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[u][b]A Queer Weapon[/b][/u]

A Sonic the Hedgehog Fetish Fic by apeculiarfeline

[u][b]I: The Prison Island Pansy[/b][/u]

[b]21:33

Prison Island, United Federation, deep underneath the main facilities[/b]

“Enter user data, aha… enter password… password is Ma-Ri-A… Maria… now all I have to do is place the Chaos Emerald into this console…”

Robotnik gently inserted the silver Chaos Emerald into its designated slot. It satisfyingly clicked into place, causing the holographic dashboard to light up like a Christmas tree as it processed the input.

Outfitted with a state of the art battle mech matching his egg-shaped physique, Doctor Ivo Robotnik - Eggman, as he had come to be known - stepped back and watched as the floor beyond the console parted. Cyan light poured out from underneath it, better illuminating the dark, dim chamber. By all accounts, it was a very unimpressive room, especially for one locked behind so much security, but Robotnik acknowledged that the top secret weapon stored here was something that G.U.N. was loath to bring attention to.

Once the entryway opened fully, the doctor hopped down some 30 odd yards into an even larger chamber, the construction of which was about as generically industrial as the last one. The feet of his mech slammed onto the reinforced steel flooring with a resounding, reverberating thud. All of the walls were lined with pipes and wires, most of which went on down under the floor, but some of them, curiously, trailed into a recessed section of the ground. Before he could fully process his surroundings, the sunken portion started to rise, higher and higher into the air, like a skyscraper, with thick veins of tubing snaking around it. Its ascension suddenly halted a few feet from the top of the pit, leaving Eggman gazing up in wide-eyed astonishment.

Unable to clearly make out much from his position, Robotnik swore for a moment that he saw a very familiar head profile emerge from up there…

“What’s that? Is that you, Sonic?” he boomed angrily, his interrogations echoing throughout the space. “Are you trying to spoil my plans again!?”

As soon as his question thundered out, Eggman - who was squinting intensely to get a better look - promptly realized the inaccuracy of his initial assumption.

“...Sonic? What happened to you?”

For one thing, this hedgehog wasn’t blue at all. It was jet black, with streaks of red on its quills, and a pocket of white (and rather unkempt) chest fluff. Secondly, it completely lacked Sonic’s fit, well-toned body in any capacity. As it rose, its wide, drooping gut wobbled with every slightest hint of motion, appearing to hang so low as to touch the ground. So great was the accumulation of blubber that the whole of its abdomen fanned out like a deployed parachute, with a depressed, greasy fold in the middle stretching from end to end. At the center of where the two fluffy halves met, its belly button sank deeply into the corpulent abyss, doubtlessly stuffed with sweat-soaked lint.

Furthermore, its legs - what the doctor could see of them, anyway - were thick like tree trunks, all lumpy, segmented by creases, and speckled with the occasional patch of cellulite. The arms were much alike, though just slightly skinnier, going from wide bingo wings down to plump, gloved, sausage-like fingers. Eggman couldn’t help but wonder if any of the muscles in those limbs had seen [i]anything[/i] remotely resembling intensive work in their life, and was flummoxed further by the fact the hedgehog could still move them.

Around back, the creature’s titanic posterior sagged to the ground, every inch stuffed full of doughy lard. That booty very nearly dwarfed the rest of its body, with each globular mass of adipose almost matching its head in height, and together having a wide profile accompanying the hedgehog’s generously sized love handles and hips. Much like the belly, it jiggled profusely with the seismic effects of even the most trivial motion, causing adjacent blubber deposits, like its back rolls, to wobble with it. The ensuing slaps between the cheeks were disgustingly wet and sloppy, like a fresh cut of ham being smacked, which Eggman, already turning green, found himself increasingly nauseated by the longer it went on.

