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8

Mel did not leave his room. If it wasn’t for those pesky bodily needs, he wouldn’t have even left his bed, but there wasn’t a bottle large enough to contain the brown evil that concentrated within him. Maybe a jar, but that would require the same amount of effort as simply doing the “right” thing, so he made an exception to go to the bathroom. Any time else? He was curled up on his bed, facing the telly, watching a slideshow of the great moments he had with Fluffy.

After all, there was that time in class, their first time meeting. That was great, especially the look on the New Jersey guy’s hands. Then there was that time when she was settling into her new bed for the night, putting Saliim in her place the next morning. They both got so... so much joy out of that... And who could forget how she followed him downstairs into the courtyard? Classic Fluffy.

But, of course, as expected, Saliim had to be cold, callous in such a time.

“You barely knew her two days,” she exclaimed on more than one occasion, as well as, “When did you even photograph any of these?”

Mel forgave her, though. She did not know what she was saying, did not mean it. They were all in mourning; maybe this was what she needed. A bit of time to introspect, to look upon her dark mood and attempt to bring it to light, like a can of kidney beans in the back of the pantry that you always say you’ll find a use for but then buy new cans to use whenever you make chili. God knows Mel needed it; he was having a fifth-life crisis. He hadn’t done much in his twenty years of living, spending almost a quarter of it just soiling his drawers. In that time, he could have learned another language, maybe even the Old Gods’ tongue, become the next emissary of Cthulu or bring back the Dark Lord by forging the One Ring. However, if he was going to forge That Ring, it would have to fit his cock. He saw the movies, read the books, and no way in Hell was he trusting it on his finger. It would have to go someplace most people would fear reaching for, and only when he met the Dark Lord would it be given freely –no homo, of course.

It would have been a heavy burden to bear, especially if he ever got a sexual inclination towards those of the feminine disposition. With the Ring on, they would be telling the truth that he seemed to have nothing down there. Truly a grave consequence, but one he would gladly consider if it meant seeing their eyes roll back out of surprise by how much he can bury his ghost sword in their pink stone. But that entirely depended on his wanton inklings, which were far and away at the moment. How could he even consider intimacy when the one creature he was truly open with, that he truly cared for, was g-

“Here you go,” Brin sung, flowing through the pantry’s entry with grace. In her hand she had a metal saucer, large enough for five people to feed off of, but not this day. It could have fit three toucans on it, from beak to tail feathers if laid sideways, but that was not this day! This day, it held a grand masterpiece, a marvel of the human race: deep dish ultimate meat pizza with bacon wrapped around the sides before all was drizzled with mozzarella then topped with Havarti. Mel could feel his arteries clogging as she drew near, placing that succulent dish on the folded stand she had brought with her –unfolded, of course, before it was put on top. The birch wood creaked; the straps making its top strained, but it held, even as she cut into it with a long knife, crunching through crust, both of flour and browned cheese. She had brought bowls, as well, tucked under her left arm alongside a ladle and three forks, one deposited into the red ceramic dish, pierced through a piece of pizza before handed to Mel. She rubbed his head, giggling, and spooned out a serving herself, sitting on the bed with him. “Bon appetit! I apologize it took me so long to make, but I was trying to find a recipe that didn’t involve several sweaty, hairy, drunk Canucks.”

“No doubt,” he said, and took his first bite into that culinary comforter. Spiced beef, sliced strip steak, cooked medium-rare prior to being added, chorizo, honey ham, buffalo chicken, smoked turkey, and, of course, bacon; there was more meat than crust, sauce, or cheese in that single piece of pizza, and probably more than a herd of animals in the entirety, enough for PETA to stop killing animals at shelters and make a (bad) spoof of it. However, let us not diss the cheese; though it was second place, that did not mean it was bad. Just not as good as the meat, but it was the cheese that brought it all together, all seven different varieties. Mozzarella, provolone, sharp cheddar, Havarti, fresh Parmesan, ricotta, and even more bacon with bacon cheese which was essentially American fused with bacon. Two American classics made into one product; how could anyone refuse?

Of course, it had to be Saliim that ruined the moment, scoffing, breaking the silence that was the food sex as she swiped the last bowl out from under Brin’s arm.

