Ficlet: Plushophilia
First entry for the fetish ficlet/drabble challenge. Spike/Mr. Gordo for azure_k_mello
Don't blame me, the lady asked for it. Warnings? Well, the title kinda says it all.
Plushophilia: Sexual attraction to stuffed toys
Farmboy had him half-way out the door when it caught his eye. He barely managed a gasp, stretching his hand toward it and then he was being dragged away, across the hall and down the stairs, silk panties slipping into his pocket. He ignored Riley's muttering as his mind raced. Bloody hell! Had that been plush? Or possibly velvet. Please God, let it be velvet.
He couldn't get home to his crypt fast enough. He needed a plan, a good one this time. He'd been careless, letting Riley sneak up on him like that. That just wouldn't do if he was gonna get to that... beauty. But first he had an urgent problem to see to.
No way of locking the crypt door but a chair in front of it would at least give him some warning in case someone decided to drop by. He jumped the last steps down the ladder, snatching the panties out of the pocket of his leather coat before shedding it on the floor and kicking of his boots as he moved to the bed. His hands trembled slightly as he worked loose the belt and popped open the buttons on his jeans, shoving them down and shaking them off his legs before crawling onto the bed. He heard a soft ripping sound as he drew the t-shirt hastily over his head but he couldn't care less.
Now to the good stuff. He lay back, draped the panties over his face, the crotch covering his nose, and reached down. The plan had been to take it slowly, jerk off to images of Buffy kicking Angel's arse - in slow-motion of course - while breathing in the scent of her arousal still lingering in the soft fabric since her last fight. Then, when he was just about to come, he was gonna snatch the panties off his face and wrap them around his balls, hard, to prolong the orgasm. Shit yeah.
But now...
The images changed to Buffy coming home and lying down with that luscious pig, burying her nose in it, sweat and vampire dust soaking into its felt. He wondered if she ever masturbated with it. That snout looked like it had a rough edge, he bet it would feel good against her clit. He bet it would feel even better rubbing the slit of his cock.
The idea was enough to make him shudder and he lay panting, the silk caught in his mouth, his fingers sticky and wet. Bloody hell! If the thought alone was enough to let him come like that, how would it feel to actually have the thing itself, wrapped around his erection?
He ripped the panties off his face and wiped his fingers and belly relatively clean with them before licking the last trace of his fingers. That was the thing about masturbation, it was messy. And all that felt...
He'd have to wash it, of course, after. It had looked worn out, mutilated by years of loving childhood memories. There was no way he could just steal it, the Slayer would know. Maybe if he staged a fire...
He shook his head and abandoned that thought. He liked Buffy's home. It contained among other things her mum and those wonderful marshmallows.
It would be best if he could go by the day, when no one was home. But his blankie was getting a bit ratty, the holes big enough to scorch holes in his coat and that wouldn't do. Maybe a big umbrella?
As it turned out Fate was on his side. When he woke up around noon the next day it was grey and windy with large rainclouds blotting every inch of the sky. California only got about five rainy days a year and getting one today of all days was clearly a sign.
Spike got dressed, humming the Teletubbies theme song happily as he picked out clean jeans and a relatively new t-shirt. Not that the pig would comment on it but that didn't mean he couldn't look nice for it. After all, he hadn't been on a date since... well, never. He'd never done that stage with Dru, it was more of a 'Oh God, I'm dead! And my trousers are too tight. Oh look, there's that odd girl, pulling up her shirts. Bet she'd fancy a shag.' thing with her. Before that he'd hardly known what sex meant and after Dru left... Was it really dating if the girl sucked him first and said hello after?
Shrugging off the memory of Harmony's bubblegum kisses and pussy wide enough to host half of Sunnydale, Spike spit on his boots and rubbed most of the dirt off them. Then he fished a comb out of his pocket and ran it through his hair, slicking it back as well as he could. It would have to do. He was out of the hair gel Angel sent him regularly and he was saving his come for later. (Thank you Hollywood for that great idea.)
He stuffed the small folded down umbrella into his pocket - in case of rain, or more importantly sunshine - and climbed up the ladder, a bounce of excitement in his step that he hadn't felt since before the chip ruined Slaughter Saturdays for him. And, you know, Sucking Sundays, Massacre Mondays, Terror Tuesdays and all the other days of the week. Sodding soldiers. One day he was gonna get this chip out of his head and have an all-week banquet, courtesy of Uncle Sam.
