

--and I was sure Chico was actually DYING from the noises he was making but I was still flopping around in the water like a fish who couldn’t swim, until somehow, at some point, I was finally convinced that I’d washed all the Terra Spunk® off my my skin.

I emerged from the pool, sopping wet and pissed, and I wasn’t even sure what kind of teakettle whistle was emanating from my companion’s sweating, shaking body, but it didn’t matter cuz my eyes were all for Volterra. “The HELL was that??” I said, jutting a soaking jaw at him; I was tiny compared to him and the water wasn’t doing much for me, my long winter’s coat sticking to me pitifully as ropes of water cascaded from my body, “What kinda shit--all that big talk ‘bout teaching me something and all you dun did was teach my ass Self Destruct. What kind of disrespectful display was that all over my ass? You didn’t...you couldn't even…”

And then suddenly, I was laughing.

I crumpled to the ground, a soggy laughing mess. “You...you busted yo’ nut all over my...You...you couldn’t even make it to…” And then I was done, wrecked by the wheezing laughter squeezing out of me. Cuz even though that escapade had sobered me up quite a bit, I was still drunk as shit, and this had been a perfectly ridiculous way to end a ridiculous night.

"talk"

Hey, hey, you can laugh, but d'ya know how hard it is to aim somethin' so big?

Somewhere in my alcohol-soaked, laughter-rattled mind, his reasoning made some kind of sense, if I really thought about it. I mean, I was shocked myself that something like that could just...I dunno…lay curled up and dormant in the bowels of a dude like that. But I wasn’t thinking too hard about it, so I just rolled my eyes at what appeared to be a half-ass excuse. “Oh sure, I guess’ you jus’ slipped ‘n fell or somethin’ on my way directly to my ass.” My stomach was beginning to hurt from laughing so hard.

It was soon clear that he wasn’t gonna get up; he was flopped down already but he tumbled over and was out the moment his side hit the ground. And honestly? He had a point. All that yappin’ and yellin’ and excitement probably sobered me up just a little, but definitely left me exhausted. Trauma can do that to you.

What’s more, I was still soaking wet, and the chill of it was starting to creep through my fur. Even after shaking myself vigorously to get the heavy sheets of water off my side didn’t do anything to dispel the cold. And I couldn’t help but remember how warm Volterra had been on top of me, how his skin seemed to sizzle with whatever manblood he had flowing in his veins…

“Scootch,” I said to him, but he was already long-gone and probably wouldn’t even notice the way I fell beside him on impulse, laying next to him in a way where my back and shoulder was pressed right against his steaming flesh. He was like gigantic space-heater, where his warmth pulsed from him in waves, covering me like a blanket--and I was out like a light before I knew it was happening, soothed by the ease of the cold against my skin.

Chico watched for a while, then stumbled off somewhere still chuckling to look for something to eat when it was clear we were gonna be done for a few hours at the least. He walked with this kind of jaunty saunter, but I wasn’t conscious to feel the steady glow of triumph that warmed his thoughts.

Aaaaaaw yiss.

"talk"