r/drama: Hey everyone nice to meet you

It was a warm sultry early morning in the suburbs of Los Angeles. John Makivic was preparing to enter the morgue. That's right, he was a mortician. Most of his days were spent grooming dead corpses for the funerals that awaited them. He in truth, hated his job. At first, John was fascinated at the concept of death; and thought it would be cool to work with the dead one on one. But as the years had rolled on he found it interlay too dreary. His shift began at 1 A.M., and finished at 8. On this night the rigorous hours pissed him off greatly. He was going to miss his daughters 12th birthday party. He'd have to be asleep during the festivities. True he loved his daughter, and wanted to be there for her more than he had been. But inside, he wanted to see his daughter prance around in the frilly little cheerleader outfit she'd asked him to purchase for her. His daughter was hot, just on the cusp of womanhood, and he had to miss watching her blossom. Damn work! On this night however, he would be getting into areas of his nature he never thought possible. As he sauntered into the freezing room where the bodies where kept. He was to work on one specific corps, she was in drawer number 44. He walked his weary tired self where the rows of bodies where housed and opened that drawer. He was taken aback to see who this particular dead body was. "Hell that's got to be one of those Olsen girls," he said to himself in amazement. He recognized the form, because those two starlets were an idol for his little girl.

The next thing that happened to the tired family man as he peered down at the cooling dead twin shocked him. His cock began to grow in his slacks. The Devil took over his senses. He always wanted to fuck those two annoying girls. And if he couldn't see his daughter in that skimpy mini-skirt. Why not use this kid for a model? After-all, nobody was around. He'd never be caught. He had the keys, and nobody else was due to arrive for hours yet. He walked out of the freezing room for an instant and came back in with a pink rectangular cardboard box. "I don't know if I'll go to hell for this," he said under his breath. "But hey it'll sure liven up the nightshift." He sat the box down on a table that rested near him, opened it. And there inside, was a burgundy school-sweater, a golden yellow mini-skirt, and bright yellow panties.

He compared the size of the girl here and his lovely young daughter. They were approximately the same size. "Okay Miss Olsen," he said looking at the lovely lifeless girl. "Your gonna be the first dead starlet to get fucked by her mortician." He smiled a sinister smile, than began to ready for his sadistic task.

Part 2

Giving in to sin

John lifted the naked child out of her cold housing, then placed her prone on to a flat raised table. He had to look at her chart before he could really commense. After-all, it was only right to know which of the stupid twins he was about to invade. "Ahh little Ashley huh?" he said with a smirk. He continued reading. Apparently, she had been found belly-up in a lake not too far away. It was such a fresh event that her parents weren't even aware of the tragedy. "Don't have much time kid. Your folks are gonna be here in a few hours to identify you.

With that, the mortician went to work. First, he got a wet rag soaked in hot water. Then, gently rubbed it all over her chilled corpse. He wanted her warm to the touch, not frigid.

Then, it was time for the make-up. He gave her eye-shadow; blush; and finally Ruby-red lipstick. Part of the job of a morticitian, is to make the dead look as alive as possible. John was a man ready.

It was time to dress her fast. John's growing member wasn't going to take much more waiting. "If I can't see my kid model these tonight, then you'll have to do bitch!" He was growing angry, as he was having a tough time holding her leg up while slipping the yellow panties on. "There you go honey. Perfect fit." He slid them up past her waist, and snapped the waist-band against her belly. Let's see if you still jiggle." Reaching up grabbing her lifeless hand, John violently rolled her on her tummy. Then; gripping Ashley by the ankels, pulled her towards him so her legs would hang off the ledge of the table. With his left hand he pressed against her spine to make certain her trunk was still in the table. With his free arm he quickly pulled down her panties to just above her knee. "Fuck kid!" John said in awe. "More perfect than I could have dreamed. Her ass was firm alright, prefectly purportioned. The man was a wreck he wanted to slam her so bad.

