SPOONFIC
Yes, the hottest craze to cross the land, this AU will probably supplant both Zoofic and Prisonfic in its popularity. It's got romance. It's got porn. It's UNNATURAL!!! Word of this odd, yet incredibly seductive threesome will reach the very halls of Fandom_Wank.
Fresh from timchell's LJ, midnightbanshee and I bring you our VERY FIRST COLLABORATIVE EFFORT!
SPOONFIC!! (rated R for wrong!).
Once upon a time, there was a spoon. It lived in a drawer with many other utensils. Though it spooned with its other spoons, it was unsatisfied. It wanted something different, something special. Something just a bit not-safe.
One day a new utensil settled into the drawer next to the spoon. It was spoonish, and yet not. It had pokey bits. It. Was. A. Spork.
It was love at first sight.
The spork glanced at the spoon.
The spoon felt hot. It was having lusty feelings, but that was okay, because the spork was giving it slutty glances. But was it right, the spoon wondered sadly. They weren't the same! The other spoons in the drawer tutted. Spoons should only spoon with other spoons. They should not spoon with spork's or worse, knives. Such is unnatural, and potentially painful.
But what is a spork? A rumor had it that sporks were an unholy result of mating between a spoon and a fork. The spoons were taught from an early age that such things defied the teaching of their God.
The spork was very sad. It wanted to mate!
It was attracted to the spoons smooth curves and yet it was also attracted to the long, stiff prongs of the forks. It longed to both nestle in the comfort of a spoons solid yet concave embrace. And yet the idea of a forks long prongs sliding slowly through its own, meshing together, with so many surfaces stroking and scratching each other at once, was enough to make it quiver with excitement.
As of yet, none of the forks had noticed the spork. And the spoons simply gossiped about its strange shape, its prongs. All but one… a single small-bowled spoon.
The spork gazed upon that’s spoons delicate handle. There was definite style to its simple lines. It looked a bit different from the other spoons in the drawer, lacking the flowery design at the very base of its handle.
The spoon noticed the spork's lustful gaze and turned away shyly, wiggling its silvery curves. All its life, this spoon had never been noticed by other spoons. It had been shunned and laughed at because it was not as curvaceous as the others. But! But this was new. The spoon didn't know what quite to make of this newfound attention apart from shyly stealing glances from tie to time.
Just when it was considering how to approach the newcomer, it felt a warm breath at the base of its neck.
"Hello," whispered the spork. "I noticed you standing there by yourself."
The spoon trembled.
Yes, it had nestled before within the curves of another spoon. But it had been an awkward nesting, devoid of passion -- mechanical on both spoons' parts. Done more for practical reasons than out of love or even lust for each other.
But this, this closeness, was new.
It felt the spork slide against the convex side of its bowl. The spork's dishwasher fresh warmth was delicious. Its clean smell made the spoons narrow waist tighten. "Stranger," the spoon whispered.
"Beautiful spoon," said the Spork. "Don't run…"
"I won't…" the spoon murmured back.
How it happened, the spoon did not know. The spoon found itself pinned helplessly against the coolness of the blue ceramic bowl. Its silvery end being probed by the spork's own. It let out a whimper.
The spork hushed the younger utensil. "Don't be afraid," it whispered soothingly. "I won't hurt you."
As much as the spoon wanted the spork, spontaneous love-making was a completely new experience. It was half afraid the other spoons would notice them. But the gentle touches at the spoon's curvaceous waist banished all doubts that lingered in its mind.
Oh! It felt good.
Eventually the gentle touches grew bolder, stronger. And just when the spoon felt it could take it no more, their bowls cupped. Ultimate contact had been achieved. There was no spot along the spoons length that was not being caressed by the spork. They clanked in pleasure.
They swooned.
And spooned.
And finally finished.
Contented, the spoon lay back, basking in the afterglow of their love. The spork cuddled the spoon. It thought about what it had just experience, and while there was doubting the pleasure was real and intense, nonetheless, the spork felt it was missing something.
It looked over to where the forks nestled against each other. It was wrong to long for more than what it had, after all the spoon was magnificent. And yet… the idea of meshing tines with a fork would not leave the spork's mind.
