To Floof a Bap

by Ravvij

Rating: mature
Tags: Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Second Person, Romance, Porn, Sex, Fetish, Profanity, Slice of Life
Length: 5179

Batpony fluff is the superior fluff. You know so, you're buried face-first in it!

Bat fluff is the best fluff. Sure, pegasi fluff is like silk and hippogriff fluff is soft as down, but bat... bat is god-tier fluff in every possible category! You are Night Pen, and you're going to be buried in one of your marefriends' fluff.

Contains: A little blood, biting kink, dirty talk / degrading kink, crotch boobs, batpony on pegasus, comforting, and weird relationships.

Featured: 2/26/22!!! Thank you all! I'm so glad you like this!

Published 2022-02-26 17:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2022-02-26 17:40:01 UTC

Put the clouds to shame!

You stumble through your door, kicking it shut behind you. The old building giving a solid thud as the door hits the frame. Your shoulders feel as though they sag with a great weight piled on them. Your knees are stiff and the surrounding muscles protest with every movement, threatening to seize at the slightest wrong move. You'd lock the door, but with how tired you are and so little worth stealing here, plus, your troublesome tenants —marefriends— being the stuff of local, urban legend... you're not terribly worried about intruders. More like, worried for them. Being located just outside a small town and on the way to the next largest one had its advantages, too. Not terribly many ponies come out this way. Even to rent in a semi-convenient and very scenic location. Which, is a mystery to you but a story for another time.

In the ghost light of green candles and a crackling fire in the central fireplace, you slouch and slink your way into the shared living area, utterly spent. The hard wood of the floor only broken up by the occasional rug. Too tired to walk all the way up into your room, you plop your furry rump into the nearest, too-big-for-one-body, couch. The only one in the center of the room, directly across from the fireplace. Sure, you'd had to make the effort of walking around it, but the heat from the fire is worth it. No matter how much your bed calls to you, the couch calls louder. Legs and wings spread and slack over the cushions and arms of the plush chair, your back legs draped limply over the edge. You take a few deep breaths, staring into the flames with your head propped up against the back of the couch. You exhale a third time and hear hoof-falls tapping closer and closer to you.

"Not tonight, Skitter," you sigh, "I have no more Zaps to give," you groan. Today was not a good day.

A distinctly different, non-changeling, voice answered. "She'll be sorry to hear that."

Your eyes widen. Oh, no. Your fur stands on end and you turn to see your first marefriend, Bug Bite. She walks around the side of the couch, peering over at you with her glowing, ghostly-green eyes. Her faded white mane, smooth and shiny as ever, hangs lightly to the side of her head and down across her faded-lavender shoulder. She's not looking particularly odd or excited tonight, but that doesn't mean you can let you guard down just yet.

"Oh, uh... Evening, Ghosty. How are things?"

"Fine. I think. Are you okay?" she looks at you worriedly.

"If I said 'yes' would you believe me?"

"No."

"Then, no. I'm really not okay."

"Care to talk about it?" she steps closer.

"No. Not really." You relax and sink into the chair. Not away from the ghostly-colored batmare, but more-so just sinking into the embrace of the cushions. Oh thank fuck. She's not in a mood.

"Would you like a hug?"

Your ears pop up, "Say again?"

"A hug," she repeats, "do you want a hug?" She rests her hoof over the arm of the couch, gazing at you. Her concern is quite touching, if you're being honest. Not something you're used to from her.

"I... jus... yeah," you sigh heavily, "that would be very nice right now."

She smiled an uncharacteristically —for her— sweet smile. She lifts herself up onto the couch and drapes herself over you, pinning you between her barrel and the couch. She tucks her hooves tightly against your sides and wraps her leathery wings around you as much as she can. Her warmth is almost as like the fire's, but much less overbearing.

Something happened then, in that moment, you couldn't have expressed if you weren't ready for it. Nightmare damn you, you weren't ready for it! Her fluff, right in your face. You've never had more than an appreciation for a mare's fluff, and this mare had some FLUFF on her! The sensation, though, not what you were expecting. Softer than down and smoother than silk, with a warmth you can only describe as comfortable. She must have... yeah, you can smell it, she's really taken some time to care for herself. Not that it's unusual for this bat to do so, but it always comes as a surprise to you. Maybe it's just that she doesn't seem the type. Even thinking back on it, you can only pick out a hoof-full of times she's ever looked 'rough'.

