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Tenna wasn’t sure what exactly had brought him all the way out here at this hour of the night. All the way to the edge of town, nearing Spamton’s house. Sure, they had argued earlier after the live feed had ended, but why did he feel the need to apologize now? The guilt of things tossed loosely in the heat of the moment was eating at him.
Glancing down at his watch, he reads 11:28 on the screen. He should just turn back now, it’d be weird just showing up at this hour, right? He doesn’t want to come across as a creepy business partner. Yet, he doesn’t stop. He continues his quick pace towards his co-stars abode. It doesn’t take long for it to come into view.
As he approaches the door, thinking of what to even say to not make this any weirder, he hears something and stops to listen. Listening close, he definitely hears it again. Is that… cooing? Chirping? He knew Spamton was bird-like but, to this degree? And in between the bird-like noises is definitely Spamton’s sounds of annoyance, almost growling.
He raises his hand to knock on the door, not sure what to expect any more, and does 3 quick raps on the wood.
An aggravated “Who is it??” Can be heard through the door.
Damn, he’s still angry from earlier, I guess. Tenna thinks. The memory of how angry he looked earlier flashes through his mind, and another pang of guilt courses through him.
“Sorry to bother you, it’s Ant. I can come back later if you want, I’m sorry, I know it’s late.” Tenna focuses on circling his thumbs around each other, shrinking slightly in defeat. He knew this was a stupid idea, it was too late in the night, he shouldn’t have come here.
“... Door’s open.” Tenna doesn’t expect the sudden change in Spamton’s voice, softer, quieter. With a shaky hand he opens the door, a shocking sight before him, leaving him to forget about his rehearsed apology.
There appears to be feathers littered completely through the living room, and an almost dust-like substance covering just about everything. Pillows have been tossed about, probably out of anger, and one cushion on the couch has a scratch mark through it. And then there’s Spamton, standing up from where he was sitting on the couch, hands trying to reach around to his back on either side. His hair’s disheveled and it wasn’t until now that Tenna noticed his eye bags. He’s a mess. And shirtless.
“Sorry for the mess… I’m uh. I’m molting.” He spits out the word ‘molting’ like it’s the most disgusting word on the planet. His hands only reach part way behind his back, and he’s itching like crazy. “It’s weird I know, I know. If you tell anyone I swear to god I’ll kill you.” The more worked up he gets, the fluffier his feathers get, puffing themselves out. Cute.
Tenna is still looking around the room at all of the feathers while Spamton talks to him. How long has he been doing this? Hours? His glance returns to Spamton, who’s once again trying to itch at his back, pull at his… are those wings? Finally time catches up to him as he steps in and closes the door behind him, locking it. He locks eyes with Spamton, who’s clearly exhausted.
“Are you gonna take a seat or just stand there gawkin’ at me, ‘cause you can just leave if you’re gonna make me feel like a freak in my own house.” He glares at Tenna, swiping some feathers off a couch cushion to silently ask him to sit down, and plopping down on the cushion next to it.
“Sorry I don’t mean to stare, I just- I never realized! Are those- do you… have wings?” Tenna swipes the seat a second time, which is futile he realizes, and sits down next to Spamton, covering his clothes in feathers and dust. Spamton continues trying to itch at his back, half bent over, where Tenna can finally catch a glance at what looks like little needles sticking out all around the middle of his back and wings in between the normal feathers.
“Yeah I have wings, dipshit. It’s not like they’re for flight, so no point keeping them out.” He stops itching to try to pull at one of the little needles, just barely out of reach, only just barely touching it with the tip of his finger. “Mind giving me a hand here?” He says, clearly annoyed. Tenna reaches out, ready to help, but stops his hand mid-air, unsure of how.
“Pinch it, squish it between your fingers. God, just make them all go away.”
The moment Tenna pinches the needle between his fingers, he sees Spamton immediately relaxing. He rolls it between his gloved fingers and watches it deteriorate, revealing a small fluffy feather, pure white. Beautiful.