The house at 1630 Revello Drive was dark and quiet but he rang the bell just in case. He could always say he was collecting for Bloodholics Anonymous. No one answered. Right then. He picked the lock easily enough and slipped inside. The whole house was so quiet he could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen. Maybe after he could grab a cup of cocoa. It had been a while.
He ascended the stairs, the tingling in his belly increasing as he got closer to his goal. The door was ajar, and he pushed it gently with trembling fingers, swallowing in anticipation as it swung slowly open.
There it was, sitting innocently on top of the covers, propped up against dark purple pillows that really brought out its skin tone.
“Hello there, piggy, piggy, piggy.”
It didn't answer, just stared at him with those beautiful black and beady eyes.
“Well, aren't you a sweet little thing.” Spike licked his lips and stepped inside the room, scanning it for possible nanny cams. The coast was clear. His eyes snapped back to the pig. “All pink and innocent.”
The pig watched him warily.
“Don't be scared. Uncle Spike is going to take good care of you. Yes, he is.”
He stepped closer until he was standing by the bed, then he reached out and ran his thumb gently down its back. It didn't flinch or move and that, frankly, was all the come-on he needed.
“Yeah, you like that, don't you? Such a dirty little pig. God, you're beautiful. And so soft.”
It was so much more than he'd imagined. Its snout and ears were worn almost bald but as he turned it on its back the belly shone up at him, all bright pink and soft like pellets. The feel of it against his fingertips was almost too much.
The plan had been to take it home with him, leaving a note that said 'Took it to the dry cleaners to get that stain out. Mom.' in the hope that Buffy, knowing exactly what kind of stain that was, would be too embarrassed to ask her mother about it. But now, being in the room with it, feeling its soft felt under his fingertips as it lay on the bed, legs parted invitingly, he knew there was no way he would be able to make it home without bursting.
“Look at you, spread before me like a wanton whore. You've been waiting for me, haven't you, little pig? The Slayer might smell nice but she hasn't got what you need, has she?” He grabbed the pig by the neck and forced it to look at him. “Has she? I know what you want. I know what you need. Such a little slut. Such a dirty little piglet.”
He let it go and it tumbled on its side, staring stubbornly at the wall, but its bum was directed his way in obvious invitation.
“Was gonna take it slow, be a gentleman, but I can see now that's not what you need.” He fumbled with his belt, his hands shaking in lust. “Want a hard fuck, don't you? Want a big cock, sticking it to you. Fucking you deep in your little pig arse, you filthy whore.” He groaned as he finally got the belt lose. The bottom button snapped of his jeans and rolled under the bed as he ripped his fly open. “Yeah. See that? See how hard I am for you?”
He slipped the coat off his shoulders and crawled up on the bed until he was kneeling above the pig, its velvety coat only inches from his cock. He let the head slide over the pig's back, groaning as the soft felt teased his foreskin back and forth. Soon its coat was slippery with precom, glistening like pearls upon its skin.
“Yeah, yeah. Such a good little piggy. So soft.” He pushed harder and the pig rolled away unto its stomach, head buried in between the pillows. “Aaww, are you shy? No need to be shy, Babe. You're doing so good. So, so good.” He stroke it behind its ears appreciatively. “Uncle Spike is so proud of you.”
The silence was such a difference from the way his women usually prattled endlessly on and he leaned over in gratitude, kissing the pig where the head met its back. He was usually a neck person but it's not like it was the pig's fault it didn't have any. To show he really didn't mind this anatomical failure he sucked the felt in between his lips and bit down gently. God, yes! So good. He let his teeth sharpen and slip down, only for a second, then had to nudge at them with his tongue when the material got caught in one of his fangs. Huh, that left a small mark. Oh well, he was sure she wouldn't notice. And the pig did look good, marked like that. Showing who really owned it.
A sudden bout of lust surged through him and with a moan he realised he wouldn't be able to wait much longer. He grabbed the pig's four legs, pinching them together tightly, and then slipped his cock in along its belly. Oh... Bloody hell!!
Each stroke drew back the foreskin and when he pushed all the way in the tip of his cock rubbed against the rough snout. Holy Napoleon! His moves got frantic as he fucked the pig hard and fast, spitting out dirty words between clenched teeth.
“Yeah, fuck! Just like that. You're so tight, such a tight little pig. Yeah, that's it. Moan for me, baby. Gonna make you scream. Gonna make you break your stitches, you dirty little pig whore.”
He glanced up with blurry eyes and caught sight of the pig in the mirror, staring at itself silently while it shuddered and shook in Spike's grip, the space between its legs widening and then tightening again as his invisible cock slid in and out.
