What A Onesie Can Lead To
This story leans into an alternative form of sexuality that some readers may find objectionable. You have been warned.
I used to think I was an average person, sexually at least. You know, line up the dick, I suck it, you stick it in my ass, I stick mine in yours, the usual stuff. For a sixteen year-old, sex was plentiful and fairly easy to come by, and I had partaken quite enthusiastically in the gay/experimental fringe of my community.
Not to the level where I may be considered a slut, I hasten to add. I do have some standards, thankyouverymuch.
But, when I was presented with a Pikachu onesie, complete with tail and flappy ears, for Christmas one year, that all changed.
It all started at my New Year sleepover, that I had managed to wangle my way into instead of spending time with my extended, mad-hatter family.
While my mum and sister went to my grandpas, my friends trickled over in dribs and drabs, all ready for a geeky New Year party of epic proportions.
I had everything set up. Enough Doritos, beer, Irn Bru and sweets to sink a ship, a Playstation 3 with all the latest shoot-em-ups, a two-monitor gaming rig, and everyone had brought their 3DS with whatever Pokémon game they had on the go.
Yes, you did read that right. I am sixteen, and really into Pokémon, as were all of my friends, to a greater or lesser degree.
It always made for great fun at school, as all the younger kids stared at us in awe, while the middle kids guffawed at our childishness, and the kids our age secretly wished they didn't care enough to play Pokémon openly at school.
Anyway, back to New Years Eve. It has just ticked past ten, and I gently suggested that we should get into our pyjamas, at least, to make ourselves more comfortable.
When I got back from getting changed, I noticed that my best friend was wearing a onesie too, but his was red, had a huge tail, and resembled Charmander.
“Hey!” I enthused, “Pokémon brothers!”
He looked over, clocked what I was wearing, and a huge smile spread across his face.
He stepped over one of the guys who was lying prone, head in his DS, and embraced me.
I inhaled his sweaty scent, mixed with beer and Doritos, felt the incredibly fluffy, soft material of his onesie, and I felt a tingling in my pants.
“Uh oh.” I thought, as his embrace didn't show any signs of letting up.
But I slowly began to realise, just before he released me, that he was similarly afflicted. Either that, or, he had a cucumber in his pants that was pressing against my leg.
Midnight came and went with the downing of Irn Bru and a huge, linked-hand chorus of Auld Lang Syne with the 5.3 million people of Scotland. It was a bit surreal linking arms with Charmander, but, then again, we were geeks of the highest order.
Three hours, six beers, a litre of Irn Bru and a grab bag of Doritos later, everyone was flagging, and eventually fell asleep.
All, it seems, from the two of us.
As I looked across the room, over the wiped out bodies of my friends, I saw him, and jokingly called out a “Pika?”
I looked over. He bared his teeth at me, and snorted.
In that momentary look, I felt his desire, and communicated mine.
Awoken inside me was a side I didn't even think I had, a side that was crying out for me to rut into Charmander and never. Stop.
I started to approach him, on all fours, tail swinging gently.
He matched my gait, and cocked his head as we got closer to each other, studying me.
I took a long sniff, and caught his scent in the air, above the background hum of teenager in the room.
It smelt amazing, complex and unique. All him.
I flicked my head, my ears flapping, and smiled at him.
He smiled back, his head still cocked to the side.
I nodded my head towards the door, and started to pad silently out of the room.
Despite the fact my animal hindbrain had taken over, I realised that doing what we were probably about to do in a room full of people would probably be a bad idea.
I lead him downstairs, to the converted basement of the house, still on all fours, wiggling my ass and making my tail dance at every opportunity, just for the pleasure of the beast bobbing behind me.
We finally got there, and faced each other, acknowledging each other, registering each others intentions.
His protrusion was swinging nicely between his legs, as we circled the centre of the room, sizing each other up.
A low growl escaped from the back of our throats, turning to a howl as we pounced on each other, bringing to life many a battle we'd fought in the virtual world.
But this time, there was no taking turns, no money or pride to be had.
I felt his weight on top of me, revelling in the feeling for a moment, before turning my hips and flipping him off me.
He grabbed onto my sides, and I ended up on top of him, my dick lying side by side with his.
I chirped happily, and started us rolling again, over and over on the cold concrete floor.
He moved up to meet me, and our lips connected.
We growled our approval as our tongues began to battle, and our fluffy bodies, intertwined together, rolling across the concrete floor.
Electricity flew from my body into his, sparking off in our mouths, rushing straight to his head, and fire flew from his belly to mine, igniting passion deep within me.
We ended up side by side, tails lying flaccid on the smooth concrete floor. I placed my lips at his neck, and he rolled his head back, exposing his jugular to me, the most basic act of submission known to animal-kind.
I moved down his lithe, tensed fur, planting nibbles here and there as I moved closer and closer to his dick, as he cooed and wriggled about with delight.
I reached his protrusion, and gave out a “Pika” of satisfaction, just before I consumed it into my mouth, making sure my fangs were out of the way.
