“So what other freaky sprite shit can you get up to, other than being my personal tour guide of Sburb?” you ask Davesprite between sips of apple juice. You two have had a long but productive day in the Land of Heat and Clockwork, and you’re about ready to pass out here in your alchemized sleeping bag beside the pleasant warmth of video game magma.
You don’t, however, really want to do it while Davesprite hangs around like he has the last few nights. So far, having an alternate future version of yourself for your sprite has been awesome, and has been hella productive. But sometimes a guy just needs a little privacy, and there’s no easy way to say “Hey, alt Dave, I need to give Lil Dave some polishing, so can you like, fly off for a few minutes until you’re safely out of earshot? K thanks.” Especially not since “Lil Dave” sounds like some creepy puppet doppelganger wallowing in the mud of the uncanny valley. Or totally awesome puppet doppelganger, more accurately, since both the certified original said puppet would be based off of and the very concept of puppets are definitely hella rad. Puppets aren’t weird at all, you remind yourself, though you still don’t quite believe it and even that level of certainty is probably only since you haven’t seen Lil Cal lately. It’s kind of a wonder Davesprite hadn’t gone totally bonkers after getting stuck with Calsprite, or it would have been, if Davesprite hadn’t been a Dave, and hence untouchably ice cold even in the presence of Lil Cal.
“You mean, besides flying and all the other sweet stuff that your fleshy body can’t do?” Davesprite replies, stretching out his vibrant orange wings.
“Yeah, like are there any secret underground, behind-the-scenes type lairs to explore? The sort of stuff you can’t usually access in a video game, past the developers’ walls, but if you know the right cheats you can get in and it’s just this half-constructed area never meant to see the light of day?”
“Nah, whoever designed this shit wasn’t thinking about my enjoyment when they made it, the insensitive bastards. I know we’re boundless bundles of energy, but are you really jonesing to go explore more right now?”
“Just curious.” You don’t even need to shrug, that’s how casual you are right now.
Davesprite doesn’t quite fall for it, unsurprisingly, and raises an eyebrow. “Or you want me to fly off for a bit, because you’re tired of hanging out with even yourself? Or want some privacy for something so raunchy you can’t even have yourself around for it?” Davesprite’s quizzical look shifts to a knowing, slightly-smirking one as he watches you. Damn, it’s frustrating having someone who can read you so well. Only to be expected, but now that someone’s already peeked over at your cards, you might as well lay them on the table.
“Unless you want a front row seat of me choking the chicken, yeah, I figured you should fly off for a little bit. A man’s got needs, even with a universe to build.”
“Hey, at least you can still meet those needs.”
“You’re telling me that with that sweet sprite body and that whole wikipedia’s worth of game information you got, you don’t have the ability to get off?”
“Easy for you to say, since you didn’t get any of your bits replaced with game construct. And it’s not like the instruction manual came with A Sprite’s Guide to Alternative Kama Sutra: How to Get Your Sexy On Without Any Sexy Parts.”
“Don’t you at least have an ass? I was never that excited about it, but we don’t lack for creativity.”
“Nope, it’s not like I pulled my sprite half up a little higher to spare your virgin eyes and can pull it back down when I need to shit - which I don’t any more, since I don’t have an ass, or a digestive system.”
“It’d probably be a cloaca anyway, what with the crow spliced in there too, so maybe you’re better off.”
“Yeah, I’d be like a goddamn furry.”
“It’s gotta be possible though.”
Davesprite lets out a disbelieving huff. “Easy for you to say. I can guarantee that I’m even more of a master masturbator than you, given the extra several months I have on you.”
“That just means you’re even more stuck in your ways.”
“You’re really making it sound like you’re volunteering to get your hands dirty.”
“Hard to get them actually dirty if you don’t have a butt or a dick to put them on, but only one way to find out.”
“Are you volunteering to actually snap on some black latex gloves and get to experimenting on mutilated alternate Dave’s body to try to find if the elusive orgasm is still hidden there between the feathers and game code?”
“When you describe it in such sexy detail, how can I not?” You step forward, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, brushing against the ruffle of feathers around his neck. In truth, your heart is pounding in his chest, overwhelmed by how quickly this is escalating. There’s no way you’ll back down though; even if you go through with it, it’s basically a complex form of masturbation.
Davesprite doesn’t flinch under your touch, but it takes him a moment before he leans into it. Between your two pairs of shades, there’s no seeing each others’ eyes, but you’re sure he’s as hesitant as you are. Still, he is the one that closes the gap between your lips, pressing his mouth to yours.
The first thing that you notice is how smooth his lips are, compared with your chapped ones. You feel a little tingle and pull him a bit closer; the sensation’s weird but nice enough. You’re very aware of your hands, and not quite sure where to put them. You opt to avoid further ruffling his neck feathers and instead place a hand on the back of his head, like in the movies, but it feels strangely intimate, a mockery of love performed with your doppelganger.
Still, you can’t deny that it feels good, and your cock slowly starts to respond even though your brain’s still torn. Davesprite parts his lips and you do the same, and it’s almost eerie how in sync your tongues are as they flick together and then retreat, enjoying the sensation but not wanting to seem too eager.
Davesprite places a hand on the front of your pants, fiddling with the clasp. You’re really tempted to let him keep going, imagining the feeling of a handjob just like your own without you having to actually do anything, but you’re not going to lose sight of the goal here.
“Nope, we already know how that plays out,” you say, grabbing his wrist in your hand and pulling it away. He doesn’t fight you, and you take it the next step further, placing a hand on his chest. “Time to figure out what works on you.”
You run a hand down his torso and, after releasing his wrist, place the other on his lower back. Davesprite shudders when you touch his nipples, but you’ve played with those enough yourself to know it’s a bizarre feeling more so than an arousing one. You keep moving down instead, across his stomach until you reach the start of the sprite part, smoother than skin, almost plastic-like in its artificial texture.
Struck by a sudden stroke of inspiration, you press the heel of your hand right against where his dick would be, a good few inches down into the sprite part. Davesprite doesn’t react, doesn’t even act like he felt it. You know you’re restrained, but not that much. Disappointed, you try some motions, rubbing up and down, then in little circles, switching to the tips of your fingers. When you stroke up enough to brush against his actual skin again, Davesprite hitches slightly, but the moment you move back to his sprite parts, nothing.
“I hate to break it to you, champ, but it’s not working.” No matter how well disguised it is, you can pick up the exasperation underlying Davesprite’s tone. You stop and withdraw quicker than could be interpreted as casually. “It’s fine, dude,” he continues, stretching his wings. “Good game, but you’re gonna have to wait until you get more ammo to try that one again.”
“Yeah.” Your own boner is still there, but you’re really not feeling it, not with this sensation like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on you. “Besides, I’ve got bigger birds to cook in SBURB.”
Davesprite looks at you through his shades, mouth tight. You know that’s not how you meant it, and you know he should know, but you get the feeling he’s a little tenser than you, a little more fragile.
“Yeah,” he says as you sink down to your sleeping bag. “I should actually give you that privacy now though, go off to see if I can find any cool hidden caverns or some shit. Peace.”
He flies off, leaving you alone with your flagging erection and a rat king of tangled emotions. There’s nothing to do about them now though. You take off your shades silently, store them in your sylladex, and try to get some rest.