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Screw the Bassist	By : LadyAriaa Category: +1 through F > Darkwing Duck Views: 1562 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck or any of its characters. All rights belong to disney. No money was made from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
Note: Let’s see… what to say about this chapter? Loooooooooooong! Probably way longer than it needed to be, BUT considering this will be my last chance to really show all the boys just interacting with each other I couldn’t resist. So, sorry if it seems like there’s a bit much going on without the story actually going anywhere.
…. Yeah that’s all. Done too much writing already. Enjoy your goodies!
Warning: Some nonconsensual stuff. Nothing that graphic, but I feel morally obligated to warn any unsuspecting victims who might want to avoid my shameless, slightly evil, smutty-ramblings.
You have been warned.

Another red dawn in St. Canard— the misty metropolis once again engulfed in a blazing swell of turmoil. Only one more night remained before the show the fans had been waiting for, and at that point they were beyond sitting by patiently, the reward they knew would be coming sending them back into a flurry of excitement and their own brand of caustic fun. It was as though the past four months had never passed at all, the streets much as they had been when the band had finally been completed again.
The manor that secluded the group was a far different story. There were no parties, no jubilant fun only a suffocating stillness that engulfed the musicians within. The air was heavy and almost stale, groaning with the dense torrent of screams drifting from the realm below. The entire building seemed to tense around the enclosed band members, a reflection of the collective stress among the metal group.
It was a rare quiet moment that morning; few had been seen in the preceding months.
Reggie was sitting on one of the smaller sofas situated around the main room, facing the large windows and soaking in the shining rays. Beside him, glittering in the fiery light, was Bud.
He was as internally restless as any of them, and just as the mallard beside him he was quietly practicing his parts, beating his sticks in the air as though his drum set was actually there. A soft splashing of water accompanied his movements as he tapped both feet to the songs in his head, mimicking the two bass drums that would be there. Despite the nearly silent practice, the drummer had yet to truly take his attention off the leafy-duck beside him. The early dawn was always one of the few times he could catch Reggie with some of his guard down.
Bud always enjoyed the rare calm times he got to spend with the floral-bird. They were the few times he could ever get Reggie to share any stories. The tales were always menial; it was the way Reggie told them, the things he said, that really told Bud a lot about him. He was starting to understand the subtle things: the ways his mouth twitched, the slight raising and lowering of his brow, the looks in his blue eyes. They all spoke magnitudes about the bassist’s true feelings, and when Bud had first met him he hadn’t even noticed.
Of course Reggie was still resistant to it. He didn’t like the idea of relying on anyone or letting them get close to him, and the water-dog’s playful nature didn’t help. But despite Reggie’s complaints, as the weeks wore on it was obvious that he gravitated towards Bud. Not that the drummer blamed him, but whether the moody duck was willing to admit it or not, Bud was becoming an increasing source of comfort for him. Since the night he’d held the mallard in his arms as his fingers burned and his screams of pain filled the manor, Reggie had slowly been increasing his level of tolerance to his presence. He still did his best to avoid physical contact, but his socially-awkward nature often compelled him to seek out the dripping dog’s presence. Although Bud suspected—or perhaps hoped—that there was more to it than that. He still couldn’t quite tell at times, but the drummer was getting better at reading his newly acquired companion.
He had to give him one thing, he was faring extremely well considering all the shit he’d had to put up with. Negaduck seemed to enjoy torturing him more than any of their previous bassists. Bud’s face fell at the thoughts it dredged up. He was finding that he didn’t like to think about the short time span the bassist’s usually possessed.
He turned to the room’s other occupants to provide distraction from his thoughts when he heard a quiet spat break out between Elmo and Jack. The two were currently sitting with the music spread out before them arguing about their content. They had all been stressed to their limits while trapped within the manor, but Elmo and Reggie had easily had it the hardest. Aside from the fact that Negaduck seemed to enjoy tormenting them more than Jack or Bud, they were also the two that had been suffering the most from his neurotic nitpicking. He had completely rewritten Reggie’s parts at least twice and had since forced him to switch to a six string bass – the new guitar was what he was currently plucking at.
Despite the superior quality of the sleek, black instrument, he still preferred his old one and never kept it far away. His currently shaking and exhausted fingers bared testament to how difficult adapting to the new guitar had been. The leafy digits had finally healed from their abuse but it had taken a long time and they still grew very stiff when he forced them to practice so much. As if the pain wasn’t enough, it took a lot of work to play on the additional strings with only two available fret fingers. The constant changes had been hell on Reggie’s psyche, but they had been far worse on the resident rodent.
Elmo did not have the benefit of being able to make sense of the notes on paper like Reggie did. But even if he could he lacked the ability to memorize them. The only way the guitarist could ever remember his parts was to play them so much they became engrained in his being, the movements becoming essentially instinctual. It required a lot of practicing. That morning was no exception, but at that point they were all on their last nerve, ready to lash out at each other any moment. Arguments had been very common place in the past couple weeks. But then again that was just how the two guitarists were anyway.
Bud couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head in amusement when the brief spat turned into a brief make out session. He leaned back against the couch, ceasing his midair drumming to relax for a bit as he went back to staring stealthily at Reggie. He nearly jumped out of his watery skin when Reggie glanced over to observe the most recent round of practice that the other two guitarists were just starting. At least the comical jam session seemed to be enough to keep him from noticing that Bud had been staring.
“Widdly widdly wah, widdly wah, w-”
“Whoa, wait, wait, wait. I thought the wahs came before the widdlies.”
Jack sighed at having to stop yet again, turning to his companion so that he could tap his foot at him in annoyance. “How many times have I told you Sparky, the wahs NEVER come before the widdlies. Now let’s do it again. Heh… do it.”
“Alright, alright,” the forgetful rodent mumbled in reply, his fingers dancing across his strings momentarily as they both prepared to start again.
A brief countdown later and the music resumed, beginning an amazingly synchronized, albeit a somewhat lazy, head bang. Reggie made a mental note to keep his distance from the crazed rhythmist any time he did so in the future: his spiked bells looked very unpleasant to be smacked with.
Jack started chuckling softly as the tune trailed off.
“Is that really how it goes?” Elmo asked, sniggering nasally.
“No, I totally just started making shit up,” Jack replied, still plucking absently at his strings, his continued chuckles making the vibrations strangely amusing.
Elmo snorted at the reply. “Heh, me too. Sounded pretty bangin’ though.”
“I know, right?! We are just that fabulous Mo,” Jack responded, flipping a wrist at him, “This really is starting to bum me out though. Could ya try and remember what the hell we’re doing. I’m gonna get seriously pissed if I have to go through this too many more times.”
“Shut up!” Elmo retorted, his tone much akin to a child pouting at his older sibling. “We wouldn’t have to go through this shit so much if he didn’t keep changing the damn songs every time we get a new bassist!”
Jack rolled his eyes theatrically at him in response. “Yeah, yeah, alright don’t get your panties in a twist. Let me get the fuckin’ music.”
“Ugh, don’t bother Jack. If I try to cram one more note into my head my brain is gonna fry,” the exhausted rodent groaned, rubbing at his throbbing temple as he began to make his way towards the stairway behind them. “I need a recharge… I’m gonna go take a nap.”
“Oooooo, I’ll come with you,” Jack said, his excitement poorly hidden.
Elmo put out his hand, the outstretched arm effectively stopping the energetic clown in his tracks. “I wanna SLEEP Jack.”
“Yeah… so?”
Elmo cocked a brow at him. “So, no playtime.”
“Who says I was just interested in playtime?” Jack replied, crossing his arms in a huff.
“Are you ever NOT?”
Jack thought about this for a moment, considering his answer. “Ok, fair enough. I’ll find something ELSE fun to do Mr. Grumpypants.” A thought seemed to strike him at his own words compelling him to bounce over to the nearby bassist as his fatigued friend turned to leave. “Hey, Bushy! Wanna plaaaay?” he purred, wrapping an arm around the bassist from behind and caressing his green cheek impishly.
Reggie jolted severely at the suggestive stroking, falling clumsily from his seat at the soft touch.
The horrified expression the other mallard was suddenly sending his way made Jack take a few steps back, studying him curiously. “Geez Reggie, chill out. You act like I’m gonna molest you at any minute.”
The annoyed, half-lidded expression displayed the bassist’s inner thoughts without him having to actually say anything.
Jack rolled his eyes at the look. “Yeah ok, that’s slightly founded. But you STILL need to relax boy.” The frisky gaze returned full force. “Come ooon, play with me!”
Reggie’s eyes widened at the increased level of naughtiness in the jester’s look. “Oh, fuck no!” he yelped, scrambling quickly to get away.
It hardly did much to deter the juvenile chase that followed. Mad cackles trailed Reggie all over the room as the leafy-mutant tried desperately to get away. Jack pouted unhappily when the other duck finally managed to escape by elongating his abnormally stretchy body and struggling his way up to perch atop the immense entertainment set that housed the large TV and Elmo’s remarkable array of gaming devices. He looked much like a cat hiding from the threat of a bath.
Bud couldn’t help but laugh at the display.
“Oh, poo. You’re no fun at all, ya know that?” Jack grumbled, finally turning away to plop himself beside the now chuckling puddle.
“Your kind of fun I can sure as hell live without,” Reggie grumbled as he made his way down the large cabinet, avoiding the various spikes and rough edges as he went.
He trudged back to the sofa, picking up his discarded bass and strumming lazily on the strings.
Jack opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a characteristically loud entrance by their leader. The deafening bang was more than enough to gain their attention, and they didn’t like seeing the angry duck one bit. The lead singer was becoming more and more difficult to manage as the days passed and he was starting to push them all to their limits. The mallard had locked himself away for nearly all of the past three days only summoning any of them to replay a part that he was displeased with. It had been a frustrating process for the entire band, but Negaduck’s legendary temper had made him all but impossible to live with. He was literally shaking in his frustration, back hunched and scanning the room for his latest target.
“BUSHROOT!” the tense mallard yelled once his searching eyes finally pinpointed the other mallard.
“What?” Reggie squeaked in reply, clutching his bass in fear of what the other duck wanted.
“Your ass, in the box, NOW!”
Reggie scurried obediently after the departing singer as he turned from the room.
He was hardly in any mood to be back in the “box” as Negaduck liked to call it. The secluded recording room was one of his least favorite places to be and he’d been forced to endure it more than any of them. Well, besides Elmo perhaps.
“STOP! Do it again!”
Reggie huffed, his extreme irritation growing when Negaduck stopped him yet again. He glared briefly, pausing to blow at some of the stray strands of hair currently in his face before restarting. Sore fingers played the same rift for the fifteenth time in a row, the strings almost groaning under the continued stress. One string in particular had been abused to the point that it could no longer stand the strain, the worn wire finally being pushed past its breaking point.
Reggie jumped harshly as the thick cord broke, recoiling instinctually in fear that the snapped string might hit him. “Uhhh…” he breathed, unsure what else to say.
Negaduck dropped his face into his hands trying to block out the throbbing migraine assaulting his skull. They had been growing steadily worse as the time passed and they were becoming increasingly inconvenient. It had long since passed a point that even medicine could help, and the other band members only made his head throb more. He was as ready as any of them for it all to be over.