“Do you mind…?” Spamton turns away from Tenna to allow him access to his entire back. He must’ve pulled out all the ones in reach already, as the sides of his back are already littered with perfect little wispy feathers.
“You know… I came here to apologize for our argument earlier.” He pulls at more needles mindlessly and sees Spamton’s feathers flattening out the more he goes along, less agitated. “I was in the wrong, and I’m sorry.” He pulls off his gloves, both to be able to get a better grip, and to hopefully not ruin his gloves with all the sharp points. Feeling the feathers on his fingers almost tickles, they’re so soft and light.
“It’s ok, Tens. I’ve been so on edge dealing with all these damn pin feathers. Makes my skin crawl, always feels itchy. Makes me have a short temper. No need to apologize, I shouldn’t have argued in the first place.” Every few breaths of his comes out more of a coo, and Tenna can’t help but think it’s absolutely adorable. And… hot?
“I’m glad we can move past it easily, then. Although, I do still apologize. So… Pin feathers, huh?” So that’s what they were. Sharp white points that crumbled easily in his fingers. Revealing all of his beautiful new plumage. Soft, pure, he wanted to just grab handfuls of it. “It must get so annoying to deal with on your own.”
“Yeah, just one of the pleasures of being me I guess. Doesn’t happen too often thankfully.” Tenna is slowly running out of pin feathers along Spamton’s spine, and mindlessly spreads out one of Spamton’s little wings. His back slightly arches and you hear him let out a chirp. “Fuck- Ten, warn a guy first, would ya?”
“Sorry! Sorry, this is all so new to me! Is it… sensitive? I hope it doesn’t hurt!” He more carefully splays out his wing to its full length, not quite as long as Spamton’s arms, probably reaching just to his elbow. Spamton shudders involuntarily.
“Yes, it’s sensitive.” He says through gritted teeth. He turns to lean sideways against Tenna’s leg, allowing himself to lay out his legs, keeping his head propped up with his arms. “Extremely.” Tenna can’t see his face well from his angle, but he can still tell that his co-stars face is completely blushed. Spamton can feel his pants getting wetter and wetter, and it’s getting harder to control his slippery appendage, if that’s what you’d call it. ‘Dammit, this is my business partner, be fucking chill.’ “And no, it doesn’t hurt.”
Tenna finds one pin feather in a particularly hard-to-reach place and freezes as he hears his friend let out a quiet moan when he crushes it. More grateful than ever that Spamton is facing away from him now, as his screen is slowly turning pink. “So it at least… feels good though?” He asks to break the silence, continuing his work.
“Yes, it feels good. Really good.” He admits with a huff. “It’s honestly indescribable- like my skin feels like honey, but like it’s got electricity going through. I dunno, sorry, that sounds dumb probably.” He covers his mouth and bites at a finger on his free hand as Tenna stretches out his other wing, almost done with pulling the sharp needles off him. Though, it does a poor job of covering up the sultry groan that comes out of his mouth.
Tenna’s hoping Spamton hasn’t noticed his almost full mast bulge growing in his pants. ‘This should not be as attractive as it is’, he thinks to himself. His pants are growing tighter by the second, almost choking his lower half. And every half covered moan is not helping his situation.
“Mind helping me with the ones on the front of these useless wings too, big guy?” Spamton asks, looking for excuses to get even closer to his large companion.
“Sure! Let me just try to get a better angle-”
Spamton gets up and turns around, choosing to straddle Tenna’s leg instead and resting his head against his torso, not waiting for Tenna’s approval. ‘What the fuck am I doing, control yourself, man! Although, Jesus Christ, I guess I could say the same thing for this freak!’ Spamton’s mind is racing and only goes faster when he notices his coworkers' large tent now that he’s turned around.
Flustered and now embarrassed, Tenna tries to keep working on Spamton’s wings as if nothing was wrong. It’s getting harder and harder to keep his mind strictly on helping out his friend, when every time he rolls a pin feather off, he can hear and nearly feel Spamton’s responses. Usually a moan, paired with either a coo or a squawk or even a chirp.
