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ID: LfzRDkDq/qst/6244669#6262253
6/21/2025, 3:14:41 AM
>>6262250
Your eyes bug out at the assortment of ‘parts’ which erupt like a lewd cornucopia of poles and holes all across the hundun’s surface: enough to impregnate, or be impregnated by, a small army. You feel something stir in your lower body, though whether it’s arousal or revulsion or both is… Surprisingly tough to tell.
“Holy fuckin’ HELLS,” ZZ says behind you.
“That’s not, like, EXACTLY what I had in mind,” you admit in an awed murmur.
Half the erotic armory wilts, and withdraws; the orifices seal, and reshape once more into eyes and ears.
“Just as well, though of course I’m very disappointed to be relieved. I don’t know what most of those DO, exactly! What was your game? How do we play?”
“Well… Maybe we can, like, see who can make the most regular rope!”
“Regular? Like a rectangle?”
You blink, confused. Before you can correct the creature, though, its extremities recoil once more, and its newly smooth surface churns and turns choppy like a sea. Eventually, a single great sphincter—maybe a mouth, maybe something else—opens up, taking up half the hundun’s body. An enormous whale of a tongue flops forth, unfurling like a carpet, and it expunges onto the steppe soil a single, knotted rope of organs, tied off in nodule-covered knots to form, well, a rectangle.
You and ZZ both stare at the squirming mess of, seemingly, still-living internal tissues until it geos still. You look up, meeting each other’s eyes, and then the hundun asks:
“Am I playing the game right? Or wrong? And more importantly, do I win, and WHAT do I win?”
You have NO idea how to answer a thing like THAT, so it’s just as well that the gyr-fairies return—or some of them, and announce:
“Udos inbal muth mina! L'rivvin vel'uss morfeth l'sake jhinrae”
“Oh joy! And sorrow. But better to find the joy, I always say! Isn’t that right, birdies? Come, guests!”
Saved from having to find a way to replicate the hundun’s unsettling feat, you instead follow the rolling oblong Emperor and his singing, dancing horde of harriers.
“They’re pretty loud, fer thieves,” you note.
“Humies can’t see or hear fairies-not proper ones, not when they don’t wanna be seen or heard,” explains Zith-Zi.
“Oh,” you say, “right. But what about the hundun?”
“What about ‘im?” ZZ asks grimly. “Once that thing rolls in there, what the fuck is anyone s’posed ta do?”
“Oh,” you say, “right…”
Your eyes bug out at the assortment of ‘parts’ which erupt like a lewd cornucopia of poles and holes all across the hundun’s surface: enough to impregnate, or be impregnated by, a small army. You feel something stir in your lower body, though whether it’s arousal or revulsion or both is… Surprisingly tough to tell.
“Holy fuckin’ HELLS,” ZZ says behind you.
“That’s not, like, EXACTLY what I had in mind,” you admit in an awed murmur.
Half the erotic armory wilts, and withdraws; the orifices seal, and reshape once more into eyes and ears.
“Just as well, though of course I’m very disappointed to be relieved. I don’t know what most of those DO, exactly! What was your game? How do we play?”
“Well… Maybe we can, like, see who can make the most regular rope!”
“Regular? Like a rectangle?”
You blink, confused. Before you can correct the creature, though, its extremities recoil once more, and its newly smooth surface churns and turns choppy like a sea. Eventually, a single great sphincter—maybe a mouth, maybe something else—opens up, taking up half the hundun’s body. An enormous whale of a tongue flops forth, unfurling like a carpet, and it expunges onto the steppe soil a single, knotted rope of organs, tied off in nodule-covered knots to form, well, a rectangle.
You and ZZ both stare at the squirming mess of, seemingly, still-living internal tissues until it geos still. You look up, meeting each other’s eyes, and then the hundun asks:
“Am I playing the game right? Or wrong? And more importantly, do I win, and WHAT do I win?”
You have NO idea how to answer a thing like THAT, so it’s just as well that the gyr-fairies return—or some of them, and announce:
“Udos inbal muth mina! L'rivvin vel'uss morfeth l'sake jhinrae”
“Oh joy! And sorrow. But better to find the joy, I always say! Isn’t that right, birdies? Come, guests!”
Saved from having to find a way to replicate the hundun’s unsettling feat, you instead follow the rolling oblong Emperor and his singing, dancing horde of harriers.
“They’re pretty loud, fer thieves,” you note.
“Humies can’t see or hear fairies-not proper ones, not when they don’t wanna be seen or heard,” explains Zith-Zi.
“Oh,” you say, “right. But what about the hundun?”
“What about ‘im?” ZZ asks grimly. “Once that thing rolls in there, what the fuck is anyone s’posed ta do?”
“Oh,” you say, “right…”
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