Alreigch
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My Room-mate is a Camgirl?! Part 1, Alternate Revenue Streams
🕑 Added 2021-12-02 16:49:49 +0000 UTC5:45. That damn robin always started singing at 5:45. Never a minute early, perhaps that was a stroke of luck, but never a minute late either. Every morning, that stupid bird started its twittering little song, and every morning, Mason Larimer would jolt up from his pillows and sheets. It was rare he got nice dreams anymore, and that one had been an especially nice one. Being faced with the harsh, cold, unfriendly reality he was surrounded by made the soft, warm embraces of his dreams all the more demoralizing to leave.
Throwing off his covers and grumbling, he started to climb out of bed. The hardest part was extricating himself from the stupid memory-foam pillow shaped like another person's arm to go around him while he slept. It had seemed like a dumb purchase at the time, and a dumb purchase it had been even after it had arrived. So why get it, when bills were higher than they'd ever been and his allotted amount of personal spending money only seemed to grow smaller no matter how much he tried to budget?
Anyone who saw the disgruntled, hollow-eyed computer technician could probably guess: he didn't have anything else better to go home to. Some people just looked like perpetual loners, not through choice, but just that sense of "He probably hasn't had a girlfriend in years". Perhaps it was because of that overpowering sense of normalcy he exuded, or maybe his inadequateness to shine compared to everyone else around him, or his seeming lack of drive or ambition, unrecognized as it was.
It just wasn't his time to shine yet, he kept telling himself. Stay low, save up, put in the hours, and eventually someone higher up would recognize his thoroughness and tenacity. It was a dream, the American dream. And it was the most utterly frustrating experience anyone could go through, constantly reminded of others' accomplishments while barely eeking out an existence, surviving from paycheck to paycheck.
Mason threw open his window and faced the huge towering tree that grew in the courtyard facing his flat. Somewhere in all those boughs and branches lay the source of his deepest and purest hatred. Hidden from his sight that would have immediately silenced the accursed bird forever, if looks could kill, there trilled the infuriatingly bright and vibrant notes of its song.
"SHUT UP!" he hollered at the top of his scratchy voice. All around, pigeons and other various birds fluttered up from atop the roof of the flat, winging away in surprise. The robin, however, just ignored the Human it vexed so deeply. Oh if but had one rock to throw. He was sure that, even if the Gods hadn't graced him with great wealth, fame, or even just a steady girlfriend by this point in life, almost 30, it would be his one blessing from Heaven just to make that feathery demon finally go quiet.
Slamming his window closed again, he collapsed back onto his bed and hammered his pillow around his ears, trying in vain to shut out those cheerful notes. Why on Earth was one creature allowed to be so happy at such an ungodly hour? The sun was just barely starting to even rise on the horizon. Try as he might, however, the robin continued to torment him.
And now he had to pee. With a sigh, he opened his eyes again, letting the pillow fall around his ears and back into its natural, lumpy shape. He glanced at the clock. 5:50. Might as well get up anyway. He rose, threw the covers mostly back into where they were supposed to go, and walked straight to the bathroom to relieve himself. Once he was finished, he walked to the mirror and grabbed up his toothbrush. The bristles were all half-bent or frayed. Surely he could afford a $1 replacement while he was out today? If he remembered to anyway.
As he brushed his teeth with the 'fortifying' toothpaste meant to strengthen and whiten, did any product really do what it claimed anymore, he eyed his miserable appearance in the mirror. Disgruntled, lazy blue eyes stared back at him. His mop of dual-colored hair lay around his head in an unruly mess, not currently contained in its usual ponytail. The blue coloration was beginning to fade, and he didn't see his budget allowing for him to repurchase the dye. Shame. It was the one thing that made him stand out at all anymore. Spitting out the frothy mess from his mouth, he plucked up his razor and began to shave. He only nicked himself twice today. He needed a new razor too. After he had bandaged the cuts, he grabbed a hair tie and bound his messy tresses into its customary tail.
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</figure>With morning preparations done, he stalked over to his closet and plucked out a workshirt and tie, black and green respectively, as well as slacks and his shoes. He made sure to do the buttons up properly, otherwise, it would just annoy him all day. Somehow he always seemed to miss one of the ones in the middle and the shirt would end up awkwardly cock-eyed. This time he was careful. Once he was convinced it was all done right, black material seeming baggy over his skinny frame, he worked on also putting on his tie properly. Thank goodness his Dad had taught him that at least.