Although, the front side of his wings already looked fairly clean, most likely being able to reach them easier, and he’s running out of needles quickly. While looking for any more he may have missed, Tenna absentmindedly combs his claws gently down his partner’s back, feeling for any jabs. Spamton doesn’t have time to cover his mouth before he lets out an obscenely loud moan and a few chirps. He doesn’t have time to think about it either before he grinds down on Tenna’s metallic leg, finally allowing a bit of friction to the tentacle between his legs.
The two both freeze momentarily before Spamton breaks the silence this time. “Can… you do that again?” He looks up at the TV, face flushed, with stars in his eyes. Tenna nods slowly, wordlessly, tracing a careful line down Spamton’s spine once again. In response, Spamton moans again, grinding against his leg and arching his back more carelessly, throwing his head back. “Mmph. Sorry. Uh, instincts. Makes me… hormonal.” He hides his face in Tenna’s chest, processing what he just did. Shaking as if he were shivering, but it’s anything but cold in this room. ‘Fuck, he might as well leave now. God knows, I’ll be the talk of the office enough tomorrow after what he’s already seen so far!’
“Spam, it’s ok.” He rakes his fingers through the feathers on his back once again, more carefully, letting his fingers trail further down to the waist of his pants.
“Agh-.”
The second his claw barely grazes his waistband, a feathery tail pops up, wagging like crazy. ‘What is this?’ Tenna thinks to himself, and can’t help but twirl it around in his fingers. Spamton is getting more restless, needy, his primal instincts taking over more and more. He can feel the heat Spamton’s leaving on his leg, and whatever else Spamton apparently has that seems to have a mind of its own. ‘And what is THAT?’ So many thoughts he doesn’t think he’ll get the answers to all in one night.
“Ten- I- fuck how do I even say this.” ‘Might as well get this over with, if I’m already fucked!’ He sheepishly looks up at Tenna, being more serious. “Uh. There’s more than just. Molting, when I deal with this.” He face palms, not wanting to continue. “I get it, if this is too much. I won’t be offended if you leave. I-” he pauses once again, turning his head away from his gaze, not able to make eye contact. “I… I’m nesting.”
Tenna isn’t sure what that means at first. “Nesting? Like, what, making a nest?” He scratches at the base of Spamton’s back, garnering another low moan. It’s driving him crazy seeing him like this. So needy, and loud even when he can tell he’s holding back as much as he can. He entertains the thought of… ‘what if he wasn’t holding back?’ He’s dripping pre into his pants, thinking about it.
“No- I- it means I need to lay eggs, fuck.” He said it quieter, embarrassed. “I-. Every so often I have to lay a clutch of eggs. My pipis.” The silence is loud, but for only a moment. Tenna lays his hand on Spamton’s back for comfort.
“I had no idea, Spam.” He says, raising his hand to gently rub Spamton’s neck and shoulders to be as comforting as possible, an attempt at a massage. Spamton rubs his head up against his knuckles, cooing gently. “Do you… need help with that too?” Tenna continues. He rests his other hand at his waist, practically able to wrap his whole hand around him, if he wanted to.
“Please.” He says with no hesitation. “I mean, uh, if that’s no trouble, anyway!” He quickly adds, more casually, laughing nervously. “You can, uh-.” He grabs Tenna’s thumb in one hand and presses it lightly against himself on his lower stomach. “Pressure here helps a ton.”
‘Maybe he’s a little more chill about this than I thought? God, is my boss a freak?!’ Spamton’s at least a little reassured at Tenna’s happiness, willfulness, to help. Maybe this isn’t so bad, after all.
Tenna squeezes him with a small amount of force and Spamton immediately rolls his hips, hard into his leg, letting out a loud moan from deep within his throat. “Woah, just a sec, Cathode. I, um, still have my pants on.” He sheepishly stands up, removing Tenna’s hand from around him, embarrassed.
Tenna simply can’t take this much-too-careful back and forth anymore. He grabs at Spamton’s belt with his claws.