The question changed from "How do I stop these thoughts?" to "How do I convince my spoon to let a fork share our intimacy."
The spork thought it over for a long time.
The spoon its warm brace stirred. On its face was a satisfied smile. A pang of guilt hit the spork. Was it so wrong to want another lover when it already had a perfectly willing one? But the spork truly wanted the spoon to know true pleasure, and it could only be achieved through another participant.
Removing itself gently from the Spoon's arms, it stood up and decided it was for the best. In a corner was where all the forks lay. It wondered whether it would have the luck to find an unprejudiced fork to make beautiful love with it and the spoon.
It brushed all doubts aside and made its way to the fork area. If it didn't ask, it'd never know after all.
Picking the fork was the tricky thing. There were so many to select from. Some were long with elegant tines. Others were smaller with stubby tines that more closely resembled the spork's. There was even one tiny fork, hardly taller than the spork's waist, with three narrow tines instead of the usual four. In the end, the spork's eye caught on one that for all it not being that much outwardly different from the other forks, still projected a different air.
The fork was separated from the others -- in fact it was in with the knives. That in itself suggested an adventuresome spirit. Knives could be vicious after all.
Secondly, it too didn't appear part of a normal set. Its design didn’t resemble any other utencil int eh entire drawer. It was clearly a foreigner, and as such, perhaps, less innurred in the customs of cutlery.
Still, it would have to approach the flateware slowly. Seduce it.
"Hi," said the spork, sliding up to it. "Come here often?"
The fork eyed the newcomer, looking it up and down as if assessing it. "Perhaps," the fork answered, looking steadily at the spork.
The spork could feel the fork's interest. It was subtle in the "Yes I want to screw you right now and here!" sense, except it was subtle. Very subtle. And at this point the fork was rubbing itself slightly at the spork.
The spork was excited. This was going more smoothly than it had anticipated. "I have," it panted "A… suggestion…"
"Oh?"
"Have you ever considered taking on a spoon?"
The fork was doubtful. "They don't have any tines… how would it work?"
The spork couldn't help but smile. The fork had not said "no." It had chosen its fork wisely after all.
The fork was astonished as the spork described in detail just exactly how a fork and a spoon could come together.
It was so.. very… dirty…
But then, what was a fork for, if not to be dirtied. And it would all come out in the wash anyway. The spork turned to the spoon. It had seduced the utensil once already - how hard could it be to seduce it again?
The spoon was still sleeping. Ah it was such a tease! The fork and spork crept up to it quietly.
"I've got a surprise for you," the spork whispered, nudging the spoon. "Wake up."
"What…what is it?" the spoon murmured, still groggy from the sleep.
And so the spork explained his proposal to the spoon. The spoon was wary of the fork. After all, was it not against God's will to make with a fork?
But… it had already mated with the spork once. What difference would it make?
As it was thinking the fork began to massage the spoons silvery curve. The spoon let out a soft moan at the sudden contact. It leaned towards the newcomer.
The spork would have liked to join in immediately, but watching the spoon and the fork writhe against each other was such a turn on. The only thing tha could possibly make the scene dirtier and more delicious would be cake - preferably chocolate cake, with heaps of frosting and maybe those little sugary flowers.
And with that thought, the spork's self-control fled. It threw itself into the scene with abandon. Tines meshed, bowls spooned, handles clanked.
Soon they had an audience… most of the drawer were paying attention to their antics. At first the spoons tutted, but then the spork noticed, slyly, while being decidedly distracted by the slide of its bowl edge between the long tines of the fork, that they were looking rather speculatively in the direction of the forks.
The forks, for their part, merely gaped until they noticed the interest of the spoons. As it was the nature of forks to dive tine first into matters, they made their first move, crossing the divide to the spoon section of the drawer.
Spoons on the other hand were more used to sipping their way into situations in small delicate amounts. Nonetheless, they didn’t object to the forks intrusion. Well, at least not loudly.
Within minutes the entire drawer was loud with the clanging and sliding and banging and spooning of utensil against utensil, with no regard to shape purpose. Even the potato peeler got into the act. The spork leaned back against its lovers and took in the spectacle.