“Thanks,” she said, her tone so bitter, so full of remorse and anguish, still trying to mend. She grumbled as she spooned out her own slice of porn then plopped on the bed, as well. In fact, she did it hard enough for the entirety to sit upright, once more a couch. Mel had been ready; he raised his legs, sweeping them over the ladies’ heads as his arse slid down into place. Brin, however, was caught a touch off-guard, crying out as she fell, landing, head-first, into Mel’s groin. It was only the back of her head, but that didn’t stop her from bolting upright all the same, prepared to apologize profusely to him. However, she only made matters worse by slamming the top of her head into Saliim’s chin, knocking the already dazed and flustered succubus to the ground. “Hey! Watch it!”

“It was your fault,” Brin whined, rubbing the top of her head. “That really hurt.” She leaned back against Mel, looking up at him as he continued to shovel that pizza into his facehole. “So... is this helping?”

“Helping with what?” He mumbled.

“You know... with moving on.”

“Moving on from what?”

“From Fluffy.”

“Who?”

“The girl plastered on the fucking TV screen,” Saliim said, plopping onto the couch again. This time, she managed to keep her seat, but that didn’t stop her from continuing to sour the mood, pointing her fork at the telly in the corner with its strange, green, big-tittied scaly girl on it. “The girl that’s been plastered on there, somehow in perfect HD pictures, for THREE DAYS... The one that called me a bitch and you stood by her!”

“That sounds about right. The bitch part, I mean; don’t remember ever seeing that thing before in my life.” The walls started to buzz. “Could you get that? It could be the girl scouts selling cookies!”

“It never is. You know damn well who it actually is.”

“But what if it is the girl scouts? Do you want to imagine their disappointed faces?”

Saliim rolled her eyes, but was already standing. Though he didn’t necessarily frame it as a command, a succubus must obey every order her “master” gives her, even a master that doesn’t want her. That didn’t mean she had to like it, and voiced it clearly as she stomped over to the door, making the walls rattle more than the buzzing was at that moment. The stone slid away to reveal that it, sadly, wasn’t the girl scouts. They might have been there a second ago. They might have been along the way, but there was no doubt in Mel’s mind that the woman standing there would have ate them if only to be the only one knock, knock, knocking on his door.

“H-hey,” Penelope said. “Can I come in?”

“Do you have thin mints? Samoas?” Mel mumbled through another mouthful of pizza. “Do you at least have trefoils?”

“No?”

“Then we don’t want any.”

She groaned. “Saliim, may I come in?”

“Please!” The succubus pleaded, and pulled her inside. She leaned against the wall, pecking at her food, while Penelope rushed over to Mel, sitting beside him, making him freeze once more.

“Saliim,” he said, going bug-eyed, looking at the stranger sideways. “I didn’t say you could let her in.”

“She knew it was for the best,” Penelope s- STRANGER DANGER! STRANGER DANGER! She DARED to touch his shoulder again, molesting it with her caresses. “She knew that you needed me.”

“Yeah. Sure. We’ll go with that,” Saliim said. “This actually did turn out well, Brin.”

“Thanks,” the other succubus said, spooning out another serving into her bowl. “I’m quite surprised; never thought poultry would work well with a red sauce, though I did draw the line at adding pineapple.”

Mel whined, looking at her as if she had ran over his big toe with a tank.

“I like pineapple on pizza,” he said, and grumbled as he looked down at the (now known) imperfect food festering his bowl. “I am the sad now.”

“That’s okay,” Penelope said, wrapping her arms around him even more. She nuzzled his neck, blowing on it, the stranger danger levels at DefCon 5. “I’m here for you.”

“I doubt it. You didn’t even bring the girl scout uniform of the one you ate.”

She giggled, ruffling his hair, and tried to straddle his l-

Brin shoved a bowl of pizza into Penelope’s hands, pushing her off him completely.

“There you go,” she said. “There’s enough here for everybody.”

Penelope gave the succubus an evil look, returned in kind by Brin, settling in place by Mel once more. She eased her legs on his lap, crossing them, making sure nobody could clamber on again as she continued to eat.

“This really is good, Brin,” Mel said, though added in sotto, “would’ve been better with pineapple, though.”

Brin tittered, and ruffled his hair, Penelope’s eyes growing that much darker.

“Like I said, I did my best. I’ve been studying the last few days that the best way to make a man feel better when he is down is to make him his favorite food... I had no idea what your favorite was, but everybody loves pizza-”

“I don’t,” Penelope interjected, scoffing at the mess in her bowl. “Especially with so much meat. I’m a lacto-ovo vegetarian.”

“I’m sorry to hear that you are half-dead, then. And not a man.” She giggled again, a throaty sound, and picked up the controller for the TV, turning off that big green distraction and putting on something actiony! Nothing says action more than a soft sonnet for little girls at play. “So how are you feeling, Mel?”