“Just get out of here,” he grumbled; the slight defeat and extreme irritation were obvious in his voice. “And tell Sparks to get his ass in here!” he yelled as the other slipped out the door behind him.
Reggie huffed at the barked order, blowing habitually at his bangs once again as he went off in search of assistance.
He never would like the servants. The only time they ever seemed to be around was when he really didn’t want to see them. When he did need them, the manor was so vast and Negaduck hated the underlings so much that they were impossible to find. The fruitless search finally found him back in the devil room where he found Jack laying with his head in Bud’s lap, tugging at his guitar strings humorously.
“Well, hey there honey bun. Back so soon?” Jack questioned playfully when he noticed the plant-duck had returned.
“Broke a damn string,” Reggie griped in reply, “Where the HELL am I supposed to get a new one?”
“Strings and all other electrical or instrumental issues are Elmo’s department. You’ll have to go talk to him,” Bud answered, pointing a thumb towards the hallway that led to their rooms. “Opposite side of the hall from yours and four doors down.”
Reggie hummed softly in reply, turning to leave without further reply. The drummer paid it little mind; he was used to the minimal responses.
Bud’s ears perked as he remembered an important addition he should probably warn him about. “Careful though!” He called after the departing bassist, “Jack’s room is right after it and believe me you don’t wanna know what’s in there… wish I didn’t know half the stuff that’s in there,” he finished, muttering to himself.
“Oh, please. You know you love my kinkiness Buddy boy.”
Reggie noted the information as he slipped down the dim hall. He certainly had little desire to end up in Jack’s room. He had never been in any of them besides his own and it was really the way he preferred it for the most part. The crazed clown’s room was the last one he had any wish to visit.
It was not too difficult a task to spot the rodent’s dwelling. A soft glow and nearly silent hum revealed the resident without Reggie even having to see him. He knocked softly on the barely open door, calling through the minimal opening. “Uh, Elmo? … you in there?” he called.
Leafy fingers pushed the door open more when Reggie received no reply. Blue eyes widened at the sight that greeted him when he stuck his head through the door. All around him soft lights were glowing and strange machines gathered in strangely lifelike conglomerations. Along the floor, several small robots roamed— their construction a collection of discarded metal and otherwise useless wires. The barrage of visual abnormality was difficult to take in at first, but the machines were oddly beautiful in their intricate and obviously hand-made nature.
Although every contraption in the room was admittedly captivating, there was one that stood out above all the others, literally towering above the smaller devices. The machine occupied its own corner of the room, stretching out along the celling and almost melding with the high barrier. It looked as though the heavy metal cords reaching from its apex were attempting to breach the high barrier above. The sight made Reggie’s jaw drop as he inspected the many intricate crevices of the remarkable machine.
Below it the resident guitarist seemed lost in an odd sleep. He was curled up on a make shift bed of colorful pillows and demented stuffed animals more suited to nightmares than child’s play. Reggie had a feeling a certain deranged duck was responsible for that particular portion of the room.
He couldn’t control the shudder that ran down his spine at the sight of the rodent hooked up to the enormous device. It looked like something from a twisted film: an alarming and painful-looking linkage of man and mechanism that made Reggie seriously wonder about the young musician. The six metal inputs on his back were each connected to slender, sparking wires, impaled into his skin by long metal spines that hooked into the circular inputs. To top it off, a particularly thick and elaborate attachment was connected to the base of his skull and side of his head, shooting harsh waves of energy periodically into the sleeping rat; Reggie could see Elmo quiver in response every now and then. Only the jolts seemed to ease him, small smiles fleeting across his face every time it happened.
“Elmo?” Reggie repeated uncertainly, wooded feet carrying him cautiously closer.
He crouched down in front of the rodent when his continued attempts to get his attention went unheard. He slipped a hand out hesitantly, reaching for the sleeping guitarist. It didn’t take long for Reggie to realize the mistake he just made. The second his digits contacted the furry shoulder, a sharp zap of electricity shot into his body. Reggie was thrown onto his back at the contact, suddenly breathless and staring dumbstruck at the bizarre ceiling.
The sudden, excessive jolt found Elmo sitting abruptly upright head flipping back and forth erratically in search of what woke him. He finally glanced to the ground where a very dazed Reggie was still lying on his back, hair standing on end and his body convulsing ever so slightly. Despite his shock, the still groggy rat couldn’t help but snicker at the wide-eyed mallard.
“Yeeeah, someone probably shoulda warned you not to touch me when I’m hooked up to this beast,” he said, pointing a gloved finger over his shoulder at the immense machine.
Reggie inhaled sharply as he finally managed to coax his body into a sitting position, the chaotic purple hair and slight singes all over his body reviving Elmo’s laughs as he lifted himself up.
“Yeah,” he finally managed to choke out breathlessly, “Thanks for the info Mo.”
Elmo chuckled yet again at the fun rhyme. It wasn’t very often Reggie even used the nickname at all let alone in a deliberately whimsical way.
“So uh, what can I do for ya Reg?” he finally questioned. “I’m sure you’re not just here for the free electroshock therapy,” he added with a slight snigger.
Reggie shuddered at the notion; that was certainly an experience he never wanted to go thorough again.
“Yeah, as great as that was, I just needed a new string,” he replied, holding out his bass for Elmo’s inspection.
“Awww, poor baby got a broken string huh?” Elmo muttered sympathetically as he took the guitar from the other; Reggie couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to be addressing the instrument more than him. “Damn Reg. You broke the thick one too. Be a little gentler will ya? I don’t think she likes it this rough,” he continued, stroking his fingers lightly along the remaining cords as he stood carefully from his bed of pillows, dragging the still attached wires behind him.
Reggie rolled his eyes amusedly, watching as the absentminded rodent walked across the room. He couldn’t help being somewhat amazed at how he seemed to be able to navigate around the small robots and other devices littering his floor without even really looking. The brief trip ended when he reached the strange dresser by his bed, the wires hooked into his spine stretching to their limit at the reach. The opening of the two doors revealed a supply of guitar strings the likes of which Reggie had never seen before all displayed in neat rows along the walls of the cabinet. Reggie watched in fascination as Elmo rifled through several internal compartments in search of his stash of bass strings. A small sound of triumph told Reggie that he had found his quarry.
Once the search had produced the cord in question, Elmo plopped himself onto the floor and set about restringing the guitar. It was an incredible sight to watch the rodent remove the broken string so quickly and put the other one in place. He plucked at the newly replaced wire a few times as he stood to be sure it was in properly before handing the black bass back to the waiting mallard.
“There, good as new,” he stated as he returned the instrument to Reggie, already nestling back into his mass of colorful cushions.
“Thanks,” Reggie replied simply, slinging the bass over his back and trying to get his hair under control as he stood. “Oh, I wouldn’t get too comfortable though,” he added with a glance over his shoulder, “Negaduck wants you in the recording room.”
Elmo whined pitifully in response, clamping his hands over his ears as though it would block out the undesirable information. “Ehhhh, you have GOT to be kidding meeee.”
Reggie didn’t blame him for being less than pleased, but he couldn’t help but snort slightly at the muffled muttering that followed as Elmo complained into his pillows. He decided a farewell was unnecessary considering it would probably just go ignored by Elmo at that point anyway.
Back in the hallway, Reggie just let him mind wander as he walked slowly back towards the main hall smoking a freshly lit cigarette as he went. It was only by chance that he happened to catch sight of the slightly open door to his right. It wouldn’t have even grabbed his attention the way it did if it hadn’t been for the fact that the door wasn’t usually open at all.
Bud’s room.
Something about his recent look into the private realm of Elmo seemed to compel him to wonder what secrets the room might contain. He glanced around as though assuring that no one would catch him snooping before pushing the door open just enough that he could slip thorough the entry.
The room was remarkably empty: such a stark contradiction to the cluttered pandemonium that was Elmo’s residence. The first thing he happened to notice was a fair sized bed in one corner. He couldn’t deny being surprised; he wasn’t sure if Bud slept at all let alone in a bed. What was more captivating were the two impressive drum sets that took up most of the room. One was blazing red with intricate black designs across its many different components—a clash of color and madness on its twin bass drums.
The other was more subtle and yet strangely more alluring. It was somehow exactly what he would have expected the drummer to own; a strange physical representation of the canine that suited him in a way that was hard to explain. It looked like it had a thousand shades of blue in it. The designs practically blended with the background and yet added so much to the look of the drum surfaces. It was mesmerizing.
“Admiring my babies there Reg?”
The soft yet still playful question made Reggie jump more from getting caught snooping than from the unexpected intrusion. He was starting to seriously wish that the watery drummer made more noise.
“Sorry,” he muttered uncomfortably.
“Hm, didn’t really say it bothered me, did I?”
Reggie offered only a shrug in reply.
Bud tilted his head bemusedly at him. “So, what do you think of my digs?”
Reggie thought this over for a moment considering what his opinion really was. “Well, I hope you didn’t pay your interior decorator too much.”
A stupid grin plastered itself on Bud’s face as he laughed at the observation. It was only so often plant-duck even remotely tried to be humorous and it always had the same enamoring effect on him. Reggie didn’t wait for an answer. He began wandering around the spacious room absently, pausing slightly when he reached the large bed set beside the towering windows overlooking the city.
He tipped his head at the unexpected furniture. “There is one thing I don’t quite get,” he finally said.
“Oh?” Bud questioned, undeniably curious as to what Reggie wanted to know.
“Why the hell do you have a bed?”
Bud cocked an amused brow at him, amused and suggestive smirk snaking across his face. “Well, most ladies don’t appreciate having to screw on the floor all the time.”
Reggie flushed slightly as he realized how stupid his question actually was. “Right,” he mumbled, rubbing at the back of his head self-consciously. He couldn’t believe he was even going to ask it, but he couldn’t resist the curiosity suddenly welling inside him. “Does that actually… feel good?”
Bud was too shocked to reply at first. It took a moment for his head to wrap around the fact that Reggie had just asked him if sex was actually pleasurable to him anymore. It was a valid question.
“Hmm, well, I suppose at this point I get off more on watching them get off than anything else,” he answered, “But, if you really want to know, having some pretty thing take a nice long suck off my water does actually feel pretty fabulous,” he finished, toothy smirk only extending when the answer made Reggie blush slightly.
He was sure the uncomfortable mallard produced some reply but the mumbled and jumbled nature of the soft sentence made it impossible to discern. Bud couldn’t resist chuckling at him. Reggie was way too adorable when discussing anything related to sex. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at the slightly flushed mallard as he wandered over to the nearby crimson collection of drums.
The action struck an intriguing thought in the watery canine’s mind. He slipped behind his favored instrument, pulling a set of sticks from the box he kept nearby. Watery eyes remained focused on the distracted mutant currently running his fingers over the intricate surface of the other drum set. He couldn’t help the soft smile he produced when Reggie finally looked over his shoulder at him.
“Play with me,” Bud said in response to the questioning look, twirling his sticks between watery fingers.
