2009-01-27 09:20 pm (UTC)
Kirby giving blowjob.
I leave the who, why, what and when to you.
2009-01-29 11:55 am (UTC)
Because this meme lacks Kirby.
2009-03-14 08:13 am (UTC)
Re: Seconding this
This anon will try to get something down after the weekend. Semi-claimed, I guess.
2009-03-25 03:21 am (UTC)
In Poor Taste part 1
Writer!non is sorry this is a week late. Remember, OP did say anything goes.
In Poor Taste
“They say he enters your dreams if they’re about food. The bigger the table you set, the more likely it is he’ll show,” whispered Pit. The angel’s eyes flashed with mischievous delight.
“Okay, that makes sense,” said Fox. “I’d been hearing around the barracks he just showed up if you had guilty thoughts. But I have a hard time picturing how one goes from luring in the bugger using food dreams to…well, you know. The next step.”
“Half my dreams end up with me rushing about with my pants off and forgotten. All I need is to imagine a cupcake and I’m solid,” said Falco. The bird man chuckled.
“No,” Pit continued in his overwrought whisper, “they say dreams become real enough to keep you lucid, so you can control your actions when Kirby shows up in them.”
“’They say?’ Oh Pit, tell us, what was he like? Did he give you a reach around with his little flippers? Was it like sticking it to a marshmallow?” Fox asked.
The two members of Starfox and Olimar burst into raucous laughter as Pit’s face flushed scarlet, lips clamped up vice-tight. Ike spotted the angel glancing towards him. He groaned inwardly. Don’t look at me for help. Ike hated how Fox and the gang always gathered around his table to tell their stupid jokes and recount their fabricated bedroom escapades. He missed eating meals in peace. But stuck at the Smash tournament, he also missed his old company. A soldier had to make due with what was at hand.
“What’s so good about having that pink puffball invading your dreams?” Ike asked, if only to get the attention off Pit.
He looked up from the red sauce and noodles to find every pair of eyes frozen on him, wide and incredulous.
“Ike, old mate. Don’t you know?” Fox asked.
“It’s the hummer of legend, that’s what! It’s known that receiving a blow job from Kirby—it’s like getting dome from the cosmos itself. And he’ll only do it in your dreams. Literally mind blowing,” husked Falco.
“The envied accomplishment of every desperate, lonely soldier here,” agreed Fox, pounding his paw against the table to emphasize every word. “Everyone’s talking about it. I’m shocked you’ve never heard.”
“You cannot be serious,” said Ike. He couldn’t resist looking toward the vacant, crumb-strewn table Kirby had occupied just fifteen minutes before, eating lunch.
Fox followed his gaze and guessed his thoughts. “No one knows exactly how to compel the creature to such an act in waking life. No one besides Meta or Dedede knows how to speak his lingo at all, and you don’t want to be asking for help from them.” Ike nodded. That was true enough. Olimar had begun to blush.
“Only in dreams can our desires emerge fully undressed from the fog of the obfuscating prison of the self,” recited Pit in his best sage imitation. He gave Ike a smile that was more than a little friendly.
“That’s it. I’ve used up my stupidity quota for the day.” Ike tossed his unfinished lunch and left the Starfox gang to chortle into their creamed corn.
2009-03-25 03:22 am (UTC)
Re: In Poor Taste part 2
However, the rumor of an epic blow job would not leave Ike’s thoughts alone. Since joining the Smash Brothers he had come to miss Soren terribly. The nights had grown long, empty, and cold without his chief strategist there to hold. What could he lose by trying?
So, despite being hungry enough to lob off someone’s arms and roast them over a slow fire, Ike skipped supper. It would be easier, he reasoned, to dream of food if he was hungry and food obsessed all evening. And hungry indeed he became. Visions of glazed loin roasts, sweating sausages, whipped cream-topped cakes, and peeled bananas rotated through his mind’s eye until he wondered why he ever believed a blow job could ever compete with a good hot meal.
Ike curled, naked, into bed, eager to get the ridiculous experiment over with. Despite the rumbling gurgles and the pangs of hunger’s pains in his stomach, Ike quickly fell from this world into the pastel realms of Dreamland. Most of that night, like every other night, he would not remember. Cool, oblivious darkness. Later, some smeared spattering of noise and color that might have been an old battle replayed out of order. Then a darkness deeper still chased after. Time ceased to exist, and returned as if it’d never left.
Bright was the table, and many-splendored was the feast that lay upon it. Ike began to eat before the notion of reaching for the food even entered his mind. He tasted none of it directly, paid no attention to what he sank his teeth into, and yet he believed with out question his taste buds praised the fare unconditionally. Around him spread the blurry concept of green grass and lush trees. Living things born from a child’s unfettered fancy rustled and crept just outside the periphery of his mind’s eye. They watched him, frowning, he felt, but in the next instant he forgot to care.
At some checkpoint in non-time Ike did not perceive passing, the dream became, by a few degrees, more real. He could taste the molasses in the sauce that slathered the short ribs clenched in his stick hands. Sauce dried on his lips, and there was the irritation of strands of something unremembered stuck between his teeth.
Snuffling and moist gulping noises started suddenly from the far end of the banquet table. Plates scrapped over the polished wood, toppled over the edge to thud on the grassy earth. A pink orb worked its way steadily towards him, rooting through the laden food platters. A whistling intake of air, and a dish of oysters vanished.
