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Undertow	By : pronker Category: +M through R > Penguins of Madagascar Views: 11341 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I make no profit from this fanfiction set in Dreamworks' Penguins of Madagascar franchise. I do not own its characters, basic premise or settings.

Chapter List
- 1-1/?
- 2-2/?
- 3-3/?
- 4-4/?
- 5-5/?
- 6-6/?
- 7-7/?
- 8-8/?
- 9-9/?
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- 110-110/112
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- 56
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Skipper and Private blew kisses to Howe Caverns from Cobleskill Creek and swam resolutely towards home. The Central Bridge passed in a blur, the Schoharie spilled into the Mohawk at Fort Hunter and since they swam with the current, the time from departure to Upper Pepper Island shaved one half hour off their upstream time. Skipper called a halt.
"Upper Pepper Island, Private, cheerio pip pip! Time for an oyster break, wot? Restore our strength after our, ahem, strenuous weekend?"
Private glowered at the mockery of his speech. "Keep on your side of the Big Pond! Sir."
"Partypooper. You need some Americana to tune up your sense of humor, old bean." After a quick look-see for humans from the crest of a wave, Skipper signaled Follow Me and Private beached himself with a grumpy face.
In a scruffy blend of obscuring brush and cottonwood trees, the two hunkered down to brunch on oysters. They slurped, slopped and savored, saving the liquor in the small jars with a rare shy look at each other. The late morning held promise of a pleasant trip, the catkins swayed in their budding state, and life was getting better by the minute, or so it seemed. On a potty trip to water a tree, Private acted morale officer and talked to himself. "Oysters, Marlene said oysters are afrodizzyaks and their glop is lube of a sort," he whispered below the reach of Skipper's hearing. "Maybe sex is wot I need."
At Private's return, it seemed Skipper was in a lecturing mood. "We passed the Erie Canal, a tribute to America's drive to push westward. I like it. It inspires me. It's of a certain age, battered but not bloody, still able to serve. That's me."
"How old are you, Skippa?" asked Private, not expecting a straight answer. He was right.
"Old enough."
"Umph. You say that all the time."
The slap came from nowhere and Private rubbed his cheek. "Sorry, you had a mosquito on you. Now as I was saying, the locks we passed govern the passage of boats, but penguins are not boats and we swam underneath the humans' noses to get where we are this minute because we can't be held back like boats since we're as natural as it comes. What we are is another story."
"And now you're goin' to tell me." Private kept the grump from his face with an effort. What was wrong with him? He ought to be happy or at least on an even keel. Instead, he felt like his base line was a fathom deeper than before he visited Howe. How could that be?
"Damn straight. What we are is Mama Nature's masterpiece." Skipper shook both flippers, splashing oyster juice on Private's beak that Private licked off. "See these? We go deep and fast and straight as far down as, um, Kowalski would know exactly how deep we can dive, but I'm going to guess deep enough for government work." He settled back on his elbows, squinting up at the sun.
Well. Private could lecture, too. "Now I'll tell one. Skippa, on this island I used the GPS and do you know wot?"
"Wot?" Skipper said with a wink. Private had an idea that if penguins could read, under the word 'smug' in the dictionary would be this face on his beloved.
"I am goin' to use it again."
A shadow crossed Skipper's face. "Are you serious? Don't you know the way back without it? Are you feeling okay? Penguins can sense direc- "
"I'm feelin' full of ginger. I just want to use it again because I think I can inspire you, too, that is" - he dithered a bit until he cut himself off - "if I recall all the towns that K'walski said we'd pass and I'm ninety-nine percent sure we're near an inspirin' place."
"Inspire away, Private." Skipper's eyes gleamed and he crossed his ankles. "I can always count on your heart being in the right place."
"Uh, thanks, Skippa." Private forged ahead to handle the smartphone expertly, no fumbles, no glitches. He didn't even mumble to himself as he hit Key Number Five followed by the walking icon and then listened for directions.
"You are on Upper Pepper Island. There is no way to walk to any destination."
"Try pointing it where you think this inspiration is. Maybe lift it high?"
Private blushed under his feathers. "Righto." He held the smartphone over his head, pointed it towards the northeast, and willed it to work right.
"You are nearing Fort Johnson at the junction of Routes 5 and 67. To visit Old Fort Johnson historic site, hike left into the site at 2 Mergner Road. If you reach Route 20, you have gone too far." Next to Skipper's picture would be one of the originator of this smug female voice.