“I can, um, help more if you’re ok with that? We can just, uh, run with the punches and ask questions later.” Tenna swallows hard, worried thinking Spamton might think he’s taking advantage of him.
Spamton, however, couldn’t be more relieved at ‘questions later’, knowing there will be most likely tons. Tenna shakily undoes Spamton’s belt and rolls down his zipper, allowing his co-star’s pants to fall to the floor. He notices how absolutely soaked his boxers are, in a somewhat unnatural color, and can’t help but paw him through his underwear.
“God please. I was thinking you’d never ask.” He ruts into Tenna’s hand with an unquieted moan, confirming the OK to go ahead.
“Thank God.” Tenna says, passionately kissing the small mailman. He rubs his hand against Spamton’s crotch, harder now that he has permission. What he doesn’t expect is what seems to rub his hand back. He doesn’t let his fingers roam for long against his boxers before he lifts him onto his lap. ‘I cannot wait to see what that is?’ He thinks, remembering that right now is not for asking questions.
Their tongues fight for a moment before Spamton just about swallows Tenna’s drooling appendage, the feeling of electricity almost overwhelming him. Tenna lowers him down onto his now throbbing cock, still covered by too-restrictive pants, and Spamton grinds against him. “Mm, keep that up and I’m not gonna last very long.” Tenna says breathily, as soon as he can separate their faces for even a moment. Tenna pulls him in close, gripping him hard around his torso as he lets his tongue explore Spamton’s mouth.
“Ffffu- Tenna! Careful about squeezing me, unless you want eggs on your lap.” He separates from Tenna and buries his face hard into Tenna’s neck, nipping at exposed wires. Spamton ruts against Tenna again, cooing unintentionally.
“Well, let's get you situated first, then.” Tenna growls, picking up and spinning Spamton around back onto his lap all too easily. He eagerly lifts up Spamton’s back half with one hand, ripping his boxers off with the other.
“H-HEY what’s the big ide-AHH~.” Without falter, Tenna spreads his legs wide, letting the air in the room nip at his overheating cloaca, and revealing his tentacle-like cock.
Tenna can’t help but marvel at the sight, Spamton’s hole all but dripping through his heat, his black and slimy appendage slithering about and rubbing on anything it can to get friction. Tenna tests the waters by running a finger down Spamton’s length, garnering a heavily seductive whine from him. ‘God damn, he’s so beautiful.’ He doesn’t leave him there long before Tenna dives face first into him, feeling how wet he truly had been with his tongue. He can’t help himself but shove his tongue as far as possible inside the shorter man, feeling the entrance to his full womb, his slippery inner walls. He pulls his tongue back out to tease his outer entrance in a circular motion before slowly leaning down further to lick the entire length of his cock.
“FUCK, Tenna, shit, slow down- oh my godddd.” All Spamton can do is moan and let out primal chirping as Tenna does anything but slow down. Tenna fills his opening again and again with his tongue, practically drinking his fluids, mixing with his own saliva. Spamton never thought about how Tenna’s spit would feel but didn’t realize it would feel almost like warm static, overwhelmingly inside him.
When he finally pulls his tongue back out, Spamton groans in disagreement, feeling far too empty after the overstimulation. Tenna rubs at his opening, allowing Spamton’s tentacle to wrap around his finger for just a moment. “Hey I wasn’t done- shit!” Spamton is once again cut off by Tenna’s eagerness, feeling a finger penetrate him. Larger than Tenna’s tongue had been, but more fulfilling with size. Spamton claws at Tenna’s pants, trying to find anything to get a grip on, as he slowly rubs at his womb again. He moves his finger inside Spamton with purpose, although his fingers are a little too big, too clumsy, for someone of Spamton’s size. Thankfully he’s so slick with a mix of saliva and his own desire, he moves it inside him easily enough.