Pouring back into his own skin, Ike remembered a name. “Kirby.” And from a place very far away, his mission in this replace returned to him.
At the sound of his name, Kirby looked up from his gelatin salad, and smiled. Before he and the dreamscape surrounding him could become concrete enough to feel doubt and embarrassment, Ike knew the time to strike was now.
The mercenary captain shot to his feet, ripped free his belt, and snaked out of his breeches. Except that it appeared he had forgotten to wear any pants at all, and was already naked from the waist down, which was pretty convenient, Ike supposed. The hard bar of his cock bobbed in the breeze. “Feast ye now upon this, Dream Wanderer, that I may sample the skills that are the envy of all earthly lovers!” Ike had no idea why he felt compelled to speak in the formal manner, but they felt like the right words. I yet stand half in the dream, he thought.
2009-03-25 03:24 am (UTC)
Re: In Poor Taste part 3
Kirby cooed, and rubbed his flippers together in delight. The alien reached him in a single leap, its stubby limbs twirling. Those same flippers peeled back the foreskin from the beet-red glans of Ike’s cock and weighted his balls in their blue-fuzzed sack. Ike stung with the desire to cool his prick in Kirby’s cool cavernous mouth, but did not dare interrupt the alien’s fondling exploration of his body.
When Kirby had had his fill of muzzling Ike’s thatch of navy blue pubic hair, he locked the black slats of his eyes onto Ike’s own. Kirby held the gaze and opened his mouth wide until the hole seemed to make up as much of him as the rubbery pink flesh. The mouth was an abyss, and I was sure that if his eyes strayed from Kirby’s he would fall into it, never to return. For the first time in a long time, Ike knew fear. And yet terror did nothing to quench his erection.
Kirby took Ike’s cock and balls wholly into his mouth, refusing to break eye contact. At first, there was the wet, slick interior just beyond the lips, and that was pleasant but ordinary.
Next, the mighty tongue slid forth and rasped soft and wetly against the underside of glans and scrotum. Ike hissed through gritted teeth and curled his toes. But he did not close his eyes or look away from those black slots of Kirby’s sockets. That fabulous tongue went on and on like a road. Ike’s cock traveled further down that bumped, fleshy way, sliding deeper into the cyclopean depths. Kirby rocked his ball-like body back and forth. The sensations intensified. Yet, in the back of his mind, Ike questioned if even this fine, uncanny blow job had been worth the trouble.
It was at that moment when everything changed.
The tongue dropped away and Ike almost whimpered from the shocking depravation. He was shocked into further silence as his genitals spun into a yawing chasm bordered only by infinity, dense with a million billion tumbling galaxies of bliss. Ike became vaguely aware of a voice ringing in his eyes, just as his brain turned to liquid sliver and fled the prison of his skull. Sobbing, gibbering. Surely, that couldn’t be his own voice, shaken and warped by extra dimensions, stressed and aged by a eon of alien orgies.
Ike tried to remind himself that he was still in the same place, staring into Kirby’s eyes, but those sweet, innocent eyes grew until they spanned forever in every direction, twin event horizons rising above and around them like an unspeakable throat swallowing his soul, even as Kirby swallowed his cock. And in that blackness lights appeared and began to dance.
“It’s full of stars,” he felt his mouth frame the words a million light-years away. Solar flares of tickling ecstasy stroked his shaft until the veins under its velvet skin twitched with the rhythm of the atoms. Massive planets orbited his balls, kneading them gently within the crux of their gravimetric fields. Hypernovas washed pleasure radiation waves over his cock head. Ike did not last long. It had been too long since Soren’s eager mouth had milked him of his seed. Ike threw back the concept structure that had once symbolized his head and howled as an orgasm greater than the totality of existence itself took hold of his soul and shook him in its crystal claws. Semen show away at light speed, splitting as it went, curling into a fractal tree of possibility.
2009-03-25 03:26 am (UTC)
Re: In Poor Taste part 4
And then Ike jerked awake, sweating in his bed. He lay awake, unable to even so much as blink. The image of a rotund, smiling face, its flipper waving fare thee well sank into permanent fixture inside his memory, even as the particulars faded as they did for any other dream. When he could feel his body once more, Ike wept into his pillow, overwhelmed by beauty and the undeniable sense of its loss.
A knock sounded at his dorm room door.
Ike collected himself as best he could and wrapped a towel around his waist. He tried not to think about what he would do if he found it was Kirby waiting outside. He tried not to think at all.
Vulgar yellow light slanted in from the hallway as he cracked the door open. Pit beamed, then frowned as he caught a better look.
“Ike, are you feeling all right?”
“Nnnnuugghh,” was the best he could manage.
“I came because I didn’t want to be alone tonight. But it seems your need is greater still.”
The towel dropped. Pit tried for a smile. The angel blushed, but did not look away.
Later, Pit’s toned body slithered against him, a hot mouth setting little fires on its way down, past his navel. Ike shed one final, icy tear in the dark and wiped it away before Pit could touch it by accident. The angle would make a good account for himself, he knew—and sometime in the future, Soren would do even better.
All futile. Nothing could ever compare. Nothing would ever come close…to Kirby.
2009-04-18 08:28 pm (UTC)
Re: In Poor Taste part 4
Just what i was after.
2009-05-23 10:52 pm (UTC)
Re: In Poor Taste part 4
THAT WAS AMAZING, ANON.
I HOPE YOU WRITE MORE