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Cars passed by a lonely oliveblood with faceless trolls piloting them. The battering rain caused the oliveblood to grip his collar tightly, his tie flapping around unrestrained in the wind. His shades glistened with water droplets, the warm, yellow glow of passing street lamps sheening off them. This oliveblood troll was named Tilder. Tilder Novell to be exact.
Returning to his hive, he grabbed his keys and opened his front door, entering the foyer of a large, oddly constructed room standing before him. He slowly trotted up the stairs into his respiteblock, throwing open the door and collapsing onto his makeshift romance device. Now, why was this Tilder Novell out and about? Why didn’t he bring an umbrella? Why does he wear his shades at night?
Well, to be blunt, he was rung up by another troll on a date. However, this date never came to be as the individual never showed. Rolling onto his side and looking around his room, he felt the sadness of loneliness. The posters of human wrestlers being the only thing keeping him any company. Not that he really wanted it to be that way all the time however. A fanfiction writer. Someone so versed with being a romantical cannot find anyone to fill any one of his quadrants.
Tilder reached into his soaked jeans pocket and pulled out his palmhusk. The troll he was going to meet never responded to his series of texts. Turning his palmhusk off, he reflected on his sullen face in the dark void that was the screen. Another day, another night, and another disappointment.
Regardless, here he was. “Sulking in bed”. Rubbing his messy, black hair, he sat up and looked over to his husktop. He had some friends at least. There was Levene, the goldblood who was… rather odd to say the least? Especially around him. She’d probably bother him about “getting into matesprits” with her if he complained to her. Tilder visibly stuck his tongue out in disgust to that thought. Levene did show him to a rather… interesting fella however. A large indigoblood who had been punished to “help the lowbloods in any way he can”. He… didn’t really do that though. He kinda just blathered to them about how “highbloods are more cultured and they wouldn’t know what it feels to view a wild hoofbeast trotting or galloping across the plains”. He was at least online.
Tilder sat down on his chair and opened up Trollian. Being this late in the night, he didn’t see any harm in messaging said indigo. He’s probably off bothering someone with his spiel about hoofbeasts or how much he loves his machines.
adroitAuthor [AA] began trolling capacitiveThoroughbred [CT] at 22:42 PM
AA: <><> Hey. <><>
AA: <><> Horuss was it? <><>
AA: <><> Sorry to bother you, but I hope you’re still awake. <><>
CT: 8=D < Oh f*ddl*st%! Why, yes I am awake! But, how did you gain access to my Trollian? I sw**r I never told anyone what my… what you could call, reins. Um, hello! Who is this? A midb100d nobody has herd about? What is it that you need, midb100d?
AA: <><> Well, I just wanted to see if you wanted to get together? <><>
AA: <><> Grab something to eat and hang out? <><>
CT: 8=D < What a proposition to make to someone much higher on the hemospectrum! What gives you the idea that I, Horuss Zahhak, would want to associate with a midb100d such as yourself?
AA: <><> Well. I heard that you were fond of hoofbeasts. <><>
CT: 8=D < Well, by jove! You have sold me! Not that someone of such higher b100d could be sold that is. Especially to a midb100d’s discretion or ideas. I can tell you very much about the… beautiful creatures that are hoofbeasts and the many cultural and historical impact of those STRONG, magnificent creatures if you were to join me for a night.
AA: <><> Uh. <><>
AA: <><> Yeah. <><>
…and with that and some further dialogue (which is unimportant for the story), a small plan is set into motion. The respective parties left their respective hives and ventured forth into the night. Tilder was a bit more prepared for the rather dreary weather that was letting itself known and felt this time.
Arriving first at a small tavern close to his hive, Tilder entered. Barely closing the door before he was greeted with a wave and a hello. It was cozy and small, the one bronzeblood bartender cleaning glasses behind a large, wooden bar across the building from the door. Tilder nodded and slinked into the corner of the tavern and sat down, pulling out his palmhusk and browsing the front pages of a few social media he had accounts on.
Not too long after, a rather tall, lanky individual entered. Ignoring the patrons, he steps over to the corner and sits down unprompted in front of Tilder. The oliveblood confusedly looked up from his palmhusk to see this booth invader. In front of him was a rather drenched, leather-clad indigoblood wearing what was some sort of jockey uniform. Two large, dark voids that were goggles placed on their face reflected the scene, and Tilder himself as he stared into them. A crooked smile greeted Tilder.
HORUSS: 8=D < I assume you are the midb100d that I am meeting at this lowb100d establishment. The one who had piqued my interest with their interest with hoofbeasts, correct?