“Excuse me?” Reggie questioned, eyes widening and brow cocking at the odd way in which the other chose to word the statement.
Bud rolled his sticks fleetingly against one of the snares to emphasize his request.
“Oh… you want me to play a bass line.” Reggie snorted slightly at this. “You wanna play with just the beats?”
“I’m not asking you to play one of our songs. I get the feeling you’re pretty sick of that at this point.”
The roll of blue eyes assured him this was true.
“Make something up. Or play one of them other songs.”
Reggie stiffened at the mention of the songs he played in private. “What songs?” he asked nervously.
Bud swirled his eyes at the poor denial that the bassist knew what he was talking about. “The ones you wrote. I know you have. That little diddy you were singing earlier wasn’t off the top of your head.”
He was referring to the early hours that had preceded dawn, those special times when Bud rarely slept and Reggie suffered such horrible nightmares that he rarely could sleep.
“Who says I wrote them?” he questioned softly, eyes refusing to meet Bud’s stare; he wasn’t even sure why the mention of the songs made him so uncomfortable.
“Lucky guess.”
“… alright, I guess so.”
Bud’s grin widened to extensive proportions at the small victory.
The meld of the heavy beat and the deep tones of Reggie’s strings created a unique and surprisingly enchanting sound. Bud could have stayed lost in the private session forever. Reggie’s ever present vice soon put an end to the dream-like moment.
“Where you going?” Bud questioned as Reggie turned to leave; he did a poor job of hiding the disappointment in his voice.
“Need smokes,” the departing bassist answered simply.
Bud couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering along Reggie’s form as he left, his entire being already aching for the other to return. A heavy sigh sounded into the nearly empty room, flowing elbows perching on the drums in front of him as he rested his chin on his hands. It was increasingly troubling how much he needed to be in the other’s presence, but he still couldn’t keep the smitten thoughts from filling his head with visions of green skin and purple hair, fingers dancing along thick bass strings, rarely seen smiles. Fluid lids slipped closed as the gorgeous thoughts filled his mind, shielding the reality of the world from his view.
It wasn’t long before the silence was shattered, a nearby shriek followed closely by a string of furious cussing breaking Bud’s quiet moment.
The violent yells ripped Bud harshly from the dreamy thoughts, coaxing him into a mad dash to Reggie’s room two doors down. What he found was chaos. The frantic bassist had practically torn the entire suite apart and was currently rummaging desperately in one of the elaborate dressers situated around the space. The look the furious mallard supported as he turned back towards the entryway was beyond livid. Bud had never seen Reggie so angry that he was literally shaking with fury. It was suddenly very obvious that a certain local clown had finally gone too far.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Reggie growled darkly, already rushing past Bud and out of the room.
The drummer was too shocked to react at first, but he quickly pulled himself together, following after the furious mallard. He knew how quickly things could go from bad to worse when Reggie lacked sufficient nicotine supplies.
“Hey, come on Reg,” he said, trying to calm the building outburst, “Will it really kill ya to go a few hours without a cigarette? I mean if anything it should kill you less… right?”
The furious glare Reggie was supporting when he spun around was more than sufficient to shut him up.
“Or… not,” he finished with an awkward attempt at a grin, Reggie turning away from him after he said it.
Another deep snarl sounded when they found the devil room empty, Reggie flipping his petal adorned head back and forth sharply in search of his quarry. The soft sounds of laughter from the small game room connected to the main hall soon made it all too apparent where his target was currently located.
Bud sloshed urgently after the fuming mallard, following him into the secluded room where Elmo housed most of his massive video game collection. The only other thing the room held was a rather impressive collection of various mechanical toys that the rodent had created with the aid of his usual partner in crime currently giggling in his ear as he tinkered with some small mechanical marvel.
“QUACK!” Reggie roared, both guitarists jumping in response, “Do you wanna tell me why the HELL all my smokes are gone?!”
Jack’s eyes bulged in shock at the genuine viciousness in Reggie’s demeanor.
“Oh, my gawd Mo!” he whispered loudly to his companion, slightly dreadful look in his eyes. “I totally forgot where we hid all Reggie’s cigarettes.”
Elmo scratched at his head stupidly. “We did what now?”
“Remember that game with the grapefruits?”
“….. With the sledge hammer and the go-kart?”
“Yeah that’s the one.”
It seemed to require some additional thought for Elmo to pull all the pieces from his memory before he could reply. “Oooh yeeah. That was fun!” he finally answered, obnoxious laughs following the recollection of their arbitrary antics.
Jack cackled madly at the stupid look on his friend’s face and the memories of the bizarre situation that had resulted in Reggie’s missing smokes.
The laughs didn’t stop.
Reggie was absolutely furious by that point. His rarely seen anger welled up driven on by the chortles still ringing in his ears. He finally snapped. He launched himself onto the couch, wrapping both hands roughly around Jack’s collared throat. There was a feral satisfaction in the feeling: a lingering sensation of victory in the faint pressure of the soft feathers against his leafy skin. He was beyond thinking of the other’s wellbeing; he cared only about the thought of silencing the inane cackles still sounding in his mind despite the fact that they had already stopped.
Reggie only barely registered the feel of watery hands gripping his legs, trying to pry him from his prey. Elmo squeaked in slight horror at the unexpected attack, joining the fight to free his companion from the plant-duck’s fury. He pulled desperately at Jack’s waist, wrapping his arms around the exposed midsection and pulling with all his might.
To most, the picture that the four painted would be somewhat comical, but to the irritated mallard that barged in it was a mix of annoying and purely repulsive. The gruff clearing of his throat brought all but Jack’s attention to the furious singer glaring at the rather uncouth display.
Bud was the first to really register how compromised they looked. He glanced down at the promiscuous position Reggie’s crotch was currently in, noting how suggestive it must look with him pulling the bassist against his hips. Even Elmo, with his own lower half pressed perfectly against the struggling rhythmist’s backside was less than savory. Bud suddenly felt as if he they been caught in a very dirty act.
“When you ladies are done with… whatever the hell kinda messed up fuck fest this is, kindly join me in the devil room… and be fucking QUICK about it!”
Reggie’s brow twitched erratically in his fury as the other mallard turned to leave, his focus quickly returning to the chocking rhythmist in his grip. It was quite obvious he had little intention of letting the other go just because Negaduck said so.
“Come on Reg, let him go,” Bud pleaded, trying to talk some sense into the irrational mutant. “He’s not gonna learn his lesson from this anyway.”
Reggie growled at the truth in the statement. Deep down he knew it wouldn’t change a thing, but that didn’t stop the feeling of gratification he received from finally silencing the chortling fool for once.
“I’ve woken up with potatoes in my bed every other morning. Had my hair dyed hot pink. Been groped by you every chance you get AND had to listen to that GODDAMN LAUGH of yours over and over and OVER for WEEKS now, and I’ve put up with it!” He paused for a moment, the pressure of his hold increased slightly as he stretched his face closer to that of the gasping duck in his grip. “But if you EVER fuck with my ability to smoke again I WILL maim you,” Reggie finished with a savage snarl, finally releasing his hold on the other bird.
The abrupt release made Bud’s stance falter, causing him to land on his wet back with Reggie on top of him. He barely had time to shudder in pleasure at having the other in his lap before Reggie lifted himself up and stomped from the room.
Bud slid slowly to his feet, leaning an elbow on the couch to observe Jack’s condition. The deeply gasping mallard was on his knees, chest resting on the sofa and Elmo still situated behind him much as he had been when still trying to free him. He chuckled at the stupid grin that slid across Jack’s face.
“You alright there Jacky?” he questioned.
“Is it totally wrong that I am waaay turned on right now?” the other finally replied with a slight laugh, tongue lolling stupidly from his mouth.
Bud rolled his watery eyes at him; he knew the overgrown child wouldn’t learn anything. “You don’t have an off switch, do you Jack?”
“If he does I sure as hell haven’t found it yet,” Elmo muttered as he helped his still slightly breathless companion from the cushions and back out into the large adjoined room.
The brief chat was put to a swift end when the three finally joined their fellow musicians in the massive main room. Both mallards looked thoroughly displeased. Negaduck didn’t even bother to let them sit before beginning his rant.
“Do you all like making me suffer? Is that it?” he questioned, his tone instilled with a false feeling of patience. “Cause let me tell ya, I’m getting pretty TIRED of you all wasting my fucking time!”
There was no reply.
“We have ONE NIGHT LEFT! What do you all not fucking GET about that?!” he continued when none of them offered an answer.
“Well, what the hell do you expect?” Bud finally interjected, “We’ve been doing nothing but playing metal nonstop for months! You gotta let us OUT of this place for a while. We’re goin’ postal here!”
“Sounds like a personal problem,” he growled in reply. It effectively silenced the drummer’s objections. “You’re not my issue anyway, it’s YOU two!” he continued, pointing accusing fingers at both Reggie and Elmo. “Especially you!” he finished, turning the full force of his fiery glare on the slumping lead guitarist. “I swear you’re just getting worse! Why the HELL is that?”
“Cause you’re pushing him too fucking hard that’s why!” Jack snapped, not even waiting for Elmo to say something in his own defense.
The agitated singer’s expression only grew in malice and ferocity at the jester’s outburst. “I shouldn’t have to hold all your hands just because shit-for-brains is too much of a goddamn junkie to remember what the hell he’s supposed to do!”
The statement finally ripped Elmo from his mental freeze. “I’m not a fucking junkie!” he yelled, teeth bearing in a vicious display.
The look only served to set Negaduck into a round of deep, growling laughter. “Oh, right Sparky,” he snorted, moving to grip at Elmo’s wrist so he could stretch the slim arm out. “And I suppose these are birth marks, huh?” he questioned, bringing attention to the delicate scars littering the underside of the appendage.
Reggie had never noticed the track marks before, the rodent’s course hair hiding the telltale marks from view, but when exposed the evidence of his years of drug abuse was painfully evident.
Elmo’s courage sank instantaneously at the baring of the old wounds. The look of pure discomfort and indignity was painfully evident on his face. He finally managed to yank his arm away from the mallard’s harsh grip, bolting instinctively behind his nearby companion.
Jack was fuming.
His large jaw trembled from the pressure of his clenched teeth, his mask-clad and normally playful eyes narrowed in fury. It was obvious that he was forcing back a serious outburst.
“Go on faggot, say something. I dare you,” Negaduck responded with a growl, red eyes narrowing in warning.
Despite the malicious glare, the evil grin that slowly crept across his face betrayed the fact that he would derive great pleasure from a spirited confrontation; he wanted the other mallard to try something. Jack knew it. But his long established need to protect his younger companion was hard to ignore. His whole body shook for a moment, his face twisted into a furious snarl. He wanted the other’s blood bad. He finally settled for a pissed off mix between a grow and a yell, grabbing Elmo by the bicep more harshly than he intended as he forced the other out of the room with him.
A suffocating silence followed their departure, the heavy quiet breaking only when a deep growling laugh began to build within Negaduck. He was soon cackling evilly at the small bit of fun he’d manage to coax from the other mallard. He was soon making his way back down the hall that would return him to the solitude of the recording room. The maniacal laughs followed him all the way down the long passageway as he went, making Reggie shudder slightly at the disturbing quality of the evil chortles. At least it seemed the other mallard’s slightly elevated mood would give them a brief break from the torture.
