Naked and Famous - An Experimental Track
#4 of Naked and Famous
_Toonces, the Driving Cat, the Cat Who Could Drive a Car
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Arthur was nothing if not a trophy wife, and so he felt it his duty to bring down to the recording studio Zed's favorite lunch, a peanut butter sandwich and three beers. He was well known by the security guard at the studio, who let him in with a smile and polite nod, not needing the point the lively mouse in the direction of the studio. He walked with a bounce in his step, the kind of bounce that says "I have giant balls and no worries," or something, but the fellow seemed pretty relaxed. He hummed a tune to himself as he rounded the hall, and met the other members of M&M Enterprises leaving the way he'd come in. They were a little sweaty, as Arthur sometimes believed all musicians were at least a little bit at all times. They were only taking a break, Zed left behind to work on recording some solos for a few tracks. Zed liked being alone in the studio to record his tracks, and the band was happy to oblige and leave for a quick sprint to the pub down the street.
The screech of Zed's guitar - the one with the custom paintjob of a white field with a single green line running down one side - howled in Arthur's ear as he entered the room. Zed was lost in a musical trance, his fingers peeling wildly over the frets, plucking the tapping the strings with wild abandon, bringing a smile to all the children in the world as only music can. After a long solo was touched off, Arthur knocked on the glass with his small paw. Zed's face lit up immediately at the sight of boyfriend and beer, immediately rushing to the door to greet the two.
"Oh, thanks hon, my two favorites," Zed said as he gave the mouse a grateful kiss on the nose.
"No problem. What are you working on today, anyway?" Arthur asked as he popped open a can and handed it to his otter rocker.
"Well," Zed took a thirsty gulp and punctuated it with an ahh, "I'm trying to get down most of my solos and then we gotta record sounds for this experimental track I have to sing backup in or something."
"Awesome, finally, you've been asking for so long to sing backup!" Arthur squealed with genuine enthusiasm. It was easier for him to take interest in his boyfriend's career than it is for most people.
"It's bullshit though I'm just supposed to be going like 'ooh ahh' or something and I feel so goddamn ridiculous, the guy in the booth is 'no no you're not doing it passionate enough, if you want to sing backup you have to feel it' and then I yell 'I'M JUST GOING OOH AHH WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN I HAVE TO FEEL IT IN MY BONES FUCKING WHAT THE CHRIST' and you know it's just music bullshit politics you've seen VH1 you know how it is."
Arthur bit his lip and looked down for a moment, knowing how Zed sometimes got in the recording room. Some days he came home a ball of raw nerves, and while those usually ended up being the best nights in bed, it made dinner a little tense. And he could see now that tonight would be an awkward dinner and tomorrow would be laundry day for the sheets. He sighed, handing Zed another cold beer that was gulped down quickly. The last can Zed held to his chest for a moment, bare for some inexplicable reason, though when anything got Zed half-naked, Arthur didn't ask for reasons. The otter's light brown body was shiny with a film of sweat, owing to the shredding that must have been going on, as well as the shitty air-conditioning system in the building.
"Well..." Arthur said, biting his lip as he tried to gather some courage, "Is there anyway I could... help?"
"Hmm," Zed Hmmed, rubbing his chin. Both knew Arthur had been eager to work an album for months, the Yoko that he is.
"Maybe I could record some backup for that experimental song you guys wanted to do? The one you were having trouble with?"
An idea.
Zed crushed the last empty can in his paw, took Arthur by the shoulders, and said "Hon, I think I've got a perfect idea. C'mere."
The small mouse was pulled into the small recording space, confused as to what exactly he was doing. A stool was set up in front of a microphone, and Arthur found himself rather forcefully bent over it. The pudgy otter stood behind him, pressing him against the stool. He reached up to grab the mic, and pulled it down to the confused mouse's level, whose questions went unanswered. Quickly, then, the mouse's pants were undone and at his knees, and the mouse's now urgent and stammered questions went unanswered, still.
"It's an experimental track," was all Zed said as he licked his lips, then buried his tongue between the mouse's pert white cheeks, circling the button hole. Arthur oooed into the microphone with as silky a dulcet tone as any singer could have produced. The otter's prying tongue sunk deeper in, lapping at the hole and probing it, flicking and licking and sucking, working every little move his tongue had ever learned to produce the subtly distinct tones he knew he could make the mouse moan. The microphone picked up low sultry ahhs, it recorded sudden yelps and cries caught in the mouse's throat, an oddly pleasing auditory effect. As the tongue plunged deeper, the buzzed otter insatiably eating away at the warm tender hole, the mouse's ecstatic tail brushing against his forehead as it wagged eagerly.
