'bucet'

I return to make up for ch3's anticlimactic ending for something special - With a healthy dose of monster fucking and frog torturing. The green idiot fable continues below, and thank you for reading :)

~

The tails of her white doctor's coat curled up in movement behind Poelle as she stepped back into her farmhouse's back-door, reaffirming the wide-brimmed sunhat sat comfortably on her scalp. The pair of pink flowers tucked into her black hatband shakes as brisk as she walks, her short legs' pace driven by the interest in the case of the nympho frogman. Her patient remained on the comparatively hyper-sized medical table, suckling on the root of a smouldering cigarette as he turns to the noise of his doctor approaching. "I told you, no smoking in here -- A spark could blow us all up, some of my ingredients are particularly volatile." A practiced voice of authority reprimands, thin green fingers deftly swiping the smoke from Hugo, smushing it into a plant-pot left on the windowsill of her clinic. The tiny frog lets out a huge sigh, crossing his arms in frustration.

"Who knows what needles you're gonna poke me with now. I need something to keep me going. I'm scared." He sarcastically remarks, allowing a smirk to curl up on his flat face. "Unless you've got something stronger. Next step is probably cutting me from chin to cock, right?" He asks, dragging a long orange finger down his white lower lip and belly.

"I don't need to biopsy you to figure out you've got a curse." Poelle's eyes roll, opening a drawer as she pulls out what appears to be a small egg-timer -- A wooden, delicate object carved to look like a bird's nest, with a big rotating egg connected by small bits of machinery within. "The only tests I need to do at the moment are to gather the parameters of your... Condition. Even if it was invasive, you've no need to worry about me killing you if I did -- I've cut hundreds of frogs apart, even if the majority weren't alive. Or trying to get me to sleep with him." She insists, strutting back to the cart and picking up a shiny scalpel, putting it close to him threateningly. "Of course, I'm curious if injuries you take on in this form would affect you when you transform back."

Hugo gulps, eyes widening as he crawls back away from the blade instinctively. "I-Uh... Will that really help cure me? I'm sure it isn't that impor-"

"Relax." Poelle laughs, a manic kind of cackle that barely inspired confidence in the frogman, especially considering this was a healer suggested by none other than Ruffles. "I already know they do." She explains, using the blunt end of the scalpel to trace small white lines across his flesh, and a pronounced one across his eyebrow. "I don't imagine you'd carry across scars unless it was the same for fresh injuries. Of course, all of these may be from when you were initially cursed. Maybe I should, just in case." She grins, moving closer as Hugo nervously laughs.

"H-Hahah! Yeah, funny! Alright, seriously, what the fuck are you gonna do to me, here." He redirects, attempting to get to the point. He knew Ruffles said Poelle was a little strange, but not exactly psychotic. He'd been in discussion for only a minute, and he already felt the need to calm his nerves once more. He glances towards Ruffles' guitar, behind Poelle, and gives a look of despair. There was no chance he could hop there and pluck out another cigarette before the farmer-alchemist caught him.

"Your curse is reversed momentarily by a kiss, correct? I restrain you so there isn't a repeat of what happened under the bridge, and I time how long it takes for you to return. I take some other samples in the meantime. Probably painless for you." She explains, Hugo reluctantly nodding. Poelle pulls off her hat, hooking it onto the wall. "I know you want to watch, Sunny, but the next test will likely be a sensitive one. I don't imagine Hugo here is your type, either." She explains to her hat, the accessory retaliating in a feisty, loud, absolute nothing. The fact Poelle had started talking to her own clothes gave Hugo a reason for his fifth change of mind, but he knew that this was one of the best chances he had in Spyt.

"Alright, what could go wrong?" He asks, genuinely, as Poelle smiles back, filling her coats with test tubes and bits of odd machinery. Picking up the timer in one hand, she scoops up Hugo in her other.

"Exactly!" She announces, swiftly making her way to another lab room, closing the door behind her.

Hugo, sits gently in the palm of her hand, looking up as he gulps down another red flag. "That wasn't a rhetorical question." He whimpers.