“Look at yourself. Fuck, you look gorgeous. Bloody beautiful. My little pig. My pretty little piiiiig!!”
Oh God! He collapsed on the bed, his cock twitching in the pig's tight and now slippery grasp. A mellow feeling of content washed over him, his body still shivering from the intense orgasm.
“That was... That was so good.” He let lose his grip and petted the pig lazily. “That will do, pig. That will do.”
It didn't answer but he pulled it close to his chest anyway, burying his face in its soft plushy belly. He could really use some sleep now. His eyes closed and his mind had begun to drift when he suddenly heard a door slam.
Hardly ever has a plush-pig fucker jumped to its feet so fast. He grabbed his coat, not bothering with buttoning his jeans more than half-way up before heading out the window. At the last minute he paused, then rushed back and gave the pig a hard wet kiss on its snout. “Thanks, luv. I'll be in touch.”
He was already half-way across the garden when he heard the high pitch screaming of disgust pierce the air.
“Mr. Gordo!!”
Ah, so that was its name. Not gentlemanly to run and leave the poor thing to do all the explaining but somehow he knew it wouldn't mind. It might have been easily seduced but that didn't change the fact that it was clearly a gallant pig and pigs like that? Don't kiss and tell.
For the next years he kept coming back, visiting Mr. Gordo regularly for some quality alone time. He made sure to use tissues and clean it as well as he could and oddly enough no one ever caught him. Sure he got some odd looks from strangers when he'd snuck it out to the movies once but that was to be expected. Probably not many pigs that liked horror movies as much as this one. Of course it hadn't seen much of it, buried in Spike's lap only ten minutes in.
When he materialised in LA and got the news that Sunnydale had been turned into a big crater he just knew Mr. Gordo hadn't made it out and sorrow filled his heart. For months he mourned his little felt friend until one day as he walked into Angel's office he was hit with the surprise of his life.
“Spike...”
Oh bloody hell! He was... Angel was... “Look at you.”
Oh Jesus, the scowl! And those little felt hands! And the little nose! Could it be? Was he dreaming?
“Just turn around and walk away.”
Spike swallowed, all blood leaving his brain as he got instantly hard. “You're a-”
“Spike!”
His face broke out in the biggest grin as he felt happy for the first time in months. “You're a bloody puppet!”
The pig had been good, but a Puppet!Angel was even better.
fin
Don't blame me, the lady asked for it. Warnings? Well, the title kinda says it all.
Plushophilia: Sexual attraction to stuffed toys
Farmboy had him half-way out the door when it caught his eye. He barely managed a gasp, stretching his hand toward it and then he was being dragged away, across the hall and down the stairs, silk panties slipping into his pocket. He ignored Riley's muttering as his mind raced. Bloody hell! Had that been plush? Or possibly velvet. Please God, let it be velvet.
He couldn't get home to his crypt fast enough. He needed a plan, a good one this time. He'd been careless, letting Riley sneak up on him like that. That just wouldn't do if he was gonna get to that... beauty. But first he had an urgent problem to see to.
No way of locking the crypt door but a chair in front of it would at least give him some warning in case someone decided to drop by. He jumped the last steps down the ladder, snatching the panties out of the pocket of his leather coat before shedding it on the floor and kicking of his boots as he moved to the bed. His hands trembled slightly as he worked loose the belt and popped open the buttons on his jeans, shoving them down and shaking them off his legs before crawling onto the bed. He heard a soft ripping sound as he drew the t-shirt hastily over his head but he couldn't care less.
Now to the good stuff. He lay back, draped the panties over his face, the crotch covering his nose, and reached down. The plan had been to take it slowly, jerk off to images of Buffy kicking Angel's arse - in slow-motion of course - while breathing in the scent of her arousal still lingering in the soft fabric since her last fight. Then, when he was just about to come, he was gonna snatch the panties off his face and wrap them around his balls, hard, to prolong the orgasm. Shit yeah.
But now...
The images changed to Buffy coming home and lying down with that luscious pig, burying her nose in it, sweat and vampire dust soaking into its felt. He wondered if she ever masturbated with it. That snout looked like it had a rough edge, he bet it would feel good against her clit. He bet it would feel even better rubbing the slit of his cock.
The idea was enough to make him shudder and he lay panting, the silk caught in his mouth, his fingers sticky and wet. Bloody hell! If the thought alone was enough to let him come like that, how would it feel to actually have the thing itself, wrapped around his erection?
He ripped the panties off his face and wiped his fingers and belly relatively clean with them before licking the last trace of his fingers. That was the thing about masturbation, it was messy. And all that felt...
