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Rated: 18+ · Interactive · Adult · #2100748
You are a tiny sassy teen troll in the Homestuck universe who is destined for flatness.
This choice: ===> At a tower. (Kanaya)  •  Go Back...
Chapter #3

===> At a tower. (Kanaya)

    by: doublestuff Author IconMail Icon
===> At a tower.

You make your way to the elegant tower that overlooks the landscape you typically make your hidden home. You know that someone who owns such a picturesque piece of real estate wouldn't mind such a very small squatter. But you also know that your life is forfeit should even one troll decide to report you to an imperial drone for your aberrant existence. So, you might as well get on their good side.

As you get closer you can't help but think of the last time you were here. It would have been traumatic had you allowed even the slightest consideration for your personal well-being to enter your mind. Besides. Things CAN'T go that badly again, right? I mean, not THAT quickly.

Well, unfortunately, the cosmos is cruel. Your attempt to introduce yourself to your neighbor/landlord is cut short by the very door of their domicile. it swings downward like a drawbridge and crushes you quite thouroughly. There is a clanging sound and an increased pressure that follows, as the resident of the hive tramples your already impacted form beneath the metal door.

You have a little time to contemplate your agony before the door swings back up, carrying your mashed up body with it. But not all the way. You are flung off the door in the middle of its arc, sending you sailing through the air towards the troll you had meant to meet!

This little bit of fortune, appropriately enough, does you little good, as you are only cogent enough to grasp at whatever hanholds you pray exist at the end of your trajectory.

*WHUMPFT*

You dare to open your eyes just in time to spot the allure of a plush rump. And just in time to smash your face into its shapely spinal crevice. Your rear-first introduction doesn't go unnoticed, but you cling for DEAR HOLY LIFE HOO 13OY. Thusly, your ride's turnabout reveals nothing visible as you swing round like a piece of gaudy jewelry.

"That Was Bizzarre," came a high, sultry voice, wondering what that impact upon her butt could have been.
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