Far from any remotely intelligent conversation stood Hugo's bedlam bardic buddy, Ruffles, having made roughly three feet of movement in the meantime. She was hesitant to continue her quest -- A sticky, special ingredient for a potential remedy, from one of the great monsters Poelle kept on her farm. Still clutching the metal bucket in her quivering hands, she breathes quickly, attempting to hype herself up -- She'd only met a handful of Poelle's creatures before, and with an imagination as powerful as hers, the fears started to pile up. She'd be eaten the moment she stepped into their pen, wouldn't she? Or, she'd have eggs laid inside her, and she'd become some kind of brood mother for a cacophony of little green, long-eared insects. It doesn't help that in the past Poelle had often been particularly descriptive with her studies on patients and monsters alike.

"Alright, Ruffles! You can do this! Just in, get the good stuff! Get out!" She rouses, her apprehensive footsteps becoming a spirited march. Her unsecure cleavage shakes in the oversized denim overalls, one of the straps falling from her freckled shoulder as she approaches the stall, a small plaque marked 'Shalanni' besides it. "How bad could it be? I've dealt with worse. How am I gonna become a legend if I can't even face a-"

"Will you shut up?" A low voice shouts out from behind the gate. Ruffles yelps, immediately closing her mouth, her heartrate spiking. "So much for my beauty sleep. What are you doing here, girl?" The voice asks, soft in texture, but stern in tone.

"I- Poelle sent me!" She replies rapidly, not wanting to incite the wrath of the stall's guardian. Despite being built for a goblin farmer, most of the stalls were walled tall -- Built for the privacy of the 'livestock', no doubt. "She needs me to get some of your, um..."

"Seed? There must be an exceptional reason for why she can't do it herself." He sighs, frustrated.

"She's busy treating my friend, Hugo! He's also a bit, um... Monstery... Sorta... She said I should do it, she's busy! It might be important in saving my friend!" Ruffles pleads, this being the only way to save Hugo in her eyes.

"I'm not some savage to be passed around to whoever she pleases... If she says it's important, you can enter, but this better be good." He allows, still with a frustrated note in his voice. Ruffles apprehensively opens up the stall door, squishing herself through the tiny crack she

Sat comfortably on four equestrian legs, reading a book with two human arms, appeared to be some manner of human-horse hybrid. He had well groomed, glossy walnut fur, with a long blonde tail that swished behind him. At the base of where the neck would be on a regular horse, a torso started, with a comfortable loose-fit shirt draped over a slender torso, the sleeves ending at the fingertips. His clothes were a little worn as he taps his hoof expectantly, using his left hand to brush his exceptional hair behind his ear. It was as long as his tail, reaching down to his hips, a well-maintained straight length of equally blonde hair. At the sides of his head bits of brown fur begin, and the lengths of his ears appeared horse-like also, flopping down limply. His face was remarkably beautiful -- Pristine, like a prince, only draped in commoner's garb, with full lips and a small beauty mark underneath to the left of his mouth. His eyes were soft, yet piercing, with a big pink flower tucked in his hair -- Not unlike the ones Poelle is usually seen with.

His stall was decorated accordingly, with a large wooden frame with a saddle securely snug on the imitation torso, and a long horizontal vanity mirror, with a brush and various conditioners kept lined up next to eachother. A large wardrobe lay ajar, filled in majority with torso clothing and accessories, with a thick bookshelf brimming with fiction. Ruffles scanned the room quickly, but most of her attention was ripped away by the allure of the 'monster' ahead. "P-Pretty..." She stammers, placing the bucket down as she approaches on the soft, hay-strewn floor.

"Another Goblin? Oh. You're the idiot she mentioned a while ago. Good." He sighs, only looking up for a second before returning to his novel. "A little plump, but you look soft enough. I hope you know how to use those little hands." He fancies, still scanning the pages. Ruffles gasps, offended, as she screws up her hands and puts them on her hips.

"Alright, Schlonnie! I know exactly what I'm doing, and after me you'll never want Poelle to touch you again!"

"Call me Schalanni. Schlonnie is just for Poelle. Maybe you if you don't prove yourself to be as useless as you look. Don't you play music?" He asks, slamming his book shut as he recalls that Ruffles was a musician.

"Aw -- Schlonnie is cuter!" She huffs, moving closer. "I'm a brilliant musician! My guitar is just back at the big house. If you let me get what I need, maybe I'll even play some music for you?"

"Deal. It's painfully quiet around here." He nods, climbing to his feet as his hooves crush the dry hay underneath the duvet he lay on, coated in long golden hairs. He slips the book back in the shelf, peering back as he dramatically swipes his hair, slowly walking forward. Standing, the difference in size was absurd -- The centaur was a little over eight foot tall, and Ruffles was just about eye-level with his lower half's chest. His upper body cranes over Ruffles, leaning in close as he examines Ruffles even closer. The gob looked up, a confident smile across her face, and she can't help but smell his scented hair as it falls back from his shoulder -- A nutty, satisfying aroma that slowly fills the lungs, comforting the still nervy bard.

