Alone, on her bed, and in the Angel-damned zone; that is how Dess likes her Monday afternoons, and today was only slightly different. Today, the Dreemurr adults, Toriel and Asgore, were going on some sort of dinner date or something of that nature. As a result, they had to leave their son Kris in someone's hands, and while their other son Asriel was perfectly capable of caring for their youngest, he was busy doing Angel knows what in the woods. So, being the only family friend left, Dess was the monster they left their human child with.

She was usually fine with this, and they all knew it. Dess just didn't want to be a babysitter today, that's all. Her mother, however, practically dragged her by the antlers to take in the kid, and once she did, she quickly carried Kris up to her room. He was quiet the whole way up, which would have been great if he was still three years old, but no, he was all of eleven. He should have been complaining, wriggling and squirming his way out of her arms, but no, he was complacent, accepting even. What did that brat know that she didn't?

Tossed onto her bed, Kris just flopped lazily on his back. He didn't know what exactly his parents were thinking, going on a date when not two days before he and Asriel were kept wide awake by their screaming. They dumped him on the Holidays' doorstep and absconded, and now he was stuck with the cooler Holiday. Noelle was fine, pretty even with a good scream, but Dess was something else entirely. Tall with amazing, furred legs, brave as can be and willing to prove it, and armed with a bat he's met countless times before. It's like Father Alvin's Angel made her just for him.

She must have bored down to her mother's office on the bottom floor, Dess had paced around and around that much. She didn't want to just blaze up in front of the kid, but she had bought a fresh couple rolls that morning from the older blue bird that lived in the Hometown projects. Kris was used to doing things just with her, Dess knew that much, but that was usually just hiking in the woods whenever the Dreemurrs needed to rekindle their love life. She didn't want to have to one, be on the receiving end of a Toriel lecture, and two, have to explain to her mother why she introduced the neighbor's human child to, "hard drugs."

Eventually, she made up her mind. It wasn't that her stash would rot away if she left it for a day, but it would, in her opinion, kinda suck, and Kris knowing she smokes weed felt like the much lesser evil. Rooting around in her drawer, she called out to the boy, "Hey Kris?"

A quiet, "Yeah?" came from her bed. It wasn't unusual for Kris to clam up, say single words as answers.

"Do you mind taking that blanket," she pointed over her shouder, roughly towards her bed, "and cramming it up against the bottom of the door?" To her, her plan was obvious. To any would-be demons peeking over her or Kris' shoulders, it would be odd. But to Kris, it was just something that had to be done. He was weird like that, all obedient and pliable. It had its perks, like how he immediately did as Dess asked, rolling it up for good measure as well. However, it made him very poor at actually talking to people. "Thanks."

"...Welcome."

Not long after he had sealed their room, she had her prize in her hands: two pristine joints. Weed wasn't exactly illegal in Hometown, but it was still something most people looked down upon. 'Their loss,' she thought, before she showed them to Kris. At least, she hoped he could see what they were. Dess knew he wasn't blind, but that hair had to have caused some problems in the past. "See this?" she asked him, dangling her drugs like keys in front of a baby, "This is weed, kid. I know your school does a whole assembly or whatever over it," and as he nodded, her heart skipped a beat, "but it isn't life-ruining or all that addicting."

At that, Kris just had to tilt his head. "...All that addicting?" he repeated.

"Yeah," she snapped her fingers, "it's like gambling. Only suckers get hooked." To prove her point, and to keep him quieter than usual, Dess broached him, leering down into his deep red eyes. "You and me?" she scoffed, "We're too cool for that," before she bent down to put one of them in his hands. Like she thought he would, Kris just stared at it for a moment, until he moved to put it in his mouth. "No," she chided, pulling his weed hand away from his mouth, "You don't eat this kind."

She would have loved to dork out and explain to Kris what all the different ways to enjoy weed were, like she was her younger sister, but Dess was too cool for that shit. Instead, she simply said, "Follow me," before she pointed out the thin end of her blunt and popped it in her mouth. When she saw Kris fumble it, just a little, she told him, "It's like a cigarette, or a long piece of grass," and was pleased to see him shape up well afterwards. If she taught him everything, he might just outdo her by the time he's in middle school.

Though his technique was good, Dess knew he'd get nowhere if she didn't light him up, and she didn't yet trust him with a lighter. She wouldn't, not until she saw him grill a mean burger, but they didn't have a grill, so she had to settle for lighting his joint for him. "Hold still, won't you?" she pleaded, before she grabbed his chin with one hand and flicked her lighter with the other. "Now," she told him, his joint flickering to life, "breathe in, slow and deep."

It sucked, doing as she asked. But then again, Kris couldn't do anything else when Dess was around. Even as he wanted to cough, to hack and spit out the weed, he perservered. In and slow he breathed, drawing in the smoke, the burnt weed, and out he breathed, letting loose a billowing plume.

"Very good," she told her captive audience, "now just keep doing that for a bit," before she lit her own blunt and sat down next to him. It was calm, watching Kris out the corner of her eye, making sure he didn't start eating her spare blunt. It was also a lot more boring than she thought it'd be. Dess knew he wasn't much of a talker, but she didn't know he could hold his shit together like this. She was a wheezing mess when Asriel introduced her to the stuff, and she knew he was one as well, but his baby brother? Kris could compete in the big leagues for all she knew.