Bud blinked stupidly at the singer’s departure, trying to wrap his mind around everything that had just happened. The two mutants shared a shocked look, neither sure what to say or how to react. Bud was the first to recover, suddenly struck with the inexplicable desire to chuckle uncontrollably. Reggie couldn’t help the lopsided grin that spread across his face in as the others silly giggling continued. He was certainly going to enjoy the brief reprieve from the others.
As long as someone got him some damn smokes.

It was one of those rare quiet times: a peaceful moment that seemed almost unreal amid the smothering tension still suffocating the entire metropolis.
Bud was completely lost in the moment.
Nothing compared to the feelings elicited within him whenever he was graced with the opportunity to just sit and watch Reggie play. There were few moments he was allowed the privilege.
Both mutants were simply enjoying the brief serenity. It didn’t seem to bother Reggie that the sopping drummer was watching him, but the still present tension kept either of them from really knowing what to say. Bud didn’t mind. He found the soft sound of Reggie’s bass soothing, and he was more than happy to just sit and stare at the other as he played. For once the self-conscious mallard didn’t much seem to care about the observation. Leafy fingers just continued to play, the music drifting softly from the small amp at his side and freshly obtained cigarette smoldering in his beak. Bits and pieces of his different songs began to meld together in a captivating way as Bud listened.
How many early mornings had he slipped around the manor searching for the elusive melodies in the darkened halls? It had become Bud’s favorite time of day. He was used to being alone at night. He never really slept anymore. He required little more than brief rests since his transformation and often took to wandering the mansion’s many passages absent-mindedly as he waited for the sun to rise. Reggie had changed all that.
The perpetually restless duck had been plagued with nightmares nearly every night since he had first joined the band and as much as Bud hated knowing the cause behind them, he loved that it had given him someone to spend the lonely dawns with.
It had started as sly observation, Bud sitting himself outside the bassist’s door and just listening to Reggie’s hypnotic singing, but it wasn’t long before the elusive mallard began to wander to different places within the vast home in an attempt to ease his restlessness. While searching the many rooms for the other musician, Bud finally managed to get caught following him around. He was surprised that Reggie didn’t mind much. The early hours soon became a strange ritual between them— the one time Bud could coax a few drinks down Reggie’s throat and just talk with him. There was nothing he would have traded for the few truly serene moments they shared, but they never lasted long.
It was no unusual source that broke the stillness this time.
Jack’s advance from the upstairs could be heard long before he breached the entry into the common room. Volatile swears of rather impressive merit in their creativity and general revolting content filtered down the corridor.
Reggie’s jaw dropped at the sight of the angry mallard. It wasn’t so much the depth of loathing in Jack’s eyes that struck him, but the disheveled mess of flaming hair obscuring the angry orbs. The bright red hair framed furious eyes, giving the dark mood a more menacing quality. It was not the first time Reggie had seen Jack without the beloved hat, but it was an extremely rare occurrence and he was sure he would never get used to the sight.
“Bud,” Jack growled— the fact that he was grinding his teeth extremely obvious as he spoke, “Make me a drink. And it had BETTER be strong… and fruity.”
“Strong and fruity. Just the way you like your men, eh Jacky?” Bud asked with a slight snicker.
“Damn right,” Jack replied simply.
Bud chuckled at the reply, throwing a moist arm around the sulking mallard and leading him from the room. “Whatever you want babes.”
Reggie certainly didn’t mind at all when Bud ran off with the fuming musician. He found Jack uncomfortable to be around when he was acting normal but on the rare occasions when he was truly furious it was just plain terrifying to him. Bud seemed to have the strange talent of calming the fiery jester.
Reggie had been sitting in silence, smoking and just staring out the window at the firelight dancing across the inky clouds in the city. He hardly noticed when Elmo entered the room. Only the muted sound of steel toes clinking slowly and softly on the ground alerted him to the other’s presence. The miserable rodent looked dejected and defeated as he trudged towards him. The wires usually hanging from his body were absent giving Reggie a rare glimpse of the six metal inputs into his nervous system. The small, circular ports were each surrounded by a slim radius of scared skin, the areas unable to grow hair. Elmo dropped himself exhaustedly into the cushions beside Reggie, hiding the scars from view once again.
Things were silent for a few moments before Elmo finally tipped his head towards Reggie. “Hey Reg,” he said quietly.
“…yeah Mo?”
“Hook a brother up with some cancer.”
The smile Reggie produced in reply was small and brief but sincere nonetheless. He pulled two cigarettes from his newly acquired pack, lighting them both before handing one over to the stressed rodent. Elmo inhaled deeply, letting the smoke billow slowly from his muzzle and nose.
“Yeeeah that hits the spot,” he muttered, eyes slipping closed. Reggie smiled again.
Several more silent moments passed as the two smoked before Elmo spoke again. “Thanks,” he said simply.
“Don’t mention it.”
The reply was almost immediately followed by an unexpected answer from Elmo. The crazed rodent’s eyes widened at the complaint of his hungry midsection, almost unable to believe that it had actually come from him.
Reggie cocked a brow at the comical grumble, resisting the amused smile that tried to snake across his face.
“Uuuugh,” Elmo groaned, rubbing at his stomach with both hands. “Wow, I don’t usually say this… but I am SUPER hungry,” he muttered.
Reggie rubbed his chin briefly in thought at the comment before lifting himself from the rough sofa. “Well, now. I think I can fix that,” he answered.
He couldn’t deny enjoying the toothy grin Elmo produced in response. It would never cease to amaze him how much he actually enjoyed the rodent’s company. He shook his head as he turned to lead the way to the kitchen. Dangerous thoughts Reggie. Dangerous thoughts.

Despite the naturally sullen nature Reggie usually displayed, there was one thing he couldn’t deny: he actually rather enjoyed to cook.
It was one of many random skills he had picked up along his travels, but it was one of the few that he actually got any enjoyment out of. Of course up until only a few weeks earlier, he’d had no reason to do any cooking in the manor. A number of trials had since made it very clear that he could no longer eat normal food, but no matter how much sun and soil helped he had still been craving more sustenance.
He couldn’t help being put off by the idea of ingesting the moist soil at first, but the more he had rubbed the dark earth between his fingers, the more the normally repugnant smell filled his senses, the greater the desire to consume the dirt had grown. The taste was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. It was undeniably earthy and yet almost sweet like sugar, and it had quickly become a flavor he couldn’t get enough of.
He soon took to mixing the soil with normal foods, trying to recapture the flavor of some of his favorite things to eat. The cooking created a repulsive odor to most, of that Reggie was sure. He’d gotten complaints about it from both Jack and Negaduck more than once, but to him it smelled like a slice of heaven and thanks to Elmo’s poor sinuses he didn’t much notice the smell at all. Reggie had to admit the rodent’s presence in the kitchen was somewhat pleasing. He found he rather enjoyed having the other around to keep him company as he went about making food for them both—even if Elmo did have the odd tendency to start muttering to the appliances.
The more time he spent around the rodent, the more obvious it became that he was so much younger than the rest of the band. In a lot of ways Reggie suspected he was mentally younger than he really was anyway. That’s what really made his electrical genius so very impressive. It was such a strange, and oddly intimate, contradiction from the rest of his nature. and for some reason, it seemed to be part of what Reggie liked about him.
“Oh my God, this is so fucking amazing,” Elmo practically moaned as he bit into the latest culinary delight that the other had set before him.
Reggie had made everything from soups to soufflés, driving the resident voltage addict into an eating binge the likes of which he had never experienced in his life.
Reggie couldn’t help the small smirk that settled on his face at the other’s words. He couldn’t deny that he’d been having fun over the past two hours making all his favorite old foods for Elmo, and with so many ovens and supplies available to him he was able to amass an impressive selection of delights for the picky rodent. And make some fertilizer-inspired treats for himself while he was at it. The latter was what drew a still sullen, loud-mouthed mallard and his watery cohort to the kitchen.
“CHRIST it smells like shit in here!” Jack griped, nose curling in repulsion the moment they entered the room.
“Probably cause Reggie’s cookin’ with crap,” Elmo mumbled around his mouthful of food as Jack dropped himself in the chair beside him.
“And yet, this is the only thing that doesn’t taste like shit to me,” Reggie added, slipping into his own seat as he set his latest muddy creation on the table.
“Smells normal to me,” Bud added matter-of-factly as he flowed past them to acquire more fruity ingredients to concoct another drink for the still pouting mallard behind him.
“Oh, whadda you know?” Jack mumbled, “You can’t even smell.” For a moment he just sat there sulking, chin resting on his hands and displeased look still stuck on his face. A glance to his side finally seemed to lift his mood a bit. “Well,” Jack said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair to stare at his happily munching companion, “I guess I can’t complain too much if you got Mo to stuff his face like this.”
“Damn right!” Elmo replied excitedly, voice still muffled by his stuffed cheeks. “He’s a better cook than cook is!”
“The cook is named cook?” Reggie inquired, cocking a brow at them.
“No, that’s just what his dumb ass calls him,” Jack replied, “He just refers to all the servants by what they do.”
Reggie hummed softly in reply, watching the two guitarists for a moment. He was surprised at how grateful he was that the jester had replaced his trademark hat. It was somehow extremely disconcerting seeing Jack ‘all natural’. He seriously wished he’d put on a shirt though. He was wearing the more vibrant hat he had seen before: red and blue with golden bells. To top it off he had changed the usual black and white strips normally covering his arms and legs to ones with a more colorful blend of purples.
Elmo seemed to just notice his colorful state as well.
“Hehhe,” Elmo laughed nasally, “You are soo breaking the color rule right now. Negs is gonna beat your fine ass if he catches ya.”
“Pfft, Negs can suck my foot long. I don’t give a shit right now. I want my fuckin’ colors.”
“Well, just be careful Jack,” Bud said as he returned with some blue-tinted and fruit filled intoxicant for the mallard. “You’re only allowed to be colorful at parties.”
“Well, I now declare this a party,” he grumbled, taking his fresh drink from the dripping dog with one hand and reaching into his pocket with the other to produce a handful of confetti. He threw it into the air, the festive feel of the raining bits of colorful paper turning somewhat sour when coupled with the angry pout on Jack’s face.
Bud shook his head in bemusement at the pouting man child. He was quite accustomed to Jack’s severe mood swings. He knew the jester would be back to his normal self before too long, but the potential fury that was hidden just beneath the bubbly surface was often unsettling even to him. The drummer didn’t even the chance to produce a reply before the bane of their existence decided that they’d had enough peace for one day.
“BUSHROOT!” Negaduck’s angry voice bellowed from down the hall, “What the fuck have I told you about cooking that shit in my house?!”
Reggie swallowed his mouthful of earthy food nervously, eyes shifting back and forth as though searching for the cruel mallard. He practically jumped out of his skin when the singer appeared briefly in the doorway, fists clenched in rage.