Everyone was happy… well except for the wooden chopping board, which didn't get any action throughout the whole thing.
The end.
Gorgeous Art by midnightbanshee
Fresh from timchell's LJ, midnightbanshee and I bring you our VERY FIRST COLLABORATIVE EFFORT!
SPOONFIC!! (rated R for wrong!).
Once upon a time, there was a spoon. It lived in a drawer with many other utensils. Though it spooned with its other spoons, it was unsatisfied. It wanted something different, something special. Something just a bit not-safe.
One day a new utensil settled into the drawer next to the spoon. It was spoonish, and yet not. It had pokey bits. It. Was. A. Spork.
It was love at first sight.
The spork glanced at the spoon.
The spoon felt hot. It was having lusty feelings, but that was okay, because the spork was giving it slutty glances. But was it right, the spoon wondered sadly. They weren't the same! The other spoons in the drawer tutted. Spoons should only spoon with other spoons. They should not spoon with spork's or worse, knives. Such is unnatural, and potentially painful.
But what is a spork? A rumor had it that sporks were an unholy result of mating between a spoon and a fork. The spoons were taught from an early age that such things defied the teaching of their God.
The spork was very sad. It wanted to mate!
It was attracted to the spoons smooth curves and yet it was also attracted to the long, stiff prongs of the forks. It longed to both nestle in the comfort of a spoons solid yet concave embrace. And yet the idea of a forks long prongs sliding slowly through its own, meshing together, with so many surfaces stroking and scratching each other at once, was enough to make it quiver with excitement.
As of yet, none of the forks had noticed the spork. And the spoons simply gossiped about its strange shape, its prongs. All but one… a single small-bowled spoon.
The spork gazed upon that’s spoons delicate handle. There was definite style to its simple lines. It looked a bit different from the other spoons in the drawer, lacking the flowery design at the very base of its handle.
The spoon noticed the spork's lustful gaze and turned away shyly, wiggling its silvery curves. All its life, this spoon had never been noticed by other spoons. It had been shunned and laughed at because it was not as curvaceous as the others. But! But this was new. The spoon didn't know what quite to make of this newfound attention apart from shyly stealing glances from tie to time.
Just when it was considering how to approach the newcomer, it felt a warm breath at the base of its neck.
"Hello," whispered the spork. "I noticed you standing there by yourself."
The spoon trembled.
Yes, it had nestled before within the curves of another spoon. But it had been an awkward nesting, devoid of passion -- mechanical on both spoons' parts. Done more for practical reasons than out of love or even lust for each other.
But this, this closeness, was new.
It felt the spork slide against the convex side of its bowl. The spork's dishwasher fresh warmth was delicious. Its clean smell made the spoons narrow waist tighten. "Stranger," the spoon whispered.
"Beautiful spoon," said the Spork. "Don't run…"
"I won't…" the spoon murmured back.
How it happened, the spoon did not know. The spoon found itself pinned helplessly against the coolness of the blue ceramic bowl. Its silvery end being probed by the spork's own. It let out a whimper.
The spork hushed the younger utensil. "Don't be afraid," it whispered soothingly. "I won't hurt you."
As much as the spoon wanted the spork, spontaneous love-making was a completely new experience. It was half afraid the other spoons would notice them. But the gentle touches at the spoon's curvaceous waist banished all doubts that lingered in its mind.
Oh! It felt good.
Eventually the gentle touches grew bolder, stronger. And just when the spoon felt it could take it no more, their bowls cupped. Ultimate contact had been achieved. There was no spot along the spoons length that was not being caressed by the spork. They clanked in pleasure.
They swooned.
And spooned.
And finally finished.
Contented, the spoon lay back, basking in the afterglow of their love. The spork cuddled the spoon. It thought about what it had just experience, and while there was doubting the pleasure was real and intense, nonetheless, the spork felt it was missing something.
It looked over to where the forks nestled against each other. It was wrong to long for more than what it had, after all the spoon was magnificent. And yet… the idea of meshing tines with a fork would not leave the spork's mind.
The question changed from "How do I stop these thoughts?" to "How do I convince my spoon to let a fork share our intimacy."
The spork thought it over for a long time.