The hedgehog’s expression initially betrayed little emotion as it stared back. Granted, its countenance was barely recognizable as a hedgehog’s at all, as both cheeks were swollen with excessive amounts of fat pushing up against its eyes, which made most subtleties of expression completely inscrutable. It crossed its corpulent arms and its eyelids drooped in lethargy, though after a quick lookover of this mysterious mustachioed intruder, it grinned widely, pushing up its cheek pudge.

As if being a morbidly obese slampig wasn’t enough of a shocker, the hedgehog was a very stereotypically flamboyant drag queen, fruity and proud of it. His masculine lips were glossed over with sparkly cherry red lipstick, and he had cheap hot pink liquid eyeliner on that had sloppily dripped all over his cheek fur (which was the only visible evidence he had even applied it, provided you weren’t within inches of his puffy face). Although Robotnik had no way of seeing them from his position, the hedgehog’s swollen feet were encased in hover boots with, of all things, heel breasts. Their continued existence in spite of the hundreds of pounds of flab above them was nothing short of a miracle.

Eggman, while aghast that [i]this[/i] was the top secret weapon, forced himself to regain his composure. He had little desire to get on the bad side of something that enormous and offensively rancid.

“You’re not Sonic… who are you?” he interrogated, sitting up and straightening his shoulders.

“My name is Shadow, darling,” the hedgehog replied effeminately, placing one of his gloved hands on his bloated hip. “Since you were so kind to release me, my master… I will grant you one wish.”

“...what?”

Robotnik’s confusion only intensified when this nearly immobile pile of lard started hovering. Shadow’s rocket shoes emitted effulgent jets of fire, with his whole body rising and falling with the variations in intensity. As gravity did its job, he looked even more ridiculously blobby, with the perspiration-drenched folds of his paunch and buttocks dangling well past his feet. Hundreds of droplets of sweat dripped their way down to the cold, metallic floor, quickly forming a small pool under him. Robotnik, already struggling to hold onto his dinner, gagged at the sight.

“Behold,” announced Shadow hammily, “the true power I possess!~”

There was an abrupt flash of bright blue light, and then he was gone, leaving the doctor alone, slack-jawed.

“Is that [i]really[/i] the military’s top secret weapon?” Eggman wondered aloud, preparing to make his exit. The bitter sting of the in-depth reconnaissance, the determined hunt for a Chaos Emerald, and the wanton destruction of government property all potentially being for naught weighed almost as heavily on his mind as Shadow’s body weighed on a scale.

“I came all this way, put up so much of a fight, for a queer fatarse!?” he roared indignantly to himself, raising his fists into the air like he was cursing the heavens. “This is arguably more embarrassing than all my defeats at the hands of that blue rat! Hmph… although,” he reminded himself, scratching his chin, “they do say looks can be deceiving.”

On his way out of the complex, Eggman passed into another large chamber, as exceedingly sterile and artificial as the one he was just in. It’d be a footnote in his excursion to the island, if not for Shadow the Hedgeblob fighting the titanic B-3x Hot Shot model mech in the middle of it.

Eggman found it remarkable enough, seeing this corpulent mound of loose dough somehow gaining the upper hand against a state of the art G.U.N. vehicle, that his scowl slowly morphed into a grin. Using his teleportation prowess, Shadow constantly popped in and out of space around the mech to disorient the pilot, forcing them into such frantic changes of direction that they eventually lost their footing and tumbled over with several thunderous clanks. Once the Hot Shot collided with the ground, leaving a large dent under it, Shadow warped again to put himself on top of the cockpit, with his enormous, fluffy butt enveloping almost all of it. Robotnik, shocked by the efficiency with which Shadow dispatched the threat, quietly gasped once he heard the soldier inside scream, powerless to stop the cracks slithering their way across the window. It only took a few seconds before the inevitable happened: the glass shattered, smothering the mech pilot in several hundred pounds of putrid hedgehog swamp ass.

