
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/699886.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      The_Condesce/Jane_Crocker/Jade_Harley/Roxy_Lalonde
  Character:
      The_Condesce, Roxy_Lalonde, Jane_Crocker, Jade_Harley
  Additional Tags:
      Grimbark, Xeno, Knotting, Foursome_-_F/F/F/F, Mind_Control, robo!Jane,
      Rimming, Tentabulges, Size_Kink, Non_Consensual, Dark
  Collections:
      Femslash_February
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-02-25 Words: 2064
****** Chew Toy ******
by gloss
Summary
     plaid: jade is the wolf, jane is little red riding hood, condy is
     grandma, they all bone
     me: Roxy can be their chew toy?
     Funtimes(?) with the grimbark robohood crew. For plaid.
Notes
     Thanks to g for the beta.
It was probably inevitable. First came Lil Cal, then Lil Seb and Lil Hal.
Now, thanks to the unfathomable whims of a despotic troll empress, Roxy is
pretty much Lil Kim, halter top and push-up-booty shorts and sequin-encrusted
six-inch heels and everything. She folds her arms this way, then that, but
nothing's comfortable.
She's groggy, heavy-limbed and fuzzy-headed, but even so, this feels wrong.
"Girl, you look so fine --" HIC breaks off and cackles. "For a weak-ass lil
alien, I mean."
Roxy teeters on the heels. Every inch of her skin is goose-bumped. "Just tell
us what you want."
She tries to sound brave. She doesn't feel it.
More than anything, she just wants to sleep.
"You stupid scrap of chum." HIC wraps her arm around Roxy's neck and hauls her
upward. She's so big, it's dizzying. Roxy just dangles there, choking, head
spinning. "More'n you know." She licks the side of Roxy's face with the briny-
sharp tip of her tongue. "Let's go see what your fronds are getting up to."
She carries Roxy under her arm, like a disobedient dog or extra handbag. Her
hair tangles over Roxy's face, stinking of blood and salt; her skin is cold and
too smooth, unyielding.
Barking echoes down the hallway, set in counterpoint to HIC's boot heels click-
clacking on the black-purple marble. Everything here is dark but somehow
lambent: they're inside a bruise, membranes pulsing with pain and blood and
seawater.
Barks and howls, modem screeches and whistles, greet them as HIC enters the
antechamber. The walls are dark and slick, oyster-meat and black pearl shine.
The floor is littered with scarlet and pink pillows, misshapen wet spots,
weapons and glinting loot.
If Roxy could just wake up, maybe she could put up a fight. This is what she's
been waiting for her entire life, isn't it?
Isn't it? She's not so sure anymore. It's so hard to think straight.
The dog-girl ruffs and rolls on her back, stretching, exposing her stomach.
Jane (beautiful sweet terrifying Janey) is lying next to her. Circuit pathways
flicker across her skin, as she rubs the dog-girl's tummy. Dog-girl's tongue
lolls; her fangs glint in the low light.
"Good dog, best maid." HIC drops into a pile of pillows. It squishes moistly as
she pulls Roxy up against her chest, half across her lap. She giggles, adding,
"Bad wolf, red hood!"
The rings in her gill frills clink and chime as she shakes Roxy.
"That," she says right against Roxy's ear, "was a motherglubbin' joke. A funny
one."
"Ha?" Roxy tries. "A-haha?"
"Shore, shore," the Condesce says, her attention returning to the girls on the
floor. "Such pretty little spawn, huh?"
Jane is giving off a high-pitched buzz that fades in and out, an entirely
different rhythm than the flashes and flickers across her skin. She doesn't
look like anyone Roxy knows or loves, except in outline. Same curvy Jane body
and mussed-up Jane hair, but filled in with static and throbbing blood and
bytes that skate and skitter across her skin.
"Red. Snapper," HIC announces, or commands, her voice lifting. "Snap. Her." She
giggles again and hugs Roxy against her. Her hand spans half of Roxy's torso;
her fingernails are as long as Roxy's actual fingers. They're sharp, pricking
into Roxy's skin, pressing in. "Watch, you."
