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Bob's Adventures in the Cubby verse

By Bunnyboy

This story and the characters in it are copyrighted to Bunnyboy.

Warning the story contains sexual encounters of a concessional nature between an adult male and male cub. So if your too young or easily offended please go no further. Thank you for reading and please enjoy.

Bob frowned lounging about on his couch. He was bored, hell the last time he'd been let out to have some fun was last year and that had gone horribly wrong. He'd gotten a tight little bunny rump but that bastard had tricked him in the end. He's still trying to forget how that romp ended. Eyes stare out at the screen. There is no scrolling text obscuring the view this time-- the bunny isn't typing, he's playing video games. Bob just doesn't get why the cub seems to love a game about a shaved ape in a bat costume beating up artic fowl and a laughing green haired mime. But the kid seems to be into it. He blames those damn video games for everything. Ever since the kid had gotten that machine he's lost interest in his number one cub fucker.

There is a cough behind him as Timmy and his dad; the two coons from his first appearance wander into the scene. "You know that's not exactly true. He said many times he's rather bored of your char." says the older coon in a calm tone so different from the one he is usually portrayed with

Timmy casually slips his father's cock from his mouth, they both have rather been enjoying their time out of the spot light it lets them take things nice and slow for those orgasms that can only build up after hours of soft touches between the lines. "It's true Mr. Bob. He wants to try new things. I mean his stories are getting bigger and bigger I mean look at that thing there." He gestures, taking one spittle and pre dripping paw off his daddy's junk to do so, towards the new story that's been taking shape over the past weeks. It's already as long as the longest Bob story and the massive pile of text is only the skeleton of its final form with lots needing to be fleshed out. "He may not have room for you anymore."

Bob frowns and walks over to the raccoons, swatting Timmy across the ear--quite literally smacking the cock out of his mouth. "Look you little overgrown bit player." He grabs the raccoon by the ears and twists slightly. Just enough to get the gasp of pain needed to get the boy's mouth open wider before shoving his cock in the lad's mouth. "He's not done with me you little brat, He can't be done with me." His holds the boy's head firmly in his paws as he thrusts into the brat's mouth. "I've seen his notes, His story ideas; most of mine are nowhere near completed, and he hasn't done the vacation one yet. I was looking forward to finding that scout troop, the conference one hasn't been done and hell he has lots more holiday stuff to do." He pulls the gasping cub on his cock, he hadn't cum but that wasn't the point. He shoves the cub back and glares at the boy, a bit player like that talking back. Well, that should put him in his place. He stalks off in a huff.

Behind him he doesn't hear Timmy give a little giggle to his dad. "I can't believe him. I mean--hello; I'm a char born in a cub sex story, it's hardly a punishment." He hugs his daddy.

"I know but he's a prima-donna and he gets so sensitive sometimes." He scoops up the little raccoon. "Sorry he's so rough on you though, would it make it all better if daddy was to stick his dick up your bum while we watch BC try to get the last question mark thingy?" The boy nods vigorously and squeals with delight as his daddy buggers him. They kiss briefly before fading out of the narrative. Bob harrumphs as he walks out of his own story. "The nerve of them! Implying that I'm getting stale..." He looks around, seeing no one else nearby. "However on the off chance there might be some tiny little truth to that I should try to think of something to get the juices flowing." He looks around and smiles. "I know we could always try a crossover, those are always popular." He marches down the path towards the nearest story. He sticks his head in past the text

A teenaged squirrel sits next to a little metal rabbit in front of a pacing spike horn. "But I always thought it would end the universe if a time traveler touched his older self."

"Ahh that's a common phallacy that is made because people think that I am the same me I was fifteen minutes ago. Your atoms drift off and new ones come in, cells die and new ones get made. The say the same matter cannot occupy the same place at the same time but that's poppycock. I mean; as you can clearly see from this picture, yes the 20-something bulldog here is in fact me, while I do have my cock wedged firmly my 9 year old self's ass we are in two distinct spaces and we are clearly not the same matter: which is why it is perfectly safe from a cosmic perspective for me to go back home once every couple of years and fuck myself on my 9th birthday." The deer stops talking and realizes that neither of the two are looking at him anymore, instead they are looking up at the head sticking out of the wall. "Ohh that's new."

Bob seems confused. He's never seen this story before but he walks all the way in anyway. "Wait, did I just hear you say you rape yourself on your 9th birthday? How long has this been going on?"