“Ready to… lay?” Tenna tries to say seductively, which Spamton quietly chuckles at, nodding his head eagerly and chirping. He removes his finger from between Spamton’s legs, which leaves him whimpering for more. Tenna carefully flips him once more, setting him down in between his own legs, letting Spamton’s own legs go up and over his own. He easily leans over him, being careful as to not accidentally crush him. Tenna digs his thumb in just enough on the front of Spamton’s stomach, rubbing in small, meticulous circles. Now he has a front row seat to quite possibly the hottest show he could think of.
“You said like this, right?” Tenna asks, trying not to drool on top of him. He’s so turned on he can’t even tell if he’s already came in his pants or if he’s really leaking that much pre cum, but he’s not worried about himself right now. His sight of Spamton willing to his every want, his cock hard and twitching, his cloaca leaking heavily is all he wants at this moment. Spamton lowers his top half to allow himself to lay down, throwing his head back and grabbing fistfuls of fabric from Tenna’s pants.
“Y-yes ohmygod that’s perfect. I- shit here they come, fuck-.” Tenna watches Spamton squirm while he hovers above him and sees a blue sphere peek out from where he had just been pleasuring him with his mouth. He can’t help gawk at the sight, absolutely encapsulated at the view. “I- fuck I need a little more help. It’s getting stuck, please.” All Spamton can do is hang onto Tenna’s fingers wrapped around him and squirm as Tenna quickly maneuvers his thumb to massage the outer folds around his cloaca, helping him spread his legs further with his other hand. Finally it dislodges the first egg, as Spamton shakes uncontrollably.
“Tenna- fuck I’m cumming oh god keep going. AH-.” Tenna helps him through his high and slips a finger inside him before the next egg comes. He slowly rubs his thumb up and down his tentacle-like cock, while massaging him from the inside and feeling him come undone. His hole grips Tenna’s finger and dark blue cum shoots out of his cock. Before Spamton’s done his spasms, Tenna feels another egg press up against his finger.
He removes his hand and watches as the egg easily slips out, lubricated from Spamton’s orgasm. Spamton’s body calms and he begs for more help, already starting on pushing out the next egg as it gets stuck once again. Tenna helps massage out three more eggs while Spamton’s tentacle clings to his fingers before it seems as though he’s finally over with his clutch.
He can’t help but admire the view, Spamton laying directly in front of his still tented bulge, looking completely spent, with five eggs lying in between them. Spamton’s dark blue cum seems to have already gotten on him, but he’s got a drycleaner for that.
Tenna carefully scoops up the eggs in his hands and reaches further over spamton to lay them down on the coffee table in front of them. Tenna’s warmth radiating off of him makes Spamton start to squirm beneath him again.
“Tenna, please, I need more. Please, fill me back up, I need you please dear God.” All humility has gone out the window as Spamton begs for more. He's shuffling around restlessly between Tenna’s legs, feeling all too empty.
Tenna thinks about the plausibility of the act, being so much taller than Spamton already. God, could he fit? He thinks for a few moments, which is a few moments too many for Spamton’s liking.
“Tenna, don’t think about it, just fuck me already!” He pushes his smaller body further up Tenna's lap to allow him to gain friction against his cock, rubbing against him like his life depended on it. He sits up to be able to rub him with his hands, still rutting against him.
“Am I even going to fit?” Tenna asks, slowly grinding against Spamton in return. Feeling the warmth of his cloaca against him, his slimy tentacle cock rubbing hard against his own partially robotic one. Spamton’s hands portraying how needy he still is, rubbing all over him almost overwhelmingly.
“I don't know, figure it out already!” God does Spamton sound so hot, wanting to be split in half if that's what satisfies him. He grumbles angrily, causing his feathers to poof out again, but it just turns Tenna on even more.
Tenna doesn't think twice before he gives into greed, picking Spamton up effortlessly, nearly throwing him beside himself on the couch. He keeps Spamton’s face down onto the couch while he positions himself behind him and struggles to undo his pants. While he fumbles with his belt, button, and zipper he can't help but want another taste of Spamton. He lifts Spamton’s back half up with one hand, sliding his thumb across his opening and down his cock, which still has leftover cum dripping out. His tongue licks his cock clean before diving as deep as he can manage into Spamton's cloaca, using his still-free hand to pump on Spamton's cock.
