Spooge Goggles - Prologue: In The Studio
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"She's warbling again..." the avian muttered with exasperation, spinning around in his leather office-chair to peer at collected furres in the room with a look of incredulousness. "Why the fuck is she warbling? This is a god-damned metal band, not some shitty pop star's pet project."
"Oliver," began an almost emaciated ferret with purple-dyed fur to the bird's immediate left. "Maybe we should let Maggie sing however she wants? I mean, this is kind of her band and all." He added tentatively.
A shifting of a truly monstrously tall Clydesdale leaning against the door to the small recording studio commanded attention, despite the equine's intention to stay out of the dispute. As the eyes turned to look in his direction, he almost pulled tighter into his spot as if to disappear.
Oliver lifted a claw to jut in the horse's direction. Beak parted with that roll of tongue that came with the excitement of a verbal row, when the buzz of the intercom cut into his thoughts. "I'll deal with you later." The fat magpie stated ominously before turning his attention back to endless row of knobs and buttons that lay across the switchboard before him.
He punched the flashing intercom button, and leaned into the microphone. The gaudy suit that adorned his chubby figure bunched up about his waist, leaving the tail sticking out the back of his well-worn chair the only thing thankfully obscuring his rump to the rest of the room. "What is it, Maggie?"
Maggie tossed her blue-dyed bangs out of the way so that her piercing azure eyes could latch onto her fat uncle. "What the fuck do you think it is, Oliver?" Hips sashayed to the left with a shifting of her weight to get comfortable. Hands went to her exposed belly-sides, just beneath the ratty shirt that strained to contain her bust. Emblazoned across the front was the suggestive comment, Let me swallow your worm, in dancing, smiling insects. "You're talking shit in there about me again; I can read your cunt-beak from here."
Oliver lifted his hands up to defensively shield himself from the verbal onslaught. "Look!" he began quickly, "I'm just saying, I don't think yodeling across this track does justice to the deep guitar..."
"Can your shit. Maybe you'll be able to sell something, 'cause you ain't fucking doing a good job with our records!"
As the other band members burst into laughter, a flush of anger seared along the manager's cheek. "Oh yea, you little slut? Do things your way. I QUIT" Oliver shot up and stomped towards the door. "Move your ass, Roy!" He shouted at the Clydesdale, who only seemed too eager to get out of the fuming bird's way. The door slammed in his wake, accompanied by the howling laughter of Maggie.
"Do you...think he meant it?" The equine finally said in his wispy tone that clashed with the visual size of his body.
Maggie slipped her headphones off, letting her long hair fall out to cascade over her shoulder feathers. She passed along the almost rubbery-floor designed for optimal acoustics, and slipped into the control room. "Oh man, did you faggots see the look on his face? Priceless."
The ferret seemed to take exception to that comment, crossing his arms while a look of disapproval came to settle on his punkish features. "Don't call us names Maggie, you're being impolite. And besides, Oliver has done a lot for us."
The bird narrowed her eyes. Hands went to that defiant position again. "Listen up, Sebastian..." She began, lowering her beak at the ferret. "Oliver is an old perv, who only stays around to stare at my tits. And second, we've been recording for two weeks and he still hasn't approved of any of our songs. Did you hear, he's wanting to bring some gay keyboardist in to 'add depth' to our music?" The little tirade was only met with her two fellow band mates looking on disapprovingly.
"Maggie, hun. I love you, but you really need to back off on this one." The ferret said with pleading eyes.
The magpie turned her attention to the equine. "C'mon Roy. You gotta be on my side on this one." The Clydesdale merely gave an inconsequential roll of his shoulders in a shrug.
"Fine. I'll call him up tomorrow." Maggie muttered in defeat.
"Who are you texting?" Sebastian asked incredulously, stopping what he was doing to look down at his girlfriend.
"Don't stop!" Maggie whined, bouncing her hips teasingly and shifting the ferret's prick that was lodged deliciously in her. "I'm texting Oliver. Telling him I'm s-..." Her beak snapped open wide, as the pleasure welled up like a ball in her abdomen. It strung out sharply as an orgasm washed over the birds thin frame. Cunny muscles worked the intruding prick with their softness that yielded to the absolute hardness of his girth.
It was only when she came back down, with the noise of pleasure buzzing in her mind, that she realized the ferret's dick was welling up. His heartbeat ran through her loins furiously, while those precious balls pulled up against her exposed rump. Maggie savored this moment; the cellphone dropped to the side and forgotten. Sebastian's form drew up roughly against the avian's. With a loud groan, semen burst forth and wetly shot up into her. A coo of delight was drawn forth from her beak sticky from where she'd sucked him off earlier.
Maggie rode her boyfriend's orgasm out. Each time he jutted forward, she greedily flexed those deliciously strong muscles in her abdomen. It was so cute how her little ferret would moan out her name when she worked him through his ecstasy. But finally, he came crashing down and flopped onto that soft, feathery form of hers exhaustedly.
"Both barrels..." Sebastian muttered nonsensically, letting his eyes droop. Within a minute they had sealed fully as sleep swept over him.
With her slumbering boyfriend fulfilled, Maggie turned her attention to the discarded cellphone. She snatched it up, frowned in disappointment when she realized her writhing had canceled out the half-done text. So, with a sigh of resentment, the avian started it up again.
Oliver, I'm sorry I was a cunt to you. I love you uncle, and I know you have really gone out of your way renting the studio for us. I just really want to finish this first album so we can out our name out on the market. I just desire Spooge Goggles to be the greatest band ever, and I need your help.
Maggie realized she'd been holding her breath the entire time. With a long exhale, she let slip her lungful of air and flopped her head back onto the pillow. Eyes sealed as a moment of relaxation took over her.
The sudden vibration of her cellphone wrenched the lass from the slumber that had been settling in.
You know what I want.
Her heard dropped when she read that text. Stifling a whimper, her claws worked across the keyboard.
I just finished with Sebastian. I need to clean up first...
_ Like I give a shit? Send now._
That same feeling of helplessness welled up inside the avian's chest. There was no desire to be obedient to the pervert's demands, but without Oliver, she believed, her band would fall to the wayside. Carefully, with movements and shifting designed to not rouse Sebastian from his slumber, Maggie extricated herself and scooted to the edge of the bed. Knees spread wide, opening up that sore mound of hers. Cum rolled out, collecting stickily along her inner thighs from where the ferret had left a rather strong load. She wasn't on birth control, but wasn't particularly worried, particularly because she'd been getting dumped in regularly since the day she turned fourteen, over ten years ago.
There was care taken in angling the camera on her cellphone. Fingers slipped down to spread her folds wide, giving off a perfect view of the gooey mess that had been left behind. A few moments later, and she had a few pictures on their way to her uncle.
Perfect, came Oliver's reply soon enough. You're a real slut. I'll see your sore ass tomorrow in the studio.
A flush of embarrassment rose to Maggie's cheeks. Thankfully, the only other person nearby to see her reaction was firmly asleep.