"Whack," was the audible noise as John gave the dead child a stern spanking which left slight red marked on her ass.

"I was right! You do still jiggle back here." He held the girl still and knelt down behind her. Then, like a wolf to fresh meat; he began vigorously and cruely licking and kissing her butt cheaks. He enjoyed her childish rump 4 about 45 seconds, then pulled her shorts up again. "Gotta get you dressed bitch. I always wanted to bone a baby cheerleader. For the next few minutes he was preparing her for her last fuck.

"Too bad she's not alive to enjoy this." John thought to himself as he dressed the once vibrant teen for her finest hour

n/a Wacnews_the_White 2017-01-03

Hogwarts sighed and it echoed within his empty halls. The students had all left for the summer and he felt empty and useless. Hagrid was often around, but he was usually too focused on bizarre animals to fulfill the needs of Hogwarts. Professors would pop in occasionally, but being a magic school, Hogwarts didn't need much upkeeping. The little he did need was taken care of by Filch.

He shuddered, causing small trembles throughout his halls that was barely discernable, except by the spiders and owls. He didn't care much for Filch, wishing he could walk without his squib feet touching his magnificent stone floors. He had long since stopped trying to force his floors open to swallow Filch and Mrs Norris whole. Besides, if he kept it up, he would be risking a prolapsed staircase and that was no laughing matter.

The giant squid saw how miserable Hogwarts was. It was true that he also missed the students, but for an entirely different reason; he missed their terrified screams as he revealed himself, rising from the murky depths of the lake.

His huge eyes stared mournfully at his very large tentacles. At one time, he had dreams of being an actor. The larger he grew, the fewer agents and scouts would come calling, until they finally stopped altogether. There wasn't much in the market for a squid that would split a schoolgirl from stem to stern.

He stared at his tentacles as they moved gently in the current. Schoolgirls were out… A plan formed in his mind and he swam to the surface, hesitating momentarily before pulling himself from the water. It ran off of his rubbery skin in rivulets as he made his way across the grounds. No humans were around to witness the incredible trek and no human would believe his eyes had he been a witness.

Hogwarts watched the giant squid approach and felt apprehension well up in his kitchen. "What are you doing?" The words weren't spoken, but they were understood.

"Just trust me," the giant squid replied, caressing Hogwarts' outerwalls.

"I'm not ready!" Hogwarts exclaimed, trying to push the giant squid away with his magic.

"Hogwarts, you're lonely, I'm lonely. We don't have to be. Besides, you can't go around manipulating your staircases."

"You know about that!"

"Everyone does it. Sort of."

"That's beside the point. I've never…" The temperature within rose in embarrassment.

"I'll go slow. I promise." He began to caress a window, teasing it open. Hogwarts sighed, the fight leaving him. He relaxed, allowing the tentacle inside, where it brushed against the inner walls before settling on the stone floor. He fastened the suction cups to the floor, lifting the tentacle away so that it pulled on the floor without losing its grip.

Another sigh swept through the halls of Hogwarts. "Oh, Merlin. That feels so good." His rapture turned to fright as he felt a tentacle work its way into a second window. "I don't—"

"Trust me. It'll feel good. Remember this?" He pulled the suction cups a little harder and Hogwarts groaned.

"Do that again." The giant squid complied and as he did so, thrust his second tentacle in. Hogwarts shuddered, coming very close to ending the fun. The giant squid backed off, unwilling to finish so soon. He waited for Hogwarts to calm down before sending the second tentacle to search the room. He felt the need to fill Hogwarts as much as possible and he raised another tentacle, caressing his outer walls, running along windowsills and tracing individual bricks. So caught up in the bliss, Hogwarts didn't notice the giant squid slip in a third and fourth tentacle.

"This is incredible," Hogwarts breathed.

"This isn't even the best part." He held up his two longest tentacles. "These can reach farther than a room; they can go into your hallways."

