Not Real, Really
folder
+S through Z › Sonic
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,947
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+S through Z › Sonic
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,947
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Sonic The Hedgehog game series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Not Real, Really
~~~
Not Real, Really
By Harley Quinn hyenaholic
~~~
Me: This is a VERY brief one-shot. I woke up this morning with those words in my head and they sounded so good I had to write a fanfic about them. Sonic, Knuckles, and all the rest of the Sega characters belong to Sega, unsuprisingly.
~~~
From the outside, Club Rouge is just that. A perfectly respectable dance club. People go there to get drunk and dance, like they do with every other nightclub in Night Babylon. On the inside, it's a disgusting strip joint where attractive young women dance around poles and on men's laps for money. Everybody knows that, they just pretend they don't.
When my friends found out I was serving drinks there to earn a few bucks, they went nuts.
"Have you lost your mind?" Sonic asks me, catching me a clip round the ear.
"What the hell do you think your parents would think?" Knuckles asks me, glaring. I ignore him. What the hell would he know about parents?
"What do you wear?" Vector asks me, grinning. I flip him off every time.
And every time, I say, "I'm just serving drinks. It's no big deal."
And sometimes that makes them shut up. Sometimes it doesn't. If they knew what it is I do after the bar closes they'd do a lot more than go nuts. I think they'd go on in there and drag me out, or maybe tie me up and never let me go out again.
Because this is always what I think about when I'm almost smothered by the hot flesh on top of me. I used to try to make it special for each customer but that got pretty old pretty quickly. They all act the same anyway. Grunting and moaning and panting away on top of me. They even look the same now. For some of them it's a thrill, screwing a minor. Statutory rape, that's what it's called. For others, they like me cus I'm 'tight'.
Of course, it's not always the same. If I'm lucky, I only need an icepack for my ass. Tonight I'm not so lucky. I've already got a split lip and a black eye-
And a swollen cheek now. This one likes me to look up at him and if I don't I get hit. Too late. I've seen his wedding ring and his badge on the bedside table. Maybe he hasn't. So I'm being screwed by a married cop. Must be his paydirt day. Rouge uses her whores as a little bonus to seal the deal. Plus she's got him on camera if he ever changes his mind. She doesn't care that I'm years away from being old enough to do this. It's all money to her.
It really hurts; him fucking me. My opening is way too small for him. He's really heavy, and I couldn't get away if I tried. And on top of that, I think I'm bleeding from the ass. But if he wants the dominant role, that's what he gets. The customer is always right, Rouge always starts spouting that bullshit when I start 'making a fuss', or at least, that's how she sees it. She's got three lines.
"Stop whining, I pay you well don't I?" Or, "It's part of the job, just accept it!" Or, "One more word out of you and you're fired, you little brat."
It's all well and good for her; she doesn't sell her body to men. She sleeps around for fun.
Let's look on the bright side. At least he's not using the toys, or doing watersports, or into bondage. At least I'm getting paid. At least wild pigs aren't chewing off my legs.
God, doing this makes me feel so dirty. Like I could scrub myself with a cheesegrater and never get clean. Like I could dunk my head in boiling acid and still not burn away the memories. I miss being naive.
I know what you're thinking, and it's the same as me. Why don't I quit? I'll tell you why, person who's reading my mind. It'll give me something else to think about. You see, I can't afford to quit. This is the only job I can get that pays enough to keep my 'lifestyle' going, and I have to do it almost every night at that.
The fucking is getting harder and faster, and I start to cry because it hurts so bad. The man on top of me likes that, and he forces his way into me faster. It's hurting, it's really hurting me and now I know I'm bleeding because if I look, I can see it, and it only makes it more enjoyable - for him. A few more minutes pass, and he unloads into me. It's over - for now. He pulls out of me with a grunt, takes a deep breath, and sits up.
"Was that satisfactory, officer?" Rouge's low, supposedly seductive tone purrs from the door.
The man turns away from me, thank god it's over, "You got a great little kid here Rouge. Lots of emotion in him. You better not sell him too cheap."
"Oh, don't you worry officer, I treat my staff like I would my own children," the bat smirks. Which is probably true. The cop walks out and I'm left alone with her. My stomach ties up into knots of fear as the door closes. She tosses me an icepack, and even as I start to press it to my crotch she says sharply, "It's for your head."
Figures. If I go around looking like I've been in a streetfight, somebody's going to ask questions. I press it to my face obediently. My tails curl up around my waist, and I really hope Rouge isn't going to demand a freebie like she does some nights. I hurt bad enough already. Inside and out. But I need this money. I can't keep inventing all the stuff Sonic and the rest of my friends need to defeat Eggman if I don't have the money. I'm doing this for them, I swear. I don't enjoy it. Really I don't.
To my personal disgust, I realise that I'm crying. Salty tears are rolling down my cheeks and dripping off the end of my nose. Rouge notices, and ruffles the fur on my head.
"Oh, don't be so sad, Tails," she tells me, handing me a bundle of notes - my cut, "Next time I promise I'll pick you out a much gentler customer. Or how about we have a little fun together right now? Totally free, of course. You'd like that, right?"
And as I lie there, an icepack over my black eye and tears pouring down my furry cheeks and nodding my head, as she climbs on top opf me and starts to screw me over, it all seems to be...
Not real, really.
~~~
The End.
Me: I'm sorry I didn't warn you that it was M/M. But that would have take half the fun out of guessing. Besides, this is just a sad (as in unhappy) little one-shot. Tell me what you think, huh? If you want me to continue it in some way, tell me! And while you're at it, check out the rest of my work and review that.
