Chapter 3
Crusher
I get it. Holy cud, I get it. I get why everyone wants to see me rail a human.
This creature is gorgeous.
Tiny, although Frank did some research and confirmed we'd be compatible.
She goes still as she looks at me, giving me time to explore her.
She has rubber-soled canvas shoes on her feet, and I can tell by the shape that they're long like Frank's but much smaller, with a delicately curved shape.
She has peachy flesh, with the lightest dusting of fur and the occasional dark speckle, rare enough I'd like to hunt them all.
And since she wears snug shorts and a thin blouse, I can hunt quite a few right here.
But I'd really like to hunt them without the clothes. Her curved figure is far too enticing not to explore. And there on her chest, fluffing up the neckline that threatens to reveal her bounty, appears to be the tastiest set of udders I've ever seen.
Her face is flat and tiny. I don't know why I like the shape of it, but I do.
Itty bitty eyes with a ring of bright blue around the pupil and a darker fringe around them.
Ears set low and so flat against the head I question her hearing.
A petite nose that's triangular, almost beak-like, except it's not a mouth, it's a nose.
Her mouth is two soft, pink petals of flesh that never seem to stop moving. It's all super weird.
But fuck.
I don't want to stop looking at her.
And then my attention clicks to the pile of copper curls that have been gathered on the top of her head. The loops that have come loose from the mass hang around her face, dancing on her shoulders, but it's such a tight spiral that I'm sure it's far longer.
I get it now.
Frank and I spent the morning setting up both my bedroom and my bathroom with all the cameras we have, figuring the more angles we get, the more videos we'll be able to edit from the footage.
I've been stressed about this, about how weird this was going to be and how profitable, but I'm confident now as I motion for Morgan to come inside, deliberate in pausing to let Frank and her go in front of me.
No tail, but damn, that ass is nice and round, those hips wide enough that maybe she'll be able to handle this mino cock, after all.
Frank looks back and catches me eyeing her ass. I shrug. I'm being professional. This is professional.
"So how do you like Wellensbee?" Frank asks.
She grins up at him, and now I'm wishing I'd asked that instead. "Oh, it's my first time here, actually. It's cute so far. The houses are fun. I've been living in Raven City with the last guys, and I got overwhelmed."
The tip of my nose tingles, which I do my best to ignore. "The last guys?"
"Yeah, I've already done this with a gargoyle. For him and his partner, a dreamcatcher."
"Both of them?" My hoof stomps, but only once. I don't know, I don't have anything against gargoyles or dreamcatchers, but probably she should have done this with me first.
Well, no. I guess if I were her first in this world, she'd be comparing every other guy to me, and how could they compare? Like, what are gargoyles even packing, diamond dicks? That's lame. I don’t even know what dreamcatchers pack; you can’t really see them.
After me, she probably won’t be impressed by anyone else.
"Well, sure. This is a gift for both of them, right?"
The dreamcatcher must have watched. They're odd birds. No surprises there.
Oh, I guess Frank’s going to be watching. But he’s my editor. That’s different. He’s not a weirdo.
She shoots me a smile that's absolutely radiant and reveals mostly flat teeth.
Vegetable-eating teeth. The sharp ones don't look that sharp.
Frank grabs the platter he put together for her, a traditional dish from her people with the quaint name "girl dinner.
" According to the Internet, it's intended to be served on a cute platter, so I got down our Honeymass board shaped like a rainbow-striped prismbee, then Frank got creative laying out the fruits, veggies, cheese, crackers, and sweets in their respective colors.
"And this will one day hopefully be a gift for you both," Morgan says happily, patting her pelvis.
"Just me," I say quickly, in case she thinks this is some kind of three-way thing. Maybe she already knows who I am and has seen Frank in my videos. "Frank's gonna be monitoring the video feed."
Morgan's smile fades slightly, like she's disappointed, but nope, no Frank today.
"Video? Oh, but . . . yeah, the agency recorded me and Korchik, the gargoyle, so that's—oh my gosh, it's a pride bee!
" she coos as Frank sets down the platter, distracting me from thoughts of pulling this Korchik up on whatever porn site he works for just to see what kind of shit they were doing together.
And with the dreamcatcher.
"Oh, uh, yeah," Frank says, and I swear the fucker is actually blushing like an idiot. "I guess we are pretty proud of our bees. Did you do anything for Honeymass this year? I know you’re from a different world, that you probably didn’t have Honeymass there, but you were in this world for the last one, so—"
It's a good question. I do want to know. Either way, I'm thinking I should take her to Wellensbee's Honeymass seed parade this year.
But also, as Frank is talking, Morgan is selecting a cloud pear.
She's lifting it to her strange, little nose.
She's inhaling appreciatively, like cloud pears are her favorite.
They're my favorite too. Then she's taking a big bite of it, and for just a second, I see those soft, pink lips sliding on the smooth flesh of the cloud pear.
She makes a quiet, low sound of pleasure because that fruit is ripe and juicy and sweet and sour in equal measure.
She's savoring it.
"Frank, you should check the video feeds," I blurt out.
"Nah, I got that all—orrrrrrr, yes, I will go check them," he says a bit too peevishly, but come on, buddy. Three's a crowd. Unless it's a threesome.
And she's way too tiny for that.
He huffs off in a cloud of hair as I scoop up the platter and take Morgan's tiny, four-delicately-fingered hand in mine.
"Come on, let me show you my studio. That's where the magic happens."