"I want them in me."

"Are you sure? They're quite large."

Apprehension rolled through his kitchen again. While he was deciding, the giant squid forced another tentacle in. "You have three tentacles left to decide."

"What happens if I don't?"

In response, the giant squid slid a sixth into another window. "Two," he said simply and with a hint of warning.

Hogwarts could take them all, he knew he could. But what would the other wizarding schools think? Would Beauxbatons allow a giant squid to violate her? Certainly not! If Durmstrang ever found out, there'd be no end of teasing.

The giant squid grew impatient and slid a seventh tentacle into a window, followed immediately by an eighth. "Two. One. Time's up and you didn't decide."

"What! But that's not fair!"

"It's a simple answer: yes or no. Now I'll have to punish you." And with that, he struck Hogwarts square on the outer wall with a paddle-like tentacle. Hogwarts yelped and tried to squirm away, but the tentacles and his foundation held firm. The giant squid struck him with the other. Again and again he spanked the naughty wizarding school until he sobbed for the giant squid to stop. And still he spanked.

The giant squid finally stopped, but Hogwarts didn't have time for a reprieve before the giant squid forced his extra long, spanking tentacles into two separate windows. They slid through the room and forced the doors open, the pain only adding to Hogwarts' pleasure. The tentacles were in the halls now, massaging the long, stone tunnels.

This was incredible, the giant squid thought. He really should have done this ages ago. Every tentacle was in a different window. No schoolgirl, no matter how many movies she made, could hold all ten tentacles at once. Each one moved differently and with a different pace, driving Hogwarts crazy with the inability to match his speed.

He felt that familiar feeling and doubled his efforts. Ink exploded all over Hogwarts, some finding its way into the windows. He unified his tentacles somewhat, completely focused on Hogwarts. He must be close.

Then it happened: water shot out of faucets, toilets overflowed and bread set in ovens to keep warm by thoughtful house-elves exploded. Hogwarts shook violently to his foundations, rousing Filch from bed and sending house-elves and Mrs Norris scrambling for cover. Even Hagrid heard the groan of stone and came running.

They searched around the castle and through the castle, but found no sign of intruders. Most perplexing was the sticky ink on one side of the castle. Hagrid peered through the dark toward the lake, but was unable to see the ripples left in the wake of the giant squid.

The giant squid slipped beneath the waves, wanting to grin even though his beak was incapable. He anticipated a very short summer before the professors and students returned, so he had better make the most of it.

n/a LLAXIS 2017-01-03

This is the hottest high school tentacle erotica I've ever read

n/a ThyDocco 2017-01-03

What the fuck

n/a Wacnews_the_White 2017-01-03

Chapter 1

Cookies are a little like crack – they’re highly addictive, they lend themselves to cravings, and they can totally lead to death. Still, he can’t bring himself to quit them, not even when his friends – Big Bird, Elmo, Grover, Tellie, and even Oscar the Grouch – conduct an intervention. He needs cookies more than he needs them.

It’s with a heavy heart that he packs his suitcase with the few belongings that he has, fills a brown paper bag with chocolate chip cookies, and boards an airplane for the west. He’s headed to California, to a land filled with milk and cookies, because a state that rivals Wisconsin for dairy farms has got to have cookies, right?

The first thing he notices is that, compared to Sesame Street, there’s a lot of green in California. The second thing he notices is that, for a state that boasts to have so much dairy, there are just way too many health stores for his liking. It isn’t easy for him to find a decent cookie shop, and then the prices are a little out of his reach.

He travels some, looks around for a place to call home. He spends some time on the streets – grateful that nights in California are much warmer than they are in New York – before he finds an apartment and a job that doesn’t require him to have a high school degree. Dishwashers don’t get paid a lot, and he ends up picking up a second job working as a bagger at a local grocery store, which makes him a little homesick, because it reminds him of old Mr. Hooper’s place. He doesn’t make much money, but it’s enough to keep him in a small studio, and cookies.