His coo of pleasure turned into a “Cha...Char.” of enjoyment, as I sucked hard at the head of his dick, my mouth touching his fur with every downstroke, saturating it beyond the levels that his precum had done, and I placed my paws on his legs to stop him from bucking into my skull.
It didn't take long for his balls to draw up, so I pulled right off before he exploded, which caused him to “Char” in frustration, of course.
That didn't last long though.
All that spit had lubed him up to acceptable levels, so I levelled my hairy butt with his big, thick, saturated dick.
“Char?” he questioned, as I lined his dick with my hole, and found a suitable entry angle, as he lay underneath me. I was submitting to him now.
“Pika.” I answered, pushing down a little, allowing his dick to penetrate my hole.
It sank in like a hot knife through furry butter, and, with all the grace of the horny animals we were, he went balls deep in moments.
No pausing, no getting used to it, just pure, maddening, pleasurable pain.
My chirping got louder and even higher, if that was at all possible, and Charmander began to thrust in and out at lightening speed.
Funny, I thought that was my thing.
I threw my head back, my ears flapping in pleasure, meeting his thrusts over and over again.
I began to whimper, as his precum soaked dick hit my prostate, and my cock, straining against its sheath, began to dribble precum out, soaking the fur surrounding it.
I knew he wouldn't last long, but I didn't expect it to happen so quickly. He suddenly gave a long, drawn out and exquisite howl as he took one, incredibly hard thrust, and bred me like the bitch I was.
As his cum dribbled out of my butt, saturating our already soaked fur, I slowly rubbed his belly, making him gurgle contentedly as his softened dick plopped out from under my tail.
I was overwhelmed with a sudden feeling of emptiness, and flopped down on top of Charmander.
I hugged into him, his cock lay next to mine, and the empty feeling went away.
Kissing him deeply, I rubbed his head, mewling my thanks into his mouth.
He purred contentedly, and pushed me off him.
I think he noticed that I hadn't cum yet, and didn't want to leave me hanging, even though he was floating on a cloud.
I had closed my eyes, and was attempting to recover from the breeding of epic proportions, when I heard a small “Char”, and felt hot breath at my crotch.
His hovering I took as asking for permission.
I opened my eyes, and bared my teeth, winking at him.
He bared his teeth back, and sank onto my protrusion, with his velvet, squidgy mouth.
I roared my satisfaction, as Charmander placed his paws on either side of my crotch, just as the head of my dick hit the back of his throat, making him gag momentarily.
It felt absolutely amazing, and he moaned like a possessed slut, which made it even better.
Out of nowhere, my orgasm punched me in the head, and in my balls.
I bucked right into the back of his throat, and injected the biggest load of my life right into his stomach, every muscle in my body contorted, practically levitating into his throat.
Charmander's eyes rolled back, and I slowly pulled my wilting protrusion out of his mouth, avoiding his slackened jaw and teeth, somehow.
I collapsed back, my muscles objecting to the loss of adrenaline, and panted my strength back, my tongue hanging.
As Charmander recovered at my crotch, I felt his hands at my sides and his face against my belly.
His hot, moist breath ruffled my belly hair, and I felt his little growls of sleepy content vibrate through me.
All our energy drained, we dropped off into a deep sleep, on top of one another, in a wolf-like pile of comfort.
Whether thanks to the alcohol or vigorous sex we had both just partaken in, neither of us woke until we were violently shaken by Dylan, the one out of all of us who had the most experience in waking up drunk people, having two older brothers and an alcoholic mother and stepfather.
“Wakey, wakey, sleepyheads!”
We both moaned out, at exactly the same time, at pretty much the same pitch.
I felt a rough shake at my shoulder.
“Come on, bros. Unless you want to get caught by the guys in a position that isn't really explainable any other way, I suggest you get up now!”
The two of us sat up abruptly, and winced in unison as our heads protested at the sudden orientation change.
Out of nowhere, Dylan produced two pint glasses of water, and a strip of ibuprofen.
As I knocked back the pint, I became aware of the disgusting matted fur I was dressed in, and lying next to.
“Yeah, I noticed.” he smiled, wrinkling his nose, a new waft overcoming him thanks to our movements. “Nobody else is up yet. Go for a shower and I'll chuck your onesies into the washer.”
We smiled our thanks.
“You can hug me later. After you've gotten all the sweat and spunk off yourselves.”
Dylan swore to keep the secret, and none of us spoke of it again.
But, occasionally, when the two of us were feeling particularly wound up, we would don our onesies, find a corner of some room or warehouse, and have a battle. Just for the fun of it, and a little for the wonderful orgasmic releases it gave, of course.
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MY OTHER STORIES:
Young Lovers Series:
Highland Flings – http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/camping/highland-flings
Big And Little Lovers Series:
My Little Brigade Boy - http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/my-little-brigade-boy
Camp Blow By Blow - http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/camping/camp-blow-by-blow
Fumble And Tumble - A Short Story - http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/fumble-and-tumble
What A Onesie Can Lead To - http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/what-a-onesie-can-lead-to