TILDER: <><> Uhm. Yeah. That’s me. <><>
TILDER: <><> The name is… Tilder, Your Highness. <><>
Tilder nodded a short bow before sitting back into the booth’s seat cushion. He was nervous, to say the least. You can’t exactly just directly message a highblood and expect a good response. However, exploiting his love of hoofbeasts, he was able to at least get them hooked into “teaching” them about the culture that is hoofbeast magnificence.
HORUSS: 8=D < Well, I am more than happy to make your acquaintance on your journey into learning about hoofbeasts and highb100d culture in general. You are already aware of my name… and I won’t hold you against that. I am the “Head Jockey of the Hoofbeast Fan Club” after all. Such a prestigious title I was handed down from the violetb100ds above me. I even brought my card.
Horuss reached into his jockey uniform and pulled out a wallet. Opening it up, he pulls out a plastic card with… what you can guess. Horuss’s wide grin plastered onto a plastic card noting him as the Head Jockey of the Hoofbeast Fan Club. He places it back into his wallet, and his wallet back into his still-wet uniform.
HORUSS: 8=D < This… barn stable you call a tavern is such a dreary place for such cultured individuals to be sharing such beauty.
HORUSS: 8=D < Perhaps we shall abscond from this place and venture forth onto a more…
HORUSS: 8=D < Worthy location.
Even though Horuss was quite clearly still wet from the rain outside, it was obvious he was sweating. A lot. Tilder knew, somehow.
TILDER: <><> So… where exactly would you be taking me? <><>
TILDER: <><> Your hive? <><>
HORUSS: 8=D < E%ACTLY! You have nailed the shoes onto the hoofbeast with that one, midb100d… I mean… Tilder, sh*cks.
HORUSS: 8=D < Sorry for the frequent outbursts of unsightly wordage. My highb100d education has made it quite hard for me to call individuals lower on the hemospectrum anything more than their placement. I hope you understand. I am quite conflicted on this if you cannot see. To see someone from such a lower caste placement be so… intrigued with the culture of the Hoofbeast. It brings a tear to a highb100d’s eyes.
Tilder and Horuss stood up and exited the tavern. Tilder, grabbing his umbrella before he left, opened it and held it above the two of them. Quite… annoyingly(?) Horuss was much taller than Tilder. The height difference between the two of them required the 5’9” Tilder to reach up with his arm to hold the umbrella above their heads. Even with the umbrella, Tilder was still getting wet, however. Reaching a crossing in the road, Tilder was the first to break the silence that was clouding over them.
TILDER: <><> So. <><>
TILDER: <><> How did you come to be quite fond of hoofbeasts? <><>
TILDER: <><> NO OFFENSE! It is merely a query that I wish to have answered. <><>
HORUSS: 8=D < No offense taken, Tilder. It is a long, passionate story in which I was given the knowledge and appreciation that I have for hoofbeasts. For you see, when I was just a mere wiggler in the brooding caverns, a jadeb100d taught us all about the lusii and creatures that trotted and galloped above. None intrigued a younger me until the topic of hoofbeasts was brought up. The STRONG muscles that hoofbeasts have. The speed at which they gallop freely aboveground in the woods and on the long plains. The flowing manes blowing in the wind. Blah blah blah lorem ipsum sit dolor amet.
Horuss blathered on and on about his interest. Tilder zoning out of it here and there and nodding along. Something else captured his eyes. A device. A strange box was placed on Horuss and attached itself to his back. A box with buttons and dials. Piping and wiring burst from the box and into the back neatly with the rubber grommets sealing them from outside moisture. The countersunk rivets driven into the outside, aluminum skin to hold the device together seamlessly. “De-STENGTH-inator” written in large, bold, indigo-colored text was written on the top of the machine. Tilder, noting Horuss’s absent, head-in-the-sky awareness, reached over and started to touch the device, trying very carefully to not get Horuss’s attention to his prodding and poking. It was well made from the outside. Whatever it did, it probably wasn’t going to be lasting very long. A large vial of liquid on one side of the machine was very low. The visibly bright concoction that was sliding around within the glass encasement barely being above the edge of the metal that enclosed it.
Tilder stopped looking at it and kept walking in pace, or well, trying to. The wide gait that Horuss had made it hard for Tilder to keep up.
HORUSS: 8=D < …and with that I came to become quite fond of hoofbeasts. Oh! Well, how timely! We have arrived just in time!
To which they have. Horuss and Tilder stood outside of a large plot of land with a very clearly indigo-built, farm-inspired hive. A set of stables built into the side of the hive held a couple of hoofbeasts, their STRONG gaze upon the two of them. Horuss opened the large gate and entered the hive, forgetting Tilder was behind him and letting it close behind him. Tilder quickly squirreled by the gate and entered Horuss’s hivegrounds, sped walking up behind Horuss who was already opening the door to his hive. This time, he turned around and faced Tilder, looking down upon him.