“GET OUT HERE NOW!” he roared curtly before turning back down the hall. “ALL of you!” he finished, yelling at them from down the dark passage.
Jack fumed at the annoyed yell. He was all too aware that the last part pertained to him. Elmo practically had to drag him from his seat to get him to follow, Jack refusing to leave before obtaining another drink to accompany him. He was unwilling to even fully enter the room when they arrived, still stubbornly refusing to being anywhere near Negaduck.
“Faggot! Get your cock-loving ass in here before I drag it in here!” the singer snapped at him when he realized the rhythmist was still hovering by the door.
The still moping mallard didn’t even bother sitting, he just stood against the far wall, arms crossed and displeased frown firmly planted on his face. It was obvious he was attempting to remain as far from the shorter mallard as possible.
“Alright ladies, shut up and listen up,” Negaduck grumbled, pacing back and forth in front of them as he tried to sort out his own thoughts. “SO… everyone keeps bitching about being stuck here and since you are all WAY too annoying even when you’re not bitching,” he actually paused to groan, rubbing between his eyes to try and lessen his headache’s assault. “I’ll let you have your fucking party.”
Jack and Elmo shared a happy glance before throwing their hands into the air excitedly.
“Party!!”
“Don’t celebrate yet assholes, you haven’t heard the conditions.”
“Awwwww,” they whined in unison.
Negaduck turned angry eyes on them, snarling at the annoying complaints as he made his way to the small bar situated near them. “Shut up!” he snapped, pulling a bottle of randomly selected alcohol from one of the bars many shelves. He didn’t bother with a glass, opting instead to just take a long drink straight from the bottle before continuing.
“First of all we are NOT leaving. We’ll have the damn party here. Those assholes can come to me. SECOND, you,” he said pointing at Reggie, “and ESPECIALLY you,” he continued turning on Elmo, “Need to FIX your fucking parts first! And you had sure as hell better convince me that you know them well enough to not fuck things up for me tomorrow! Then you can have your goddamn party,” he finished, dropping his head none too gently on the short bar where he had just sat.
Jack and Elmo sat silent for a moment, almost as though they were assuring that Negaduck had finished, before producing yet another tandem response.
“PARTY!!”
Negaduck groaned at the elated and annoyingly childish cries. He was starting to regret his kindness already. “I am way too good to you dickholes.”
Jack had already moved from his spot against the wall and was concocting his own drink from the selections at the bar where Negaduck sat. “Oh yeah you’re a real doll Neggers,” he muttered darkly, jumping onto the bar and crossing his legs as he swirled his new drink.
The annoyed singer lifted his head to snarl at the other, bill curling in disgust as he seemed to notice the currently bare state of most of Jack’s person. “Will you put some fucking clothes on!” he griped, turning his back to the bar so that he could rest his elbows on the surface behind him.
Jack sneered immaturely at the other duck, making faces behind his back once he was no longer paying attention.
Bud resisted the urge to chuckle at the spectacle. “Face it Jacky, you’re just too affectionate for Negs,” he said teasingly, trying to break some of the tension in the room. He never did like having to face serious situations.
“How can you consider anything he does affection?” Reggie questioned grumpily. He could certainly do without any form of “affection” from Jack.
Bud shrugged indifferently in response. “I’ve rather come to enjoy Jack’s unique brand of affection.”
“Damn right you have Buddy boy,” Jack purred lustily, brows waggling suggestively at him.
Elmo’s eyes widened at this, glancing from Jack to Bud and back over and over as his mind struggled to put the pieces together. “Wait,” he finally said, lifting a genuinely confused brow. “You’ve fucked Bud?!”
Jack’s rolled his eyes at the question: it was not the first time it had been asked. “Baby you’ve walked in on me fucking Bud at least twice. You just never remember it.”
“That’s just plain repulsive,” Negaduck growled, “I thought you had more fucking pride drip face.”
Bud fumed slightly at this, gaze narrowing irately. “Oh right, and raise your hand if you haven’t fucked Quack,” he said with a roll of his eyes.
The comment immediately elicited a displeased groan from Negaduck. “Ok, new rule,” he growled, lifting his pounding head from the table top. “No one is EVER allowed to remind me that I’ve been anywhere near the faggot’s cock again.” The seriousness in his tone couldn’t stop the impish and amused grin from painting Elmo’s face.
“Don’t always have to be standing too close to be near Jack’s cock,” he muttered softly, unable to keep his snickers at bay.
Jack burst out laughing, holding his fruity drink to the side to keep it from spilling. Negaduck growled gutturally in response to the amused cackles, removing his chin from his hand only long enough to give Jack a sharp punch in the jaw.
“Oowww! What’d the fuck you hit ME for?!” Jack griped, rubbing at his face angrily, “I didn’t even DO anything this time!”
Negaduck snickered evilly. “Yeah, but you are way more satisfying to hit.”
Jack glanced at the smirking singer. It was obvious that for once he was actually thinking about his actions. “You like hittin’ on me Negsy?” he finally asked, obviously deciding against the voice of reason in his head. The second time he took a large bottle to the face.
“Uuuuh! Will you all LEAVE so I can rest in peaceful misery?!” Negaduck growled as the other duck rolled on the ground in pain.
The entire band perked up at the request. The four shared a silent glance, the recognition of the common thought evident between them. They wasted little time making good on the request, each slipping quickly from the room; none of them cared where they ended up as long as it was away from the softly snarling mallard behind them.
The reprieve lasted only so long, Negaduck seeking each of them out at least once to hound them to fix something or make sure everything would go well the next day. Despite the continued harassment, the unruly singer soon had himself locked away once again as he finalized the fruits of their labor leaving the exhausted musicians with some semblance of peace and quiet.
The few hours of downtime found the four congregating together in the devil room. The two resident mutants were situated together much as they had been earlier that morning, Bud getting a jumpstart on the night’s inebriation and Reggie sitting beside him plucking at his guitar. As much as Reggie had been attempting to avoid them all, Jack’s constant pestering had quickly convinced him to give up the battle. He found he didn’t mind too much though. Now that Jack was calmer at least. The jester was sitting with the other guitarist between his knees, teasing the rodent’s spiked hair into a mohawk. Elmo just seemed to be enjoying the contact, tail wagging slowly back and forth on the floor and his fingers still strumming at his guitar as Jack doted on him.
“Ugh, your hair is so oily,” Jack griped, finally breaking the quiet mood that had been surrounding them, “You haven’t been bathing have you? You know are REQUIRED to take weekly baths at least!” he scolded as he stared in disgust at his own fingers.
“I already had my bath this week,” Elmo retorted in a childish, mocking tone. Reggie couldn’t help but snort slightly at the way the guitarist stuck his tongue out as he said it.
Jack sighed indignantly at his uncooperative companion. “Fuckin’ HELL you’re a little brat sometimes.”
“Am nooot!” Elmo whined back, plucking swiftly at his guitar strings in his frustration.
“Ah, give him a break Jack. Not like it’s gonna fall out if you go one day without primping him,” Bud chuckled, his slight drunkenness already showing.
“HA! Do you know what it takes for me to keep this idiot’s hair this luscious and soft?” the rhythmist retorted, burying his fingers deep into the thick hair. The skillful digits slipped through the strands, massaging the rodent’s scalp and making his back arch with pleasure. Elmo quickly forgot the brief spat, spine shuddering in response and guitar practically falling from his grip at the talented stroking. “Besides, he absolutely adooores this part,” Jack finished with a purr, staring amorously at his blissful companion.
Reggie cocked a surprised brow at the unexpectedly intimate display. The heat in his cheeks alerted him to the uncomfortable blush that was just starting to paint his face, giving him his cue to leave. He slipped swiftly from the chair, making an inconspicuous escape to the balcony. Not that his attempted stealth really did anything. The two guitarists were hardly paying him any mind; they had much better things to do, and the only other occupant was all too aware of his actions. He always was.
Bud didn’t hesitate when Reggie made his way from the room, slipping quickly through the still slightly open balcony door. By the time he stepped fully out behind the bassist, the mallard had already lit up a smoke and was staring off across the city. It was all too apparent that the other didn’t notice him. He was tipping his head into the wind, eyes slipping closed at the soft, refreshing feeling of the night breeze. Bud’s mouth opened slightly as he stared at the unaware bassist, savoring the way the light of the sunset struggling through the layers of smog painted fiery rays across his face and hair. Even the way the light wind was ruffling his purple petals was strangely arousing. He blamed it on the alcohol.
He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.
For once it was Bud that was caught off guard when the other mutant quickly spun around. He smiled somewhat stupidly at the small look of triumph on Reggie’s face. There wasn’t anything he could think of to say. It didn’t really seem necessary anyway. He slipped over smoothly to join the duck where he stood, dripping forearms resting against the balcony edge so that he could observe the dimming horizon with him.
The oranges and reds painted the sky in a burning display that almost promised the hectic night that was to follow. Reggie tried to ignore the heavy beat of his heart that had been plaguing him all day. The thought of the thousands gathered outside awaiting his first appearance making his spine quiver in fear. Their collective cries of jubilant, eager destruction made the task very difficult.
Bud could almost feel the other’s inner turmoil as he watched Reggie stare into the distance; all at once it was as though he could see exactly what was going on in his head.
“Why are you here Reg?” he questioned softly. They’d all been thinking it, but any time the question came up Reggie would just ignore it. “Being in the spotlight ain’t exactly your thing.”
A long moment passed before Reggie answered. It was obvious that he was a little unsure what to say. “Guess I just wanted to be famous for a change,” he finally answered.
Bud snorted loudly at this. “Bullshit.”
“Look, I just thought it might be nice to know where my next meal was coming from for a while. For people to not treat me like dirt! For the world NOT to shit on me for once!” the increasingly distraught mallard retorted, turning annoyed eyes on the other mutant. He paused the rant for a moment as he tried to collect himself, taking time to inhale deeply from the smoldering cigarette in his hand. “And what do I get?”
“Negs,” Bud replied, unable to resist a slight snicker.
“Negs,” Reggie muttered irately. “No matter where I go or what I do I end up with the worst possible outcome. Story of my life.”
Bud’s entire body went cold at the mention of the worst possible outcome. Reggie had no idea the situation he’d truly led himself into this time. His depression was suddenly back full force.
“What?”
Bud was taken aback by the question. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he had nearly forgotten the other was there at all. “I didn’t say anything,” he answered uncertainly.
“Doesn’t mean there isn’t something you keep wanting to tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Bud muttered unconvincingly, turning his eyes away from the mutant mallard as though to keep him from reading the deception in his eyes.
“You’re such a fucking liar,” Reggie grumbled darkly in response.
“Hey, I don’t lie!” Bud snapped defensively, “I just… conveniently forget to mention things sometimes,” he finished lamely.
Reggie snorted irately at the response, suddenly very annoyed at the water-dog. “Oh, right, like you conveniently forgot to mention that only CHICKS call you Buddy right?” Reggie retorted, narrowed eyes turning on the dripping drummer.
Bud’s entire body stiffened. He had been wondering why Reggie had stopped using the name. He produced the only excuse he could think of.
“Jack calls me Buddy.”
