No-Name SOD: [i]Beepboopbeep beepbeep boopbeep[/i] Fingers nervously push in that number that flashes across the screen in some latenight series of commercials on a station the boy wouldn't be able to watch in his wildest dreams, should his parents be home. Despite them spoiling him rotten , despite that oh so hefty bank account that allows them to do so, despite the fact that his father often brought home women that are often seen on that station while his mother has some endless string of male "house keepers" in and out of the estate they own, they made sure to drill it into his head that he should NOT learn about the birds and the bees until they gave him permission. Which of course meant that this week, when they'd be gone on whatever excuse they thought up to go their separate ways and indulge in their own vices, he was certain to find out exactly what he was missing out on. It didn't make him any less nervous though. His breath was uncharacteristically heavy, his words shaky and shallow as he murmured to himself, half due to the fact that the club of meat threatening to tear his pajama bottoms open was siphoning blood from developing brain. Nothing helps to put him at ease other than the pale glow of the TV as the commercials flash through in sequence and the haunting emptiness of the house he's in, so when the tell tale click of someone picking up rings out, he almost screams in surprise. [i]Thank you for calling Straight 2 DVD services! What fantasy can we bring to life for you today?[/i] A loud, heavy gulp rolls through his throat as even the feminine voice on the line seems to ignite his imagination, his breathing steadying just enough for him to start speaking out properly. "[sub]Y-yes...U-uhm. I would like an... Uh... C-c-cartoon character.. Made.. Please?[/sub]" A slight pause, the sound of clacking keys on a keyboard, then the voice again. [i]And who would you like, sir? ♥[/i] Again, he nearly screams when she speaks, but this time he speaks a bit more confidently, adding some base to his voice half from being called sir, half to keep himself from being found out. "Err.. M-ms. Martian...The uhm... The one from the uh.. Duck.. [sub]Duck Dodgers show...[/sub]" Another series of clicks and clacks, an assuring "One moment~" and eventually, the actual acknowledgement of his request. [i]Perfect! Are there any specifications you might want? Any certain fetishes you would like to see? If you can just give us the Address for the term, we'll have our representative collect their pay for as long as you would like her![/i] "A-ah.. uhm.. W-well.. S-she needs to have an.. uh...[sub]B-big butt A-... and uh[/sub] R-really nice boobies! And uh... S-she has to be tall, like in the show! T-the address is 6969 Swallowtail Lane.. Uhm.. S-somewhere, New Hampshire... The uhm... T-the mansion." One last series of clicks, a "Hold please! ♥" and silence, then, finally, the woman is back in her bright and chipper tone. [i]Our representative will be with you between 8 and 9 oclock tonight sir! Thank you for using Straight 2 DVD services!~[/i]

"Ah... yes.. Y-you too..." [i]Click[/i]

With that, the boy is immediately rushing into the foyer and sitting on the loveseat traditionally meant for business guests or his parents whenever they're waiting on company. He cant be more than 5'5" a tall boy for his age no doubt, but definitely not making the average person feel small in the slightest. It's only made worse by his slender frame, boyish figure accented by his silky smooth flesh and loose fitting, striped pajamas that somehow manage to be too large for him, even now. Mocha flesh is offset by the cobalt blue of his eyes, probably thanks to some lineage of pacific islander mingled slightly with strong, aryan genes. It would explain his blonde hair as well, golden locks easily reaching down past his brow and shoulders, though only recently left to grow slightly unruly in his parent's absence. Legs kick slightly as feet can barely touch the floor like this, hands constantly wringing eachother out as he tries to swallow knots in his throat, the hammering of his chest and constant sensation of heat in his face helping him forget both the cold emptiness and the unnatural silence of that one story monument to opulence.

Martian Queen: [i]Hours upon hours would pass as the golden-haired twerp patiently awaited for his date to arrive as ears rung out with each tick from that oversized grandfather clock nestled within the corner of the living room just yonder of the foyer, those accursed arms seemingly moving at a snails pace as they simply refused to go faster ; to allow the clock to strike that faithful hour in which his wildest dreams and fantasies would finally come to fruition, all but muffling the sound of his heart pounding against that slender chest. Nothing would of made that unbearable wait go by any faster, even if he were to attempt forcefully moving the small mechanism of the clock forward as if to speed up time. It seemed to work in the commercials whenever they showed it off near the end as one of the clients time was running out, hurriedly grabbing a nearby watch only to twist the dial backward a few more hours to enjoy himself. Where there the sun itself would mold itself to his wishes and quickly jump back into fray, pushing the moon away back under the horizon, it would do nothing here to but make him all the more anxious, were he even capable of reaching the damn thing without the aid of a stool. And thus he waited and waited for what felt like an eternity, patiently - or as much as one could describe it as such - staring out the tinted glass etched into that massive door before him, feeling both clothes and flesh alike glue itself to the seat beneath him. That minuscule organ of his threatened to barge out from within his chest once the clock finally struck eight o' clock, announced by the annoying cuckoo of a metallic bird springing out from within the middle to creak eight times in quick succession before limping back within its hiding hole.