It’s at a little hole-in-the-wall bakery, well outside of L.A., that Cookie Monster first meets Clay Morrow, and the man looks just as down-trodden as he feels. Cookie’s nursing a lukewarm glass of milk, licking the crumbs of a snicker doodle off his fingers, because Mama Rose’s snicker doodles are to die for, and he can’t really afford to waste a single crumb, as the man saunters into the bakery.

Cookie’s lamenting that he’ll have to wait for his next paycheck, an entire week away, before he can get his next cookie fix, when the man takes a seat at the bar next to him. Cookie only notices him because the man looks worse than he feels, like he’s suffering an even greater loss than that of cookies; though Cookie can’t really think of anything worse.

“You want cookie?” the words slip from his mouth, before he fully realizes what he’s said, and his last cookie, for a week, is held out in his trembling hand. He doesn’t really want to give it up, he hopes that the tough-looking man will refuse to take it, and his mouth waters in anticipation of how the cookie will melt on his tongue.

The man turns to stare at him, and Cookie gulps, his eyes going wide as he realizes that this man is no ordinary man, but he’s one of those bad biker types that Maude, who also works at the restaurant he washes dishes for, has warned him about. She’s told him stories about biker gangs that would’ve given Big Bird and Elmo nightmares for months. They always leave Cookie with a need to gorge himself on a package of Chips Ahoy.

Though his heart hammers in his chest, and Cookie’s mouth goes completely dry, his hand resolutely holds his last cookie out to the biker. Why is Cookie doing this? he questions himself. Maybe his friends on Sesame Street were right, and the cookies really are making him sick and messing with his mind.

But, no, no, cookies not bad, cookies very, very good, Cookie reminds himself, and he glares at his traitorous hand as it shakes, yet continues to betray him.

The big, bad biker looks at him, sighs, and then smiles sadly, plucking the offered cookie from his hand. Cookie just stares at his empty hand, sees black dots dance across his vision and sways a little on his barstool. Me last cookie, he thinks, and he feels shaky.

The man raises the cookie at him in a mock salute, and Cookie watches as the man takes a bite of the cookie. Not a single crumb falls from the man’s lips and Cookie’s a little mesmerized by the way the man’s throat moves when he swallows the bite of chocolate chip goodness.

Cookie watches with rapt attention as his offering slowly disappears. By the time that the man, who has too many tattoos for Cookie to count, finishes swallowing his last bite, Cookie’s mouth is watering, and he’s blinking rapidly.

Cookie’s eyes follow the man’s fingers – thick-skinned and gnarled with age – as he brings them to his mouth, and Cookie doesn’t even realize that he’s leaned forward in his seat until he’s bumping knees with the man, but he stays right where he is and watches. He feels a sudden camaraderie with the man who is so different from himself, when he draws each finger into his mouth, one at a time, to suck off the crumbs which stubbornly cling to them. Though he’s clad in black-leather and denim, Cookie recognizes that the man is no stranger to the fine art of eating cookies.

He shivers when the man reaches across him and grabs Cookie’s forgotten glass of milk, downing it all in one long gulp, wiping the white moustache that it leaves behind with the back of his hand. The smile that the man gives him afterward is a little wider, and Cookie feels like there are gingerbread men dancing in his stomach.

“Thank you,” the man says, offering him a hand, and Cookie takes it, reveling in the rough feel of it.

“Name’s Clay Morrow,” the man says, and he gives Cookie a strange look when Cookie doesn’t release his hand immediately.

“Oh, ah, me Cookie,” he says gruffly, feeling a little embarrassed because he knows that he doesn’t really talk all that well, and then he lets go of the man’s hand and gives him an awkward smile.

“Cookie?” the man waggles an eyebrow and chuckles. “You remind me of a friend of mine,” he says, and the gingerbread men settle in Cookie’s stomach.