HORUSS: 8=D < Oh! S*lly cl*d, Horuss! Apologies, Tilder. I had forgotten that you were following behind me. I let my think pan gallop off without you. My moirail said I should be more considerate. It has been hard to remember with them not here. Please. Enter.
Tilder nodded nervously and entered the hive, stepping into the foyer and wiping his feet onto the hoofbeast-themed welcome mat. “The only shoes we allow in this hive are for hoofbeasts”. How tacky. Tilder hung up his umbrella onto a rack near the door and took his shoes off.
Horuss followed, wiping his boots off on the same mat and entering the hive. Both of them entered the main block which was some sort of a staircase mixed with livingblock. Horuss’s boots clicked off the tile floor as he entered the staircase side of the block. Turning around, he gestured for Tilder to follow, which he did promptly and briskly to not be left behind once again.
At the top of the staircase was a large hall that extended far deeper into the hive’s structure, the darkened walls nondescript until Horuss flicked on a switch. Clunking and mechanical noises filled the room before the one-by-one spotlights lit up the sides of the grand hall. Statues and paintings of hoofbeasts posed and flexed their immense STRENGTH. Rather lewd imagery to be hanging so publically within your halls.
Tilder entered the hallway cautiously, examining the provocative artistry. First presented with a statue of an anthropomorphic hoofbeast flexing their biceps. Barely covered with a thong, it was packing. Horuss leaned in closely and admired the statue as well.
HORUSS: 8=D < Has this beautiful specimen taken your oculars, Tilder? Their immense STRENGTH? Their tasteful, e%quisite choice of pose to strike for us to view with pleasure? What does this piece make you feel, my cultured midb100d?
TILDER: <><> Uhm. Give me a second. I… still have to process the full extent of this piece’s… beauty. <><>
TILDER: <><> They definitely have all the right to show off those muscles. <><>
TILDER: <><> Like, for us to enjoy that is. <><>
TILDER: <><> Can’t be hiding that… lovely STRENGTH away. <><>
Horuss stood upright, unable to say much else. He just nodded, rubbing his face as if there was something on it. He came up to the next piece in the collection he was clearly very fond of, clasping his hands together and staring agape at the beauty of it. Under those black hole goggles, there was a twinkle in Horuss’s eyes. It was a large portrait of a musclebeast. A seriously ripped one. Also barely clothed and wielding a large bow, it readied a shot into some distant target far off the side of the painting.
Tilder admired the piece too, opening his mouth to say something only to be hushed by an indigoblood finger flying up to block his lips from moving.
HORUSS: 8=D < Shhh. Admire this one further before you comment, Tilder. Visualize the… ROBUST, unbridled VIGOR of this musclebeast’s pose. The subtle fle%ing of their pecs as they draw the arrow, aiming downrange upon some… unworthy being. The… popping of the veins within their arms as they hold the drawstring, only allowing the finest shot with their arrow to be the one to fly. Look at how the artist… finely added sweat to this musclebeast’s upper half. The sparkling of it all. As if they were covered in a coat of glitter and oil.
Tilder stood in silence, allowing Horuss to blab about his favorite piece. Reaching off to the side, a conveniently placed set of clean towels hung from a rack. Dabbing the towel onto his face, he barely dried himself off before sweating profusely again. Tilder stepped back and allowed the man his quiet time. Horuss bewitched by his artwork.
Horuss stepped back and continued further down the hallway, dotting his head with the towel as they continued to ogle the works he had as decorations. Underclothed, rather bulgy, anthropomorphic hoofbeasts posing and flexing their musculature for the two of them to feast upon. Tilder couldn’t help but admire it, joining in on the eye-locking fixtures of large proportion.
Grabbing Tilder’s hand, Horuss led him off to the respiteblock at the end of the hall, his face dripping with perspiration. Tilder stumbled a bit, being surprised by Horuss’s rather out-of-the-blue grab-and-dash. Horuss’s respiteblock was different compared to the rest of the hive. It was messy with broken mechanical parts and tools strewn about. It was a neat mess, nonetheless. A method to the madness they called the storm that had blown through, metaphorically.
Tilder stepped over a thick cord that snaked along the floor, attempting to skip the whole “falling” part of walking around a chaotically decorated room. Horuss did the same, walking over to a different side of the room that held some of the inventions Horuss had made. “Distracting” was the mechanism on Horuss’s back that was now rapidly flashing red. Horuss had no clue what his back-worn machine was trying to convey, his mind preoccupied with the inventions that he was trying to show off to his new oliveblood cultural companion.
