Unpleasant Developments, Chapter Five: Make me a match
#5 of Unpleasant Developments
Unpleasant Developments: Chapter Five: Make me a match. By Allan Hampton.
Author's note: Hey y'all! At the time of typing, Jack's in Vermont to prepare our wedding, so I, Allan, will take control of the series for now. He left clear instructions on what to do, so it won't be too different from his other stories. I'm not typing either of our accents, by the way. He might reply to comments sometimes, and maybe those forums, but he'll be gone on the stories for a while. This chapter does contain a bit of yiff, but as it's a short story, it'll only take up a couple sentences. I know this will be really, REALLY short, but I'm no great shake at writing, so no apologies. And, as he wrote down, "If you can guess who wrote the shirt's quote, you win a cookie!" Weirdo...
(As usual, it's from Luke's point of view)
Eeeenk! Eeeeenk! Eeeenk!
"Gah... bloody alarm."
"Morning, Luke. Coffee's on the counter, your clothes are heating on the stove, and your underpants are not on your body."
"Thank you kindly, Al."
"No problem."
"*Looks at clock* Wait, what? Seven thirty? Oh crap, I'm late!"
"Sorry Luke, but I had to let you sleep in. Ya looked so cute with your rudder over your legs. See?"
Allan grabbed his mobile from the nightstand and showed me the new background. I was snuggled up in the once black blankets, a warm smile hovering 'round my whiskers. My hefty tail was on my light furred belly.
"D'aaawww... lookit me. I'm adorable."
"Yes you are, but you're also late. Get moving, you!"
"Yes sah, Mistah Hampton, sah!"
With that, I leaped from the bed and rolled out the doorway, mussing up the blankets in the process.
"An' I suppose I've got to clean this up for you?"
"Sorry! Gotta get dressed!"
I found my breakfast steaming next to one of my favorite t-shirts. It was a light gray color (Note from Allan: Jack always puts the letter "U" in that word, color. He's silly like that.) And it had a picture of a handsome, dark-furred panther on it. The feline's long blond-ish hair fell to just above his shoulders. Long scars criss-crossed his fur. Beneath him, in large white letters, was the message "Who Dares Receive It?" My favorite T-shirt. As I got dressed, I could hear Al grumbling in the back, and then my mobile rang.
"I make mad films, well I don't make films, but if I did, they'd have a samur- *click* 'Hey, Luke, it's Phil. How's the hunt going?'"
"Not too well, we've only got two dates for Sylvia."
"Otters?"
"Yup. But there's a catch, ya see, one of 'em- What's that noise in the background?"
"The reason I called. Sylvia's flipped. She's crying her eyes out from loneliness. Would ya mind talking to her for a bit?"
"Fine, put 'er on."
"Cover your ears!"
"Baaaaaahaaahh! Go 'way, Phil, leemee 'lone!"
"Sylv, it's Luke. He's here to talk to you."
"Luke!? No, please, not him... *sniffle* I don't think I could talk with, with... with Luke! Baaaaahaa..."
"As you can plainly tell, she feels really guilty for some reason. I think it's that tape we made. Here, you talk to her."
"Y'lo? Sylvia?"
"Please, Luke, don't talk to me..."
"Listen to me, Sylvia. Phil, Allan and I are just trying to help. We've decided to hook you up with a couple of dates. Please, just give them a try. *Singsong* they're otters!"
"*sniff* ...Okay. Who's there to choose from?"
"Well, there's our neighbor, Johnathan, but he's kinda creepy..."
"And who else?"
"Er... Nikki Bothwell... from our storage derpartment.
"But, she's a she... clearly..."
"Well, she doesn't seem to mind that. Remember when you first met Allan?"
"And we found Nikki passed out, topless, with the rat sisters? Yeah. What a Christmas that was. Well, I guess I could try; there's nothing to be lost."
"Atta girl! So, we'll need a plan to tell her you're interested, and Al here has come up with one... with a catch."
"What sort?"
"You're gonna get some, basically. But, there is a chance you get fired for using the printer for personal documents. And by personal, I mean personal."
"Okaaayy... Put him on, I wanna hear this."
"Well, Sylvia, first, Luke will send Nikki to the printer. You'll have printed four photos. Three are boring vacation pics, but one is an ottergirl in skimpy negligee. If my Luke is any indicator (Hey!) Otters can't resist going through personal things. Once she sees that picture, she'll wonder what you're looking up. Now, Luke tells me she's sweet, but a bit lacking in social graces. She'll enter your office to give you the photos without knocking. I want your chair positioned so that some of the screen is still visible when she comes in. On the screen, I want lesbian otters going at it, right? For added effect, try pawing a little. Once she sees all this, that little light in her head's gonna go off. Use that filthy mind of yours from this point forward."
"*pen scratching paper* from this... point... forward. HEY!"
"G'bye! *Boop*"
I stared at him quizzically. He chuckled for a minute, but dropped his smile.
"What? What'd I do?"
"You pretty much just sent my boss a yiff-a-gram."
"So?"
"This won't end well..."