Not Real, Really
By Harley Quinn hyenaholic
~~~
Me: This is a VERY brief one-shot. I woke up this morning with those words in my head and they sounded so good I had to write a fanfic about them. Sonic, Knuckles, and all the rest of the Sega characters belong to Sega, unsuprisingly.
~~~
From the outside, Club Rouge is just that. A perfectly respectable dance club. People go there to get drunk and dance, like they do with every other nightclub in Night Babylon. On the inside, it's a disgusting strip joint where attractive young women dance around poles and on men's laps for money. Everybody knows that, they just pretend they don't.
When my friends found out I was serving drinks there to earn a few bucks, they went nuts.
"Have you lost your mind?" Sonic asks me, catching me a clip round the ear.
"What the hell do you think your parents would think?" Knuckles asks me, glaring. I ignore him. What the hell would he know about parents?
"What do you wear?" Vector asks me, grinning. I flip him off every time.
And every time, I say, "I'm just serving drinks. It's no big deal."
And sometimes that makes them shut up. Sometimes it doesn't. If they knew what it is I do after the bar closes they'd do a lot more than go nuts. I think they'd go on in there and drag me out, or maybe tie me up and never let me go out again.
Because this is always what I think about when I'm almost smothered by the hot flesh on top of me. I used to try to make it special for each customer but that got pretty old pretty quickly. They all act the same anyway. Grunting and moaning and panting away on top of me. They even look the same now. For some of them it's a thrill, screwing a minor. Statutory rape, that's what it's called. For others, they like me cus I'm 'tight'.
Of course, it's not always the same. If I'm lucky, I only need an icepack for my ass. Tonight I'm not so lucky. I've already got a split lip and a black eye-
And a swollen cheek now. This one likes me to look up at him and if I don't I get hit. Too late. I've seen his wedding ring and his badge on the bedside table. Maybe he hasn't. So I'm being screwed by a married cop. Must be his paydirt day. Rouge uses her whores as a little bonus to seal the deal. Plus she's got him on camera if he ever changes his mind. She doesn't care that I'm years away from being old enough to do this. It's all money to her.
It really hurts; him fucking me. My opening is way too small for him. He's really heavy, and I couldn't get away if I tried. And on top of that, I think I'm bleeding from the ass. But if he wants the dominant role, that's what he gets. The customer is always right, Rouge always starts spouting that bullshit when I start 'making a fuss', or at least, that's how she sees it. She's got three lines.
"Stop whining, I pay you well don't I?" Or, "It's part of the job, just accept it!" Or, "One more word out of you and you're fired, you little brat."
It's all well and good for her; she doesn't sell her body to men. She sleeps around for fun.
Let's look on the bright side. At least he's not using the toys, or doing watersports, or into bondage. At least I'm getting paid. At least wild pigs aren't chewing off my legs.
God, doing this makes me feel so dirty. Like I could scrub myself with a cheesegrater and never get clean. Like I could dunk my head in boiling acid and still not burn away the memories. I miss being naive.
I know what you're thinking, and it's the same as me. Why don't I quit? I'll tell you why, person who's reading my mind. It'll give me something else to think about. You see, I can't afford to quit. This is the only job I can get that pays enough to keep my 'lifestyle' going, and I have to do it almost every night at that.
The fucking is getting harder and faster, and I start to cry because it hurts so bad. The man on top of me likes that, and he forces his way into me faster. It's hurting, it's really hurting me and now I know I'm bleeding because if I look, I can see it, and it only makes it more enjoyable - for him. A few more minutes pass, and he unloads into me. It's over - for now. He pulls out of me with a grunt, takes a deep breath, and sits up.
"Was that satisfactory, officer?" Rouge's low, supposedly seductive tone purrs from the door.
The man turns away from me, thank god it's over, "You got a great little kid here Rouge. Lots of emotion in him. You better not sell him too cheap."
"Oh, don't you worry officer, I treat my staff like I would my own children," the bat smirks. Which is probably true. The cop walks out and I'm left alone with her. My stomach ties up into knots of fear as the door closes. She tosses me an icepack, and even as I start to press it to my crotch she says sharply, "It's for your head."
Figures. If I go around looking like I've been in a streetfight, somebody's going to ask questions. I press it to my face obediently. My tails curl up around my waist, and I really hope Rouge isn't going to demand a freebie like she does some nights. I hurt bad enough already. Inside and out. But I need this money. I can't keep inventing all the stuff Sonic and the rest of my friends need to defeat Eggman if I don't have the money. I'm doing this for them, I swear. I don't enjoy it. Really I don't.
To my personal disgust, I realise that I'm crying. Salty tears are rolling down my cheeks and dripping off the end of my nose. Rouge notices, and ruffles the fur on my head.
"Oh, don't be so sad, Tails," she tells me, handing me a bundle of notes - my cut, "Next time I promise I'll pick you out a much gentler customer. Or how about we have a little fun together right now? Totally free, of course. You'd like that, right?"
And as I lie there, an icepack over my black eye and tears pouring down my furry cheeks and nodding my head, as she climbs on top opf me and starts to screw me over, it all seems to be...
Not real, really.
~~~
The End.
Me: I'm sorry I didn't warn you that it was M/M. But that would have take half the fun out of guessing. Besides, this is just a sad (as in unhappy) little one-shot. Tell me what you think, huh? If you want me to continue it in some way, tell me! And while you're at it, check out the rest of my work and review that.