TILDER: <><> Hey. Horuss. <><>
TILDER: <><> I never saw it before, but the mechanism on your back. <><>
TILDER: <><> What is that exactly? <><>
HORUSS: 8=D < Oh! That! Yes! My de-STENGTH-inator. I made that rather recently out of… necessity more so than general intrigue. You see… I have a condition that makes me unnaturally STRONG. Unfortunately, that ma% it hard for me to do the… delicate things I needed to do with my hands because I would a%identally break what I was intending to do!
HORUSS: 8=D < Thankfully with it on, I haven’t had any issues like that in quite some time. It truly is one of my finest creations.
Just as he finished his sentence, a button on his uniform popped off, striking Tilder in the forehead and making him stumble backward over the cord he tried to NOT trip over. Falling onto his ass, he rubbed his head, grunting.
HORUSS: 8=O < Oh my! Are you ok, Tilder? What happened?
TILDER: <><> One of your… buttons popped off, I think. <><>
TILDER: <><> Here. I found it. <><>
Tilder held the gold button in his hand, allowing Horuss to grab it from him. Pinching down, he unfortunately bent the thing into a taco-shaped piece of useless. Horuss tilted his head and grabbed at it again, it becoming more useless as it molded between his fingers, falling back into Tilder’s hand as a piece of even more inutile, brass nothingness.
HORUSS: 8=( < How peculiar. Say, what is my De-STENGTH-inator doing right now?
TILDER: <><> Currently? Blinking and flashing annoyingly. <><>
HORUSS: 8=O < Oh F*DDL*ST*%! I must have spent too much time! This is not good!
TILDER: <><> Oh! I’m… sorry! It’s my fault! <><>
HORUSS: 8=D < No no, you are… quite alright, my good fellow. It is my hoofbeast think pan that forgot to charge my De-STRENGTH-inator this morning. How forgetful! Apologies.
Tilder attempted to stand up but was stopped by another barricade. Said blockage being Horuss himself, who was currently straddled on top of Tilder and blocking him from getting up. Another button pops and goes flying. Rebounding off of the tile floor and into Tilder’s forehead again. An olive mark appeared on Tilder’s forehead from the painful shot of brass to the noggin.
Horuss noticed Tilder’s attempt to stand and got up himself. His jockey uniform opened up to expose Horuss’s bare chest. His… fucking ripped, sweat-covered chest. At first, Horuss looked lanky. Almost beanpole-shaped. Now, the indigoblood was sporting some pecs that could put some breasts to shame. Horuss nervously chortled, sweat rolling down his face and chest.
TILDER: <><> Would you… want me to go? <><>
TILDER: <><> You seem to be having a… rather unfortunate wardrobe malfunction. <><>
HORUSS: 8=D < Under different circumstances, I would have a%ed you to abscond my general area, unfortunately, I sort of… need your assistance from this point onwards. Do you perhaps mind aiding me once this has finished?
TILDER: <><> N-no, I don’t mind. <><>
TILDER: <><> It was very nice of you to allow me into your hive, so it is the least I can do for a… someone who didn’t want to cull me on the spot. <><>
HORUSS: 8=D < Good show. Now, could you stand off to the side and a few units away? Much gratitude.
Tilder stood off to the side and let Horuss do his thing. Well, not really doing anything. Whatever was going on, Tilder sensed that being RIGHT NEXT TO HIM was a terrible idea. However, that third and last button had to make itself clear and popped off too. This time striking and burying itself into the wall. Swallowing a slug of saliva, Tilder rubbed his hands nervously.
Horuss braced himself on one of the doors, the handle breaking off and molding into the shape of his hand as he gripped it. With two screws and a coil spring shooting out of the socket where the handle used to be, Horuss dropped the metal ball of broken brass and aluminum which had lost its definition of a door handle. His top fell around his hips. Exposing his top half further, Tilder couldn’t help but… examine him.
Horuss shared the bodybuilder physique that came with his unnatural strength. The way his muscles bulge outward on his body tastefully had an element of softness to them. His pecs were as big as Tilder’s head, a nestled crevice of cleavage between them. Horuss’s arms bulged with bicep and tricep muscles. His back was ridged and fractured like concrete with no reinforcement. All of this while being coated with a distastefully excessive coating of salty perspiration that dripped visually and streaked across his body like rain down a window. Tilder stepped closer, getting up to the doorframe-fracturing indigoblood. Horuss stared down at Tilder with his goggled eyes, as if to say “Give me one moment, good sir, as I am currently entering my final form and must be given the time to do so.”
TILDER: <><> So, this decompressing. <><>
TILDER: <><> If you can call it that. <><>
TILDER: <><> Do you have to wait until it is finished to do anything? <><>
TILDER: <><> I feel with us just standing around doing nothing, we could be trying to charge that thing up again. <><>
HORUSS: 8=( < As marvelous as that idea is, Tilder, I did not think about that when I first came up with this idea.
