A Load of Hippo Ass


Written by Septia.


Alex cracked open a pack of salty-sticks in the kitchen, holding it by the brim of his lips — as one would hold a cigarette. Blake's laughter erupted from the other room, making the wolf curious enough to saunter over to find Blake slumped in the couch, ogling that hippo cartoon. 
	“Could you turn down the toons?” 
	“Do you mind? Hip and haps is a sit-com.” 
	“Entirely animated sitcom full of chubby hippos, yeah.” 
	“Find something else to  ruin the mood of,” the roommate huffed and angled his flappy canine ears to the tv. 
	Giving him some space, Alex peeked at the screen, seeing the portly hippo couple chatting around a breakfast table. His lips curled into a smirk. 
	“If you wanna stuff your face with hippo ass, I know a place that’s in your budget range.” 
	“Just for that,” Blake rose from the chair and shook his head, “I am out.” 
	“Keep in touch,” Alex called as Blake stormed out. 


“What an ass,” came from the cartoon. 
	“Don't I know it,” Alex scoffed in response. 
	“I'mma talking about you, Alex,” as Alex's head turned to the tv his face contorted in confusion. 
	“Ya, farther raised him a foul hairball of a son, I could do it better with ma hands tied behind mah back.” 
	Alex did see the hippo talking straight at him, nodding as they made eye contact… then his vision filled up in the purple skin of the hippo, and with a smack -Chhssmtch- he was enclosed in darkness… 