Cookie works odd shifts which make it almost impossible for him to go to the bakery during the day, and when he is there, though he looks and waits, he doesn’t see Clay. It’s when he’s just about given up hope of ever seeing the other man again, of ever sharing his passion for cookies with someone as passionate as he, that Clay walks into the bakery, looking weary and haggard. And it’s almost like that first time, Cookie offering the man his last savory delight, and the man finishing the remainder of Cookie’s milk.

Unsure of himself, Cookie invites Clay over to his place, to share a plate of cookies and a glass of milk, and, though the biker looks at him strangely, he nods his head and says, “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

The almost nightly cookie binges, though, those don’t start until several months later when Clay’s standing outside his door, barely able to hold himself upright, and Cookie ushers him in, out of the rain. The man’s shivering doesn’t start to ease until Cookie’s gotten him dry and wrapped him up in a blue blanket that Baby Bear had given him before he’d left Sesame Street.

Clay doesn’t say a word, and Cookie doesn’t press. He just offers up a batch of Toll House cookies, straight from the oven, and a glass of milk. And, after the last crumb has been savored, the last drop of milk drank; they both fall asleep – warm, appetites wholly sated – on the couch with Clay’s head resting against the soft, furry expanse of Cookie’s chest, and Cookie’s hand on the man’s shoulder, Baby Bear’s blanket nestled between them.

n/a Wacnews_the_White 2017-01-03

Chapter 2

The co-mingling scents of cinnamon and vanilla seep through the crack of the door to Cookie's apartment and wafted down the hallway. Clay smiles because it means that the monster is baking a fresh batch of cookies. Especially for him. He can't remember the last time Gemma had done that for him.

He brushes aside the memory of his soon to be ex-wife and raises a hand to knock on the door, recalling at the last minute that he has his own key now and doesn't need to bother with such formalities any more.

It’s strange, being so at home at Cookie’s place. But, it’s comfortable, and Clay doesn’t have to think about anything. He doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to try to keep ahead of the curb or outsmart anyone. He can be . . . vulnerable, without being afraid that Cookie’s going to use it against him.

They’ve haven’t fucked yet, but Clay thinks he’s ready to take things to the next level as he takes a bite of the snicker doodle that Cookie hands him.

“This is good,” he says, and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the blue furred monster’s cheek.

“Me glad Clay like. New recipe.” Cookie’s speech is simple, but Clay likes that, and his scratchy voice is enough to make Clay hard.

Retiring to the bedroom, with a plate of cookies and two glasses of milk, only seems natural at this point. Clay undresses, hesitantly at first, but Cookie’s soft grunts of excitement, as he watches, are a turn on, and he quickly discards the rest of his clothes and climbs onto the bed.

“Clay want this?” Cookie’s uncertainty goes a long way toward helping push Clay into this; because the fact that the monster asks him if he wants this shows that he cares.

“Yes, Cookie, I want this,” he assures the monster, smiling and raising his ass up in the air.

Cookie shoves a pillow, shaped like a big bird, beneath his hips and Clay sinks down into the pillow and tries to relax. He’s never been on the receiving end of something like this before, and though he’s a little afraid, he trusts the blue fur ball.

When Cookie inserts one of his thick fingers - coated in some kind of cooking oil – into his virgin hole, the stretch burns more than he'd ever imagined it would and he almost begs Cookie to stop. Remembering all the nights he'd awoken to find the sticky evidence of another 'sweet dream', Clay simply digs his fingers into the black satin bed sheets a little harder and bites down on the back of his wrist, holding in the bulk of his pained cry.

It hurts like hell at first - truthfully, he feels a little like he's being impaled by the business end of a baseball bat - but then when Cookie stills, his concerned, albeit gruff voice stiltedly questioning, "Clay okay?" he nods even though it isn't okay, and he's grateful when the monster waits until the muscles around his abnormally thick digit relax before he pushes in a little further.