Your own fluffy chest wasn't anything to scoff at, but hers was on a whole other level. It practically sucked you in, a powerful silky texture that smelled of fruits and cooked meat. Her warmth made her fur like a summer night's breeze against your face. No cloud could have ever been this soft, no wind this gentle. Her chest was the single most unimaginably blissful experience you'd felt to date!

You pushed her up, but kept your hooves around her shoulders, not quite pushing her completely off. You stared back and forth between her eyes and her fluff. This can't be real.

"Did I do something wrong," she looked at you, worried, "I didn't step on your tail or pull a feather, did I?"

"Where has that been all my life?!" you looked pointedly at her fluff.

"W-wha—" she looked down at herself, then it clicked, "you mean... you never noticed? Not even a glance or a grope?"

"Why would I do that? I mean, I've looked, and definitely admired, but I don't think I've ever deliberately felt your fluff." You gaped. " How do you even have fluff that soft?"

"W-well... all bats have this. I don't think mine's much different. Maybe a little fuller than most, but mostly the same." She blushes, searching your face for a hint of a lie, "You mean you really had no idea? I guess that explains a lot. I expected you'd try to grope me before now. Heck, I thought you kept this relationship just for this fluff."

Ooh, that one stung a bit. Maybe you have been a little too harsh towards her. "I... I'm sorry. It's not the fluff. You're just a bit overbearing sometimes. I like my personal space. Maybe a bit too much for my own good, I guess."

"O-oh. Yeah. Sorry, Nighty. I can't help myself sometimes," she blushed, "I'll try to do better. Promise!"

Her smile and genuine apology relaxes you a touch. "So, no more watching me bathe?"

"Heck no, you sexy bird-pony! I could just lick you all over!" She grinned.

Ah, there it is. Back into the trenches, it seems. Though, the thought of her running that long, pointed tong over your -ehem!- what were you talking about before? Oh, right! Dat floof!

"A-a-anyway... all bats are this soft?" You ponder that for several seconds. "That's it," you declare, "time for a harem!" You release your hold on her shoulders and let her floof envelope your face once more.

"...Huh?"

"I need a harem of fluffy batmares!" you say, muffled in the floof, then nuzzle her chest a bit to drive in the point, "That's the single softest thing I've ever felt. A bed of batmares for your lord and master!" You say dramatically, waving a hoof in the air over her back like a decree has been made.

Bug Bite giggles, then rolls her eyes at you, "Slo-o-ow down there, buckaroo! First off, that's kinda hot. Second, no! I'm the only bat you get to nuzzle the fluff out of."

"B-but! The fluff! How am I supposed to live without being smothered in a bed of fluff that luxurious?!" You playfully pout up at her, impressive since half your face is hidden.

"Oh, don't be a foal! It's not sexy. But more to the point, I'm fluffy enough for three bats!"

Ah, well, that's more than 'a little fuller than most' for sure. You'll definitely be verifying this if the opportunity strikes.

"You?" you say, disbelieving, "You're going to let me fluff your floof? Grab you by the fluffy? You?"

"Yes!" She said, mildly annoyed at the implication. "Why is that so hard to believe?" She picks herself up, pushing on the couch around your head to hold herself. The precious floof has left your face colder than before in its absence.

"Because you don't let other ponies touch you," you pointed, "I don't think you've ever so much as accepted a hug from the Ponk or let me pull your mane."

"Yes. Other ponies. I let others touch me, if I like them. But, I want you to touch me, Night. As for the mane, well, it takes so long to get this way," she flicks her head a bit, sending a short waft through her hair.

"I— guess that makes sense now that I'm thinking about it." And think about it you do. "If that's so, then, why are you so open about bucking and what you find sexy? Why do you constantly harass others with your tentacle fetish?" You give her an odd look, "...I HOPE all you've done is harass them. I'm not bailing you out of jail for assault, by the way."

She snorts. "No, not yet. I'm the only one that gets to stuff myself with those slimy, wriggling, suctioning, probing—."

You shove a hoof to her mouth. "Ew." She bats it away.

"S-shut up. Anyway," she continues, "I'm open because I don't like hiding everything about myself. I keep lots of things to myself, but, not something I can potentially share with others. Plus, I like to tease." She looks at you lustfully, "You know you like it, too. And, I like to be teased."