"Ruff-ruff!" The dog-girl pounces on Jane, wrestling her onto her back, then
her front, snarling playfully as she buries her face in Jane's neck. They roll
around, static-buzzing and puppy-yipping, until they hit the wall.
They're still wrestling there, but more slowly, the dog bent around Jane, one
of Jane's legs hooked around the others' legs. They're kissing, making wetly
eager, sloppy sounds and grinding against each other.
Humping? Roxy works her jaw and says it aloud.
"Humpbackin'!" the Condesce cries, clapping so delightedly that Roxy slips a
little into the crevice between her arm and side. The empress hooks two fingers
into her lower lip and whistles. "Now we're getting somewhere!"
Roxy sags against her, floating just above sleep. Her thoughts, when they do
form, are syrupy-slow and confused.
HIC wriggles back into the cushion, spreading her legs wider as she beckons the
girls closer.
She must have done this a thousand times. More, way more. Once you're a
thousands-of-years-old megalomaniac alien sea witch, it must be hard to stay
interested in any single little thing.
"Thought you hated this?" Roxy hears herself say. "You hate..." She can't
remember the word.
"Hate you," HIC replies and pinches Roxy's cheek. "Don't hate fun. Never did,
never will."
Jane's dress is twisted up to her armpits, her leggings tugged down her thighs;
the dog-girl rolls them over, lapping at Jane's neck and chest, snuffling and
slobbering. Punch-card columns run down the length of Jane's torso.
HIC lifts her ass from the cushion as she fumbles one-handed with her belt.
Roxy slips farther down before getting yanked back up. When she's upright
again, Jane and the dog-girl are sitting before them, eyes wide, attentive. The
batterwitch hitches up one leg, stabbing her heel into the cushions, letting it
fall open. Her leggings are open, too, her hand working inside.
Roxy tries to catch Jane's eye, but Jane and the dog-girl are staring fixedly
ahead. The dog-girl pants, then licks her lips, her ears upright and trembling;
Jane's black sclera look blank, her red irises burning.
The Condesce tugs up her bulge out of her pants and throws back her head. Jane
and the dog-girl fall forward as one, like pigs to a trough, as the bulge
squelches open and tentacles push out.
So many of them, waving and fluttering, long thick ones the color of eggplants,
smaller, thinner ones scarlet and blue, reaching and spiralling outward and
upward. Nudibranch ruffles, baroque curls and undulating surfaces, enlarge and
pulse.
Roxy is as captivated as the others. Just as dry-mouthed, almost panting. She
doesn't want to be; she knows that the sight is revolting, that this enormous
woman is her enemy, that they're all being jerked around like puppets. But her
sleepy haze has twisted and sharpened, grown thorns, and now she's hungry.
"No! Bad dog!" The Condesce kicks the dog-girl away as she starts to mount
Jane. "C'mere, baby."
Roxy reaches for Jane as the empress lifts her up and settles her against her
chest, elbowing Roxy out of the way. Roxy slides to the floor, face against the
Condesce's leg, and feels the weight of the dog-girl against her back.
Knowledge is a funny thing right now. It flashes across her mind --this is
wrongandI don't want this-- but though she understands the words, even agrees
with them, they have no impact.
She's down here, knees dug into the damp carpet, craning forward to taste the
nearest tentacle. Jane grabs Roxy's hair, dragging her forward, showing her
teeth. When she kisses Roxy, the feedback screech heightens, then drops off
into a static buzz as HIC claps and the dog-girl scrambles atop Roxy. Her claws
rip Roxy's skimpy shorts, tug them off.
Jane lets her go, taking some of Roxy's hair with her, then shoves her face
into the center of the Condesce's bulge. Slick tentacles slap and sting her
skin, and Roxy's about to cry out when Jane pushes her own face to meet Roxy's
and kisses her again. A thick purple tentacle writhes between them, around
Roxy's neck, then up Jane's cheek. Jane's tongue is electric in Roxy's mouth,
fucking in and out, showers of silver and black bytes filling Roxy's throat.
Above them, so far away, the Condesce speaks, but tentacles are probing Roxy's
ears and tugging at her hair, and Jane's teeth are cutting pathways in her
lips. She can't make out the words.