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The next day, I sat in my office, staring blankly at mine and Allan's wedding photo. We stood paw in paw, bedecked in sharp black tuxedoes. My family was on the left, a veritable sea of dark furred otters. My sisters were filching (not felching, ya perv) some of the roses off the cake. Allan's heavily Catholic family stood apart in stone-faced silence. His father, an incurable gay-basher, was in attendance. It was a kind of flawed perfection. I was quickly broken from my romantic daydream by a tall ottergirl. This was Nikki: 5'8, the same height as Allan (If you're over 5'1, then you're tall to me) but with long, red hair. This hair of hers was straightened into coppery curtains falling either side of her face. Her fur was short cropped, the color of lightly singed cream. She had sparkly green eyes, a light, husky voice, and a terrific laugh. And then, there was her dark side. She lived to the extreme: ATV, BMX, BDSM. She had sexual appetites that could shame Caligula, breasts the right size for handling, endless stamina, a Kardashian sized keister, and of course, her joie de vivre. Her spunkiness; her spirit; her willingness to just grab life by the kerjiggers and swing it over her head. Murr, what a woman.
"Hey Luke! You sent for me?"
"Er, yes. Ms. Blackthorn has just printed out some photos, could you be a sweetie and take them to her?"
"'Kay!"
She walked over to the crappy old Inkjet, hips swaying provocatively and tail swishing. She had to bend over to reach the pages as they hummed out of the printer, giving everyone a fabulous view of her godly behind. She gave a barely muffled squeak when she looked through the photos, and when she walked away I heard her laugh that musical laugh. I locked my office door, and shut the blinds.
********************************************************
After my careful "ministrations," I decided to go check on Nikki and Sylvia. An impressive array of male staff members made LOTS of excuses to go by Sylvia's office. I was the only one who could walk normally, or at least without a binder over my lap. Moaning, grunting, purring, and occasional wet sounds were floating in from the small walnut-paneled room. I quickly dialed up Phil and had him listen to the sounds.
"Y'know, Luke, that's my sister purring in there..."
"Oh, yeah. So I guess you're not too amused?"
"You could say that. Here, the pizza guy just arrived. Gotta go! Bye! *Click*"
A few minutes and screeches later, there appeared an impressively disheveled Sylvia with royally mussed up hair. She was gasping for breath, stumbling slightly. Behind her was a light furred otter, the straps on her dress going across her shoulders. After catching her breath, Sylvia came tromping over to my office. She looked as angry as you could after an apparently earth-shattering orgasm, but angry nonetheless.
"Hampton, you forgot to mention something."
"Had fun, did you? What did I leave out?"
"She's not a she; she's a shi."
"Well, clearly."
"No, a shi."
"That's what I said, a she."
"NO! Shi! With an 'i' not an e! She's a *whispering* Hermaphrodite!"
I practically sneezed out my coffee. I didn't know they actually existed. (Note to real herms, or fur-herms: for storytelling sake there's not many in this universe.) But to hook my boss up with one? The chances were one, apparently, to one.
"You mean... she has both?"
"Yes! Now keep it down!"
"Why's this such a big deal, anyways?"
"Because, Rudder-butt, we can't hire them!"
"Well that's cruel. Why not?"
"The president is one of those ridiculously religious people. I'm surprised that you or I work here."
"Why you?"
"He hates women, too."
"So, what do we do?"
She thought deeply for a second, and then looked up with a feeling of defeat.
"We'll just have to keep pretending shi's a girl, I guess. Listen, please don't speak of this to hir. If she knows that you know, it'd break hir heart."
"Gonna take pains to save your love? Ooh, how romantic!"
"Well, I still do want to get to know hir better."
"How sweet. I'll make sure to do that. Hey, listen, Allan and I aren't doing anything this Friday, how about you bring Nikki on a double date with us?"
"Seriously?! Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyou! Mmmwah!"
She kissed me rather heartily, and I grabbed a Kleenex as she left my office. God knows where those lips have been. Now, to set up a great romantic evening...
************************************************************
"*Boop boop!* Allan, we've got plans on Friday."
"But, Friday's date night! I downloaded Princess Bride for you!"
"Better make it for four, 'cos it's gonna have to be a double date."
"Who's all coming?"
"Two males, that's us, one female, that's Sylvia, and..."
"And?"
"And one hermaphrodite. Ya know what I mean?"
"...Yeah, I know. Just didn't expect you to say that. Well, I'll see what we can do."
"Thanks, Al. This means a lot to her and hir."
"Ya mean 'her'?"
"Oh, gods. Not this again..."
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Well, what do you think? Hope it's up to Jack's standards. If you're reading this, Darkwolfe23, I know I changed up the plot, but I kinda like this one more. Jessie Shadowhold, I'm sorry I stole that T-shirt idea. Er, credits: Jack Hampton! *sparkle sparkle*, myself, Sylvia's human counterpart and the guys mentioned above. Without you (us) I probably wouldn't have ever finished this. Thanks, guys. When you see the next story, it will be written by...Jack Hampton. I'm gonna have to get used to saying that. And, finally, we're almost married, and you're possibly not! Neener neener!
Here's to matrimony!