"U-Um... You smell nice..." She mutters as he leans back, seemingly satisfied at his analysis of the creature before him. He rolls his fingers through his hair, smiling arrogantly.

"Of course I do." He states, a man clearly confident in how he presents to the senses. "You, however... I don't know if I'd describe it as nice." He smirks, shaking his head. "Clearly you don't hold your own personal appearance to a simillar standard. La Pelle is the same. Maybe a little more hygienic." He teases, stretching his arms as he walks towards the centre of the stall, his footsteps loud as his tail swishes over Ruffles' face, getting a nose full of the same conditioner. As if hooked, she walks along besides him, instinctively stroking his short fur, moving from his hind thigh towards his front leg.

"When I'm rich I'll buy tons of clothes, and I'll dress like a real musician, but for now... All my other clothes are ruined, and I'm... Borrowing, at the moment." She says, looking back up to the horseman. "Which is why I need to save my friend! He's gonna teach me so much." She explains, as 'Schlonnie' nods disinterestedly.

"Sure, whatever." He starts, motioning over to a short, upholstered stool. The perfect height for someone of Ruffle's stature, but perhaps not quite wide enough for the clueless goblin's extensive hips. She drags the stool towards him for a moment before pausing, glancing from the groin of his human half to the groin of his horse part. Noticing her confusion, he peers over his shoulder. "So, you said you knew what you were doing? You're looking for the stuff back there, not here, you hopeless liar." He explains patronisingly as Ruffles gives an affirming nod in reply, downplaying her complete ignorance of Schlonnie's anatomy. Placing the bucket underneath, and pulling the stool near, she takes a seat.

Up close, the size of the creature was humbling, Ruffles having never been this intimately close to anything with more than two legs. She steadily slides her hands across his soft, furry underbelly, inciting a loud snort from the flat-nosed owner. His treated fur was a delicacy for the hands, and Ruffles didn't stop there, sliding them down towards his hind thighs, stroking his inner legs as she ogled the main package. Tightly contained in a strained leather sack, supported by a tied strip that wrapped back around his rump, was a bulge of monstrous proportions, threatening to burst out by the way the package swelled so precariously. Ruffles let out a marvelled gasp as she presses her right palm up underneath, weakly lifting one of the heavy testicles within, stressing the rudimentary underwear even further.

"So heavy..." She mutters to herself, her motive to cure Hugo quickly seconded as she fixates on groping. Schlonnie looks back, scoffing at her comment, his back hoof impatiently tapping the ground.

"I thought you were here for a reason. Stop teasing and just... Get on with it." He orders flusteredly, turning away to hide his flushed cheeks. Poelle was typically far more direct, but the milking apprentice's awe caused her to linger on every touch.

"Sorry!" Ruffles yelps back, her trance snapped as she steps back up to her feet. A thick, curled something nudged up against the fabric, begging for release as Schlonnie restlessly shifts around. Ruffles hops on her tiptoes, reaching up around the side to grab the tail of the knotted strip. Her heels drop as she tugs down dramatically, only managing to keep the string in her hand for a split second before it is ripped from her grasp, a pillar of mauve flesh erupting from beneath. The sack-thong is launched aside as the unwieldy shaft unfurls itself, the curled semi able to breathe and straighten, free of it's confinement. Ruffles mouth drops as the beast's secret is revealed, a slick rod of burly cockflesh that extends out into a flared tip.

She takes a few moments to overcome her cockshock, completely unprepared for the two and a half feet of dick presented to her. Ruffles delicately avoids it as she sits, nervously bringing a hand forward to touch it. The shaft was thicker than her forearm, and the colour tapered into a near-black brown towards the base, accompanied thick ridge a quarter of the way across. The short goblin was already intimidated by the bumped lip of the flat end, but the heavy set of silky orbs swaying beneath set off a tingle in her heart. The absurdity of the situation she found herself in only strengthened her budding nymphomania, exciting her mind and body.

