So normally, these stories I write for ShipwreckSF are exclusive to my Patreon readers (and if you're the kind of sicko who likes this there's two more if you give me $$)...

But it's my birthday so fuck it, why not give you a questionable present?

You'll thank me later.

Maybe.

(Probably not)

***

Sloppy Seconds

a Charlotte's Web slashfic for ShipwreckSF

Templeton the rat was a big fan of slop. There was something about the way it slipped and slid over his greasy fur, the way it clung to his whiskers, that just did something to him, deep inside.
He was wallowing in a particularly good batch, eating scraps, rubbing the wet mess all over his fur, not a care in the world. He was a loner, was Templeton. But on this fateful day, when he looked up from the long, thick, juicy carrot covered in coffee grounds he was gnawing on, he found himself instantly, hopelessly in love.

She was pale and expressionless as he stared at her. In a rare moment of embarrassment, Templeton flushed and looked away. “I’m… I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I just haven’t seen anything as beautiful as you in some time.”

She remained where she was, unmoving and unmoved. Templeton ran one paw through his greasy fur. “What’s your name, gorgeous?” he tried, attempting to sound a bit more suave than he felt. He wondered what he’d need to do to crack her shell, get a reaction from her.

“S...s...s...hould we t….t….t...tell him it’s a rotten egg?” the Goose whispered to her partner, Gander.

Gander shook his head.

“What, you think I’m not good enough for her?” he demanded, pulling himself upright. A bit of coffee ground was stuck to a whisker, his fur matted with slop and grease, but, like many male creatures, he still considered himself quite a catch. “I have a hole of my own, a questionable career in marketing a pig, and enough food for a family, thank you VERY much.”

Gander shrugged his feathers. “You’re right, T...T….Templeton,” he said mildly. “Perhaps we’re being too harsh. You have to f...f….forgive a parent being protective.”

Templeton, feeling bold, crept up to his crush and put his arm around it, glaring at Gander. “Sweetheart, you can come with me if you want, I know how to treat a lady.” The egg, knocked off its center of gravity, rolled into his arms. He took it as a sign, gave the geese couple a middle finger, and gently nudged it down into his rat hole, safe with all his other precious possessions.

The thing is, a loved one is a terrible thing to try to possess. A week went by, then two. Templeton, prone to talking endlessly about himself, didn’t notice that his darling was, in fact, a rotten egg, and not just terribly and mysteriously aloof. Love makes it easy to ignore red flags.

But paradise must always come to an end.

The sheep had been stampeding around the barn all morning, and Templeton awoke with a start when his prized love shook a bit in its cradle of string. “What is all the racket,” he mumbled, opening, then closing one eye to settle back to sleep.

With a big BANG! everything in his home rattled, bottlecaps and safety pins tumbling to the floor. Templeton jumped out of bed, grumbling, ready to unleash a stream of profanities on the sheep that would not be appropriate for a children’s book.

And that’s when he saw, as if in slow motion, the strings holding the egg like a little hammock snap.

His precious darling hit the dirt floor, cracking slightly and oozing a bit. The stench that slammed into Templeton was overwhelming, and at first he gagged at the intensity of it. But soon, his pink nose twitched, his whiskers stiffened.

So did his little rat cock.

Templeton reached one paw towards the ooze, gently caressing the cracked shell. “Oh…. oh my dear,” he said huskily. “I had no idea you contained such…. perfume within you.” He let a tentative claw dip into the yolk dripping out of the egg. “Your juices are so… pungent,” he licked his claw clean, “and so…. delicious.” His tongue flicked up and down the cracked shell, lapping at the spillage of white and yolk. The intensity of his administrations led another piece of shell to break off, causing a sudden outpouring of rotten egg into Templeton’s waiting and eager mouth—a gush of putrid pleasure.

He gasped with excitement, and used his tongue to knock another bit of shell loose. The fetid flood overflowed from his mouth, over his furry and matted chest, over his straining cock, pooling between his toes. The cold, stringy slime dripped from the tip of his cock, mingling with his precum.

Templeton had never been so deeply and intensely in love or lust.

With a moan, he pushed his cock into the hole in the egg, not minding how the sharp edges of the shell cut at his shaft. Love was pain, after all, right? And his dick felt so good plunging into that viscous core, waves of stench and splashes of sticky goo washing over him as he thrust back and forth. He wrapped his arms around the smooth white shell, fucking the egg’s hole harder and harder, his breath catching in his throat, his eyes watering in part with pleasure and in part because of the rank smell of the sulphur.

One thrust was too hard, though, and with a snap, the shell shattered, bits cutting into Templeton’s aroused flesh as the egg dissolved into a puddle of rancid mess. With a cry of anguish and delight, Templeton flung himself onto the ground, rolling in what was left, his paws grabbing big mucus-y globs of egg and rubbing it on his chest, his flanks, his cock. He closed his eyes in bliss and could feel the remains of the yolk squishing between his ass cheeks and his tail, lubricating his taint and balls with thick slickness.

As he slithered in the ooze, he suddenly found something firm pressing insistently below his scaly tail. Templeton reached behind him to find what looked suspiciously like a chicken beak floating in the remains of the egg. Thoughtfully, he examined the beak. There was one thing that would make this intimate moment complete…

In an audience pleasing move, Templeton scooped up some yolk, dripped it onto the beak which he gripped in his tail, and slowly inserted it into his slimy butthole. With his tail pushing the makeshift dildo in and out, the rat grabbed his cock with one paw and smeared more eggy mess onto his head and whiskers with the other. Groaning faster, the stimulation of the hard beak with his slippery wanking, the rotten stench, and the egg white drooling its way through his sensitive whiskers pushed him over the edge.

All he could think of as he approached climax were the words he kept being sent to find for that damn spider’s web work. But what word could sum up how he felt? He scrunched his eyes shut, pulled the beak out of his ass, and summoned up the best word he could think of.

“TERRIFIC” he gasped, as spurt after spurt of cum drizzled and dissolved into the mess on the floor.

That floor would stay muddy, a mix of rotten egg and rat ejaculate, for weeks.

Templeton didn’t mind.

He was a dirty rat.