Title: Just a Penguin
Author: Lizzi Fairview (fairview@spittingonyourgrave.com)
Rating: NC-17.
Author's Notes: Graphic depiction of plushie sex. Leave now if you're 
disturbed by that sort of thing. Dedicated to Anne Westland-Carter, who 
asked me to write this for her.
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Excel sat on her shelf, lonesomely watching the clock. It was five to 
nine, and she knew Menchi would be home from work soon, but she had 
been without him for nine hours. It was torture, much worse than 
Chinese Water Torture or English Cake or Death Inquisition, and she 
wasn't sure how much longer she could bear it.

Just then she heard the front door opening. Oh, how she wished she were 
a real bird, instead of just a plushie. Then she could use her wings 
and fly off this shelf and to him, to his love, to his penis. But, ah, 
how many times had he said to her, "Excel, you're just a penguin. Even 
if you were real, you could fly with those wings."? Many a time.

She heard his heavy boots on the kitchen tiles -- he was getting his 
dinner ready. She knew it was essential that he eat something, but she 
wished he would hurry up about it. For Jebuslug's sake, she had been 
sitting on her ass for nine hours when she would have rather sat on his 
ass.

"Take me now!" her mind cried to him. Alas, she was still just a 
stuffed penguin.

Finally, finally, he finished and came to her.

Excel squealed to herself with delight. Now came the part that she 
looked forward to the entire day. Now he would pluck her from her 
invisible prison on the shelf and take her, hard, the way she was meant 
to be taken.

And he did not disappoint. He grasped her firmly but gently around the 
waist with his right hand -- a hand, she was proud to be able to say, 
she was twice as big as (all the plushies he had used before her were 
just as big as his hand, and nothing more). Lifting her from the shelf, 
he licked his lips. She glanced down with beaded eyes to his trousers, 
and she could note from the bulge there that he was already ready for 
her.

He placed her gently on the bed, and she noted that he had used her 
favorite fabric softener when washing this bedspread last. The smell of 
clean bedding filled her senses, and made her even hornier for him than 
she had previously been.

He turned on her favorite jazz CD and began to slowly dance, a strange, 
rhythmic movement meant for her eyes only. Languidly, he took off 
article of clothing after article of clothing. First his belt, which he 
cracked through the air like a whip. Excel sighed contentedly to 
herself and watched through half closed eyes as he stripped off his 
shoes, his socks, and then his shirt and pants. All that was left now 
was his boxers, which displayed hundreds of penguins playing in the 
snow. He leaned foward and thrust his pelvis towards her, teasingly, 
maddeningly, as if to begin their intercourse through his small 
clothes.

With Menchi rubbing himself against her, she could feel the heat 
radiating off him through the silk he wore. Silk! He really had outdone 
himself tonight.

Her fins fell forward and, for one moment, caressed his member through 
his boxers. But then he pulled away, and she nearly cried out from the 
loss of him.

Slowly, he stripped himself of his last remaining clothes, and stood 
before her. Here was the god Excel dreamed of all day. Here was Menchi, 
naked before her, penis erect and waiting for just the right moment to 
thrust himself into her and rocketing them both to the stars. Here was 
Menchi, the love of her plushie life.

He must have seen the glimmer in her eye, because he whisked her up off 
of the bed and impaled her on his engorged member through the hole he 
had cut and sewn shortly after he purchased her. Then, after a moment 
to let her adjust to the feel of him within her, he began moving her up 
and down his shaft, slowly at first and then faster and faster as the 
need overtook him. 

She could feel him moving inside her, feel his hands roving up and down 
her fur with every thrust. And it was heaven. She never wanted it to 
stop.

Except now Excel could feel Menchi beneath her, reaching his boiling 
point. He cried out her name and then came, spewing forth his seed into 
her plushie self. The force of his climax sent her over the edge, and 
for a few moments all she could see were tiny stars over the field of 
her vision. They collapsed on a heap on top of the bed, exhausted.

After a few minutes, Menchi disentangled himself from her and got up, 
kissing her beak. "Thanks, kid, you're the best." Sighing, he shakily 
walked over to the bathroom door, and she could hear from her vantage 
point on the bed the shower start. For one brief moment, she wished 
again that she wasn't just a penguin so that she could get up of her 
own accord and join him there for yet another escapade into their sex 
life, but then she regretted even thinking about it. After all, she had 
shown him just what a penguin could do.
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The End. 