"Well I must say most people start out a conversation with a hello, or a how are you or at least a what are you doing in my house and where are your pants. But to answer your question for him; 3 hours and 32 minutes, for me about 56 years give or take." The deer just smiles calmly at the stunned dog, whipping out a long thin device that seems to have been designed for insertion in an orifice. Twisting a dial at the base causes a faint buzzing is heard. He points it at the dog for a moment and it doesn't seem to do anything, but after a while the deer smiles and puts it away. "Ohh I see you must be Bob from one of the stories. How truly interesting! I've never met a fictional character before. But as you can see we are awfully busy, mustn't dawdle now." He grips the still stunned dog by the scruff of his neck spinning him around and ushering him through the same spot on the wall he walked in from.

Bob gets out a strangled "Wait, what?" before being booted from the story. "Man, for a series with only one story that guy can be a little bossy." He kicks at a bit of spare data and marches off to the next file. I didn't need him anyway that sci-fi stuff is for sissies." The next story seems kind of sketchy--whole swathes of it aren't there and the colors seem muted. A man in a form-fitting suit with a cape swoops down from the sky landing in before Bob. He seems a bit blurry but the dog can clearly read the shield on his chest with the big CF blazoned across the front. "Hey does that stand for cub fu..."

The superhero grips the startled Shepard's muzzle, shushing him. "Shut up! Do you wanna blow my cover? These guys think it means Captain Freedom; if they knew about the rest..." He looks around. "What the hell do you want here anyway?"

"Ohh I get it--this isn't a finished story is it? It's just an outline; hell you don't even have a species yet do you?" Bob sneers at the almost character before him.

"No I don't you smarmy little bastard. We can't all come from a fully formed narrative can we? I mean hell once you were just like me weren't you Bob." He seems mad now pacing back and forth.

"Oh no I was never like you, my story was based on a picture. I always had an appearance; hell I've always had a name too." He grins.

"Oh that's it I've had enough of you." He grips the front of Bob's shirt and the crotch of the dog's jeans before swinging hard and using his super strength to toss the dog right out of those half-finished notes "Hell with that bastard out of my hair maybe we'll even get finished..."

The dog lands on his backside and skids to a stop. "Well fuck you too, mister hero. I'll find my own cross over, with blackjack and hookers... hell forget the blackjack." Dusting himself off, he spots another story just around the bend. He sighs and trots over to it. Somewhere inside is a nice suburban yard. It's a nice spot: basketball hoop over the two-car garage, and playing on the actual grass in the front yard is a red and black lizard cub. "Oh my, he's a cutey."

"Ahem." Comes a rather annoyed voice behind the dog. "What do you think you're doing here?"

Bob looks over at the rather tall Dalmatian standing there glaring at him. He has to admit if looks could kill the Shepard wouldn't have lasted long enough to turn around. He smiles anyway. "Hi I'm Bob. We come from the same writer I was hoping for a cross over."

The glare doesn't fade as a weasel slips out of the house and ushers the delectable two toned scaled child back into the house. "I know who you are Bob. And I want you to know you aren't welcome here. Our writer referenced you in one story and that's more than enough. My kids are raised in a loving caring environment so they can go on to daddies who will love them forever. They are not the playthings of some stray off the street. I will not have you traumatizing them Bob." He grips the front of the man's shirt. "If I ever catch you nosing around in this story again I will kick your ass. Do you get me?"

The Dalmatian gives him a shove and Bob takes the hint, scurrying off out of the story. And his luck doesn't get any better from there... The cubs next door won't take him because their battle is against the sexual repression of prudish adults, and he hardly falls under the term 'repressed'. The cereal crowd won't let him play because his mug shot isn't plastered across a box of early morning cavities. The zombie cubs were willing to let him play, but he could still see bits of their last playmate stuck between some of the boy's teeth. And finally according to TheRapist-- 'we were already collaborating; in a you-break-them-I-put-them-back-together sort of way'. Discouraged, Bob wanders past abandoned story ideas and ideal daydreams. He peers over the edge of the documents and down over the rest of the desktop, surprised how big it is. Then a carelessly placed foot has him slipping on a song parody and tumbling over the edge. He's stunned; not with terror or fear but over the clichéd stupidity of it all. He tumbles end over end before falling into the Internet.