Eggman silently observed the whole sordid ordeal. He stared in abject horror at the pilot’s limbs flailing underneath Shadow’s butt cheeks, watched him try, futilely, to pry all that ass off of himself, only for Shadow to have the polite thought to top things off with a sloppy, messy [b]BLLRRRRRTTTBBT[/b] that left the poor G.U.N. soldier gagging painfully. No more than half a minute had passed before the smell, obnoxiously humid and toxic, became too much to handle and rendered the soldier limp. Not dead, but knocked out cold. Unbothered by his agony, Shadow merely grinned like a dirty lech, peppering the already comatose pilot with smaller but no less abominable [i]brrpts[/i] and [i]fhlaarpts[/i].

Even from Eggman’s position, over a dozen feet away, the flatulent fragrance was almost unbearable, as if he were lingering near an open dumpster on a hot summer day, leaving his lungs feeling like they rapidly withering away. As he reflexively coughed, the doctor, disgusted as he was, finally realized how effective the unorthodox combat capabilities of this specimen were, and felt that there would be some kind of poetic justice in defeating the fastest thing alive with the fattest thing alive. More than anything else, he still did not want to incur Shadow the Blobhog’s indigestion-fueled wrath.

When his coughing fits were quelled, Robotnik spoke up, managing to sound quite exuberant in spite of his distaste of Shadow’s… methods.

“Destroying that guard robot was spectacular!” he lauded, leaning forward out of seat, daring to move his mech just a bit closer. There were no faked feelings - he had been surprised that this ham mountain could move, even more so that it could prove itself in combat - though he had to actively brawl with his own instincts to prevent more signs of sickness from surfacing. Even with his most concerted efforts, he couldn’t prevent his nose from scrunching.

“So, Shadow, you are the military’s top secret weapon… I must ask, what did you mean when you said you will grant me a wish?” he inquired, mainly hoping that this wasn’t this fab animal’s way of somehow getting into his trousers.

“I will tell you more, honey, when you bring me more Chaos Emeralds,” Shadow replied tersely, yet insanely gayly, like a drag queen playing a beleaguered housewife toying with her desperate husband. His voice, deep and masculine, oozed camp.

“Now Shadow, wait just a mo-”

“I’ll be waiting for you in the central control room, babe… on the Space Colony ARK.~” he said with his flabby back turned. Eggman feared that at any moment he would blast a deafening, face-melting fart out of his rectum aimed in his direction - the embarrassingly loud noises of his guts churning like a bubbling cauldron were worrisome - but he simply waddled on away, swinging his hips from side to side. Both of his sweaty cheeks clapped obnoxiously as he did, resulting in a tremendous amount of quaking fat, as well as splashes of perspiration dotting the floor.

“ARK?” Eggman muttered under his breath. He couldn’t believe it, but for the sake of getting to the bottom of this elusive wish, he was willing to obey the commands of a hyperflatulent blobhog with hygiene issues and what seemed like a bad case of same-sex satyromania.

[i]‘There is definitely more to this hedgehog than meets the eye,’[/i] thought Robotnik.

[u][b]II: Camp Queen in Central City[/b][/u]

[b]22:37

Central City, United Federation, center of Drummond Street[/b]

Standing in the middle of the road, Sonic panted heavily, his overcharged heart racing with a persistent, rapid fire [i]thump-thump-thump[/i]. In front of him lay the kneeling remains of a G.U.N. mech, crumpled up like a discarded piece of paper. The cockpit had been smashed open following a successful ejection from the pilot, and the broken engines belched bilious plumes of smoke into the night sky. Sonic had to admit, the soldier put up a good fight, but the mech had the same convenient weakness as most pieces of military machinery: being bonked on the head one too many times.

As the sirens of distant police vehicles steadily loudened, Sonic, ready to escape from the city, looked up and caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure perched on top of the smoking wreck. A very prominent figure, in fact, as its body completely engulfed one of the quad rocket launchers. Putting aside the strangeness of the sudden appearance, Sonic couldn’t help furrowing his brow as he pondered how they had even gotten up there.