"I— yeah, I guess we do share that, huh?" Your gaze trials over her fluff again. "Hey, uh, wanna switch?"

"Ooh, yes, please!" she brightens at that. You think you felt her flick her tail too, but can't see from this position.

She hops down to let you slide off the couch. She hops up, twists around to lay on her back with her chest up for you to rest on. You now find yourself reacquainted with another feature of hers. Her very well-endowed breasts are also on full display below her fluff. You can feel a hot flush in your face and a stir in your loins as you stare openly. She catches you, placing a rear-hoof on your jaw to lift your gaze. "Hey, you can play with those later," her smile is both mischievous and kind, "it's time for cuddles and fluff."

You swallow, hard, then pull yourself back onto the couch and over the batmare. She smiles and watches you eagerly. You're careful not to step on her tail, wings or mane... though that last one definitely crossed your mind. You then lower yourself onto her. Acutely aware of the increasing pressure your belly is putting on her breasts. That is, until she wraps her wings around you again, pulling you down to her, and your head reaches her furry chest. Your face seems to melt into her softness once more. You're only blissfully aware of the rest of your body and hers. You sigh deeply. The soft fluff around your face cradling you like so many tiny tufts of silky clouds. You wrap your hooves around her gently, loosely locking yourself to this mare's feature.

A hoof gently traces your mane from ears to neck. She breathes in and you feel your head rising with her. Her warmth feeling as though she's carrying you like a summer wind ascending into the upper atmosphere, only to be set back down gently as the most precious and fragile of things when she breathes out. You find yourself —or rather are forgetting yourself— slipping away like the sun setting on a summer's night. Up and down your head rises in bliss while your imagination wanders through the skies in half-dreams.

She whispers softly into your ear, "You comatose, yet?" Her warm breath tickles your fluffy ears. A light giggle escapes her lips.

You don't want to talk, much less grunt. The effort alone makes you feel as if your voice will rip you from the heavenly embrace of her fluffy bosom. Instead you opt to squeeze yourself to her just a feather tighter. Speaking of feathers, you notice your wings are drooping when the tips of your primaries touch the edges of the couch and slip over.

"I guess you're pretty stressed, huh," her voice is like warm honey in your ears, "you need to relax more, feather-brain. I worry, you know? I see you worry about everything. What ponies think of you, what they expect from you. How much you work to be good at your work. How you avoid ponies to keep yourself safe from their unreasonable, unrealistic demands. How much you're trying to hide how you feel, and, how much you're afraid of hurting your friends. How much you worry about how much you worry."

That's not helping. You think lazily, feeling the tug of reality at your bliss. Your brows knit together ever so slightly. Her honey-d tones mixed with the reminders of your stress, not a great combo.

"How your family is, dealing with their issues. I know you care. You care so much it drives you crazy, that you can't always help," she says, wrapping her hooves around your head, "but you've got to let it go for a minute. Forget everything for a while and just rest. Just for a little while."

Her hug somehow makes you aware of how much your shoulders are pushing against her, which makes you notice how tense the rest of your limbs are. Coiled, like they're holding some heavy thing intent on crushing you for the slightest mistake, or maybe you're just trying to hold yourself up under all the stress.

When did that happen?

You're so taken aback by how stiffly you're holding yourself that you can now feel the awkward position you've been laying in. Your back legs are tucked under your knees and hips. Your front legs are pressing against the couch cushions on either side of the mare beneath you. Your neck feels bunched up, and your wings aren't even laying all that loosely around you. You slowly release your grip on the invisible weights and phantoms of worry. It takes some effort and concentration, but you manage it. Every muscle —one by one, it feels like— and every limb that releases you can feel more of you touch the couch beneath. It's as if you've been holding yourself above the ground through sheer tension.

Did release always feel this good?

"That's better," she coos, breathing softly, "isn't that better?"

You nod your head slightly, the smoothness of the action surprising you at how relaxed you are. No jerky, twitchy motions from stiff muscles. Just easy, calm movements. And that fluff! Holy fuck, her fluff could be a furry cloud on a summer night floating on silken winds! Your brain tells you this sensation should be impossible, that it's too good to be anything but a dream, or you're dead and have only just realized it.

"You okay down there?"

You trust your voice now, you let out a soft, slow whisper, "Mhmm."