The spoon its warm brace stirred. On its face was a satisfied smile. A pang of guilt hit the spork. Was it so wrong to want another lover when it already had a perfectly willing one? But the spork truly wanted the spoon to know true pleasure, and it could only be achieved through another participant.
Removing itself gently from the Spoon's arms, it stood up and decided it was for the best. In a corner was where all the forks lay. It wondered whether it would have the luck to find an unprejudiced fork to make beautiful love with it and the spoon.
It brushed all doubts aside and made its way to the fork area. If it didn't ask, it'd never know after all.
Picking the fork was the tricky thing. There were so many to select from. Some were long with elegant tines. Others were smaller with stubby tines that more closely resembled the spork's. There was even one tiny fork, hardly taller than the spork's waist, with three narrow tines instead of the usual four. In the end, the spork's eye caught on one that for all it not being that much outwardly different from the other forks, still projected a different air.
The fork was separated from the others -- in fact it was in with the knives. That in itself suggested an adventuresome spirit. Knives could be vicious after all.
Secondly, it too didn't appear part of a normal set. Its design didn’t resemble any other utencil int eh entire drawer. It was clearly a foreigner, and as such, perhaps, less innurred in the customs of cutlery.
Still, it would have to approach the flateware slowly. Seduce it.
"Hi," said the spork, sliding up to it. "Come here often?"
The fork eyed the newcomer, looking it up and down as if assessing it. "Perhaps," the fork answered, looking steadily at the spork.
The spork could feel the fork's interest. It was subtle in the "Yes I want to screw you right now and here!" sense, except it was subtle. Very subtle. And at this point the fork was rubbing itself slightly at the spork.
The spork was excited. This was going more smoothly than it had anticipated. "I have," it panted "A… suggestion…"
"Oh?"
"Have you ever considered taking on a spoon?"
The fork was doubtful. "They don't have any tines… how would it work?"
The spork couldn't help but smile. The fork had not said "no." It had chosen its fork wisely after all.
The fork was astonished as the spork described in detail just exactly how a fork and a spoon could come together.
It was so.. very… dirty…
But then, what was a fork for, if not to be dirtied. And it would all come out in the wash anyway. The spork turned to the spoon. It had seduced the utensil once already - how hard could it be to seduce it again?
The spoon was still sleeping. Ah it was such a tease! The fork and spork crept up to it quietly.
"I've got a surprise for you," the spork whispered, nudging the spoon. "Wake up."
"What…what is it?" the spoon murmured, still groggy from the sleep.
And so the spork explained his proposal to the spoon. The spoon was wary of the fork. After all, was it not against God's will to make with a fork?
But… it had already mated with the spork once. What difference would it make?
As it was thinking the fork began to massage the spoons silvery curve. The spoon let out a soft moan at the sudden contact. It leaned towards the newcomer.
The spork would have liked to join in immediately, but watching the spoon and the fork writhe against each other was such a turn on. The only thing tha could possibly make the scene dirtier and more delicious would be cake - preferably chocolate cake, with heaps of frosting and maybe those little sugary flowers.
And with that thought, the spork's self-control fled. It threw itself into the scene with abandon. Tines meshed, bowls spooned, handles clanked.
Soon they had an audience… most of the drawer were paying attention to their antics. At first the spoons tutted, but then the spork noticed, slyly, while being decidedly distracted by the slide of its bowl edge between the long tines of the fork, that they were looking rather speculatively in the direction of the forks.
The forks, for their part, merely gaped until they noticed the interest of the spoons. As it was the nature of forks to dive tine first into matters, they made their first move, crossing the divide to the spoon section of the drawer.
Spoons on the other hand were more used to sipping their way into situations in small delicate amounts. Nonetheless, they didn’t object to the forks intrusion. Well, at least not loudly.
Within minutes the entire drawer was loud with the clanging and sliding and banging and spooning of utensil against utensil, with no regard to shape purpose. Even the potato peeler got into the act. The spork leaned back against its lovers and took in the spectacle.
Everyone was happy… well except for the wooden chopping board, which didn't get any action throughout the whole thing.
The end.
Gorgeous Art by midnightbanshee