It's a painstakingly slow process, involving a lot of stop/starts and Clay's questioning the sanity of his request that Cookie 'bake' him. But then the burning, tearing sensation eases and Cookie's index finger - which is the size of three of a normal person's fingers - is brushing against his prostate and Clay's feeling more relaxed, more turned on, than he has in a really long time.

Clay pushes his ass higher into the air, changing the angle just enough so that Cookie has him seeing stars and grunting with the effort of accepting more of the Monster's slick, furred finger inside of him. Hurt gives way to blinding pleasure as Cookie crooks his finger and palpates Clay's prostate. Clay's body finally relaxes, his thighs spreading further apart, giving Cookie greater access and feeling bereft when the finger is withdrawn.

"Clay ready?" Cookie grunts out and Clay nods. He's a little nervous, uncharacteristically unsure of what to expect when Cookie mounts him and he tenses by instinct when he feels something blunt slipping between his ass cheeks. He has little actual warning from Cookie, just a guttural kind of grunt he thinks must be pleasure, then a sudden thrusting of hips as he's breached and the sheer size of Cookie surprises him.

It takes a minute for the sphincter muscles in Clay's ass to relax and adjust to the considerable size of Cookie’s dick and the Monster's patient, waiting until he feels the muscles give way before he starts to move inside of Clay. The back of Clay's wrist bears the brunt of his pain, bruised with his teeth marks.

And it takes more time than it would if he was with Tig or Juice or any ordinary man for the pain to give way to pleasure, but when it does Cookie's riding him like he's a fucking bronco, and he's bucking beneath the monster, uttering shameless begging screams of, "More," and crying actual tears, biting into his wrist hard enough to draw blood when he comes, his muscles crimping around Cookie's dick as he stiffens, and spills his seed into the sheets beneath him.

Cookie's wordless grunts accompany each jerk of his hips, his fingers dig into Clay's hips, no doubt leaving bruises as evidence of their coupling. By the time he comes with a bone jarring shudder and riding his orgasm out inside of Clay, he's boneless and utterly incapable of speech – well, what passes as speech for him, anyway. When Cookie pulls out of him with a wet sounding pop, he feels stretched, full and sated in a way that sex with women has never done for him. When Cookie flops down beside him and drapes a soft fuzzy arm over him protectively, Clay sidles closer, savoring the shared heat between them.

And when, instead of the clichéd post-coital cigarette, his unorthodox lover shoves a plate of cinnamony gingersnaps in his direction - the very same plate of cookies which had started all of this in the first place - he doesn't hesitate to grab a cookie and shove it in his mouth. He turns to face Cookie, his fuzzy secret lover, letting the monster gently lick at the crumbs that linger at the edges of his mouth. And when then they kiss, Cookie tastes of cinnamon and vanilla and Clay can't get enough of him.

“Clay want more Cookie?” Clay can see the eagerness on his Monster's furry face.

“No, Cookie, once is enough for tonight.” He sighs, laying his head on his Monster's soft chest.

His fuzzy brow furrows. “Cookie do something wrong? Cookie hurt Clay?”

“No, Cookie, you did everything right.” He grins up at his fuzzy lover.

“Okay, if Clay say so, me believe you.” Cookie replies with a sigh.

“Hey Cookie?” he asks as he twines his fingers in the soft fur of Cookie's broad chest.

“Yes, Clay?” His big furry hand glides smoothly up and down Clay's back drawing random patterns.

“Just...hold me?” The vulnerability rolls off him in waves and Cookie holds him tighter.

“Yeah, me hold you, me hold you long time...maybe forever.”

n/a Wacnews_the_White 2017-01-03

Chapter 3

Communication with Cookie Monster is simple. Clay doesn’t have to guess at what the monster wants. Doesn’t have to jump through hoops to make the blue guy happy.