She giggles, your breath tickling her fur. The sensation of her chest moving beneath you and the sweet sounds coming from her mouth, breathing, and heartbeat. "Comforting" is the only word that comes to mind, and it's woefully inadequate. Like a mother attending to her child. You feel strangely safe where you are. That thought brought with it all kinds of other —lewd— thoughts. Thankfully, Bug Bite can't read minds or she just might make good on them. You're content where you are, just as you are. In her fluff, in the blissful skies of your mind.

You hear her sniff the air. "Oh, my," she giggles, "did you just have a naughty thought?"

Damn bats and their hypersensitive senses sensing your hormonal secretions! Probably didn't help that the thought of her being motherly made your dick stir a bit in its sheath.

She hums, then after a moment's thought she speaks. "Maybe later. You need to relax, mister."

You nuzzle your face against her fluff. Your hooves find their way around her barrel, tucking in even deeper between the cushions and her sides. You hope the edges aren't digging into her skin. You wrap your wings around her in one, lazy effort. The appendages going slack immediately after.

"Whoa, aren't you grabby tonight," she giggles cutely, then coos in your ear, "Shhh, there there. You've got all night. I'm not going anywhere. My fluff is all yours. Only yours. You can have it as long as you like."

You hug her tighter, feeling those warm winds of fluff caressing your face and pulling you into a warm night of calm. If there was a heaven, you hoped it was here, in this ethereal floof.

Maybe batponies had magic other races didn't. They were similar to you —pegasi— in almost every way, obvious differences aside. Who gave a shit about cloud walking if it meant you could have fluff like this! Which reminds you, you need a better pillow. Maybe if you indulged Bug Bite and her craziness more often, she'd let you use her fluff instead of your, now admittedly, very underwhelming pillow.

Screw that pillow! That thing was dead to you. Not even worth the dirt off your hooves. Bat fluff is where it's at!

Oh, wow, you're feeling drowsy. Maybe a nap. Yeah, that sounds good.

Bug Bite hums a lazy tune, feeling you drift off to sleep. Like falling into blackness, or being sucked into it, you sleep.

Author's Note

Much thanks to Shakespearacles for checking this over for me!

Grab her by the Fluffy! (clop)

The groggy, nagging sensation of consciousness pulls out of your dreams. You slowly open your eyes, taking in the near-darkness around you. The fire's still going, and the candles are nearly out. Magically reloading fireplaces, you're Celestia's gift to the weary. You're not sure how long you've drifted off for, but by the position of the moonlight silhouette on the floor, touching the wall, a few hours at least.

You feel the gentle rise and fall of breathing, lifting your head and the fluff you're nestled in. You look up from your fluff haven. Bug Bite is sleeping, a content smile on her face. You wonder if waking her or going back to sleep would be better. On the one wing, her fluff called to you like a warm embrace, on the other, you were sporting a steel tower to knock Canterlot off it's perch. Yeah... if she saw that she wouldn't let you go. Again. Not for several hours.

Luna, damnit. The lewd thoughts of rutting this mare are getting you in the mood. You just got relaxed and now your second brains are thinking for you.

You can relax afterward. We got a marathon to run!

I'm NOT having this conversation right now with my balls!

Hey! I'm here too!

Yeah! Don't be a dick to Dick! He's done so much for you. For us!

Oh my fucking god. You bury your face in fluff, trying to ignore the strangest train of thought you've ever had.

Bug Bite stirs below you and you look up. Your raging, night-wood is tucked under you, between the cushions and your coat. Not comfortable, but it'll work for now. Oddly enough, it's stimulating in a weird way and you have to keep from grinding involuntarily.

"Please don't smell me, please don't smell me," you silently chant to her.

"Evening, little ghost." You say, sweetly.

"Morning, wood." She smirks sleepily, coming more and more to her senses.

"Really?"

"Really hard, please. I could use a good belly rub... from the inside."

"Ugh, you're the lewdest mare I've ever known." You drop your face back into her fluff.

"You know you like it." She says. You can hear that smirk, it's so obvious. "You're getting hornier the more I talk, so I'm gonna have to talk you into giving me the walk of shame."

"Oh for fucks sake."

"That's the idea!" She giggles cutely.

"Just, gimme a sec. I'm still waking up too."

"You're more awake than me. Crawl over me, and stuff me, Nighty Night." She snickers.

