Creating 'personal meaning' from your tragedies by narcissistically foisting silly legislation on the masses: Classic or Dud?

"Yeah, Calvin?"

"Something in my bed is drooling."

Hobbes shifted around, frowning in the dark. "You mean under the bed?"

Calvin shook his head. "No, in the bed," he insisted. "There's a wet spot here." He wiggled around uncomfortably, nearly jumping at the small groan Hobbes let out. "Are you ok?"

"Um, yeah, I'm...I'm fine." Hobbes scooted away from his bedmate.

"Hobbes? What's wrong?" Concerned about his friend, Calvin reached out. He yanked his hand back as if burned. "H-Hobbes?"

"Sorry," Hobbes whispered miserably.

"It's...it's ok," Calvin whispered back. He reached out again, carefully touching the rigid flesh that jutted towards him, leaking it's fluids onto the bed.

Hobbes stifled a hoarse cry at the tentative touches, covering his mouth with a paw to muffle the sounds he was making.

"You're hard," Calvin said in a soft, wondering voice. Daring now, he circled his small fingers around Hobbes' arousal and stroked.

"Calvin!" Hobbes gasped the name out loudly, forgetting his earlier attempt to remain silent.

"This is so cool." Calvin curled in closer to Hobbes' fuzzy body, reaching out with his other hand. He grinned as his fingers brushed over the tiny spines scattered along the length of Hobbes' erection. "You're even fuzzy here," he told Hobbes in an awed voice. "It's leaking a lot, too."

"It's a tiger thing," Hobbes managed to respond as he writhed under Calvin's innocent touch.

Calvin continued to pump, growing steadily more excited himself. He'd played with his own penis before, but it had never occurred to him that Hobbes had one too, and that it would be even more fun to play with his. Especially since it was so much longer!

"Calvin, that's...oh!...that's really...ah!...don't stop!" Hobbes thrust his hips up, pumping into the soft tunnel of flesh that Calvin's hands had formed around him.

Calvin hummed happily to himself for a while, but then his hands stilled. His forehead wrinkled in thought. "Hobbes?"

Hobbes stifled a groan. "Y-yes?"

"Are we having sex?"

"Um...kinda. I mean...well, almost?" He was expected to hold intelligent conversation at a time like this?

"Oh." Calvin sounded rather forlorn. "Well, how do we do it right, then?"

"We'd...well, we'd have to...you know."

"I do?"

"Yes! I mean..." Hobbes sighed heavily. "It's kind of hard to explain."

"So show me, then. You...do know what to do, don't you?"

"I-I guess. I do watch nature shows, you know," Hobbes retorted. "You have to take your pajamas off," he instructed after a moment's thought.

"You could have said so in the first place," Calvin muttered as he wiggled out of his clothing.

"Are you trying to ruin the mood?" Hobbes snapped peevishly.

Bare now, Calvin stared at Hobbes. "Geez, sorry!" He pouted, arms crossed over his chest.

Hobbes stared at Calvin's protruding lower lip and smiled. "It's ok," he whispered. "Um, turn over onto your tummy."

Calvin complied. "What are you going to do?" There was no reply, and the rasp of a rough tongue down his back made him hiss and arch up convulsively. He could feel his own dick stiffen quickly, jabbing into the mattress.

Hobbes purred softly as he tasted Calvin's skin. He licked everywhere, leaving no spot unbathed.

Calvin stuffed his pillow into his mouth to muffle the scream when Hobbes' tongue passed over his quivering anus. "Hobbes!" he protested weakly. "What are you doing?"

Hobbes ignored the protest and continued laving the sensitive flesh thoroughly. The scent, the taste, the texture; it all combined to drive him absolutely wild. He growled under his breath, and his paws kneaded the mattress on either side of Calvin's hips.

Calvin gave up on speech and began to press back against the wickedly mobile tongue that seemed intent on probing ever crevice of his body. And then he let out a screech when it did, slipping past the tight pucker of muscle and slithering in deep. Hobbes' whiskers were tickling against his butt as his tongue worked inside him, and Calvin didn't know whether to laugh, cry or scream. He settled for whimpering softly.

Hobbes continued to lick and probe, his agile tongue opening Calvin up for his further advances. Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer. His erection was begging for attention, and the humping motions he was making against the bedsheets just weren't enough. He pulled his face away, his tongue leaving Calvin's body with a wet slurp. He licked his muzzle. "Calvin?"

"Wzzhuh?"

"I'm gonna do it now, ok?"