At Skipper's groan, Private grinned but pushed on through. "Yeah, yeah, johnson is a funny word for willie, tee hee. That's just the first reason I thought it would inspire you. The next one is wot K'walski blathered about Baronet Johnson gettin' to be a baronet because he stayed loyal to the Crown, fat lot of good it did because you Yanks won the Revolutionary War and took all his worldly goods. Wot's left is a gorgeous mansion yonder overlookin' the Mohawk." He pointed.
They peered cautiously over the camouflaging tall grass to spot a dot of grayish white in the northern distance. "I see."
"Not that I want to visit there, Skippa, because it'll make us late goin' home, but the name is funny and er, I'd like a bit of the other with yours and my johnsons. If you're up to it," he hurried, "and if you're in the mood. Once we get home, it'll be same-o, same-o, missions and all that."
The catkins purred in the stirring breeze, the cottonwood withes swished their bare lengths, and Skipper took charge.
"I'm up for it."
Private was already stamping the grass into a passable trysting place. "Fantastic." He rummaged in the backpack and held up the dildo. "Here you are, ready, willin' and able."
"I don't need Gammel Dansk or that to be up for it. I'm positive."
"I want you to use it on me. I ought to have the experience, don't you think?"
"Um. Maybe?"
Private smiled. "I'll teach you and you'll see, Skippa, how to use it before we need to hand it over to Marlene again. Think of it as a drill."
"Gah!"
"Not that kind! A nice, soft drill of the teachin' kind, honey. You know wot I mean."
"O-Okay." Skipper flourished a goopy jar of oyster juice. "Let's start with this, though."
He sat and patted the space beside him on the sward. Private remained standing as he shook out their blankets but leaned down for a kiss, nuzzling Skipper's cheek and then the top of his head. This position placed Skipper's beak in Private's pit and yes, the commander got inspired, but by Kowalski's advice.
"Come here, you." Private giggled as the beak swirled into the deepest reaches of his pit as a long pink tongue licked and tasted, probed and sampled. He jerked back in reflex but Skipper held him firmly.
"S-Skippa! Tickles!"
Skipper was too busy licking and inhaling the scent of river water and their bodies' aromas of exertion during their swim. His eyes closed tight, he deployed the Flehmen response, sucking in air until he sounded like a Hoover vacuum that had picked up too much carpet fuzz. "Hzzzzmmmmsplshhmmmmm - " He swished the musky scent around his mouth before he swallowed and started in on the other pit as Private stood swaying, helpless with laughter.
"Wooo, Sk-Skip-"
"Mmmmhppplllllshwip - " Skipper finished slurping Private's androstadienone and like a striking cobra, shoved Private to his knees and then onto his butt. "Now you do me."
Usually Private was the rock of common sense and Skipper was the restless wind, the surging tide, but this morning Private was as tremulous as a quaking aspen. All thoughts fled, leaving a vacuum. Mama Nature abhors a vacuum, however, and filled his head with a single word: mystical. Private acted.
He bowled Skipper onto his back on the crumpled blankets and snorted, sniffed and laved each pit in turn, making noises that any penguin would recognize as mating calls. Skipper didn't laugh at all as he supported Private's head, stroking neck feathers softly, kneading shoulders and baring his pits to the sun and to Private. Private's eyes rolled up as if he were about to come.
"Halt, soldier," Skipper said softly. "We go together this time."
Private stepped back from the brink. "Uh. Oysters. Marlene said."
"Uh huh. Our friend is smart." Skipper opened one jar and plastered himself with lovely glop smelling of the salty sea. Private did the same, giving special attention to his special parts. He passed the dildo over as he shivered and covered his face as if reality couldn't possibly live up to his dreams.
"Be gentle with me."
Skipper looked the dildo over thoughtfully. "Sit on me, babe. No, this way." Skipper rotated Private until the young bird's stern was directly above his throat, wiggling in as tempting a manner as possible as they sixty-nined.
Private looked down at what he was to give attention to. It stood straight as a masthead, proud and full. He kissed the tip. "Mmmm, nice."
"Thank you. Are you going to admire it to pieces or do something constructive with it?"