Blue eyes narrowed at the response. “Too late I already went there.”
Bud was lost for words. He didn’t even know why it bothered him so much that the mallard now knew the truth—aside from the fact that it meant Reggie would no longer be using the name.
“Well it’s not like it even means anything!” Bud finally replied, still attempting to defend himself. “It’s not a big deal,” he grumbled, crossing watery arms over his chest
Reggie shook his head at him, turning back to the darkening landscape. “That’s exactly what I’m fucking talking about,” he muttered. “You’re lying to me right now.”
“Look it’s just something I associate with affection alright!” Bud yelled, finally tiring of the accusations. He paused as the realization of what he had just revealed sunk in. A heavy sigh sounded at the unintentional baring of his heart, resigning the fluid canine to complete his thought. “Even if it is shallow affection,” he finished softly.
Reggie was unsure how to react. He just stared at the suddenly depressed and slightly slumping drummer. As much as he’d been trying to ignore that there was a deeper side to the seemingly easygoing dog, at moments such as that it was impossible to ignore. He sighed indignantly at the melodramatic display, gathering his thoughts to respond.
Before he had the chance, the roared summons of their leader drew them once again back into the manor. Reggie couldn’t help but notice how grateful for the interruption Bud was. Somehow the drummer’s constant attempts to keep his own guises in place were becoming very annoying. He sighed heavily as he followed the other’s wet trail.
Back inside, Bud had already situated himself beside Jack and Elmo, waiting for whatever spiteful yelling Negaduck was there to deliver this time. “Well ladies,” the singer said once they were all accounted for, “it was more of a pain in the ass than you could POSSIBLY imagine… but you have finally managed to produce something that doesn’t make me want to tear my own eardrums out.” A collective sigh of relief sounded at the news. The sound seemed to agitate Negaduck somewhat but it didn’t stop the sinister half-grin that his bill was soon supporting. “Now the real fun can begin.”

The ruthless pound of metal music, the hazy layer of smoke slowly filling the space, the heated entanglement of dozens of bodies all around the room: these were all sure signs of yet another party courtesy of St. Canard’s most imposing residents.
The hours found Reggie mostly isolated from the rest. He had been trying very hard to remain aloof as the party preceded, eventually making himself essentially invisible to the increasingly intoxicated mass of metal fans around him. Nervous fingers tilted the glass in his hands lightly as he watched the various groups littering the room, the amber liquid inside swaying gently as the vessel was tipped back and forth.
No matter how interesting some of the congregations were, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from watching a certain watery canine. He was captivating to observe. The beaming smiles that kept slipping across his face caught Reggie’s attention more than anything– so false in the shadow of the true emotion that seemed to be showing through. Reggie was suddenly very curious how no one else seemed to notice the blatant lie the expression was truly telling them. In that moment, he found himself so drawn into observing the dog from a distance, so lost in all the little things he’d never seemed to notice before, that he was quite unaware when another soft-spoken and solitary-seeking bird slipped over to join him.
“He’s fascinating to watch, isn’t he?”
Reggie jumped at the soft question, clutching his chest and breathing a sigh of relief when he noticed it was only Darla.
“Hmm,” Reggie hummed uncertainly in reply.
The aging duck smiled gently at him, placing a slim, unlit cigarette in her bill.
Reggie glanced to the lighter in his hand, lifting it so that she could use the now burning flame to lite the slender cylinder. He watched in captivation at the way the strands of smoke seemed to dance around the mature beauty, taking his eyes off her only when a loud round of unruly laughter brought his attention back to the drummer he had been observing.
He rolled his eyes in amusement at the two dogs. “Well, he certainly is interesting to watch when he’s with Benny that’s for sure.”
Darla chuckled softly, offering no other reply as she waited for him to continue.
Reggie was a bit uncertain how he planned to respond at first. Darla could clearly see the conflicting string of emotion that crossed his face as he opened his bill hesitantly to answer.
“I guess I just never really noticed…” he trailed off, thinking for a moment, “how little of himself he really lets people see… you know?”
Darla stared at him thoughtfully for a moment, genuinely intrigued by the question. “Heh, Benny and Buddy. What a pair they do make,” she chuckled slightly at the thought of the two miscreants. “Well, they are pretty much the same you know. Both charming, attractive and talented men, hiding behind those happy façades and trying to drown their troubles in their favorite inebriating libations… I suppose they’re both just caught in a vain and desperate fight for that haze of a euphoric reality that is all simply an illusion. But then, aren’t we all?” she finished with a lighthearted laugh.
Reggie couldn’t help but find her behavior that night as somewhat odd; not that he was going to mention it. “What’s your role in all this?” he finally questioned, his voice barely audible above the brutal barrage of music still filling the room.
Darla seemed almost shocked by the uncharacteristic boldness of the question. The timid mutant was not normally one to be too interested in asking any questions let alone one that might lead to information he didn’t really want to know. “Hmm, well that is a complicated question,” she replied, “but I suppose the simple answer is that I own the company that signed them. Benny was my partner… Dear Benjamin and I, partners in greed and partners in guilt for letting lose that maniacal menace on the world.”
The soft and eerily pleased laughs that Darla produced at the thought made Reggie shudder; he’d never been quite so shaken by the elder duck. All at once, the outer kindness gave way to the ruthless, gruesome business woman that was truly hidden just below the surface. Darla rather liked the chaos, and it suddenly showed very clearly.
“Legally we are the ones that have control, but he owns us all Reginald,” she finally finished as her chortles quieted. “I suppose Benny always felt far more regret about it than I did. Part of why he drinks after all. But then, I imagine that’s truly my fault. I was desperate for someone to share my success and burden with and he was so very talented… and so young.” She trailed off as the memories filled her thoughts, her eyes seeking out her younger business partner. The distant, almost dreamy look was a shock to Reggie. Her memories were suddenly so apparent on her face that he could almost read exactly what they said. “So young,” she finished softly.
It was all suddenly so obvious: the depth of emotion and insanity contained within the lovely bird, her relationship with her much younger business partner, the extent of her role in the current condition of St. Canard.
A silence fell between them as Darla produced another cigarette, lighting it with her dying one and tipping her head back as she inhaled slowly and deeply from it.
Reggie shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to react at first. “Well, what about Jake?” he asked at last— compelled to break the unsettling silence more than anything.
“Oh, he is an interesting story,” Darla chucked in reply. “He was their first bassist you know.”
Reggie was in shock
“You heard me green-stuff. First one ever. And he’s the only one you will find alive today,” she paused, gaze returning to where her chuckling companion was still taking shots with Bud. “I honestly don’t know what happened to him,” she finally continued, “but he has never been the same since.”
“… what do you mean?” Reggie asked nervously.
Darla turned a thoughtful eye to him momentarily as she thought over her reply. “That man is a devourer of souls Reginald… Keep an eye on yours lest you become an empty husk like the rest of us.” She grinned. “At this point we are just content to simply live under his rule,” she added, raising her glass as though toasting to their demented, red-eyed ruler. “Jake, me, and of course my dear Benjamin,” she finished, staring amorously at the handsome canine.
As though he could feel her gaze, Benny’s eyes were soon upon them, stupid grin slipping across his face and drunken legs leading him their way.
“Speak of the devil,” Darla purred, her voice once again smooth as silk. “Benny dearest!” She called happily to the approaching canine.
“Darla, Darla! My darling, darling Darla,” Benny sang with a slur as he staggered gracelessly towards his old friend and lover. He wrapped an arm around her waist, the action serving to hold him upright as much as acting as a show of affection. “Ya wanna know sometin’?” he slurred, “An I don care if it sounds totally cliché especially comin’ from a drunk person n’ all, but I freakin’, love you. Seriously, I don’t throw tha word around every day.”
“Oh, I know you don’t darling. That is why I adore you so much,” the aging duck replied, rubbing a finger playfully beneath his chin.
“I friggin’ love when yur sappy,” Benny replied, unable to resist the chortling fit that hit him as his very favorite friend lead him away.
Reggie shook his head at their departure, trying to ignore the unsettling feelings still stirring within him. His mind was reeling from what Darla had said. She had produced more question than she had provided answers that was for sure, and it was undeniably unsettling. He suddenly needed another drink very badly.
From across the room, watery pools eyed him as he moved. Robbed of the distraction of his boisterous, inebriated friend, Bud was having a very difficult time not getting lost in the leafy vision making his way stealthily across the room. Even though Bud had been keeping his distance that night, he couldn’t keep his wandering eyes from seeking the other out. The watery pools starved for the sight, aching for relief from the deep incurable yearning that only the moody mallard could state. There was never a moment he didn’t ache to be in the other’s presence, and it was increasingly worrying to him. Behind the enamored thoughts and burning heat that Reggie’s presence filled him with lurked the darker knowledge that something horrible would happen. It ate away at him, festering inside and nagging at his deepest feelings no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.
Bud was not alone in being plagued with such thoughts. Reggie had become so used to the drummer hanging around him all the time that he was near panicked by the group of fans surrounding him. He hated to admit how much more uncomfortable he had been that night without Bud nearby. He didn’t like to think that he was craving the other’s company.
No matter how hard he tried, staring at the fresh glass of liquor in front of him was not sufficient to keep the thoughts at bay. Luckily for him there was a far more ample source of distraction making its way towards him.
The loud, drunken bickering that drifted his way announced the approach as the two guitarists moved closer. Reggie cringed slightly at the shrill sound of Jack’s shouts chasing the pouting rodent currently retreating away from him. The jester was having little luck getting Elmo to respond to him and it was obviously getting increasingly annoying. It wasn’t until the pair was only a few feet away from Reggie that his childish griping finally seemed to have the desired effect.
“Well maybe just ONCE it’d be nice to go out with you and NOT have to watch you offer sex to every man in sight!” Elmo screamed, gaining the attention of anyone in the near vicinity that wasn’t completely trashed.
“What do you want from me?” Jack replied heatedly, “I do have needs Sparky.”
This seemed to snap a rare cord within the agitated rodent, his entire body stiffening at the answer. “NEEDS?!” he yelled, “I spend 80 percent of every DAY fulfilling your NEEDS and you’re trying to tell me you’re more interested in all of them than just me?!”
Jack crossed his arms over his chest, pouting expression displaying the fact that he didn’t want to admit what he really felt. “Pfft, you’re just another piece of ass baby,” he grumbled.
“Oh, please! Name one ass you want more than mine.”
“Oooh, you REALLY wanna know whose ass I’ve been wanting more than YOURS, do ya?” Jack replied darkly.
He turned on Reggie, terrifying look filling his eyes as he bridged the gap between them.
Reggie was instantly petrified with dread. He didn’t like the playful look at all. The shocked mutant didn’t even have a chance to reply before he was pushed forcefully against the wall behind him, his neglected drink falling to the ground with a shatter.
There were several things Reggie learned immediately: Jack was stronger than he looked, and he had an extremely long tongue. He practically gaged as the slippery appendage slid deep into his mouth, attempting to tease his own slick muscle into a spirited battle. There was a certain sick sinking of his gut as the realization hit him that his first kiss had just been stolen from him. He tried to ignore how upset the thought made him. A glance in Elmo’s direction only increased his fear.
