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Undertale Short Stories

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Queen Toriel shuddered, as vulnerable as she had let herself be in a while. How she had come to be here she wasn’t entirely sure, much less how Stretch had managed to get her into such a compromising position. She tried not to think about it too much as his hands were busy, roaming her body. Her bed, a large four poster canopied thing, made tying back her arms over her head a rather easy job. Stretch could… he could get her to do anything. She felt so exposed, her breasts bare to the air and to his light touch, his teasing pinches and occasional kisses. Her knees were aching pleasantly, her breath was shallow and gasping and Stretch continued to work her up into a climax.

He kneeled behind her, letting her feel his breath on her neck, getting a good view as he ran his fingers along her jaw. The other hand of course, was busy elsewhere; his fingers dripping wet as he slowly worked them back and forth inside of her most intimate parts. How could he possibly do this? How could he be so… so good at this? Stretch did little and said less, she didn’t understand how he could work her up into such a state. That half-lidded stare of his drove her crazy.

She was getting close. She could feel herself start to build, his thumb stroking her clitoris like he was petting a happy cat. It started like a sneeze, deep and almost unreal, more a realization than a feeling. Her back arched as the feeling built upon itself into something tangible. Her breath caught in her throat, her head slumped backwards to lie in the crook of his neck, any moment now it would come to a glorious end…

The sensation stopped, Stretch pulled his hand away. Her breath came back in a shuddering gasp, completely aghast, she had been so close. His one hand rested on her hip, the other, the one that had been inside of her just moments before, trailed up her stomach to his mouth, where he sucked at it languidly. She could almost see that confident, self-assured smile. Queen’s whole body trembled, at an apex it couldn’t cross, at the threshold of Shangri-La and denied entrance. Her arms were bound tightly above her, she couldn’t move. Her hips thrust and wiggled almost as if she could finish the job herself.

“Oh,” he chuckled at her. “We’re you enjoying that?”

She tried to get a look at him, her chest heavy with lustful energy. “You dirty rat,” she scolded. 

“Do you want me to finish you?”

Queen didn’t answer; she shut her eyes tight instead. She couldn’t beg for it, she wouldn’t beg for it!

Stretch placed his other hand on her hip, feeling her wiggle around, enjoying the feeling of her crest beneath his hands. “Don’t be so quiet,” he whispered to her. “Go on. Tell me, do you want it?”

She pulled at the rope around her wrist but to no avail. She couldn’t think. She was sure she could get out of this if she just focused but… she could feel her own juices running down her thigh, tickling her, teasing her, promising release if she only asked for it…

Stretch slid his hand forward again, resting it on the mound of her womanhood, she gasped, thrusting her hips upward, trying to get him to go further, deeper. 

“Do you want it?”

“Ahhh ha”

“I’ll finish it, if you beg me for it.” His voice was low and sultry, she wanted to give into it, but she was stubborn.


“What’s that?”

“Yes.” This time a little louder.

“You can do better than that, can’t you?” His fingers inched forward, hovering over her like a button to a weapon of mass destruction. Her head swam. She could hold it back no more. Her humiliation plain in the blush splashed across her cheeks.


Stretch let out a happy little sigh into her ear, “There’s a good girl.” His hand plunged forward, the Queen screamed.