Deer Season/Sloth Season (???)

"I got to him first, so he's mine!"
"The fuck you did! Go find some other john to ride!"
>You can't feel your arms anymore.
"You didn't even want to bet, so why do you care?! And stop calling me a slut!"
"I do now, so tough shit. Take a hint already, Bump!"
"Make me, Sage! You know what time of year it is!"
>This is the last way you'd expected your weekend to go.
>They'd been at this for so long...
"So do you! So fuck off and give us some privacy!"
"No! I-I n-need Anon....Just for this season..."
>You've entered an endless recursion of time.
"Too bad. Sloth season. Get lost."
>You probably had this coming.
"Deer season!"
>You fucked up.
"Sloth season!"
>Flags have been triggered.
"Deer! Season!"
"SLOTH season, goddammit!"
>Bad ends and nice boats await.
"DEER SEASON!"
"SLOTH SEASON!"
>How did you ever let it come to this?

SATURDAY - 8:36 AM
>Daylight peeks through your blinds as you awake.
>peergynt.mp3 plays
>Dawn of the first day.
>Of a glorious, WONDERFUL weekend.
>You hop out of bed, realizing how GOOD it felt to not be woken by a blaring alarm or bossy machine.
>Your overbearing janitor was gone, gone, GONZO for the time being.
>Something something containment breach.
>Whatever, you didn't care.
>You were FREE.
>No chores, no drama, no rules, no NUTHIN'.
>While Swatty's away, Anon's gonna play.
>You review your master plans in the whiteboard of your mind.
>Today's Agenda: binge-read an assload of comics and then stream cartoons 'til dawn.
>Tomorrow, you'd be a useless piece of shit all day and play all your games.
>You couldn't wait.
>But first! Breakfast.
>You head downstairs to the kitchen. Can't slack off on an empty stomach.
"...'s not fair...can't force him..."
"...at's the matter...scared?"
"No!"
>A pair of whispered voices reach you as you come down the hall.
>Sound like your housemates beat you there.
>You strain to hear the low, surly growl of reply.
"Fine...he...first move move. After...anything goes. Deal?"
>What the hell are they talking about?
"Deal. I won't forgive you if you cheat, though!"
>A lighter, much more bubbly voice confirms agreement.
>Whatever it is, it sounds sketchy.
>But there are more important matters at hand.
>You swooce right into the room, paying no heed to the panicked squeak and hissed shush across the dining table.
>This weekend is too precious to waste eavesdropping on the plans of wenches.
>The taller of the two, Bump, stares at you in blank shock, like a deer in headlights.
>Which was fitting, cause she was.
>A doe, a deer, a female deer, clad in a breezy half-top and too-tight boyshorts
>Actually a hind, she kept insisting.
>That's not what you called her, though.
"O-oh! G-good morning, Anon! Did you s-sleep well?"
>There were a handful of things you liked about Bump.
>Aside from the whole sweet disposition, cheery voice, and sharing a lot of your hobbies.
>No far, FAR more important than that.
>First, she was short, only coming up to your waist, concentrating all that cute into a small, cream-and-cinnamon-colored package.
>Second, she was STACKED.
>Top-stretching up top and hips more honest than Lincoln.
>And god did you love reminding her of that.
>"Like a rock, sweet cheeks. What's for breakfast?" you teased in a singsong voice.
"A-ahaha! Jeez, Anon, always with the silly names..."
>Ah, the laugh and smile that could melt glaciers.
>Her face flushed deeper than you'd figure, though.
"Oh just fuck already..."
>You turn your attention to the smaller girl, the soul that could freeze them right back into another ice age.
>A blueberry-colored sloth, with shoulder-length unkempt hair and permanent bags under her eyes.
>Sour, dour, and perpetually on your shitlist.
>You offer up the fakest, most shit-eating grin you could muster.
>"Good morning to you too, sunshine! The earth says hello!"
>She shoots you a dirty look, her tone as flat as her chest.
"Yeah yeah, yuk it up. Get your kicks in while Swatty's gone."
>Oh, you planned to.
>But now was not the time.
>You load up a plate of piping-hot pancakes, slinging gobs of syrup over them.
>Breakfast of the gods.
>You snag a chair at the table and prepare to chow down.
>Both the girls take seats too.
>...Directly in front of you.
>Huh.
>Your fork lifts to your mouth, overladen with fluffy, sugar-soaked goodness.
>Their eyes follow, like cats watching a swish stick.
>You freeze.
>Were you being pranked?
>Bump wouldn't, you figured.
>Sage, though...