Arthur didn't see the recording light was on, he didn't know that the tapes were rolling, he thought only that his spontaneous Zed was being your typical eccentric rocker. That's why there was no fault to his voice, whose tones were pitch perfect in the passion, produced naturally. When his voice trembled in a fit of ecstasy, it was music to the otter's ears. Zed refused to relent, picking up for frenetic, fevered moans as he worked the hole more harshly with his tongue, darting it in an out and curling it just so, until the mouse's moans and grunts of love that he remembered how to produce were on tape.
The otter's pants fell to his ankles, now, too, and he stood up, slipping his long, thick member between the mouse's cheeks. He captured a certain kind of hesitant, nervous gulp the mouse made when the thick meat was grinding against his hole, threatening either to slowly spread the slick hole open or harshly split it with one quick, powerful thrust. When he feigned entry, pressing the head against the mouse's trembling tailhole, Arthur squeaked like only a mouse can, unconsciously playing his role in Zed's game. The otter's beefy, rough paws caressed the mouse's slender body, squeezing certain strategic points to elicit specific excited gasps and cries that Zed knew well.
Suddenly, Zed made his decision, and buried the head of his cock between the mouse's fine small cheeks. A shrill cry filled the room, but died down when the mouse realized the otter would be going slow, the cry melting into a low, complacent groan instead. Zed grabbed the cheeks and spread them apart. He leaned over the mouse, his chubby belly against the svelte back, and suddenly it was a duet. He grunted as he slowly forced his dick deep inside the mouse, who moaned a sort of staccato melody as the invading cock brushed against certain spots, sending a rhythmic jolts of pleasure through him. They were ooing and ahhing together, with passion this time, from their bones, and the mixer in the studio was overjoyed. Finally, the otter's massive dick filled the mouse entirely, his hips against the mouse's fit cheeks.
That was when they recorded the louder stuff. Zed's next thrust was quick and powerful, scooting the stool forward and pressing the mouse's lips directly against the microphone. A sustained shrill cry, surprisingly powerful, came from the tiny mouse. Another one came with the next quick hump, and the next new notes came through gritted teeth as the otter settled into a pounding rhythm. Zed himself was only singing backup, constant moans of satisfaction the underlying track to the mouse's frantic grunts and gasps. Even the distant sound of the otter's balls smacking against the mouse's giant orbs was picked up by the mic, providing a kind of percussion to the music they were making. Kept in perfect time, I should add.
"Oh God! Oh God!" Arthur shouted out now, his lips still pressed against the mic, his entire body beginning to shake and convulse. "I'm cumming! I'm going to cum!" He warned frantically, then departed from words and returned to his old passionate grunts, groans, moans, cries, pants, yelps, and shouts of bliss. Zed didn't say a word, only picked up the time, the percussion becoming faster and louder as the otters thrusts forced deeper in. With a growl, then, so uncharacteristic of mice but perfect in all possible regards, the mouse shot his massive load onto the recording room floor, his dick shaking violently as if moshing, spastically and unrestrained, white pools of spunk collecting beneath the stool and on the microphone base.
Zed's triumphant solo finish came not long afterwards, as he panted out a few unintelligble words of satisfaction before filling the drained mouse to the brim. His slick dick slid slowly out to the sound of the mouse's final tired, muffled sigh. The final sound layed down was the sound of two lips as the otter turned the fatigued mouse's head for a few passionate, soft kisses.
Experimental Track #4
M&M Enterprises
one as the world flattens
daybreak on the plains
he's not here to save you (oh god)
any day he's coming
(i'm coming i'm coming)
hopeless fears of tyranny
shouts now from two lips (shouting and moaning)
it's not time for reckoning
know that he'll be here
(i'm going to come)
(panting sound)
he's coming (i'm coming i'm coming)
he's coming (i'm going to come)
he's coming (i'm coming i'm coming)
or is he already here? (i'm going to come)
(loud grunting)
he's coming (i'm coming i'm coming)
(shouts and shrieks (sound of demons maybe??))
he's going to come (i'm going to come)
(moans)
he's coming (i'm coming i'm coming)
(moaning/panting)
or is he already here? (i'm going to come)
(startled shriek)_