May 2021 Drabble #2 (of 3) (Patreon)

Beelzemon/mystery Digimon – Beelzemon is stuck in a wall and has to taste his own medicine of being a bad boi :)

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Beelzemon awakens from unconsciousness with the knowledge of a few things: one, the rockslide had not crushed him to tiny digital bits that would scatter in the wind and ball up into a clump of useless data. Two… someone was spreading his ass open and snuffing under his tail with a warm gust of air.

He is stunned for but a second before he tries to reach for one of his guns. Both of which are lost somewhere under the rocks that have buried him alive. He has no idea how his legs managed to stay outside. He must look ridiculous.

Or like a feast.

The Digimon on the other side has three-clawed hands with which it is spreading him wider, a huge, broad tongue dragging over his sac and up against his hole.

Beelzemon is shocked – and reluctantly impressed – by how bold this bastard on the other side is. Or maybe he’s been getting felt up for a while now… having his clothes removed and ass inspected by some strange Digimon while he hung there, unconscious and probably-maybe-dead.

Must be a stupid beast Digimon or something. The tongue sure feels like it belongs to something massive.

“Hey! Heeeey! Keep your damn claws to yourself, you freak!” he roars… but if the Digimon hears him through the rock, it doesn’t show any signs of it. Instead, the tongue is there again, licking at him and getting his body hot against his will. What kind of perverted program would just… accost some poor down-on-his-luck bastard?

(He would. Absolutely. But being on the receiving end of that sucks.)

The spongy head of a cock presses against his hole. No regards to his temper tantrum on the other side. Rude. Rude.

Beelzemon gnashes his teeth, claws digging into the stone as he slashes his tail around. It’s not like he is helpless, after all. He hits a large, thickly muscled body and grins triumphantly – before one of those clawed hands grips it and clamps it what he can only assume is underneath the Digimon’s arm, rendering him immobile once again.

What the actual Hell.

His pants are around his knees, keeping him from kicking his long legs. He’s helpless, tail twitching at the base with agitation as once more the cock presses between his cheeks, letting him feel the flared tip of some unknown dick that has his eyes widen in shock the more it spreads him open… and open… and open.

Holy… oh no…?

Gone is the Beelzemon-coolness that he had been so proud of since digivolving. The slightly screechy babbling that follows is Impmon in all its glory as he keeps digging at the stone with his claws, trying to free himself before he is speared like a kabob on some enormous Digimon’s dick.

The tip finally pops inside, but the ordeal doesn’t end there. The shaft feels weirdly twisted; as if it’s actually two cocks wrapped around each other, keeping him spread impossibly wide. His hips ache with the stuffing he receives.

And then there is a whole new set of hands grabbing on to his legs and feeling him up.

How… how many Digimon are there?!