A Wavering of Contract

Trying to talk to you’re mom while fixing a live wired computer console wasn’t all that fun, I had adequate time to contemplate as I handled the cords- expertly I may say. Oh yeah, I was a whiz at that sort of thing, but having to comfort mom wasn’t that fun, and particularly distracting.

"No, no you’re not getting old- NO, Mom honestly you’re paranoid... it’s menopause-"

That one earned me nothing more than an irate burst of some rather surprisingly vile language. Yep, definitely menopause. She went on.

"Yeah, I KNOW dad gave birth to me- Well Mom, I don’t knoy yoy you were the one who went through it..."

Being a part of a race of hermaphroditic beings couldconfconfusing sometimes. Like the fact that I learned at age six that I really should be calling my mother Dad, since she had gotten daddy pregnant and he was the one who had me. Mom said it was because she was having fertility issues. I know, too much information, I thought so too. But she is a girl and dad’s a guy. With us, it’s rather... strange. We choose. I chose to be a guy, just like old dad. And just like old dad,
things are getting... rather confusing.

The wires sting me, and I scream. That always seems to bring him out of the woodwork.

"Honestly Escargoon, I don’t know why I hired you; you’ve been working on that for six *hours* ...isn’t it done yet?"

Trading the phone to the other side of my head and sucking at my singed finger, I turn in place, carefully of course, glancing back at him with a slow, chastising look. Feeling the sparkling wires against my shell brings a brief reminder of where I am, and so I respond evenly, hands already going back to work. "Well, if SOMEBODY didn’t insist on still having the system booted up while s fis fixing this monitor, I wouldn’t be in danger of frying myself!" Shaking said burned fingers only made them sting more for some reason, so I just sent myself back to work. Albeit with a grumble.

"Quit complaining, I’m still downloading."

"You’re just spoiled." ...I should have expected the cushion, I had been here more than five months, but it still caught me a bit off guard when it bounced off my head. I just had enough time to hear mom question who I was talking to before the cell slipped from me, shattering on the ground, and driving one of my hands into a nest of wires-

"AAAAARRGH!" It took a lot of willpower not to bounce around shaking my burned hand- which, unfortunately would have zapped me even worse. "Dedede, sit down and WAIT or I’ll program this monitor to show nog bug but infomercials for the rest of its working days!" Damn, the skin was starting to crack from that last one... I really should have spent more time looking for those gloves.

"Fine, just get it done. You DID list mechanical expertise on your resume."

Not rising to that bait, I only grit my teeth and begin handling the needlenose pliers once again. I did have mechanical expertise, a whole lot of it. Who else in his miserable kingdom could even fix a car, much less a high class machine like this?

It was nice, although I was still a little unclear on what it did, but surf the net at scary speeds. From Dedede’s bragging, it cost a bundle and a half. And he was having me fix it. Despite his nagging and poor attitude, it was rather pleasing that he showed just that much trust for me to be handling such an expensive piece of equipment...

With a blip and that annoying whine all machinery sometimes got, it was on. Just like that, a faint bleeeem and the lights began to swell. Slipping carefully out of the back of the console as it rose from the floor, sliding back into position, I just tucked my tools back into the red plastic housing case and slipped that back into my bag. Dedede just warbled like a little kid and went bouncing back into his throne, immediately chattering at the creepy guy on the screen. I, of course, just zoned all that out and began wrapping a clean rag around my hand. Thankfully it would heal, and soon. Mom said it was the way of our people. Lacking strength and having high intelligence, we healed and learned quickly. It was true. In all my rambunctious youth, odd as that sounded for a snail, I had picked up no scars whatsoever. And I was a wild little kid.

"It’s here! It’s heeere!"

What was that loser going on about? From what it looked like, the king had bought an aquarium of sea monkeys or something. But what was in there? Scooting forward, I looked in, seeing pretty much zilch but some cheesy aquatic props, horribly fake plants and this really awful rubber octopus.

That blinked.

Very realistic effect, I couldn’t help but notice as I stepped back. "Okay, so you bought a tank. What’s going in it?"

Penguin boy just gave me that look- that damn-you’re-a-few-cents-short-of-a-dollar-aren’t-you?

That look. Taking a slimy sardine from a can, he held it over the empty tank. And the rubber octopus swam up and ate it- sucked it right down. Okay, so maybe I was mistaken about the rubber part, but it was certainly an... odd looking little critter.

"Well anyway, congratulations on your new pet. I think." He just gave me this weird gleeful little kid grin.

"You have no idea."


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You know what they say about body weight and alcohol limit? Believe it. I’m not sure exactly what he weighs, and I am of course not stupid enough to ask him, but he’s on his sixth *bottle* and he’s showing absolutely no sign of it affecting him, much less slowing him down. I’m not sure, but it smells like a cross between sake and something sweet like wine, but it makes my head spin, and I’m standing at least three feet away. He’s just drinking it like water. And eating. First thing I had thought upon seeing him all those months ago had been a resounding ‘wow, he’s a big kid, isn’t he?’ It was a correct assessment on that note. He must’ve been damn impressive in his youth. Now... not so much, but there was still a scary amount of muscle under that softened exterior. I had seen it several times. You get sent across a room by a mallet strike and you learn to judge such things. Well anyway, he was packing it away like he was preparing for hibernation and drinking a LOT. Camels would be envious, really. I spent the time of course going over some blueprints. I wasn’t hungry in the t- at- and even had I been, the king’s table manners had an odd way of twisting one’s stomach.