"Not that shit again." You crawl up onto her, the lazy effort of your half asleep muscles feel heavy and unsteady. You feel her tits pressing against your belly, which earns a hard twitch in your cock as it, too, comes into contact with her pillow-y, fleshy, fun-bags. Your head rests again in her floof. Sliding your dick back between her tits, your other head presses to her slick entrance. You grind at it a bit, teasing her and earning a pleading moan from her lips. You push forward and with a soft pop-sensation, you feel yourself slip into her. She sucks in a breath, excitedly, and hums her approval. You shift your weight forward, slipping further and further inside her, her slick walls gripping and releasing your shaft.

"Mmmm! Now that's what I need." She arches her back slightly.

You begin sliding in and out of her, smoothly, calmly, your rod half-flared and swollen inside her. Morning wood, a blessing and curse. She's cooing and her moans are more like squeaks. She's really into this. You never thought Bug Bite would like something so tame. You give a little chortle, your breath disheveling her fluff a bit.

She opens her eyes and looks down at you, smirking at her. "What?"

You thrust, long and slow, "Just thinking. Is this the the first time we've fucked without getting kinky?"

She groans, "N-no. gasp The first t-time was tame as cou-ould be."

"Maybe for you," you grunt, "I caught you trying to slip more than a few things between us."

"Unf! S-such as?" She stammered after a particularly jerky thrust.

You were moving faster, now. That unintentionally hard push driving you to push into her harder. She was bouncing in the seat from your thrusts against her. For such a light pony, she sure seemed to have a weight to her. Maybe it was those huge honkin' tits of hers, nestled so invitingly between her thighs. You feel them undulating around your hips as you thrust.

"Your tentacle collection wasn't even half the size it is now," you groaned, "where would you like me to start?" She blushed at that. Not the strangest thing about this mare, but definitely up there on your "weird shit o meter" that's for sure.

"I'll h-have you know-oh! I only had th-three-" she stammered between moans.

"Dozen." You finished for her, still thrusting into her. "I counted." You could definitely feel yourself hitting her furthest depths. From this position, you were reaching into her deeper than usual. The idea of hitting her womb with the head of your cock got you more excited, even making you give a particularly hard thrust.

She gasped, both at your thrust and your words. "N-no! A good number o-of those where p-part of a set! OH!" She was almost panting now. You could hear faint "eee"s coming from her breathing.

You slammed into her, deliberately. She moaned loudly, both out of pleasure and a slight bit of pain. You felt her twitch a bit around your shaft. You knew she liked it rough, this is nothing new. If anything, that might have just made her hornier than she already was.

"Excuses, excuses," you said, a half-hearted admonishment, "seriously. You're the sluttiest mare I've known."

She bagan writhing now, not able to really focus on conversing. Your words definitely had an affect on her, she liked a bit of verbal abuse during sex, it made her hotter ⁠—or so she'd said. Not much more to do than push her over the edge.

"Like being my cocksleeve that much, huh?" You pound as hard as you can. Slamming into her dripping pussy, her fluids squirting from between her folds. You'll need to remember to throw a towel down.

Bug Bite only moaned and squealed beneath you, throwing her head back, mouth open. Her wings, you notice, are splayed out across the couch as much as they can and about as stiff as your own.

"I'm gonna cum in your used, slutty cunt. Maybe it'll wash all the ink from those tentacles out. Doubt it though. Your stained little twat probably looks like an ink factory."

"I-i-it's p-p-p-pink!" she tries to say indignantly, though the effect is lost in her lust.

Oh, was she close. Her breathing is labored and her short gasps between moans gained volume. Once she got a good lungful of air, that'd be it, tinnitus for a week if you didn't do something before the 'EEE's came. You head her off, pulling her head up to your neck. You bit onto her ear as gently as you could, which prompted an instinctual reaction from her. She latched onto your neck with her fangs, earning a pained moan from you, right into her ear.

Her hips writhing now, she began pushing back into you, rather than just taking it. That nip got her all riled up. You're fairly certain you're bleeding, but for the hazy cloud of lust driving your actions, you couldn't care.

You feel that familiar, desperate pressure behind your dick, the dam was cracking. You hammered into your mare as hard as you could. Her moans and grunts punctuated by slurps of blood and spit. You bit down harder, letting her know through her own haze of lust just how close you were.