“Gilbert, do I need to remind you of your diet,” the wife asked, seeing the dusky tail sticking out of her husbands mouth as the hippo sloshed the wolf from cheek to cheek. 
	“Whatabboutit? this punk's not even a mouthful.” 
	But at a stern glare from the wife, Gilbert rolled his eyes and stood up, and rolled the tail around his palm, -Csnnspth- plucking Alex out of his maw with the snapping elasticity of a used gum wad, quickly disposed and lazily smeared off onto Gilbert's seat. 
	“Ya know, buster. Ah got half an ass to teach you some proper manners.” 
	Alex heaved in breaths, twisting and turning, covered in hippo saliva, all around him were the pastel pallet of an illustrated illusion, from his waist down his body was chewed up and mangled to a clump of  (black), sticky gum. “The heck are you doing?” Alex exclaimed. 	
	“Heck, ah just doing mah fatherly duties, What kinda father would ah be if I didn't set rowdy scallywags straight?” 
	“A loving one?” the wife interjected. 
	“Exactly,” Gilbert curted.
	“B-but, but… but?” Alex squeaked, his head full of questions but his mouth stuck in a loop. 
	“So you like them butts, huh, son?” Gilbert said, dragging back the chair and flinging off his belt so his trousers -Bbtwhhwf.- dropped to the ground, the curtain dropping to allow Alex a close up of the mammothian behind looming above. 
	“Boy'll be boys, but for brats like you, I'mma have to put mah ass down.” Gilbert declared regally, and let gravity take over, his hind rippling in the air resistance as it plummeted onto the wolf… -Pphhwtlltwwph-. The hind spilled out over the confines of the chair, steamrolling over Alex's body and entombing it in ass flab. Alex felt it moulding his lower frame -Sppwltlsht- compressed up the crack of the portent posterior, and his head frame smothered under the mountain of hippo hips. 
	“Mmrf, mmwmf,” Gilbert huffed, gyrating his rear back into the seat, a crackle of spittle and sweat smearing underrneath his rear as the wolf massaged into the folds of his hind -Crslslpgshta-. 
	“Gilbert, on the good chair?” 
	“'S all bout small sacrifices, hun.” 
	“I just cleaned-.” 
	-Bbrwwwfpplth- a plume of black fog strummed the bountiful cheeks as a pair of guitar strings, staining the room in an odour of tar and dusty sports-drawers. “All bout sacrifices.” Alex's head spun with ache from the colossal bulk resting on his head, compressing his whole frame to the chair, bouncing and rocking to grind him back into the mass of meat. He could hear an internal laugh track ridiculing him. -Shhclrlstsh- Squelches and smears of clay caught his attention, he couldn't feel his legs — or the cartoony gum wad that had been his legs… A tepid numbness crawled up his frame, the heat radiating from the rear amplified by this… heat welling up inside of him. -Hghrlrsbtbh- his gut caved in and rumbled into ribbons. -Bhuruaaalallfrhp- His gullet reverberated as the thrust of the air pressure vented through his maw, the belch rippling rigid and stretching his throat to its own whims — like a slug cutting ahead of you in line. A distinct stench of sweated and butter laced his maw. 
	“Pghhs, ahwha… ursk… that I am gonna be sick.” 
	“Agree to disagree, everything feels like its working wonders on my end, unless that one was yours, then you should see a doctor.” 
	“What?” Alex called up. 
	“Tha's definitely one of mine, right hun?” Gilbert said and shifted in his seat so Alex laid bare to the world, a grumble echoing through his chest and escaping in a carbonated huff of -Bhhrwwwllurrrslp- the belch heaving out a pungent miasmthat fanned up to the wife's face as she passed. 
	“Can confirm, that's my husband's alright, wish it wasn't.” 
	“Lots of people wish for a lots a things,” Gilbert pointed out. 
	Alex was perplexed, eyes snapping to and fro, what did they mean, what did any of this mean. Arms gone, sensations muted, though he felt them around somewhere, around. Gilbert slumped his rear back down the chair -Splpltwhwp- 
	“Mmfrg,” muffling Alex again. 
	He stood up. Then sat down. Stood up to check a cabinet, then rammed his ass back down. Then just smashed his ass into the seat. 
	“Pah aha, you are making quite the ass out of myself,” he huffed out, rising to show off the splotch of compressed wolf covering his hind in an even coating. 
	“Urrk, fells like ah sat on sumthin’ rancid. Oh wait, ah did.” Gilbert teased and shook his rear. 
	Alex's thoughts whisked around like a leaf in a blender. His lips shaping, pursing, though words not escaping. That sultry heat was on him, the -Chrlslth- crackle and smear of mud encompassing him was a constant factor in his mind. “Ass…” he mumbled. 
	“Ey, you kiss ya girlfriend with that mouth? Cause she must be wild on munching ass,” he said and smacked his cheek. -Chpwpwth- 
	Alex felt the smack, the reverberations going through him, the meat melding in with the surrounding flab, face sinking, eroding into the surrounding lard as butter melting in a pan. His mouth still trying to form words, though mind was vacant on the very concept of speech, until… wait, it found something… yes… words. He would give this cartoon a piece of his-… -Bbrrwwfllprrrth-. A smokestack of grimy green gas billowed past his lips, rippling with a fervent squeak of polished meat as the exhaust of brewed cauliflower and vinegar steam escaped. Scolding fog filling in for his scolding words. 
	“Pahaaa. Ooorh yeah, that is better,” Gilbert said and kneaded his digits into the blackened buns, feeling the plush wolf texture a pleasant padding compared to the leathery hippo dermis. “Ya gonna be an ass, then (but, then ya won't half ass it, in this, we only allow full asses.,” he said and flexed his cheeks, -Sttwhp- the buns smacking together those vaguely wolfy lips melding in with their surroundings, hiding behind the clamp of the hefty bottom. The wife looked in. “Gotta admit, you are right every once in a while, hun.” 
	“Eeeey,” Gilbert finger gunned. The hippo strained his cheeks with heaving huffs and grunts, -Ghrbrsltlksths- a bubbling gurgle surging through his abdomen, down his colon, holding up at the Alex reinforced rectum…, -BbrFFfrrwwrrthrhwhwhhhtfh- unleasingshing a torrent of fumes that billowed out in cartoony clouds. Thick fog banks saturated in the stench of a botched beer and mushroom stew. The smog evaporated to disperse through every corner of the kitchen, with a hint of salty-sticks undertoning the fumes. “Hear that? Buster likes your breakfast.” 
	“Well at least someone-.” 
	"Too bad it's the opinion of a load of ass, ahaha,” Gilbert chuckled. A moment later his wife came up and smacked him on the cheek. 
	“Ah deserve it,” he shrugged and embraced his wife in a hug. 


~ 1 ~


The tv laid ruminant with the glow of the hippo couple's hug. Blake standing dumbstruck, head cocked as head, mouth and eyebrow scrunched up in confusion. 
	“That jerk stole my salty-sticks.”