Calvin nodded frantically, having decided that Hobbes' ideas in this department definitely had merit. "'Kay."

Hobbes prowled up the bed, crouching over Calvin. With just a slight wiggle, he aligned his penis to Calvin's loosened hole. He pushed forward.

Calvin gasped and moaned as the head popped inside. The moan turned into a low, drawn-out cry of pleasure as Hobbes advanced, his long, thin cock sliding easily inside. The soft spines tickled against his stretched opening, making him twitch uncontrollably.

Never in his life had Hobbes experienced anything so hot, so tight, so...gooood. Fully buried inside of Calvin, he waited a moment before pulling back and then thrusting forward again.

Calvin's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. As Hobbes' erection forged its way into his willing body, it passed over a spot that shot sparks of lightening through him. And he could still feel those spines, brushing against the inner walls of his ass, heightening the sensitivity of nerve endings he never knew he had. Nerves he was never likely to forget existed, now.

The quiet room soon filled with moans, gasps, purrs and growls as the two rocked together. Calvin was completely surrounded by the furry body of his friend, his lover. He rocked against the bed, impaled wonderfully by the throbbing cock lodged deep inside of him. It soon became too much, and when Hobbes carefully nipped the back of his neck, he gave a full-body shudder and came, his limbs convulsing spasmodically from the jolts of intense pleasure.

Hobbes nearly let out a yowl when Calvin's muscles started to twitch and quiver around him, drawing him in deeper, milking him. Some part of his brain dimly registered the ripping sound as his claws tore through the sheets, but he was more focused on the ripples of pleasure that washed over him as he came, spurting his seed inside of his lover, claiming him, marking him. He collapsed on Calvin's back, gasping for air.

Calvin's body was more relaxed than it had ever been. He grinned when Hobbes flopped down on top of him, still purring in his ear. He yawned, snuggling black against his warm, furry blanket. "So...that was sex, huh?"

Hobbes let out a rumbling snort. "Yeah, that was sex."

Calvin grinned sleepily. "Cool."

BEST SLASH SINCE STROKES MAN-LUV!!!!

I'm in awe. Actually, I think I'm, erm ... hrm, does anyone mind if I go hog the loo for a while? My housemate is going to be really annoyed if he comes home and finds the mouse all sticky again...

Dear GOD what are you talking about, Kate. Next you'll be wanting to see Christopher Robin find his true self with Pooh (climactic punchline: "Oh bother!").

What would be the most horrifyingly inappropriate slashfic pairing, anyway? Bush/Cheney? Barney/Baby Bop? Garfield/Odie? Charlie Brown/Linus? Egwene/Nynaeve/Elayne/Min? Rincewind/The Luggage?

You sick fuck har har har. I vote for quixote/panza or better still castro/guevara

I have achieved greatness.

As for inappropriate slash, there was the one about Smurfette taking on all the Smurfs in a blue orgy.

Ned: The Smurfette/all other Smurfs story is so passe, though; the evil Barney stories were more shocking (and funnier and more entertaining) than the Smurfette story.

Here's a "What the FUCK?" one for you: Kitara/Mumm-Raa.

Your comparison disturbs. You evil man.

Calvin grinned sleepily. "Cool."

GOOD! See, that's EXACTLY the sort of phenomenon I was talking about! But where do the giraffes fit in?

It was probably a she, and (like most slashers) a very sane and down-to-earth she with a nice middle-class life and job. Most of the stranger slash pairings are written on dares.

Sometimes I sit and fume at both of them - and then I rebuke myself, for I canot imagine the pain that they have felt, and, really, if this is what they need to do to get on with their lives, then who am I to judge? And yet I do judge and I do get pissy when I think that they are, in an odd way, celebrities and reaping those rewards because of the horrible deaths of their children. I keep telling myself that I have no business in being judgmental toward them, but I still am. Thoughts? Anyone?

(Er, and one of my more horrid claims to fame is that I used to live next to Charles Ng and Leonard Lake [actually went fishing with Lake, once - sorry for the pun] and part of the property where I was living was dug-up while the authorities were looking for bodies and other evidence. It's really nauseating to think of what was happening so close to me - while I was sleeping, and so forth. And then there are people who say stuff like "Oh, that's so cool!" and "Can you take me there?" and "So did you know what was going on?" and so forth)

And whoever conceived- no, bad word choice- thought up the idea of that monstrosity of a Calvin and Hobbes fic should be taken out back and shot through the cojones.