She threw her head back again, crying to the heavens with an ear piercing shriek only batponies could make, climaxing and spraying your crotch with her fluids. The sudden motion sent streams and flecks of blood and spit from her mouth and onto the couch, floor, and ceiling above you.

You followed soon after. With a few more thrusts, feeling your head flare inside her, you clenched tightly onto her. Pulling your barrels together in some instinctual need to hilt into her even deeper. You dump load after load of hot seed into her abused pussy, shallow thrusts punctuating every spurt. You felt every pulse of semen fire from your dick and into her like so many over⁠-squeezed tubes of oil paints. She'd be a painted horse on the inside, now. The thought of that made you wish you could dump even more into her, even given the fact that you were practically spilling out of her, anyway.

"Oh, fuck that feels good!" The sensation of a powerful, rippling orgasm and ejaculation had no real equal. Except maybe bat fluff, but that was an entirely different matter.

You collapse on top of a thoroughly worn batpony mare, both of you spent and dripping sweat and other bodily fluids. You lay there, panting for breath, feeling the cool night air rushing in and out of your throat. You keep your softening dick inside your mare, not really wanting the chill of the night air just yet.

She begins licking her lips and fangs, which soon becomes her licking your abused neck. It... stings? But like, in a numb way. You wonder idly if batponies have the same anesthetic qualities as some bats do. Her long tongue is tracing your neck now, dragging lines of fur along with it. The sensation sends shivers down your spine. Eventually, she stops.

Hey," she taps your head with the tips of her nose, "y-you... you gonna get offa me?" She squeaks weakly.

"Still.. waking up. In a minute."

"Lazy," she chides halfheartedly, a lopsided grin on her face.

"And still you let me rail you." You counter, smiling teasingly.

"If you weren't so damn cute and girth-y I'd have kicked you off by now."

You wiggle you hips, slipping your half-mast around inside her.

"Eee! D-don't tease me like that!" she bats a hoof at your head, "we need to get up. I have an experiment to check and you have... whatever it is, to deal with." She said, her thighs clamping together a bit. This had the added benefit of pushing her tits against your pelvis as well as adding pressure on your member.

"You're gonna make me hard again. Me thinks the lady doth protest falsely. "

"You assume right. But, unless you want real, live, eldritch tentacles in the house, I suggest you let me up."

You paused, mulling over the implications, tapping a hoof to your chin. A wicked grin stretched across your face. "Can I watch if we wait long enough?"

She blushed deeply, the rosy tint reached up her ears and down her neck. "It's not the fun kind of eldritch tentacles, dork. These ones spray acid."

You paused. "The fun, melt your lab-coat and stockings kind?" You asked hopefully.

"I wish."

"Fair point." You pulled out of her with a wet pop and a gush of fluids spattering the side of the couch and floor below. You stood up carefully, "alright, alright," avoiding stepping on her still stiff wings. Or, in the puddle around her tail.

"I'm the one with a tentacle fetish?" She shot back, "me-thinks the gent doth closet himself."

You watched Bug Bite attempt to stand, but you might have really just given her the wobbliest walk of shame to date. "There's nothing wrong with watching." You pushed her to her hooves with your shoulder, steadying her as she regained herself. "Besides, I never said I didn't like them... I just don't want them in me."

"Thanks." She looked at you with that thankful, satisfied, come-hither-but-not-really smirk that made her just seem to glow. And not just because her eyes actually glowed, but a glow of happiness and fully-and-sufficiently stuffed.

"Any time. Now, you go waddle your happy ass to your acid spewing, prehensile dicks-in-a-jar. I'll... clean this up. For a start." You shooed her away playfully.

"It's good to see you happy again, Night." And with that, she made her way to the attic rooms on the fourth floor.

Damn... that floof was so-o-oft! You thought back to your pre-nap. Now I just need to make sure her collection doesn't end up in my room while she distracts me with floof, and we're golden!

Another thought strikes you, you run to the bottom of the stairs. "Hey!" You call up the stairs, "do NOT collect my 'samples' again! No cloning! Not even just my dick!"

"DAMNIT!"

Author's Note

So, I feel stupid. I've been sitting on this story in it's mostly finished state for months now. I think I wanted to see it again with fresh eyes when I edited it? Well, oops! Mission accomplished! kek
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little romp. I know I liked writing it!