Tenna can’t seem to stop just yet, fucking Spamton with his tongue, feeling his emptied womb inside him. The saliva coming from his tongue almost feels like vibrations which drive him even crazier. Spamton yelps in ecstasy, grabbing onto a pillow to hopefully ground himself to reality. The reality where Tenna has finally freed his cock from his pants and now, after settling him back down, presses the tip, dripping from pre cum, against Spamton's opening and teasing his tentacle between his fingers. The reality where this is all he wants at this moment, while he allows himself to coo and chirp freely, loudly.
Tenna allows Spamton to take over momentarily as the smaller man slowly eases himself down over his cock, squirming and squawking the further in it goes. Tenna has Spamton show off his limits, biting his lip as Spamton somehow takes just about all of his length, sliding down Tenna’s cock with ease from the fountain of pre he had been producing watching the show Spamton had been putting on for him.
“Mmf, see, nothing to worry about!” Spamton says through gritted-teeth moans, making small rocking motions with his hips, not able to move much while almost fully kebab-ed.
Tenna moves slowly at first, making sure Spamton is lubed enough. Between the two of them, he’s sure anything else would not be necessary, even given his size. He starts with a slower pace, still scared he’d hurt the smaller man. Sure, he proved he can take it, but he doesn’t want to risk killing him with him much bigger than Spamton he is. Tenna grabs onto Spamton’s perfectly white feathered tail, pushing and pulling it to match his own rhythm.
“Tens, please, you’re killing me with this pace. I promise, you’re not gonna hurt me!” Spamton tries to help speed up the pace himself, but he’s not able to do much compared to Tenna’s length. The lack of friction frustrates him further, grasping tightly around Tenna’s girth with his own prehensile cock.
Suddenly, Tenna leans over top of him, laying his arm onto the side of the couch for stability, letting his rest on his arm, looking Spamton directly in the face. He releases the tail in his other hand to lift Spamton up, grabbing him completely around the stomach to hold their hips together, cock still buried inside him, lifting him a few inches off the couch. When Spamton opens his eyes to look, all he sees is Tenna’s face has gone blank, shut off, leaving just a black screen.
“Tens?” Spamton asks, now bordering on being scared. The only wordless response he gets from Tenna is his new pace, unapologetically fast and rough. Spamton can do nothing but hold his pillow as tightly as he can, burying his face into it, not nearly muffling his moans of pleasure enough for it to matter. “Tenna, oh God, don’t stop, I'm cumming again!” He all but screams into his pillow, squirting all over Tenna’s cock, his own cock covering himself and Tenna’s bottom half in more thick ribbons of dark blue. “Tenna, be careful, don’t kill me!” He says through his moans and bird noises, perfectly overwhelmed in every way.
Tenna does not let up his relentless pace, instead this only eggs him to be rougher, faster. “Sorry- oh my god- you feel so good- sorry- shit- I can’t stop Spammy!” Tenna’s broken phrases can barely be heard over Spamton’s own moans and coos. Not that he minds, his broodful heat finally satisfied.
Finally, after a final quick burst of thrusts, he’s finally at his limit. “Spamton, I’m gonna-”
“CUM INSIDE ME, FUCK!” Spamton loudly sputters a final, overstimulated request, needing to be completely filled with more than just Tenna’s cock. And that’s all Tenna needs to hear before he thrusts into Spamton as far as he can, filling his insides with his staticy, electrified cum. He pumps into Spamton a few times, filling him to the brim, letting it trickle down his leg as he pulls out and releases him back onto the couch.
Spamton collapses, flat onto the couch, tail wagging violently. Tenna, screen returning with accompanying nose and mouth, sits himself back down onto the couch next to his bird-like companion. Deep breaths are heard between the two of them, slowly regaining their composure.
“So… about that tail, huh?”