Even behind dark lenses, it was difficult to miss the desire-hazed look in Elmo eyes— the possessive lust welling within him clearly displayed on his face. He couldn’t just stand by and watch the display for long.
Reggie struggled harder as Elmo joined the groping; the last thing he wanted was to be pulled into a forced threesome. The rodent almost immediately latched onto Jack’s neck, biting aggressively along the feathery flesh as his hands roamed the familiar form. A soft moan from the guitarist in his grip was proof enough that he enjoyed the forceful behavior: it was what his entire outburst had been attempting to elicit in the first place.
Reggie wasn’t sure how or when but Jack soon had the long black coat covering his body hiked up to his waist, feathery fingers groping his woody backside and twining between his tail leaves while his partner in crime held him firmly in place. He was almost too shocked to react beyond struggling against the furry hands pinning his wrists against the wall.
He finally managed to force his sharp talons against the other’s exposed abdomen, pushing Jack away with his foot and ducking past the insane duo. Jack hardly even seemed to notice his hasty retreat, spinning around immediately after the other pulled away to force his voltage-driven companion into a bruising kiss. Elmo’s legs gave out under the needy embrace, the two falling to the floor in a jumbled pile. The eager guitarist flipped them over quickly so he had the other pinned beneath him, his tail flipping around in the air energetically as he groped his lover. They had little interest in Reggie at that point.
Not too far away, Bud had been watching the display with furious eyes, fluid burning in his anger. There was something in Reggie’s horrified expression that revealed secrets beyond the blatant disgust produced by the actual person that was kissing him. It was something Reggie had never experienced before at all: it was his first kiss. The one that Bud hadn’t even entirely realized he’d been craving to take for himself.
Reggie was quite oblivious to the drummer’s inner turmoil. The thoroughly shaken bassist had made his way to the extensive bar and was now downing the premixed beverages at a disconcerting rate. When the already available drinks ran out he began to search frantically for the strongest alcohol he could get his leafy hands on.
“Looking for something special Reginald dear?”
Slightly widened eyes turned to the bird, blinking stupidly at her for a moment. Reggie swallowed his mouthful of alcohol sheepishly at the lovely female’s abrupt appearance, shuddering none too becomingly at the burn of the liquor.
“Yeah,” he finally answered, his voice slightly hoarse from the alcohol abuse. “Whatever gets the taste of hooker-clown spit out of your mouth the best.”
“Hmmm,” Sapphire hummed in thought, slipping sensually closer and pushing down the latest glass Reggie had grabbed as he lifted it to his bill. “Well, I don’t know about a drink, but I know something better that will get that taste off your tongue.”
Reggie swallowed audibly when the soft sentence was followed by the gentle contact of silky feathers on his chin. His heart felt as though it might pound right through his chest at the obvious intent of her actions. Total panic took over.
Reggie had never been too eloquent with any form of desire.
For the most part he preferred to ignore that he even had such feelings. But he was an animal after all, and even with his more recent plant-like disposition he was still an animal, and he still had such feelings. The thought only served to shake Reggie more. The fact that he had no idea what he was doing combined with the knowledge that anyone could be watching made him chicken out despite what he wanted.
“I-I gotta go,” he stammered breathlessly, falling gracelessly away from the alluring bird and rushing off towards the large staircase and the promise of solitude that it represented.
Sapphire licked at her bill as he turned away from her, his resistance only making her hunger for him more. She pulled out the small mirror nestled within her clutch, fluffing her hair and straightening her dress before standing to follow; giving him a small head start before pursuing leisurely.
From across the room, liquid eyes were still watching them, a pool of anger brewing behind them. A realm of emotion barely held back over the last few months was steadily slipping from his control. As he watched the lovely bird slip after his companion, a surge of possessiveness welled inside the drummer. He knew what would happen if he allowed them to be alone; he knew what would happen, and it made his blood boil.
A cord snapped. A barely audible but guttural growl sounded in his feral frustration as he slipped to the floor and flowed silently after them.
Reggie was barely paying attention as he slipped through the dark passageway that led to their rooms, images of perfect curves and gorgeous eyes haunting him as he ran. He didn’t give it a second thought as he slipped into the first room with an open door that he came upon. Alone in the chamber, he willed his drunken mind to clear. He pressed his back against the heavy door, breathing deeply and trying to calm his racing heart. “Great Reggie, let Jack get your first kiss and then run away from the bombshell.” Blue eyes rolled and a heavy sigh sound at his own pathetic actions.
He snorted after a glance around the room told him he hadn’t even gone to the right place. Even through the shadows, it was quite simple to distinguish Bud’s room from his own. Reggie grunted in annoyance, pushing himself away from the door and wandering towards the captivating indigo drum set currently glittering in the moonlight. There was something about the set that seemed to draw him close: a resemblance to the dog himself that instilled a similar state of fascination in the mutant mallard. He couldn’t resist the desire to stroke his fingers along the shimmering blue surface. He wasn’t sure why it made him shudder; he was so lost in the tantalizing patterns along the sleek surface that he didn’t even notice when the door behind him opened, the soft sound of heels against the floor completely lost on him.
“That wasn’t very nice you know Reginald,” the breathy voice sounded from behind him, bringing bright blue eyes to focus immediately on the slim bird now staring at him. “Gives a girl the wrong idea when you run off like that,” Sapphire continued, slipping slowly closer to Reggie as he moved away from the drum set. “Don’t you think I’m beautiful?” she whined, mock hurt in her voice as she batted her eyelashes pathetically at him.
“Fuck yes,” Reggie breathed, eyes wandering down her form; his voice was barely audible, but Sapphire heard him nonetheless. A deep flush painted Reggie’s face when he realized what he had just said. And that she just heard it.
Her look quickly turned from playful teasing to a satisfied smirk. “Oh, really?” she purred.
Slender fingers slid behind her neck, pulling at the slim strings on her dress. With a simple and fluid slip of her fingers the thin tie keeping her large chest contained was released, the silken fabric slipping in tantalizing ripples down to her waist. Reggie’s eyes bulged at the reveal of the gorgeous body. Sapphire couldn’t resist the soft giggles she produced at the stunned expression on Reggie’s face, relishing the dazed and obviously aroused look he produced at the unexpected exposure of the supple, ivory breasts. Reggie had never seen a naked woman outside of a magazine and it was a sight he couldn’t deny enjoying immensely. It showed quite clearly and it was just the sort of ego boost that only made Sapphire hotter. She rather enjoyed that he couldn’t take his eyes off her chest meat as she slipped closer.
“It’s not very nice to stand up a lady like that Reginald,” she continued, advancing on the frozen bassist. “I think you need to make it up to me,” she finished, swiping a finger teasingly down the exposed part of Reggie’s chest and pulling at his coat to uncover more of the green flesh.
Reggie was too dumbstruck to respond beyond allowing the tantalizing bird to push him backwards until his knees gave way when they hit the side of the nearby bed. He stared stupidly at Sapphire, jaw hanging open and heart pounding wildly. Her sultry stare held Reggie’s own gaze captive, keeping him from noticing when she began slipping her skirt higher. It didn’t take Reggie long to register the lack of undergarments against his currently bare thigh.
Sapphire relished in the shocked expression and dark blush that followed. She leaned in closer. “Touch me Reginald,” she whispered, her soft breath brushing against Reggie’s bill as she spoke.
The timid mallard gulped audibly in response. He glanced down at the exposed lower half seated in his lap, reaching his hands out uncertainly. Lightly quivering digits hovered just shy of touching the soft, curvy backside. Reggie bit at his bottom bill as his nerves failed him, his uncertainty taking over full force. Sapphire would have none of that. Feathered fingers gripped his leafy hands swiftly, forcing them the rest of the way to her enticing rear. Her fingers were downy soft, the silken feathers leaving a sensation of tingling delight against Reggie’s own appendages. The round cheeks now clenched beneath his hands increased the pleasure of the sensation tenfold. Reggie trembled harder at the new experience, his blush spreading until his entire face shone deep green with proof of his uncertainty and excitement. It made Sapphire burn with desire.
“Has anyone ever told you that you turn the most delectable shade of emerald when you’re nervous?” she purred, leaning in close enough that the very tip of her beak touched his.
Reggie shifted his eyes away at the question, his already green tint only deepening in his embarrassment.
It was exactly what Sapphire had wanted. She laughed lightly at the other’s inexperience and general discomfort. Despite his uncertainty, the heavy pound of Reggie’s heart against her bare bosom and the tentative curling of his leaves against her toned backside were more than proof of what he wanted. The beguiling vixen loved nothing more than making men burn for her so badly. And she knew Reggie wanted her.
A sharp slam shattered the silence, shocking both birds and bringing their gaze to the furious watery form now standing in the entryway.
There was no denying the bubbling fury that welled within the canine at the sight before him. The stunning bird with his moody love obsession beneath her, Reggie’s hands still pressed beneath her dress, increasing his irrational anger. The snarl he produced at the scene left both birds shocked from more than just getting caught.
Sapphire was the first to recover, straightening her back and resting her hands against Reggie’s torso for support.
“Why hello there cool lips,” Sapphire purred, hiding her slight annoyance behind her usual sensual tone. “Come to join us did you?” She questioned playfully.
The teasing was not sufficient to hide the fact that she was not actually in the mood to share her blushing virgin.
“Get out,” he muttered, watery teeth clenched against his internal fury.
“Well now Buddy darling, I’ve never known you to be quite so rude. What’s the matter? Feeling left out?”
She knew what had brought him there and it had nothing to do with her. She’d seen his possessiveness from the beginning, and it had obviously grown.
He didn’t answer right away. He was too busy glaring at the cause of his heavy heart. The alcohol clouding his mind holding back all but his feelings of frustration, the months of longing and desperate desire were all pulled to the surface at once. It was driving him mad.
“Get out,” he repeated, his voice barely a hiss, “I need to have a chat with Reginald.”
“Excuse me darling, but you can go fuck yourself.”
Bud snarled harshly at the reply, fluid eyes narrowing furiously at the stunning bird. He latched onto her arm, pulling her none too gently from Reggie’s lap.
“I said get out Sapphire!”
She yanked her arm away from the rough grip, immediately pulling her dress up to cover herself again once she was free. “What the HELL is your problem?” she yelled, meeting the enraged stare Bud was still giving her.
He didn’t respond at first, unable to react beyond shaking in fury. “Get out.”
Beautiful features twisted into an angry snarl at the repeated command. “I’m going!” she finally answered, yanking the door behind her open harshly before continuing, “You’ve marked your territory,” she hissed, slamming the heavy barrier behind her.
Reggie had never seen the bird in such an angry state and it left him dumbfounded. He was far too shocked to react. He hadn’t moved an inch, brain too clouded with lingering arousal and intoxicant to produce much of a reaction. He just sat there, dumbstruck and staring at the bubbling drummer before him.
“What the fuck Bud?!” he finally managed
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Reggie’s mouth gaped at the stupidity of the question. “Are you fucking joking?!” he yelled.