And yet still nothing. Another minute passed with no sight of his date. Another whizzed by, and nary sound or sight of his crush. Half an hour would pass agonizingly slow before finally [b]something[/b] would give in, the sound of the door bell ringing gracing his ears as the brat would undoubtedly lunge towards it. Dainty hands quickly undoing the locks themselves before trying to yank the door open, only to have it [b]slammed[/b] into his face from the other side. Pounds upon pounds of varnished wood mercilessly clobbering him in the face as the sheer weight placed behind the blow would send him flying into the wall, unhooking the door itself from its hinges, pinning him between it and the wall himself. Would be a miracle if the boy wasn't turned into a fine goo dribbling out from underneath the small cracks beneath the door itself, or if his entire mass would form an indent across the patio portion of the wall. Ears rung out with a flurry of sharp, quick, [b]squeaky as fuck[/b] footsteps echoing through that luxurious mansion as a minuscule . . . [b]thing[/b] strutted within his house uninvited. Not even taking a few feet within the foyer before bringing himself to a sudden halt, eyes closed shut as back straightened out ; turning himself over towards the door as a handle hand lifted itself upwards, those near-invisible fingers of his clutching what appeared to be a gold-tinted - miniature - trumpet with a small piece of cloth tied around its neck. Spine arched itself further-n'-further backwards until his head was practically resting against the floor, taking on a bridge-like position that threatened to have his helmet fall of that round head yet never seeming to do so. Cheeks bulged outward as he took a deep breath, before lunging his upper body forward whilst blowing into the trumpet itself, producing a loud, [b]ear-screeching[/b] noise befit for the royalty of old. [color=green]"Human of New Hampshire Terran Estate, I present to you, her Excellency![/color] He cheerfully mumbled out in a tone that could neither be described as high-pitched or gruff, more-so a combination of the two that would leave any mortal man wondering what on God's green Earth was hidden beneath that metallic arrangements of plates it called a battle kilt.

A foot sprung in past the doorframe the moment he uttered that first sentence only for a pair of hovering robots to jolt inside a moment afterwards, metallic fingers clutching a pair of wooden stills with shoes taped against the bottom side in either hand ; viciously vibrating in place for just a few moments with what could only be described as an audible spring, before throwing them out the door and saluting at one another. [color=green]"The Queen of Mars, the Bane of the Federation, the . . . the . . . hold on a second."[/color] The minuscule [b]thing[/b] continued on before abruptly stopping, holding a singer finger upwards as if to silently ask for the audience to wait as the other hand palmed at his kilt, plucking out a small phone and tapping random buttons upon it. Before long, one could hear a deep voice blaring out from the patio itself, accompanied by an orchestral tune.

[b][color=orange]FROZEN! IN A TIIIIIIIIIIIIME AND SPACE, DIVIDE!
BUT HOW?! WOULD THE UNIVERSE . . . SUUUUUUUUUUUUUURVIIIIIVEEEEEEEE![/color][/b]

[color=green]"You know you could of just taken the script I gave you, Commander."[/color] Were the first words uttered from outside the mansion by a soft, honey-slickened tone of voice as the boys date finally stepped foot within the house with an audible [b]click[/b], her bare heels practically [b]clicking[/b] against the wooden floor underneath as those toe-less ankle-high socks wrapped around the middle of her foot accentuated the rest of that [b]thick[/b] leg strutting within. One limb pushing itself in front of the other as small rings wrapped tightly around her ankle jingled against one another, that luxurious onyx skin of hers visible through the thin, transparent dancer pantaloons wrapped tightly around that exaggerated waistline. The smallest gap visible between either of those meaty thighs leaving little to the imagination, nothing but a golden plate-looking object covering her privates ; whilst leaving that [b]fattened fucking ass[/b] of hers bare, plush cheeks rolling ever so slightly against one another as she made certain to twist her hips to-n'-fro' with each taken step. A meager bra hung over her shoulder, gold-n'-jewelry adorned plates barely covering the aerolas themselves as a single hand batted away that luxurious, silver hair out of her eyes. Elongated lashes fluttering towards the minuscule creature a few feet before her as either palm rested upon her hips, brows cucking upwards as the expensive band wrapped around her forehead glinted underneath the light pouring from the bulbs above. [color=green]"It's less convincing when you have to call me because you forgot your lines. Where's the Earthling, anyway?"[/color][/i]