He'd have to wash it, of course, after. It had looked worn out, mutilated by years of loving childhood memories. There was no way he could just steal it, the Slayer would know. Maybe if he staged a fire...
He shook his head and abandoned that thought. He liked Buffy's home. It contained among other things her mum and those wonderful marshmallows.
It would be best if he could go by the day, when no one was home. But his blankie was getting a bit ratty, the holes big enough to scorch holes in his coat and that wouldn't do. Maybe a big umbrella?
As it turned out Fate was on his side. When he woke up around noon the next day it was grey and windy with large rainclouds blotting every inch of the sky. California only got about five rainy days a year and getting one today of all days was clearly a sign.
Spike got dressed, humming the Teletubbies theme song happily as he picked out clean jeans and a relatively new t-shirt. Not that the pig would comment on it but that didn't mean he couldn't look nice for it. After all, he hadn't been on a date since... well, never. He'd never done that stage with Dru, it was more of a 'Oh God, I'm dead! And my trousers are too tight. Oh look, there's that odd girl, pulling up her shirts. Bet she'd fancy a shag.' thing with her. Before that he'd hardly known what sex meant and after Dru left... Was it really dating if the girl sucked him first and said hello after?
Shrugging off the memory of Harmony's bubblegum kisses and pussy wide enough to host half of Sunnydale, Spike spit on his boots and rubbed most of the dirt off them. Then he fished a comb out of his pocket and ran it through his hair, slicking it back as well as he could. It would have to do. He was out of the hair gel Angel sent him regularly and he was saving his come for later. (Thank you Hollywood for that great idea.)
He stuffed the small folded down umbrella into his pocket - in case of rain, or more importantly sunshine - and climbed up the ladder, a bounce of excitement in his step that he hadn't felt since before the chip ruined Slaughter Saturdays for him. And, you know, Sucking Sundays, Massacre Mondays, Terror Tuesdays and all the other days of the week. Sodding soldiers. One day he was gonna get this chip out of his head and have an all-week banquet, courtesy of Uncle Sam.
The house at 1630 Revello Drive was dark and quiet but he rang the bell just in case. He could always say he was collecting for Bloodholics Anonymous. No one answered. Right then. He picked the lock easily enough and slipped inside. The whole house was so quiet he could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen. Maybe after he could grab a cup of cocoa. It had been a while.
He ascended the stairs, the tingling in his belly increasing as he got closer to his goal. The door was ajar, and he pushed it gently with trembling fingers, swallowing in anticipation as it swung slowly open.
There it was, sitting innocently on top of the covers, propped up against dark purple pillows that really brought out its skin tone.
“Hello there, piggy, piggy, piggy.”
It didn't answer, just stared at him with those beautiful black and beady eyes.
“Well, aren't you a sweet little thing.” Spike licked his lips and stepped inside the room, scanning it for possible nanny cams. The coast was clear. His eyes snapped back to the pig. “All pink and innocent.”
The pig watched him warily.
“Don't be scared. Uncle Spike is going to take good care of you. Yes, he is.”
He stepped closer until he was standing by the bed, then he reached out and ran his thumb gently down its back. It didn't flinch or move and that, frankly, was all the come-on he needed.
“Yeah, you like that, don't you? Such a dirty little pig. God, you're beautiful. And so soft.”
It was so much more than he'd imagined. Its snout and ears were worn almost bald but as he turned it on its back the belly shone up at him, all bright pink and soft like pellets. The feel of it against his fingertips was almost too much.
The plan had been to take it home with him, leaving a note that said 'Took it to the dry cleaners to get that stain out. Mom.' in the hope that Buffy, knowing exactly what kind of stain that was, would be too embarrassed to ask her mother about it. But now, being in the room with it, feeling its soft felt under his fingertips as it lay on the bed, legs parted invitingly, he knew there was no way he would be able to make it home without bursting.
“Look at you, spread before me like a wanton whore. You've been waiting for me, haven't you, little pig? The Slayer might smell nice but she hasn't got what you need, has she?” He grabbed the pig by the neck and forced it to look at him. “Has she? I know what you want. I know what you need. Such a little slut. Such a dirty little piglet.”
He let it go and it tumbled on its side, staring stubbornly at the wall, but its bum was directed his way in obvious invitation.