HORUSS: 8=D < It is dangerous for me to lay my hands upon the mechanism as it is on my back. Had to do all my recharges with a mirror and a good sense of conte%t clues. Haha.
HORUSS: 8=D < I would like a towel, if you don’t mind getting one and… drying my body with it. How 100d…
Tilder hesitated before walking over to the rack of towels near the musclebeast painting. Tilder took some time to admire it again before returning to Horuss, who was happily smiling. He’s… odd to put it mildly. Exorbitantly sweaty, literally bursting buttons with his hefty, muscular physique. Horuss seemed to be unbothered by the outcome, just waiting for this “rather unfortunate turn of events to blow over”.
Tilder stepped up to Horuss and held out the towel for him. Horuss, flummoxed, tried to grab at the towel. The towel tore away from the section that Tilder held, the rest of the towel in Tilder’s hands visually congruent as if it had been bitten off like a slice of processed cheese. The motion of grabbing from Tilder’s hands also made Tilder stumble forward into Horuss, his head impacting Horuss’s midsection. Rubbing his hands into Horuss’s body, he stared up to be fronted with the underside of Horuss’s distended pectorals. Frankly, they had the resemblance of large, comely breasts. Tilder’s oliveblood hands sunk into the waist of the much larger indigo. There was a lot of give with the muscles that Horuss had, soft to the touch, squishy even. Horuss just stared down, barely viewing the oliveblood but most certainly feeling him. Tilder sheepishly stepped off and began the attempt of drying Horuss’s body off; the act being fruitless in the endeavor. Awkward glances and coughs echoed within the thick walls of Horuss’s hive, eventually broken by Horuss’s voice.
HORUSS: 8=D < I… don’t want to sound too off-putting, but I find your intrigue… fascinating. Did you really have any interest in hoofbeasts before we talked?
TILDER: <><> Uh, not… not really. <><>
TILDER: <><> I recently have been trying to facilitate some of my quadrants with no avail. <><>
TILDER: <><> As much as I love to write intimate, romantical stories, I can’t seem to land the backflip so to say. <><>
TILDER: <><> I will say that viewing your admiration for hoofbeasts has made me appreciate them more, and I don’t think I can say that about anyone else I’ve interacted with in the same way. <><>
HORUSS: 8=D < Normally I would consider your actions to be rather unsound and horrendously bold for such a midb100d like yourself to undertake. Possibly even worthy of my… disdain and rejection upon your advances, but I see your genuine interest in hoofbeasts and possibly… even myself for the reasoning for your staying as perple%ingly honest. Are you… feeling flushed for me..?
Tilder tensed up. His face was a deep olive shade as blood rushed to his head. Was he? Not possibly this quickly could he get that distinction, could he? Questioning your flushed quadrant no more than 3 hours into knowing someone personally.Tack on the pin of touring their huge, ornate hive with hoofbeast paraphernalia, and you get a recipe for a romance done quicker than Bisquick. How come the perfect pair cannot get together for days, but some random mix-and-mashed-together crackship from some teenager’s diary can immediately get from the “Hello” stage to the “Fondling the boobpecs” stage?
Dry throat, sweaty palms, and itchy neck. Tilder adjusted his tie before responding.
TILDER: <><> I… don’t know. I’ve never gotten flushed feelings so fast. <><>
TILDER: <><> I don’t mind it at all if… you don’t mind it. <><>
TILDER: <><> Not saying that I am in dire need of you to be my heart! You are a higher caste! <><>
TILDER: <><> I would be odd if we were to… <><>
HORUSS: 8=D < I don’t mind it either, Tilder. You are the first troll I’ve met that I have had any interest in.
HORUSS: 8=D < Your interest in hoofbeasts and musclebeasts does indeed pique my think pan, however, you have shown that you aren’t some beggar or wet sock.
HORUSS: 8=D < Not to rein on the parade a little, but some lowb100ds can be too clingy.
TILDER: <><> I have seen that out and about. Give some bronze some appreciation and they become a self-imposed butler to you. <><>
TILDER: <><> Am I right? <><>
A strange pause befell, Horuss’s mouth closing for a little bit but then opening. His face a deep indigo
HORUSS: 8=D < I- I wish I could say I had any feelings! N- not that I don’t! Oh. Oh gosh. Sorry! Uhm!
Horuss’s demeanor changed. Instead of being fairly reserved, he was now awfully uneasy. Neurons fired, think pan energy levels increased, processing power bottlenecked. Sweat dripped on his muscular upper half. Tilder tried his best to keep him dry but to no avail. Visibly steaming, Horuss sat down on a couch nearby and huffed. Tilder accompanied him on the sofa, unable to sit anywhere but “literally-touching-him” range. Tilder’s leg brushed against Horuss’s, then his hand, which planted itself onto his thigh.