It was odd. As he breathed, Kris could feel himself growing calmer, not like some mind virus enslaving him into complacency, but just a general sense of ease gradually slipping into his bones. There wasn't much else for him to do, not when he didn't want to talk and dislodge it from his lips, so he sat and waited. Waited for what, he didn't know. He just knew that now wasn't the time, not unlike how he knew Toriel would make a pie later tonight. Maybe he was already a sucker to the folks the DARE spokesmen warned him about. Maybe he didn't care.

"You all right over there?"

How could he answer her? He knew he had to, lest she break out her bat. He just couldn't, not without spilling his weed-spaghetti. So, he gave a thumbs up. It kept his weed near his mouth, and seemed to please Dess.

"Good. Just tap my shoulder if you need anything."

Dess was cool, he knew. This room, however, straight up wasn't. Weird wood lining, not out of place in his house, built in the seventies when Asgore was a kid, was really weird in the modern Holiday household. She didn't have many trophies or other shelf-fillers. And finally, it was starting to get really warm in there. He couldn't really think with how hot it was. He wanted to take his sweater off, like it was a summer day, but how would he get it over his weed?

He wanted to pull his neck hole forwards, as far as it could go. Up it went, over the weed but only just. Kris knew the end of the weed was on fire, so he couldn't let it touch his sweater. Like a retarded caterpillar, he shimmied it up higher and higher. Minding the gap, he continued to breathe slow and easily as she told him to, until he felt his sweater lift without him moving it. Over his eyes and hair it went, before it went somewhere leftwards. He didn't pay attention.

Her neighbor's body was hot. She wasn't afraid to say it, but saying it right in front of him was just embarrassing for everyone involved. Instead, Dess simply said, "Hot, huh?" and let him nod his heart away. It was cute how he just started bobbing his head up and down and didn't stop. It was more than cute, even. Soon, she too felt hot, for a very different reason than Kris did. Unbuttoning and pulling her shirt off one sleeve at a time, Dess tossed it over to her clothes pile in lieu of a clothesbin, before she did the same with her tank top.

As soon as one of her arms was freed from its strap, she held her joint with it, before she turned to Kris and showed him, "You can hold it for a bit if you need to." When he stopped nodding, Dess resumed disrobing herself. Soon, all she had left on was her bra and panties, both of which she had no real desire to remove in front of Kris today. Maybe another day she'd buck up and take him properly, but today wasn't that sort of day. He was still wound up inside, loosened as he was, and she didn't want to make him do anything too demanding. It wasn't as though he could think like she could yet.

Instead, all Dess did was slip herself off the bed and slide in front of Kris. He still had his sweatpants on, and that had to change. "Your legs must be burning," she told him, "how about I take these off?" At his cute nod, she got to work. Slipping her fingers between his underwear and his skin, she slowly pulled his pants down. With them went his underwear, exposing his precious dick to the hot air. Sweat already dripped down his flaccid length, mirroring the rest of his body she could see. More and more of his slender, toned legs were revealed as she left his bottoms dangling around his ankles.

"So cute!" she squealed, though she could see him racked with hesitation. He likely wanted to cover himself up and prevent her from seeing his manhood, but he couldn't. He was stiff with weed, and as she blew her hazy smoke on his crotch, Dess could see him stiffen with arousal as well. The way his face was contorting, she figured this was Kris' first time feeling any real arousal. So cute. Torn between telling him exactly how she was going to ruin his dick, and just doing it, Dess floundered. She was stuck like he was, fixated on his exposure, his being. He wanted so desperately to hide himself. She wanted to explore more and more of him.

In the end, Dess was the larger of the two, and by the time she had bagged all her marbles again, she was staring at a whopper for Kris' size. It likely wasn't any more than five inches, but that was still five inches on little ol' Kris. Slowly putting her own joint in Kris' mouth, "Hold this," she whispered. Her mouth was watering, she had to release herself somehow.

Hovering over his pillar, Dess opened her mouth and let some of her spit drip onto him. She could imagine the sizzles each drop made as they hit his hot flesh, but she wasn't done. Far from it. Just the tip would do for now, sate her taste for manflesh, and just the tip was inserted into her mouth. She had to open it quite wide to stop her front teeth from scraping his head off, but she fit his tip in just fine. Her tongue lapped at him, wanting more, and before she knew it she had half of him in her mouth.

Moist and inviting, she had made the perfect place for his oneshot brain to let loose in. Already, Dess could feel his dick twitch and pump, begging for release. She couldn't yet allow him to cum, but Kris had other plans. At once, his hands found feeble purchase in her own, and he squeezed. Through two burnt down blunts, he moaned high and sweet. No play off game was had, he simply finished, splurting hot load after load into her mouth. Sweet with a diet of sugar, Dess couldn't complain about his loads as she kept her lips sealed around him. She didn't suck; she didn't need to.

Kris, meanwhile, was spent. He could barely keep his mouth shut enough to not spill his weed-spaghetti, much less be a human being. He was a Moldsmal. He was a naked, content Moldsmal, and he didn't want to be anything else.

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Pub: 25 Jun 2025 06:09 UTC

Views: 381