“Fucking awful; thank you for asking,” he said- once more having to bug-eye as Penelope wrapped an arm around his shoulders. She cupped his chin, rubbing his stubble gently though hard enough for her nails to scratch against.

“A bit of sunshine might do you some good; a walk, as well.”

“Those sound great, but I think I should take a shower before anything else.”

“A s-sh-shower? L-like, right n-n-now?”

“Yeah! Don’t you know this futon has a built-in shower. Watch.”

He reached behind Brin- towards the arm of the futon; Brin had bolted to her feet and joined Saliim by the door, both tense, watching, anxious, as Mel pressed down on that arm. Brin really didn’t know what would happen, but, given her recent experiences, she made the right choice. The arm clicked... there was the smallest pop, and Mel and his clothes were clean and proper. Instantly.

Mel stood, and walked over to Brin, giving her his bowl, clean as a whistle.

“Next time, don’t skimp on the pineapple,” he said, and yawned as he headed for the door. “Since nobody else thought of it, I’m going on a walk. Penelope, you can either join or don’t, but I want you out of my room before you decide to jill on my bed.”

Saliim muttered something, which Mel didn’t really care to catch. Brin and Penelope must have heard though; Brin was snickering, practically guffawing as the futon creaked and Penelope dashed to him. Her face was scarlet, eyes wavering with tears, and her nails bit into his arm as they made their way down to the courtyard, enjoying that fresh, brilliant starlight. Never from concentrate. Of course they weren’t alone; Brin and Saliim didn’t exactly have a choice, the two still tittering, laughing as Penelope shot dirty looks back at them, jerking her head hard enough to make her neck crack and Mel’s arm ache.

Overall, it was a pleasant walk. Calm, quiet... almost too quiet... Mel kept looking around, heart pounding a touch harder than usual. Nobody was out there. Nobody was sprawled on the grass. Sure, there were other students there, talking among themselves, but it was Nobody that troubled him the most. In fact, Nobody waved at him, her heart-shaped face warm and glowing with her perfect smile and framed by her short, blonde hair. She had the clearest blue eyes, almost crystal, sparkling with such color, all depending on her mood.

“How’s it going, you two?” Nobody said, legs wagging in the air. She was laying on her stomach on the pink grass, only her (very tight) robes keeping her from it. That black material was pulled to its limit, showing off the creases on her curvy rump, as well as giving bountiful view down the front, showing off the four sunspots on her left F-cup breast.

“Not bad. Just going on a walk,” Penelope said, clinging that much more to his arm. “What about you, Daisy? What brings you to our little corner?”

Nobody, or, her real name, Daisy Dominus, poked at the book before her.

“Just studying, and today just so happened to be your guys’ lucky day to see little old me,” she said, giggling, those throaty, warm bubbles of joy making Mel bend a touch forward, loosing his robes that much more so it can hide how much he truly enjoyed them. “I’m trying to find a more practical way to conjure familiars. Blood bonds and void ties always seem to be a detriment, whether it be to the familiar or to the human that ties themselves to them. After all, can you say it’s worked out well with you and Mel since he tied himself to those succubus?”

“Trust us when we say we don’t want to be here anymore than he wants us,” Saliim said, and Mel could hear her neck snap towards Brin as she heard her mutter something truly vile. “What was that?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Brin repeated, and yelped as Saliim smacked her again.

“Girl, I don’t know what got into you recently, but nobody likes a sycophant.”

“Yeah! Quit trying to stick your neck where it doesn’t belong,” Penelope said.

“But I’m n-”

“They’ll be gone soon enough, Daisy. In truth, he didn’t necessarily want them; he just accidentally summoned them.”

“How does one accidentally summon a succubus?” Nobody inquired.

“I unno,” Mel said. “I was trying to make shoes out of tea biscuits for afternoon tea and-”

“Ah! That old mishap. Hope everything is taken care of.”

“Thank you,” Saliim said.

Nobody sighed, that blissful sound bringing so many fun thoughts to Mel’s head, forcing him to bend over more even as she returned her focus to her tome.

“I took up enough of your time,” she said. “Thank you for stopping to talk, and hope you two enjoy your walk.”

“We will,” Penelope said, and pulled Mel along once more, towards the other edge of the courtyard. “Daisy is such a sweetie. I’d never go gay for her, but I bet she broke many a guys heart when they found out she was.”

“No doubt,” Mel grumbled, still bent over, and fought back his whimpering for the rest of the time they strolled. The last thing he needed was to find out about his true burden; he really didn’t want to share the load. Not with her. Ever.

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