A good hour passed. The king didn’t complain when I slipped into a chair opposite his culinary carnage zone, and I spent the time scribbling upon the dark blue paper. He didn’t complain, and it amused me. So, scratching out the designs for a minute catalytic converter’s turnover system, I sat, listening to the rapid inebriation of my employer. He was probably celebrating his great miraculous download. I was as impressed as anyone else, sending things over the Internet wasn’t small change... but it was an octopus. Not even sushi yet. I was not exactly blown away. A subtle thump shook the paper, lending an unwanted white mark to my design. Glancing up from the paper, I couldn’t help but smile. So he had finally lost his war with the bottles. Seven lay massacred, but had taken him down with them.

A sigh escaped me as I rolled the paper, expertly slithering a rubber band up the paper pipe and tucking it into my bag. As an assistant, it was my duty to serve the king. Thankfully this job wasn’t too bad, compared to some of the more elaborate, exotic or demeaning. He stank pretty badly of the drink, but nothing that made me pass out. Ugh, well, at least not right away.

As said before, he was a heavy bastard, especially half dead weight and slipping off to sleep. He sagged on top of me like a lardy bearskin rug, all hanging limbs and half coherent mumbles as I slid one hand over my shell, half supporting him, half dragging. Thankfully, the king’s private chamber was right near by, so I wouldn’t have to crack my shell hauling his feathered butt to bed. It was a little late anyhow, and a night’s sleep would do us both good.

I admit I was a bit out of it, thinking about what the morning would been. I was still technically in my trial period, and I wasn’t all the way sure of the goings on in this castle. But I was as I had said, a quick learner.

He hit the mattress with a particularly spring killing rattle, sinking into the mound of pillows with a faint groan as I eased him into a sitting position with difficulty, propping him up with nothing more than inadequate arm power.

I looked away as he began to shrug his way out of his robes, still straining to keep him from falling forward off the bed as he began to dis. I . I could just let go and scoot free, but it would be best for him not to sleep in his robes, so I waited. It wasn’t as if there was that much to worry about- it wasn’t as if he wore pants to cover himself, but certain traditions must be maintained, and so my gaze was adverted as he stripped, slipping the thick sash off and dropping both in a wrinkle encouraging heap on the floor. He got his balance without too much problem and I bent to the floor, reaching to pick up his outfit and get it ready for the morning-

Before an iron hard hand slipped around my wrist and squeezed. Surprised more by the grip then by the fact that I was being hurt by the pressure, I pulled on reflex with laughable results. He didn’t even move. "Dedede? What-"

His tongue is in my mouth, hot and sliding and tasting of rice wine as his hand finds the back of my neck before I think to pull away. He holds me so effortlessly, one hand easily encapsulating both my thin, meager wrists as he slides me into his lap. He’s just drunk he’s just had a bit too much to drink. But as his hand begins to massage the back of my neck in small circles, matching the thick movements inside my mouth...

A sharp cry is lost in his beak as he draws me closer. I feel him, hot on my sch, ch, searching as he shifts, getting comfortable, holding in my frantic fighting with one crushing hand, pressing me to his chest and stomach.

My scream drowns in his mouth as I feel his dick slide into me, slipping easily through the near invisible slit under me as his hand grinds my wrist, pressing me unerringly to the hilt. I feel something give way as he slams me down, my stomach meeting his. He’s so hot, like his skin is on fire and I try to fight the screaming as he casually begins to fuck me, shifting me around easy as a ragdoll. I’m bleeding, from the inside, I can feel it. Momma told me it would happen. She said that if I ever used my female parts, they would bleed and hurt the first time. That it was natural. But this whole situation didn’t feel too natural. It didn’t even feel real. He moved in a slow, sleepy rhythm, mostly using his arms to move me, but occasionally shifting his hips, pushing deep with each slow, thoughtful thrust. It hurts, Mommy hadn’t said it would hurt like this. He tucked my head against his shoulder, just like that, like one comforting a child and I waited till it was over, just clinging to him, my eyes locked on the antique clock on the opposite wall as he moved against me, filling me again. An eternity of forty-five seconds spans out slowly before I feel his body stiffen and a soft little groan sound in my ear. He’s not even finished before he falls back into the pillows, already asleep, and I lay there, looking down on him dumbly. I don’t like doing anything with any particular amount of stupidity to it, especially lying on my employer’s stomach with his half softened penis still inside me and his seed wet within my abused body.

It only takes a faint movement to slide down the edge of the bed. Thankfully, his sheets are satin, which isn’t particularly hard to wipe off, and his shower is a spout type with a prehensile showerhead. The water s, bs, but as the swirls of red and white flow free, the water covers the hiccupy sounds that rise in my throat as I clean myself up, body shaking even in the gentle warmth of the room. An assistant must always be professional for his employer.

At least he didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean it. He was drunk. He was really, really drunk, and I was nearby, and he...

Okay, so I was in a bit of shock, but I still managed to remember to put out his hangover medicine on the side table before I went back to my room. He had set aside a room for me, as what was expected of an employer, and it was only a matter of moments for the door to be locked and the sheets to be cold around me.

So as I lay there, leaking blood slowly every now and again, I couldn’t help but not say a word, listening to the subtle strains of music from my personal radio.

I wasn’t going to quit. I had worked so hard for all of this, and I wasn’t going to quit over something like that. Laughing softly to myself as I let the pain throb softly inside me, I just waited for sleep to pull me in. If the king would forget this in the morning, then what was stopping me from doing the same?

Tomorrow was a new day. And like I said, my people heal fast. I just need to remember to buy another phone in the morning! Stupid Dedede...

Sleep eventually came, the final mercy of all bad days.