>She watched you like a hawk, almost impatient to see you take a bite.
>Oh hell no, you don't mess with a man's brekkers.
>"VERY rude to stare, yanno."
>They both jump, Bump stammering excuses as she pointedly looks away from you.
"S-sorry! I-I just wanted to make sure you liked it!"
>Uh huh.
>Something was fishy.
>You gingerly nibble at the edge of your forkful.
>No off flavors or smells.
>Seems legit.
>The rest gets popped into your mouth without further ado.
>Still pleasantly hot even after the syrup permeated through, fluffy without being chewy, and satisfyingly hearty.
>It was...perfectly fine?
>Maybe even the best pancake you'd had in years.
>You take another bite, then another.
>Dear god, it's so good.
>It has to be laced with crack or something, jesus.
>The fork clinks against an empty dish.
>You look up from your clean plate to find them rapt.
>Awaiting your judgment.
>After several tense moments, you extend a sideways thumb.
>Overdramatically, you end their anticipation with an upwards twist of the wrist.
>"Ten outta ten, would eat all day erry day."
>Twin sighs of relief fill the air as you greedily grab for seconds.
>"No, seriously, what did you *do* to these, Bump? They taste like sex with half the calories."
>The deer blushes brightly, staring intently while you munch down more of the sweet goodness.
>Like, really intently.
>Hungrily, almost.
>"Uh, Bump? Could ya not look at my breakfast like you wanna take it to bed?"
>The deer starts to say something before biting her lip.
>Seriously, what was up with her today?
>Ribaldry was your native language, one she was used to by now.
>Up until lately, she'd just laugh your crude jokes and lewd comments off without a care.
>Nowadays? It felt like even you *looking* at her made her a literal "red" deer.
>And man, did she make it hard not to look.
>Bump had taken to wearing less with the weather warming, sporting short-cut midriffs and microshorts all damn day.
>Couple that with her seemingly-worsening klutziness, over the past week or so she'd given you enough peeks of cream-colored underboob and white-freckled asscheeks to fill your spank bank for ages.
>God bless clumsy cuties.
>"Can't hear ya, Bump."
>She finally speaks up loud enough for you to make out her words.
"A-ah, S-Sage actually made them..."
>Your jaw goes slack.
>"Say whaaaaaaat?"
>The deer nods to confirm.
"Yeah, she insisted."
>Sage pointedly avoids your gaze as you stare at her.
"Was either that or starvation, with Swatty away."
>No goddamn way.
>Bump sucked at cooking, but even her pulling off a miracle was less shocking than Sage lifting a claw to help.
"Go ahead, call it shit, I dare you. I know you're dying to."
>The sloth's eyes flick to you as she tries to furtively check your reaction.
>She fails.
>What the fuck.
>Something's up, you just know it.
>Only one way to check.
>"These were the best pancakes I have every eaten."
>Curveball.
>She'd never see it coming.
>Red cheeks under blue fur makes for an interesting color.
>holdthefuckup
>She's *blushing*.
>Not snapping at you.
>No threats on your life.
>She doesn't even scowl.
>You're *sure* the food wasn't druggged.
>Right?
>Right.
>The awkward silence is broken by a meek mumble.
"T-thanks..."
>Oh fuck, oh no.
>Itshappening.jpg
>You quickly excuse yourself from the table, dashing out the kitchen with two more pancakes in your mouth like you were late for school.
>Nope nope nope nope.
>You could take the occasional deer weirdness from Bump.
>Sage going all doki doki tsun-tsun on you?
>Hell no, that's ten levels of bullshit you don't have time for today.
>Come to think of it, this isn't the first time you'd noticed her acting odd.
>The past few days have been littered with incidents straight outta your chinese telenovelas.
>Undergarments of yours going missing from your dresser, for instance.
>With patterend, sloth-sized pairs finding their way in instead.
>...and in your closet.
>...and under your pillow.
>Not to mention the several times you just so happened to be in any sort of undress.
>Somehow there's always something she SWEARS to have forgotten in the same room.
>Thankfully, you're back in your battlestation now, far far away from the furry menace.
>Just you, yourself, and a stack of vintage comics to power through.
>You settle back in a comfortable recline and crack open the first issue.
>Choo choo, the Ride is now leaving the station.


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