“What?” Sonic said under his breath.

“It all starts with this,” Shadow monologued, just loud enough for Sonic to hear, while raising a green emerald into the air. His gloved sausage fingers gripped it tightly. “A jewel containing such [i]fabulous[/i] power…”

“Wait a minute… that’s the Chaos Emerald!” Sonic exclaimed, eyes wide with worry, rushing up the base of the mech wreckage. Upon catching a whiff of the rotund hedgehog’s pungent aroma though, he promptly had to step back and quickly fan the air in front of him. His whole face scrunched into a grimace the moment Shadow’s B.O. infiltrated his nostrils; he hadn’t smelled something that rotten since lurking around in Station Square’s sewers.

Through a series of coughs and gags, Sonic croaked out, “Now I know what’s going on! The military has mistaken me for the likes of you!”

“Somehow…” he muttered right after. [i]‘Does G.U.N. really think I let myself go this much?’[/i] he wondered, insulted by the thought that him getting this stinky and pudgy wasn’t out of the question for them.

[i]‘I farted in front of the mic one time!’[/i] Sonic thought crossly. [i]‘Yeah, binging on chili cheese dogs before giving a speech to a graduating class in rebuilt Station Square was a bad idea, and I looked embarrassingly stuffed, but I really had to let it rip, and the lines to the bathroom were insane! Anyway…’[/i]

“So,” Sonic piped up, “where do you think you’re going with that emerald!?” He wasn’t going to let himself be brought down by a bad case of festering stench if he could help it.

Sonic then sprinted directly towards Shadow, braving the overwhelming odor, even though it stung fiercely enough to make him bemoan having a nose to smell things with. Shadow merely looked on quietly and scoffed. Behind his emotionless glare, however, he was also busy sizing up this hunk of a hedgehog.

[i]‘Super speed and a headstrong personality? This honey would make for a good time in the bedroom,’[/i] Shadow thought to himself, biting his glossy lip. Inside his dark, dank fat pad, his thick, twitchy cock stiffened at the thought of crushing Sonic under his blubber butt.

“Say something, you fake hedgehog!” shouted Sonic, preparing to strike.

Right before Sonic leapt at Shadow, the latter swiftly held up the light green emerald with his flabby fingers and exclaimed:

“Chaos Control!”

Just like that, Shadow’s blobby body vanished in a blinding flash, leaving Sonic standing where the giant tub of lard once sat. The only evidence he had even been there was the lingering nose-destroying stench and the thick glaze of perspiration Sonic was now standing in.

“Eugh… hasn’t this guy heard of a bath before?” Sonic gagged, lifting a shoe out of the puddle to examine the mess. Some strands of the sweat clung to the soles of his SOAP shoe like a spider’s web before breaking away and falling back into the rest of the swampy glaze, which he frowned at disgustedly. It defied logic to him how a hedgehog, even one that big, could work up [i]this[/i] much of a sweat doing absolutely nothing at all.

While contemplating the ridiculousness of the situation, Sonic, looking down at the ground, suddenly noticed a dark circle steadily growing around him.

Seconds later, Shadow’s titanic, cellulite-covered rump crashed down on Sonic’s head, with enough force to dislodge the rocket launcher, send it crashing into the asphalt, and pin Sonic to the gross, sticky metal, now level in the center of the crater. Unfortunately for the Blue Blur, his face was instantly wedged right in the obese hedgehog’s hind cleft; the pervasive odor of stale flatulence and unwashed lard there wreaked immediate havoc on his olfactory nerves. To add further insult to injury, he even received a direct blast from a revolting, trumpeting, sphincter stinging [b]PHHRRRBBBTTT[/b] that nearly made him cough his lungs out.

“Wow, he’s fat,” murmured Sonic, stunned by the surprise attack. Over the years, he had many close calls with getting crushed, but none of those traps would have been so warm, so muggy, and so overwhelmingly smelly.