Bud all but ignored the string of angered complaints that followed. “What the hell are you complaining about? You’re in one piece aren’t you?” Bud snapped, his mind only growing more irrational in his fury. “Might not have been if that bitch woulda had her way with you,” he muttered to himself as an afterthought.
“Yeah, sure,” Reggie answered angrily, “What the hell do I have to complain about?! I’ve just been groped, forced to choke on slutty clown tongue and now I just got cock blocked! Quite frankly I’m getting pretty sick of ALL of you! Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me?!”
As the final sentence passed his bill, the last, thinly held strand of Bud’s composure broke and a flood of repressed emotion burst forth. His water boiled in his fury.
“Do I know what I’ve been doing to YOU?” he growled darkly, “Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to ME?! What I’ve had to endure for you and because of you over the past four months?!”
The suddenly deep and furious tone made Reggie swallow subconsciously in dread. He didn’t like the look that suddenly filled the aqueous eyes glaring at him.
“All this time I’ve done nothing but try to help you and you’ve been nothing but callous and resistant!” Bud paused, his form hunching and his look filled with depression. “I just thought… maybe you’d see that I…” The dejected look faded as quickly as it had come, fury filling Bud’s eyes once again. “But you’re just fucking oblivious to it aren’t you?! Blind to the feelings you cause!”
In an instant the light advance had the now petrified bassist on his feet backing away from the crazed drummer.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Reggie snapped, rounding the small table behind him for a semblance of protection from the watery fiend.
“YOU’RE WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME!” Bud screamed, the months of pain and frustration clearly written in his voice. “The depth of feeling behind that blank face of yours! How much fun it is to be around when you do kinda let your guard down!” he paused, form shuddering in frustration. “And then of course there’s all the things you don’t even fucking realize make you alluring,” he continued, rounding the table that Reggie had placed between in a vain attempt at a barrier. “That tall frame, thin waist. The exotic nature of your appearance in general… those eyes.” With each sentence he moved closer, his pace stopping as the last words passed his fluid lips. Despite the liquid disposition of his own eyes the lust-filled haze that suddenly clouded them was transparently obvious to Reggie. An instinctual bolt of his body found the suddenly terror-filled mallard with his back literally to a wall. The pace of his breath increased two fold as the other mutant continued his flowing advance. Unfortunately for him that it only made him look more tempting to the lust-crazed drummer.
“Those eyes,” Bud finally repeated, his voice low and animalistic.
The blatant arousal in the words snapped Reggie from his fear-induced freeze causing him to bolt urgently away from the approaching canine, backing as far away from him as he could. “You’re fucking crazy Bud!” he yelled, rather impressed how much of his fear he managed to hide with the angry tone. “Stay the fuck away from me!” he continued when his evident distaste for the other’s increasingly obvious intentions went ignored.
Bud didn’t reply. It was as though his mind was no longer in the livid, bubbling form still advancing on the cringing bassist. There was nothing Reggie could have said to get through to him. Pure panic hit him. In a last ditch effort to save himself from what he was sure was to come, he made a mad dash for the door. There was no good it could have done. Reggie never stood a chance.
Like a predator with its prey mere inches from death, the second Reggie made a move Bud attacked. He caught the other with a terrifying ease that left Reggie flailing in horror. He pressed desperately at the watery arms now encircling his waist kicking his feet futilely against the churning fluid at his back.
“LET ME GO! DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!!!” Reggie yelled desperately, his frantic struggles never ceasing. The terrifying hold dredged of feelings of fright that went far beyond the mere moment: a fear that contact only led to pain.
Bud just growled gutturally in response, throwing the struggling bassist back up against the wall he had just come from, pulling his slim arms over his head and pinning them in place with his shaking fists. In that moment Reggie was allowed a brief chance to meet the deep pools of azure anger that were usually so mesmerizing to him. Now the blue eyes only made his blood go cold.
With a baring of teeth and an eerie snarl the moment ended, Bud swirling his water forcefully against Reggie’s body as he pressed the other’s bill against his flowing muzzle. For a second it was something like a strange bruising kiss, but Bud’s actions quickly became more aggressive. Reggie choked at the vicious stream of fluid that was pushed down his throat as Bud forced him to drink in his water. Reggie was just thankful it was brief, liquid limbs freeing his hands as the drummer’s body disintegrated. He hacked desperately when the treatment stopped, falling forward and coughing water as the moist barrier gave way. Bud’s fluid form caught him just before he hit the ground only to force his chest roughly against the hard surface moments later. Reggie struggled against the forceful hold, trying to push his upper body away from the tiled floor.
“You’re fucking crazy! How the hell do you even expect to fuck me?!” Reggie yelled, his continued attempts to use the angry tone to mask his fear falling painfully short.
Bud growled at the question. He pulled the quivering mallard’s rear against him, moving him to his knees while keeping his chest pressed to the floor. Reggie didn’t like the position one bit.
Bud surged his water roughly against his hips, the plant-like skin instinctively soaking in the stimulating stream, pulling on it as though to fill every inch of his being. Reggie’s eyes widened at the unexpectedly erotic feel, his feet scrapping erratically against the ground as his desperation to get away grew.
“There,” Bud panted deeply, his voice low and laced with desire, “Mystery solved.”
Reggie rather wished he hadn’t finally spoken—the sound of his voice only increasing his fear.
Bud gripped his plant-like body again, touching whatever bare skin he could get his hands on from beyond the garment encasing the object of his desire. He yanked the black coat higher on the other’s shuddering body, pushing the fabric roughly up to his chest so that he had better access to the irresistibly smooth frame. The moment the green skin was exposed he pressed his body against every inch he could find, swirling his water in forceful, stimulating streams against the tender and delightfully responsive flesh.
Reggie cried out in horror, the arousal of the situation terrifying him. His screams would do no good, the noise from the still raging party nearby drowning the cries in the excessive volume. His struggles became even more feverish and frantic at the feelings assaulting him. Wooded talons continued to scrape futilely against the ground as he tried to escape the unwanted touches. No matter how hard he tried, there was nothing he could do. Every time he tried to push away Bud always managed to pull him back into the same position. He was absolutely powerless against the aqueous menace. And that terrified him.
He tried continually to escape the jets of pleasure being forced upon him, desperate to get away from the defiling warmth. The heat spread through every crevice of his body, growing especially torturous in his groin. It was an extreme violation, and he didn’t like it one bit. Unfortunately, his body didn’t quite agree.
Even though it was such sensation unlike Reggie had ever felt before, even he was capable of recognizing it for what it was, and it horrified him. The harsh reality of the sexual arousal revived Reggie’s terror full force. He struggled harder, dry sobs suddenly being ripped from his bill. The cries drowned in the shaky, uncontrollable moans that followed, the arousing strokes of the crazed drummer continually forcing the cries of pleasure as he pressed his churning water against Reggie’s responsive skin.
The feeling only grew worse when Bud began to buck his hips against him slightly, letting out soft grunts every time he did. The feral sounds made Reggie shudder in fear. He really didn’t like how the particular stream beneath the leaves mimicked how another more tangible appendage might feel especially when coupled with the thrusting.
The assault of pleasure and painful treatment soon left Reggie with little energy to do anything beyond quiver in the puddle surrounding him, his entire body shaking severely. He tried to detach himself from the situation entirely as he’d always done with his fear in the past, but the horrible, delectable heat still tormenting him made it all but impossible. He sunk trembling teeth into his lower bill, trying desperately to silence the traitorous sounds of enjoyment he was letting forth. His face tinted dark green in his shame. He couldn’t stop his body from pulling in the water as much as Bud was forcing it in. It was a delight to the watery form behind him in a way the drummer would have never believed possible.
Bud was completely lost in his own world of ecstasy, a vastness of sensation the likes of which he had never felt before; it was as much a new experience to him as it was to the still trembling mallard gripped forcefully in his arms. The tingling heat swirling in his wet body instilled a feeling of euphoria within his churning form that was the closest to real pleasure he’d experienced since his transformation. And so much more. He shuddered at the excess of stimulation, gripping Reggie harder and pulling a sharp gasp from the mallard as he subconsciously forced his water against him as hard as he could.
It was more than Reggie could take. His slender frame arched to unnatural proportions, pressing his form more forcefully against the body behind him—much against his will. He was beyond control of his actions. Quivering bill parted and blue eyes widened to their limit at the feeling that spread through him. A choked, almost painful sounding moan was torn from his throat as his floral skin began to force the still churning water from their permeable walls. Bud groaned uncontrollably at the feeling as Reggie began to return his own water to him, his form bubbling more forcefully, boiling in the shared feeling of the forced orgasm. He gripped the leafy mutant beneath him tightly as he flowed them both into a sitting position, Reggie’s body jerking slightly as he continued to force a steady stream of Bud’s liquid pleasure from his body. The feeling finally pushed Bud over the thin edge on which he perched, the torturous heat of the flow coming from the bassist’s body finally taking him over completely. He lost control of his shape, Reggie falling none too gently onto the hard floor. Bud caught himself as best he could as his own body rained to the ground. He reformed just above the shaking duck beneath him, sitting on watery knees and holding himself up by his arms, one perched on either side of Reggie’s exhausted body. He relished in the lingering feeling of pleasure sending waves through his form.
The satisfaction of the moment was extremely fleeting. Once the pleasure and alcohol induced haze cleared his mind he was able to think far more clearly.
Reggie’s now exhausted body was slumped lifelessly against the ground, his breath coming in soft, heavy pants. It was painfully obvious that he lacked the energy to even lift his head from the floor. Through the damp bangs Bud could see the look of betrayal in his weary blue eyes. The pained gaze cut through him like a jagged blade, forcing the full implications of what he had just done on him. Everything had happened so fast that he could hardly believe it had just taken place. As he realized the pain he had caused, he suddenly wished more than anything that he could take it all back.
The look of regret was blatant on his face. “Reggie… I—”
He cut himself off as the soft words snapped the shaken duck abruptly out of his mental block. The hurt look was quickly replaced with rage as he flipped himself over, using his heels to push away from the drummer as quickly as his sitting position allowed.
Vine-like arms wrapped around his still shaking and soaked body as he forced his back against the nearby wall. “Don’t you EVER fucking touch me again,” he hissed, the deep, angry tone attesting to his pain despite the whispered nature of his words.
Bud swallowed around the sick feeling in his throat as he tried slipping closer to the cringing bassist. “Please,” he begged, “ Reggie, I—” the continued attempt to apologize along with the closer proximity only prompted Reggie abruptly to his feet, arms never leaving their self-embrace as he backed frantically away from the approaching drummer.
“Just stay away from me,” he whispered, some of the malice already being replaced with misery as he shifted his coat back to its original position. “… Just stay away from me.”
Bud’s heart broke at the repeated sentence as he watched Reggie run from the room. His head hung with regret, shame, and utter misery, his whole body slumping once the other was gone.
He had never forced anyone in his life and now he had just done it to the only person he’d ever had genuine feelings for.
If he were still capable of crying, he would have.

God I’m evil.
More metalness to come!
Oh, and btw. The more comments I get the sooner I’ll get the next chapter done… Jus sayin’.
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Screw the Bassist