The TV’s on, but neither of them are watching it -- Clay, too deep in thought, Cookie, too deep into his plate of cookies to be aware of anything else.

He's grown used to Cookie's various moods.

Truth is, there aren't that many moods for Clay to parse through.

His lover's either hungry for cookies, as is the case right now, or hungry for him, which will happen later, after the plate of cookies has been devoured, and the monster’s worked up an appetite for him; there's very little gray area to work with, little that Clay has to wonder about.

There’s no subtlety with Cookie -- he is what he is, and he wants what he wants. Life with Cookie is easy.

And, if he's completely honest with himself, Clay likes it that way. He doesn't miss the mystery, or the drama, that often comes along with bedding women.

Doesn’t miss the roller coaster of emotions that being with Gemma had put him through. Not that he blames Gemma for all of it.

He doesn’t.

They stopped talking.

Things fell apart.

They fell apart.

There was too much past between them. He doesn’t have that with Cookie.

Cookie's not at all like any of the women that Clay's been with; nothing like Gemma. Not just with regard to lovemaking, but with other things as well.

For instance, "Me want cookies," means just that.

There's no second-guessing, no reading between the lines, no wondering if Cookie's request for cookies is the result of something that Clay's done wrong. If he’ll wind up sleeping on the couch before the night is through -- seeking comfort in someone else’s bed; something that he’s not done since he’s been with Cookie.

It's not a complex code that Clay needs to decipher. Nookie won't be withheld if he brings Cookie gingersnaps instead of shortbread.

Though, the monster, Clay has discovered in their time together, is partial to chocolate chip cookies, and despises oatmeal raisin, unless they’re slathered in icing. The sweeter the better.

The phrase, "Me want Clay," is easy enough to understand as well.

There's no need to overthink things, or consider mood when it comes to sex, and what Cookie wants. The monster is surprisingly communicative in bed. Creative and flexible.

Likewise, "Omm, nom, nom," requires little interpretation on Clay's part.

And, for some reason, the sound of Cookie's enjoyment as he stuffs his face with a plateful of cookies, makes Clay hard, and horny as fuck.

Of course, that might have something to do with the fact that Cookie makes that same sound when he's got Clay's dick in his mouth, or when he's working his tongue into Clay's ass, loosening the tight ring of muscles for fucking.

It isn't love. At least Clay doesn't think it is -- doesn't want to think too much about it, because Cookie hasn't asked him for a qualification of what it is that they do have together, hasn't pressured Clay to label it, not like a woman would.

No, it isn't love (most likely) but what he and Cookie do have going on between the two of them is close enough. Makes Clay want to stay, and figure out what the hell it is that they do have going on between the two of them.

And, fuck, he isn’t the woman in all of this. Neither is Cookie. And, it’s weird, not having a woman involved.

"Omm, nom, nom..." Cookie devours his second plate of sugar cookies, rousing Clay from his thoughts.

Crumbs fly everywhere. It shouldn't be the turn-on that it is. Shouldn't cause Clay to have to pop the fly on his jeans, and settle back against the couch cushions, adjust himself.

Clay bites his lip, digs his toes into the plush carpet, takes the half cookie that his lover offers him, and stuffs it in his mouth. Crumbs fall from his lips, land in his lap, and he belches at the same time that Cookie does.

Synchronized belching.

And, fuck...maybe this is love after all.

n/a LedinToke 2017-01-03

what the fuck is this nonsense

n/a old_grumpy_grandpa 2017-01-03

I think I understand Hitler now

n/a PM_ME_HAIRLESS_CATS 2017-01-03

What?

n/a Wacnews_the_White 2017-01-03

This should help you understand.