“Was gonna take it slow, be a gentleman, but I can see now that's not what you need.” He fumbled with his belt, his hands shaking in lust. “Want a hard fuck, don't you? Want a big cock, sticking it to you. Fucking you deep in your little pig arse, you filthy whore.” He groaned as he finally got the belt lose. The bottom button snapped of his jeans and rolled under the bed as he ripped his fly open. “Yeah. See that? See how hard I am for you?”
He slipped the coat off his shoulders and crawled up on the bed until he was kneeling above the pig, its velvety coat only inches from his cock. He let the head slide over the pig's back, groaning as the soft felt teased his foreskin back and forth. Soon its coat was slippery with precom, glistening like pearls upon its skin.
“Yeah, yeah. Such a good little piggy. So soft.” He pushed harder and the pig rolled away unto its stomach, head buried in between the pillows. “Aaww, are you shy? No need to be shy, Babe. You're doing so good. So, so good.” He stroke it behind its ears appreciatively. “Uncle Spike is so proud of you.”
The silence was such a difference from the way his women usually prattled endlessly on and he leaned over in gratitude, kissing the pig where the head met its back. He was usually a neck person but it's not like it was the pig's fault it didn't have any. To show he really didn't mind this anatomical failure he sucked the felt in between his lips and bit down gently. God, yes! So good. He let his teeth sharpen and slip down, only for a second, then had to nudge at them with his tongue when the material got caught in one of his fangs. Huh, that left a small mark. Oh well, he was sure she wouldn't notice. And the pig did look good, marked like that. Showing who really owned it.
A sudden bout of lust surged through him and with a moan he realised he wouldn't be able to wait much longer. He grabbed the pig's four legs, pinching them together tightly, and then slipped his cock in along its belly. Oh... Bloody hell!!
Each stroke drew back the foreskin and when he pushed all the way in the tip of his cock rubbed against the rough snout. Holy Napoleon! His moves got frantic as he fucked the pig hard and fast, spitting out dirty words between clenched teeth.
“Yeah, fuck! Just like that. You're so tight, such a tight little pig. Yeah, that's it. Moan for me, baby. Gonna make you scream. Gonna make you break your stitches, you dirty little pig whore.”
He glanced up with blurry eyes and caught sight of the pig in the mirror, staring at itself silently while it shuddered and shook in Spike's grip, the space between its legs widening and then tightening again as his invisible cock slid in and out.
“Look at yourself. Fuck, you look gorgeous. Bloody beautiful. My little pig. My pretty little piiiiig!!”
Oh God! He collapsed on the bed, his cock twitching in the pig's tight and now slippery grasp. A mellow feeling of content washed over him, his body still shivering from the intense orgasm.
“That was... That was so good.” He let lose his grip and petted the pig lazily. “That will do, pig. That will do.”
It didn't answer but he pulled it close to his chest anyway, burying his face in its soft plushy belly. He could really use some sleep now. His eyes closed and his mind had begun to drift when he suddenly heard a door slam.
Hardly ever has a plush-pig fucker jumped to its feet so fast. He grabbed his coat, not bothering with buttoning his jeans more than half-way up before heading out the window. At the last minute he paused, then rushed back and gave the pig a hard wet kiss on its snout. “Thanks, luv. I'll be in touch.”
He was already half-way across the garden when he heard the high pitch screaming of disgust pierce the air.
“Mr. Gordo!!”
Ah, so that was its name. Not gentlemanly to run and leave the poor thing to do all the explaining but somehow he knew it wouldn't mind. It might have been easily seduced but that didn't change the fact that it was clearly a gallant pig and pigs like that? Don't kiss and tell.
For the next years he kept coming back, visiting Mr. Gordo regularly for some quality alone time. He made sure to use tissues and clean it as well as he could and oddly enough no one ever caught him. Sure he got some odd looks from strangers when he'd snuck it out to the movies once but that was to be expected. Probably not many pigs that liked horror movies as much as this one. Of course it hadn't seen much of it, buried in Spike's lap only ten minutes in.
When he materialised in LA and got the news that Sunnydale had been turned into a big crater he just knew Mr. Gordo hadn't made it out and sorrow filled his heart. For months he mourned his little felt friend until one day as he walked into Angel's office he was hit with the surprise of his life.
“Spike...”
Oh bloody hell! He was... Angel was... “Look at you.”
Oh Jesus, the scowl! And those little felt hands! And the little nose! Could it be? Was he dreaming?
“Just turn around and walk away.”
Spike swallowed, all blood leaving his brain as he got instantly hard. “You're a-”
“Spike!”
His face broke out in the biggest grin as he felt happy for the first time in months. “You're a bloody puppet!”
The pig had been good, but a Puppet!Angel was even better.
fin