A thread of sticky pre dribbles from his button-like cockslit, dripping onto her lap, hanging half-hard just in front of her chest. Ruffles was astonished, attempting to size herself up to it in some attempt to rationalize what she was dealing with. Standing up, she pushes up against the rod, snuggling up to it like a body pillow. A she moved her face closer towards his crotch, his shaft pushed down on her clothes, staining the denim with more dribble as it tugged. By the time she was cock-to-chest, the overalls had already been pulled down, the second risky shoulder strap shifting from its spot as her soft green flesh is exposed. The denim hanging precariously on her hip, her cushy belly softly rising as she draws each long breath. Schlonnie's member is secured between Ruffles' tits as she rests her cheek against the sheath at the base of his cock, the tip hanging at the start of her thighs. "I-It's more than half the size of me! How am I supposed to-"

"Please. I get you think highly of yourself, but just because you're an ambitious little idiot, it doesn't mean you can't fit me on willpower alone." He berates, crossing his arms as his cock twitches on her flesh, the powerful convulsions only a greater indicator of the dynamic. He may have initially appeared soft on the surface, but Schlonnie was demanding, and spoke with an authority that Ruffles could barely refuse.

"I've been told I'm really s-stretchy?" Ruffles blurts out, not certain of the words herself. Her confidence is crushed when the centaur responds with a belittling cackle, clearly not taking her seriously. Embarrassed, she can't help but blush, taking a step away.

"Unless you've chugged one of Poelle's performance potions, you're no match." He brags, swaying his hips slightly and his cock along with it. "By the sounds of it you've got a tongue, and I've felt your puny hands poking around back there. Do something with them.

"Okay..." Ruffles mutters defeatedly, mustering up the courage to continue with the task at hand. She knew her clothes were just slowing her down, and she moved out from underneath the beast to awkwardly dance her pants down to her ankles, kicking them off to the side. Schlonnie stares at her back, his eyes gravitating towards one of her greater assets. To him, she was insufferable, but she was remarkably curvy. Her thick, soft-looking thighs tapered out to her voluptuous hips and a huge, pillowy ass. She turns to his stares, giving back a little smile with a furrowed brow of confidence. "Alright, Schlonnie! I'm gonna show your penis who's boss!"

"Stop calling me that. And you suck at bed-talk. If you have to do this, do it quietly." He orders, Ruffles replying with a quiet nod, her expression still as steely. She returns to her stool, budging up to the rod as she places the tip between her thighs. She wraps her arms around it, pushing the pink flesh between her breasts. The awkward full-body massage wasn't impressing Schlonnie, who grew only grew more limp in her grasp.

"P-Please! Don't get softer, I need this for Hugo!" Ruffles pleads, completely out of her depth.

"Then actually make me feel good, you clumsy handed runt." Schlonnie yells, causing Ruffles to whimper. The bard's heart sank at the cruel centaur's contempt, but the tingling didn't. The humiliation only made her more determined, even with the sour expression across her face. She silently resolves herself, kicking away the stool entirely as she drops to her knees, bracing herself as she stares at the pendulous pair above. With a final exhale, she sticks her pink tongue out to her chin, dragging it up the underside of his sack. Digging her nose into the valley between the two globes and cocksheath, she inhales deeply as she wraps both her hands around the back of the ballsack.

His scent was amplified tenfold down here, even with his impeccable hygiene his sharp musk cut straight through her senses. The slightly nutty aroma remained, but mixed with something powerfully masculine, and savoury. Ruffles cranes her head back, her teasing tongue tracing bumps and ridges as it reaches the start of his shaft. Her method wasn't particularly practiced, but her doing what came naturally seemed to excite Schlonnie once more, his cock bouncing back up readily. She continued to worship the base of his pillar and his weighty balls for a few minutes, digging her face deeper into the sweaty dark orbs as she sucks and licks, each one roughly the size of her head. Completely enamoured, Ruffles' slit is soaked, shifting needily on her knees.

Having played enough, Schlonnie nudges her with his hind knee, budging her back over to the main course. Ruffles obliges hungrily, wrapping one arm around the fleshy shaft as she stubbornly soaked it with saliva, draping her tongue towards the tip. Securing it under one arm, she'd squeeze tightly, milking it back and forth with huge full-body movements. More precum leaked from the tap, and she scooped it up with her free hand, slathering it over her new best friend. Soaked in lubricants from the pair, Ruffles really got to work, using her slick underarm to jerk off the ludicrous thing, Schlonie tapping his foot on the ground in reply. Whatever it was, it seemed to be at least slightly working.