Tilder was unable to think of a better way to console Horuss effectively, but eventually an idea sprang into mind. His hand moved from his thigh to his face, papping him and rubbing him with his bare hand. Horuss was understandably surprised. His chin fell open as he turned, but quickly shut as soon as it opened. Tilder, who had been unable to do anything for the emotionally falling apart Horuss, did the Alternian mandate of a shoosh-pap. The oliveblood hoped the emotional wreck indigo could find the shoosh-pap a viable consolement instrument. Tilder moved even closer, resting his head on Horuss’s arm.
TILDER: <><> I know you’re going through a lot. <><>
TILDER: <><> You don’t need to say anything if you wish. <><>
HORUSS: 8=O < No, no, I
HORUSS: 8=D < I have some strong flushed feelings for you, midb100d.
HORUSS: 8=D < My issue with it is how fast it took me to become such a way.
HORUSS: 8=D < Your passion, your affection, your bright olive face when you get embarrassed, the way you viewed the paintings and statues of hoofbeasts.
HORUSS: 8=D < Do… Do you mind touching me further? The… rubbing you were doing earlier. What do you call that? What did you do?
TILDER: <><> The shoosh-pap? <><>
HORUSS: 8=D < Yes, that. You can… touch my body if you want to, midb100d, I mean, Tilder.
Tilder got flustered again; his face bringing back the olive-colored shade it had before. Tilder obliged the higher caste, moving a hand into position on Horuss’s chest. Tilder rubbed along Horuss’s pecs, his hand sticking to his body due to the sweat. He didn’t mind anyhow. Dropping the towel, Tilder moved his other hand into position on Horuss’s chest. Two hands occupied Horuss’s body, fighting over ground on which they could grip and squeeze. Tilder pushed out a crooked smile, looking up to Horuss before moving into a kiss, directly onto Horuss’s lips. They embraced for a little while before parting, a string of saliva stringing between them like a suspension bridge over a tall gorge. And like the Tacoma Narrows, it broke.
Tilder gripped onto Horuss’s pecs now, squeezing into them. Banked stress withdrew itself from Tilder’s body through the deposition of his hands on Horuss’s melon-sized pecs. Adding to the front-end message that Tilder was doing, he bent over, stuffing his face into Horuss’s cleavage. His nose just barely struck his sternum. The softness between Horuss’s pecs, the palpable heat brought off of muscle decompression, the overabundance of sweat. Tilder unconsciously began to lick and lap, showing a weird form of affection for the highblood. Horuss shivered, unable to comment. They, the two currently within an oddly sized embrace, did somewhat confess to the fact they had flushed feelings for each other, but this was horrendously quick for the manufacturing of “red touch”* to occur.
*Red Touch: The touching two trolls make when within a flushed quadrant. This includes hugging, caressing, kissing, et cetera
After leaving more oral appreciation through the application of tongue to chest, Tilder was stopped by Horuss, who moved his arm. Tilder sat back, worried he did too much. Horuss however made the first move.
HORUSS: 8=D < Would you like to fill pails with me, midb100d?
HORUSS: 8=D < Sorry, s*lly me. Tilder?
HORUSS: 8=D < But, instead of pails, we use something else.
TILDER: <><> Uhm, how so? <><>
HORUSS: 8=? < Do you know how hoofbeasts mate? Or the general idea of uhm… what do they call it? Insem… in seme?
TILDER: <><> Insemination? Like, what we do with the Mother Grub? <><>
HORUSS: 8=D < Oh, yes! Quite right! Yes.
HORUSS: 8=/ < Well, the general idea I had was that we use your… body… as a pail, and we… inseminate you?
HORUSS: 8=D < Think of it as a way for me to show my affection for you the same as we do to the Mother Grub.
TILDER: <><> Against my better judgement, I… am curious about this proposition. What would you like me to do? <><>
HORUSS: 8=D < ah, eh, uhm. Sorry for my asking, but first we should undress and start from there. This is how we do for the Mother Grub, is it not?
Tilder nodded after a time of hesitation. Standing up, the two of them began to undress, Tilder with his tie and Horuss with his arrow-symbolized belt. Awkwardly stumbling around for a while and glancing over at each other with soft tittering, the two finally got nude.
Tilder glanced back towards Horuss only to be fronted with the sight of their pulsating rod in his face. The leg-length, thigh-width cock twitched and leaked a bead of genetic material, the tasteful gradient from the normal gray base of their mast to the slightly bluer tip catching Tilder’s shaded eyes. Hanging below was a pair of well-proportioned, melon-sized testicles. The oliveblood’s own dick began to rise, it equal to the larger indigo’s by barely a margin. Tilder tittered before placing a hand on Horuss’s length, giving his dick a soft kneading.