The dog-girl grasps Roxy's shoulders and whuffs a couple times. Roxy's knees
are kicked apart, her ass drawn up even as the rest of her flattens on the
heaving, dripping floor. Her hands scrabble in the folds but can't grasp
anything. There's heat and pressure against her crotch, nearly equal to the
tight, yearning need inside her, and she knows what's about to happen, knows it
right at the back of her skull in her lizard brain.
She chokes on a sweet, slick tentacle, Jane's mouth on its base, as the
Condesce pulls her head up and down, and the dog-girl howls as she shoves in,
splits Roxy open from the back, then pushes harder. Roxy pushes back, riding
the pressure filling her up, taking as much as she can.
She's lost the plot. Her fingers close in the carpet and sweat stings her eyes
and the scratches all over her skin. The dog-girl growls at her neck, hips
pumping, her cock thrusting deeper, wider.
Roxy has to think to breathe.
"Janey," she tries to whisper when she gets a chance. "Please, Janey --"
"Obey," Jane replies and tickles the drooling tip of a tentacle across Roxy's
eyes, caricaturing the Rogue's mask. "Eat you up, yum."
"I can't --"
"Can it," the Condesce tells her and a few tentacles slap her cheeks for
emphasis.
Jane's laughing and fucking her fingers in and out of Roxy's mouth as she jacks
the tentacle. The Condesce is laughing, her whole body rippling as her bulge
swells even more, tentacles lengthening, teasing over Jane's body, wrapping
around Roxy's limbs.
And the dog is still barking, but the sound is long and slow, drawn-out, her
cock swelling and twitching inside Roxy. She's coming already, more need
torquing down her spine and wrapping around the cock; her breasts are slammed
into the floor, her nipples dragging over the surface, her breath caught and
stoppered around Jane's hand. Another, tiny, beautiful tentacle twists up one
nostril, shivering, numbing, swelling as it goes.
She comes, and comes again, tears streaking her face, Jane laughing at her and
biting her neck. She can't see much more than the Condesce's bulge, the
overwhelming psychedelia of her spiralling and multiplying, fractals that fuck
and spurt.
But the dog's gone silent now, folded over her back, yet more weight to push
the air out of her lungs. Its cock has enlarged well past pleasure, into a red-
hot iron ball, just out of the furnace. The heat, its stretch and throb,
reverberates through her body, fills her up past the breaking point. Roxy peers
helplessly upward through the blear of tears. She doesn't want this; she can't
ever stop this.
"Fi-ine," the Empress says, rolling her eyes and pushing Jane off her lap. "Go
help your ugly friend." She jams her hand into the back of Roxy's hair; it's so
big that her thumb comes around under Roxy's chin, presses deep. "And you, shut
the fuck up."
Jane pushes the dog-girl back; the motion makes her yelp and the stretch of her
cock inside Roxy gets worse, blinding crimson, before returning to merely
agonizing. She circles a cool arm around Roxy's waist, the bits and bytes
scattering and sizzling out. There's the sounds of kissing, but Roxy can't see,
can't even hear much, as the Condesce works her head up and down one tentacle,
then two, until her lips are stretched and aching and burning just as bad as
her cunt.
And then Jane's cool, electronic-mercurial lips slip over her ass, down the
sweaty crack, and her tongue laps at the hole, at the root of the dog-girl's
cock. At the first touch, Roxy rears back, screams in relief, before being
towed back in place. She's pushed down, flattened, only her ass and face up,
sucking down, choking.
The dog-girl yelps and whimpers, her cock burning a hole up Roxy's spine; Jane
licks and suckles, electricity and a sort of anesthetic coolness spilling out;
the Empress fucks her hips forward and babbles in her alien tongue, urging on
her girls, insulting Roxy, working her viciously-long nails across her tits.
Roxy strung out among them, agony and numbness and creaking, cracking stretch.
The cold metallic squirm of Jane's tongue pulses through Roxy's nerves, skips
and fires in time, obey submit yum yum yummy consume.
They're going to eat her up, fuck her deep and drain her dry, drown her in the
Condesce's torrents of satiny purple come.
A part of her, deep and true, knows this is how it should be. She's nothing, a
void, empty but for what they fill her with.
At least Janey's here, at least she's not alone.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