As he comes to he wonders about what he could have hit to knock him out like that, groggily shaking his head and looking to see what sort of place this is. Immediately he spots several sets of eyes watching him and quiet whispers as they glance back and forth. "Who are you people? Where am I?" He tries not to show it but he's a little worried, a number of the stories weren't happy to see him and he doesn't even know what these things are.

A little purple batboy steps apart from the quiet crowd and slowly steps a bit closer. "Is that really you? You're the Bob?"

The dog rolls his eyes and sighs. "Oh great... Did I somehow fall into that old April Fools story where I'm famous again?"

The bat looks confused and then smiles. "Ohh no, no it's nothing like that. Look around you. You're on the Internet, in a journal BunnyCub started to ask us about you."

"The Internet? I'm on the Internet now? And ask you what? Why would the author ask you people anything about me?" He wonders about these things now, if the being that created him would come to them for advice; how powerful were these things?

"You don't know us?" The bat looks a little hurt for a moment and Bob feels a twinge of guilt for upsetting the eleven-year-old cub. "Why we're your fans Bob: We love you, and your stories." All around the room he can hear positive shouts in agreement from cubs and adults alike; one Clydesdale foal steps on a chair and waves a truly impressive erection at the dog screaming about being Bob's biggest fan. The bat is smiling again. "I'm Shakunabat by the way and if there is anything I can do for you let me know."

Fans? These people are his fans? And now that they have him here what's going to happen. Are they going to just study him, keep him like a bug in a jar? "You know what? I think there is something you can do for me." Well if he's going to be a specimen in the zoo he's going to put on a damn fine show. A paw snakes out and catches the front of the little bat's shirt and tossing him to the ground. He pins the boy to the ground, not even bothering to listen to the muttering all around him. He gets the boys shorts down and cups the cute little balls for a moment. The little bat squirms and squeaks but before he can protest Bob has the boy gagged on his own underwear. He pushes in, the tip of his cock stretching the boy wide open as he pushes in. Bob moans softly his paws moving up to pin the lad's flailing arms as he sinks his dick deeper into the pink boy's bat cave. The little bat is an odd one his arms are normal with little pink wings separate from them growing on his back. As the man holds him down, these little wings beat against the ground fluttering as his instincts scream at him to escape. Bob growls as he pushes in deeper, damn it's been a while since he'd been able to tear into someone new; it feels great. He moans, feeling the boy's own erection pressing into his belly. He grins as his knot presses against the little bat. He grins wickedly smiling into the trembling boy's eyes as he pulls back slowly and then slams the knot home; howling as with one hard shove he pops it into place and floods the little bat's body with seed. "Ohh yeah I needed that." He looks around at the wide-eyed and now silent furs that surround him a cruel grin on his face. But that falls away as they start cheering.

"Yeah that's now it's done!", "Wow that Bat was so damn lucky.", "When he popped his knot I just about..." it floats on the wind and Bob can't possibly catch it all, there are too many people talking at once.

A little 8-year-old Folf runs up to the pink bat and pulls the boy's underwear from his mouth. "So, was it worth it?"

Shakunabat nods. "Oh yeah, but I don't think I'll be able to sit for a week."

"Well then," He grabs the bat's arms and tugs on them, dragging him out from under the cub molester. Bob's eyes cross for a moment and the pink little cub squeals, as the knot is none-too-gently extracted. "It's my turn!" On paws and knees the gray furred little fox-wolf backs up under the dog. "I'm RunePurelight one of your littlest and tightest fans." He wiggles his backside enticingly.

Just then Bob feels a weight on his back pushing him forward and accidentally mounts the cub. Big hands grip Bob's hips and he feels someone pressing under his tail "Mr. Bob, I'm your biggest fan."

The dog whimpers, feeling a horse cock plowing into his ass and forcing him down in deeper up that tight little Folfs bottom.

A pink bunny with a nametag that reads Xavier pushes through the crowd, accidentally bopping Bob on the nose with his erection. The bunny hands Bob a sharpie, presenting his rump. "Mr. Bob sir, can I have your autograph?"

Without a word Bob signs on the left butt cheek and because he's a pervert, shoves the marker up the little bunny's ass. Xavier shudders and moans looking down at the gray folf getting his brains humped out "I call next."

Meanwhile, outside the computer a little white bunny's occupied with scooting from cover to cover on his own digital frontier; blissfully unaware of just what the readers are planning for Bob