TILDER: <><> Woah, nice… member, Horuss. <><>
TILDER: <><> This thing… ahh. This thing grow with your little decompression? <><>
TILDER: <><> I have never seen someone else’s up so close before. <><>
Horuss stood silently, the gentle hands upon his sensitive dick made Horuss lock in position. Still wearing his goggles, they fogged up completely, requiring him to force a finger up into his mask to clean off manually. Horuss’s crooked smile wavered, uneasy with someone else laying their hands upon his extremity. Tilder, sensing the moment to tease Horuss, bent over and kissed Horuss right on the tip, licking up the pearl of seed at the tip of his member. It had an odd taste, not horribly volatile to the tastebuds but one of blue..? The taste of manufactured, chemical “blue” that would be seen in candies, soft drinks, and Frozen Ices. How odd.
Regardless, Tilder continued to tease poor Horuss, moving his mouth along his shaft and prodding it with kisses. Tilder was undeniably leading this two-person show. Horuss’s inaction led to him once again steaming with overbearing emotion. Tilder glanced up, his shades foggy with moisture coming off of the indigo’s dick. His gaze was met with those same larger-than-life, deliciously vast pecs. They rose and fell with each grainy, audible breath that Horuss took. Tilder moved his teasing to his partner’s low hanging fruits of measurable size. Gripping into them, the soft, pliable scrotum around Tilder’s fingers, he began to knead and squeeze. Beads of sweat ran down his sack more than his body did. The sound of skin-on-skin wetness following his hands moving around upon them. Tilder bent down and began to kiss and peck along his nuts, giving them an abundance of compassion.
After all of the teasing, Tilder stood back up and wiped saliva from his face. Smiling from ear to ear, he commented.
TILDER: <><> As much as the thought of putting it into my mouth is delightfully within my mind, I would prefer if we tried a different method of bringing out the cum from your sack. <><>
TILDER: <><> The only idea I have is for you to… put it in my rear end. <><>
HORUSS: 8=D < If… that is the case, mid- Tilder. We shall… proceed.
HORUSS: 8=D < Please take up a position for me.
Tilder nodded and planted himself against the sofa. Bending over, he presented his rear end for Horuss. Tilder, to be frank, was cheeked up. Moreso the average troll on Alternia, even more than the jadebloods which normally have larger extremities for some unknown reason. Horuss positioned himself behind Tilder, placing his hand on one of his cheeks and the other upon his dick, using it to guide himself. Tilder’s ass was one of the sizes that covers the entire seating area of an average recliner with added pressure against the armrests. Even with the added cushioning, Tilder winced and panted, the immense size of Horuss’s rod entering him causing a bit of some anxiousness. Horuss continued, pushing endless inch after endless inch into Tilder, eventually bulging out his gut with the length and extending that further. Tilder’s equally sized member thumped against the sofa, twitching and pulsating as Horuss glided his way into Tilder’s bottom.
Hitting pelvis against ass, Horuss pulled out a little, before stuffing Tilder again. Soft thrusting turned into a medium pace. A medium pace turned into raw, unbridled, passionate sex. Horuss’s hips bucked into Tilder’s ass. His balls swung and collided with Tilder’s balls, both crashing and sticking together briefly before separating and returning together. Over and over, their relentless pounding produced a rhythm of Horuss and Tilder panting. One after the other, in sync with the contact of their nuts and the wet, dull sounds of their thighs and ass crashing together.
The indigo bent over the olive and panted softly, their mutual exhaustion giving them a slight pause. Still deep within Tilder’s ass, the horse lover’s dick throbbing and pulsating with the oddest sensation of pure ecstasy. It took a second for Tilder to figure out what was going on; Horuss was unable to communicate his soon-to-be release. Tilder smiled as best he could with the feeling of that behemoth within him. He reached up and softly rubbed his hand upon Horuss’s sweaty, leather-covered face for reassurance. Horuss just nodded before again punching his dick into Tilder’s gut
Letting out a soft “ 8=O < Neigh ”, Horuss finally slips his dick into Tilder’s ass for one of the last times before he begins to cum, and cum he did. Tilder’s gut slowly inflated with the warm, thick liquid, Tilder letting out a soft gasp and covering his mouth to no avail. Genetic material escaped from Tilder’s mouth, him coughing up the thick, white liquid that Horuss was expending into Tilder’s gut. Horuss thrusts again, spewing another set of thick ropes. Another retreat and advance, followed by a further set of releases.
Slowly, Horuss backed his length out from Tilder’s well-filled ass, letting a few strings of his genetic material coat his ass and back. Tilder slumped forward onto his gut and coughed.