n/a snallygaster 2017-01-03

One day in the temple of sages in the land of hyrule, Saria, the sage of

the forest, could hear someone call out to her...She wasn't sure who it was or where it was coming from. She decided to ask Zelda, the sage of time. "Zelda?" She asked. "Yes, Saria." "I am hearing a voice in my head that I do not know...it's like calling out to me, wanting me near. I do not know whether to embrace this voice or just let it pass...what do you think I should do?" "Saria, I have a way we can find out about the voice you are hearing."
She waves her hands and they see an image of a young real life man, sitting there looking at a picture. It was a picture of Saria, she looked much different in the picture than she really did...it was so weird..then they heard the person speak... "Oh, Saria," the voice said "Please just take me away from this pain." Saria began to cry at the scene. "You really want to help him with his pain, don't you?" Zelda asked. "Yes, I do, more than anything, but I can't leave the temple of the sages...can I?" "Yes, you can, you just have to want to help this person with his pain, like you would give up your life for him." "And I would do that, too." "See, you do have that power to become human, and be with is person...please go now before it is too late!" Saria walks toward the light and reappears near the person who is sound asleep by now in his bed...She took on the appearance of what she looked like in the picture the boy was holding in his arms. She gently took the picture from his hands and placed his hands in hers... and put her arms around him to keep him close the rest of the night. When he awoke he was in for a shock..."W-what? W-who are you?" "It's me Saria, Chris"...she had looked into his mind for memories the night before..She held him close. "The girl in the picture you love so much..." "It really is you," as he looked at her, he began to notice more and more how much she resembeled Saria..."You ARE Saria...but how did you come to be alive...you're just bits of game information on my Zelda: Orcarina of Time Game for the Nintendo 64." "Chris, I saw how badly you were sad, and I had the willpower to come and help you, so I did...and I know all about your pain and suffereing through the years. I am willing to help you walk, make the pain go away and feel that special love you need and I promise you, you will NEVER be alone again..."With that, she kissed him on the lips..."you're my Link now, and will always be," she kissed him again more passionately, more feeling... "You really want to help me don't you Saria?" Chris asked, smiling "Yes, with all my heart, I do. Can I...make love...to you?" "You really want to?" "Yes, I do..." She kissed him aain passionately...then she slipped off her shirt, wearing a red and green bra. "I know you like both colors, my sweet, Chris, so I made my bra both colors." She kissed him again and took his shirt off. "I want you to be with me always, sweetie..." He cries in her arms, not knowing what to say or do..."I will help you, my love," Saria said, she hugged him tightly to her, then she reached behind her and undid her red and green bra...and laid it down next to her top.
"Chris, honey, do you like what you see?" "Yes, I do, please do more," he tried to smile... "Of course, my love," Saria smiled and stood up and took her skirt down her legs, reveavealing green panties she wore, that was the same color as the rest of her clothes. then she slid down her panties, she kissed him on the lips, frenching him...she wanted nothing more than to be there with him for all time...and she knew that she could...because of what zelda had told her, she slid her panties down, and was completly naked for him....she didn't care...she wanted him to be happy and by the way he looked he was...she toook his right hand and placed it on one of her breasts. "Chris, please don't be afraid, honey...I have never wanted anything more in my life." He cried in her arms "But what about your duties as sage of the forest?
What about them?" "Chris," Saria said, smiling, "when I came here, the younger version of myself still in the video world of hyrule became the older me and is in the temple of time as we speak..." "Really, m'love?" Chris asked "Really, sweetie." Saria answered, smiling...She was enjoying her time with him...She knew it would never end, because when he mingled in her...he would not die because she was a Kokori...a everlasting child...a person who would not grow old...

n/a ThyDocco 2017-01-03

frenching him

n/a savantfool 2017-01-03

Nobody wants you. Congrats.

n/a night-addict 2017-01-03

Holy shit, you're like a child who walked into an underground fight club. Welcome to r/drama shitskin

n/a seminalthrowaway4541 2017-01-03

kys laurelai

n/a Wacnews_the_White 2017-01-03

^This. Set your router on fire.

n/a old_grumpy_grandpa 2017-01-03

Welcome to Dubai, gentleman