“Hmhm, you know, for a skinny fake hedgehog such as yourself, you’re not half-bad looking,” Shadow cooed, lewdly shaking his behind from side to side, smearing more acrid, sticky sweat on Sonic’s fluff in the process. Sonic just groaned from the weight of so much blubber pushing down on his person, while also doing his best to ignore the sudden raging stiffness that shot through his dick, turning it from a flaccid blue dangler into a hard, veiny cheek splitter. His balls, too, grew heavy with freshly brewed nut gunk.

There was a reason he’d been reluctant to reciprocate Amy’s advances for so many years: Sonic had an enormous preference for the juicy asses of all the guys in his life. Few things aroused him like the rear end of a hot guy; he’d lost count years ago the amount of times he fapped to perverted thoughts of Knuckles’ muscular derriere. Having a fantasy fulfilled like this came so suddenly that he could hardly think straight, though he had always envisioned someone far less plump and significantly more hygienic to be the one perking him up.

“Hmhm, and it seems like the faker’s excited by the Ultimate Lardform,” said Shadow, jiggling his thigh fat against Sonic’s cock, its hard-throbbing girth snugly wedged between those doughy tree trunk legs. Sonic, suffocating in ass stench, softly bit his lip while his newfound rival huffed and puffed and put the whole of what little energy he had into getting him off, hardly helping matters by [b]BBHHRRPPPPTTT[/b]ing down Sonic’s throat. As much as it stank, the sheer force of the hefthog’s flatulence was fastly and inexplicably becoming attractive to the blue blur, even as it felt like it was dissolving his innards when he [i]bwuhhrpp[/i]ed it back up. His dick squirted a hefty glob of sticky pre onto Shadow, who, grinning amorously, quickly lubed up that perky member with it.

“Now, sugar, let me show you my true power!~” Shadow boasted theatrically, flicking his quills like a supermodel about to strut across a walkway. Like any self-respecting drag queen, providing a good performance was among his top priorities, even more so if that performance involved having passionate sex with a hedgehog he had only just met.

Panting like a dog, Shadow upped the speed of his leg movements, rubbing those blubbery thighs against Sonic’s erect phallus in a swift yet steady rhythm. It was a persistent [i]shlop, shlop, shlop[/i] that caused Sonic to immodestly moan throughout, unable to resist the euphoric, brain-melting sensation of his dick being jerked off by a guy who had the absolute fattest hips he’d ever seen. However, as much as he wished to keep going, Sonic had always been the kind of dude who came hard and fast, and Shadow very quickly found this out when the brush of his thighs against the underside of the blue blur’s tip rapidly pushed him right over the edge. Sonic exclaimed a muffled, unintelligible “HNNMMGFFHH!” as his muscles contracted, and his cock blasted Shadow’s inner thighs with a hot, warm wad of cum. The splash of ejaculate was followed in quick succession by two other slightly smaller spurts, before the flood of semen died down to a modest dribble. While Shadow savored the warmth, he suddenly felt the gentle rub of Sonic’s gloved hands against his ass fat, who was so disoriented from the excitement that he didn’t fully realize he was doing it for several seconds.

“Thanks for the fun time, faker,” said Shadow warmly, treating Sonic to a teasing butt wiggle that elicited a soft moan, both of their faces suffused with a cherry red hue. “You’re not so bad. Although, if you ask me, cute buns,” he added portentously, “you could use a makeover, [i]and[/i] a few extra pounds.”

Sonic nervously gulped, completely powerless to resist the immovable living boulder crushing his body. When he fully processed what Shadow wanted to do to him in this weakened, injured, hopelessly horny state, he realized that his days of running fast were most likely numbered. Sonic the Hedgehog, savior of the world many times over, transformed into an outrageously effeminate, morbidly obese, appallingly unhygienic blobhog…

More concerningly, he realized he’d enjoy every bit of it.