A silence descended upon the room that was once filled with the sounds of passion, a violent form of red romance that was new to the lands that were under Alternia’s title. Tilder panted, exhausted with the ritual that had gone on for the past 10 or so minutes that transpired. Horuss, sweatier than ever and yet still energetic enough to move, sat down onto the couch next to the gut-busted oliveblood. His hands rested on each side of him. Leaning back and panting along. Tilder shimmied his body over to the indigo, resting his head onto Horuss’s lap, his face inches away from his dick.
The two just sat there for a while. Their heads pounding, their eyes dilating. The same exhaustion felt from running a marathon without adequate water stops, or exercising when you are not fit. Tilder turned over to face Horuss, who had his head hanging back against the backrest of the couch. Horuss struggled to lift his head, but he eventually was able to lock eyes with Tilder. The cold, void that was the goggles Horuss had on the entire time, from the bar to the violent, red romance act. They hadn’t known each other for longer than a day before they had acted this way. Tilder’s face showed one of regret yet also… gratitude. Horuss was embarrassed and disappointed. His face switched from a soft, broken smile to a tight clench of the teeth. A soft hand lifted in slow motion, brushing into Horuss’s soft hair. It ran down his face, over the rivets and leather of the mask onto his touch-of-indigo cheeks.
HORUSS: 8=D < Listen-
TILDER: <><> Li- <><>
TILDER: <><> You go fir- <><>
HORUSS: 8=D < No, no. Go ahead.
TILDER: <><> We uhm… this is really hard to talk about. Isn’t it? <><>
HORUSS: 8=D < You don’t “neigh”… haha.
TILDER: <><> I don’t- oh. <><>
TILDER: <><> Hahaha. <><>
TILDER: <><> I don’t… <><>
TILDER: <><> I don't think we should have done that. <><>
HORUSS: 8=( < Was it that bad? I don’t wanna say that it was bad.
TILDER: <><> No no. That was… <><>
HORUSS: 8=D < E%hilarating?
TILDER: <><> Yeah. <><>
TILDER: <><> Anyway. We haven’t known each other that long and… <><>
TILDER: <><> I mean for fuck’s sake. I don’t even know your wriggling day. <><>
TILDER: <><> Or your favorite food. Or what you like to do. <><>
TILDER: <><> This was supposed to be a date and I spent it putting someone’s bulge into my rear. <><>
TILDER: <><> You’re a great guy. I know you are. <><>
Tilder paused, letting his words sink a little before looking off. His eyes darted around the room, his eyelids heavy and his mind laden with the computational power of a magnetic-tape behemoth. His eyes locked back onto Horuss’s body and face. Horuss looked half-dead, thinking that the sudden pause went from “awkward brushoff” to “awkward rejection”. The thought of being rejected crossed Horuss’s mind a few couple times before the answer was made clear.
TILDER: <><> But this isn’t how it should have started. <><>
TILDER: <><> I also… I don't want it to end this way either. <><>
HORUSS: 8=O
HORUSS: 8=D < Are you proposing that we become officially red?
TILDER: <><> Am I? <><>
TILDER: <><> I thought I was being inconspicuous. <><>
TILDER: <><> I guess… I guess I am. <><>
HORUSS: 8=D < If it wasn’t for… e%cuse my language. S*lly behavior before I went to meet you. I am not e%actly the best troll when it comes to keeping relationships. Realized that after I was sent here and reflected on my time with my previous matesprit, Rufioh. A mi%ture of my hoofbrain leading me onto far-flung quests of engineering prowess and emotional mess.
Tilder sat up, looking directly into Horuss’s cold goggled eyes. His hands flanking his face and his head as upright as it could be at that point. Horuss sat still, awaiting Tilder’s response. For a while, there was none, Tilder’s lips didn’t move. His eyes boggled between the two eyes which he assumed was bobbling just the same way back to him. Sighing, he lay back down, looking at Horuss and huffing, glancing off to the far wall.
TILDER: <><> Listen. <><>
TILDER: <><> I don’t blame you for what happened. <><>
TILDER: <><> I as much abused your… body to say the least from the deteriorated emotional state of my own. <><>
TILDER: <><> I’m just glad it was you instead of some other less gratuitous troll, let alone a highblood such as yourself. <><>
TILDER: <><> I would like to ask the question though. <><>
TILDER: <><> Would you want to bec-
HORUSS: 8=D < Yes.
TILDER: <><> -ome mate- <><>
TILDER: <><> Hor- Horuss let me COMPLETE the sentence at least. <><>
HORUSS: 8=D < Sorry.
TILDER: <><> Would you like to be matesprits? <><>
HORUSS: 8=D < Yes.
HORUSS: 8=D < Yes, I would very much like that, Tilder.