Private suited his thoughts to actions and circled the cockhead with tender tongue before tickling its slit. At the appreciative hiss, he continued before a grunt erupted from him. Skipper had placed the dildo at his entrance, pushing inside as relentlessly as a glacier cascading in majesty down a mountain valley. With an effort, Private maintained his attentions to the well-governed cock of his commander, one that neither surged prematurely to heaven or lagged in purgatory. If he focused totally on his task, then the sensations couldn't overwhelm and he'd last as long as he could. It was difficult, but he managed it.
He ought to have known that Skipper would change up the plays.
"How do you think Marlene would prefer it?"
He's thinkin' of Marlene? "N-N-No idea."
Private moaned a sound that he'd heard a humpback whale wail into the Antarctic deeps, toes curling as the turtle-speed dildo disappeared up to the control end, the oyster juice purling around his hole at its deeply invasive width. Skipper pulled out the dildo and then paused halfway, twisting the device before continuing. He shook it once it was fully seated.
"I think Marlene would prefer a prone bone, Private." The words slipped out, Private was sure, because Skipper's tone speculated as if this whole thing were an option that Kowalski presented with no real consequences, at least not yet. But another issue verged on alarm.
"I, I can't feel my legs, Skippa - "
"Let's try the other setting."
"M-M-May-b-b-be not j-just n-n-now - "
"No time like the present!" And so the rabbit vibrated to an unholy screech from Private.
"Good, huh? You like it?"
"T-T-T-Too g-g-g-gooooooddd! P-P-Pinfeddeddeddederers, st-st-st-"
"Aw, okay." The turtle recommenced for mere seconds until switched off as Skipper eased out the dildo before tossing it aside. He rimmed the palpitating opening and changed positions.
Hello Kitty made no protest as Skipper pushed Private face down on top of her and splayed his legs. Skipper had never been so demanding with him before, but Private found himself loving it in a way that he never had before, either. There was something about Skipper's movements that indicated a deep need, a frantic erotic longing, to possess and dominate. Private made assenting noises and pushed back against Skipper, accepting the jostling, finding that it mixed with his rising pleasure and made the sensations all the more intense. He didn't know where the excess energy came from unless Howe Caverns' Bronze Anteroom lent its occupants a mystical surge. He'd ask Kowalski when they got home later today. "Mystical," he thought, "why do I keep repeatin' that word?"
When Skipper reached around his hips and took hold of his cock once again, Private thought he might melt with pleasure like ice cubes would melt in the Eternally Foggy Sea. Skipper began to pump Private in time with his own thrusts as he stood to hoist him from Hello Kitty with adrenaline-fueled strength, forcing Private back onto his cock as he lifted him from his feet. Their moans melded together to become frenzied as they rutted hard and fast. Speaking remained beyond Private's power, but in his mind he heard himself respond "Aye aye!" to Skipper's command, "Routine Thirty-Four: Stay Still Until I Am Finished!"
Inside Private was a sweet spot that Skipper's formidable cock rubbed, the cockhead occasionally pushing against it directly as he plundered like a pirate. Private arched his back to thrust upwards like he thought Marlene would and Skipper hit that spot again, his cock gliding past it as Private bucked with ecstasy. Private came, spurting onto the blankets that he certainly was not going to pack back inside Hello Kitty. Dimly, he was aware of Skipper's and his seesawing cries and the warmth of pulsing thrusts into him. He felt himself convulse around Skipper's throbbing cock, as if it were sucking the flood as deep into his body as he could get it, extending his own ecstasy despite the fact that he had already emptied himself.
Collapsing to the ground as much as he could, Private's ass was kept high in the air by Hello Kitty. Skipper followed him down to keep contact and moaned as he circled his hips, obviously enjoying the tight clasp around his slowly shrinking cock. With great care, he helped Private to settle onto his side with the both of them using Hello Kitty as a pillow, Skipper's cock still inside of him as he embraced the younger bird.
"W-Wot?" Private asked dazedly.
"Lights out," Skipper whispered into Private's earhole, kissing the back of his neck. "Nap while you can. When you wake up, I'm going to be hard inside of you and we'll start again." His flipper ran up and down Private's belly as Private shuddered, his face heated at how much he craved waking up with Skipper's cock already hard and thrusting in him. "You like that, don't you, Private?"
"Routine Seventeen and Routine Thirty-Four, Skippa," Private said as he passed out in his Happy Place.
IOIOIOIOIO
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Undertow