Properly dressed, he then rolled up his sleeves, left his bedroom after gathering his phone from its charging station near the window, and went to the kitchen. All the lights in the shadowy apartment were off, save for some coming from underneath the door at the end of the hall. He sighed.
She was still up?
Shaking his head, ponytail waving behind him, Mason clicked on the overhead light of the combination living room/kitchenette. He grabbed out pots and pans, gathered supplies from the dwindling stock inside the fridge, and set to cooking up a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and, after staring mournfully at the box of plain oatmeal packages on the counter, decided to splurge and instead delved a bit into his remaining pancake mix. He might not have much but at least he could have a good breakfast.
Cooking was at least one thing that Mason enjoyed doing. His mother had always instilled in him a love for it; the two of them had spent many hours in the kitchen together while his father was away working. His lack of special or specialized ingredients was honestly more annoying than almost anything else.
Stepping back after a solid twenty minutes or so of cooking, frying, seasoning, and preparing plates, he stepped back and unrolled his sleeves. He set to chewing on a mouthful of eggs and bacon to slake his hunger as he set his plate at the table, then plucked up the much larger and more heavily-laden one still on the counter. Walking carefully, he tottered his way down the hall towards the glowing outline of his roommate's door.
Using an elbow, he knocked. From inside, he heard the muted sounds of gunfire, loud music, and rapid clicking suddenly cut off. The door rattled and slowly opened. A waft of stale air drifted out of that dark crack, smelling of body odor, sweat, and the telltale stink of Aggression. "Yeah?" muttered a deep, melodic, and definitively feminine voice from within. She sounded rather out of it, which wasn't surprising.
"It's me," he announced. "I was up and I figured I'd get a start on the day. Did you stay up all night?" he asked up at where he knew her eyes would be. Her answering yawn, accompanied by the flash of her white teeth, made him roll his eyes. "That isn't very healthy you know."
"I'm sorry," she grumbled sleepily. "The live stream went on a while." Then he saw the gleam of her sea-green eyes brighten, even in the gloom of her darkened personal quarters. "Did you make me breakfast?" she asked, almost sounding incredulous.
He sighed. "Yes," he admitted, shuffling in place and trying to hide his slightly flushed cheeks. "I can't trust that you'll take the time today to actually eat real food. And not just instant ramen and snack food. Again." He fixed her with a stern look.
"Sorry..." she muttered again, sounding chastised but also a bit guarded. Her being embarrassed was unreasonably, unfairly cute, given what she was.
"And when was the last time you actually showered?" he demanded. "Or brushed your teeth?"
"Umm..." she responded, voice growing more and more reserved and sheepish. "Monday?" she provided, tone hopeful but not confident.
"It's Wednesday."
"Oh..."
Sighing again, Mason dropped it. He had enough issues than trying to parent a fully grown Anthro. "Listen, could you just come out?"
"Sure," she sighed. The door opened fully and he felt his eyes naturally gravitate upwards as she appeared in the light of dawn at last. As ever, the sight of her, even rumpled as she was, took his breath away every time.
Mercedes Keller stepped slowly out of her room, most likely for the first time in several days. Her ruffled fur was desperately in need of a comb. She wore a rumpled black shirt, hanging off the shelf of her breasts to only cover just above her belly button, and stretchy sleep shorts that barely covered her thick thighs. Her clothes seemed ready to burst at the seams in their attempt to contain her massive, plush, Basset-Hound Canine form. Both pieces of clothing were wrinkled as if she had slept in them. Her hair was equally a mess, sticking up all around her sleepy-eyed muzzle, long ears down to her shoulders, and somehow looking even droopier than usual. She had the kind of face that instinctively made one want to pet her fur or comb out her hair. And a body that made one want to do much, much more.
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</figure>His eyes naturally swept up and down her once, taking in her attire, the state of her fur, and the way she wobbled unsteadily on her big foot paws. She yawned again, the big inhale drawing his attention shyly to her massive chest as it swelled along with her rounded belly. They were truly mountainous in both size and heft. If she wasn't so curved all over, he would imagine her back would have never stopped aching. Thankfully, Anthro physiology gave them a density of muscle that, even without extensive training and underneath all that fluff, was still more than powerful enough to tote their unnaturally sized assets. She exhaled, making them bounce and jiggle wonderfully.
She scratched at her belly with a sharp-clawed paw, lifting up the bottom hem of her loose shirt and exposing more of the soft globe of her stomach with its cream-white coloration, patterned on the ribs with alternating shades of brown. Even through the fur, he could see the odd stretch mark or two, which somehow just made her all the more adorable. Smacking her lips, she rubbed at her eyes then. Her blue-green orbs were red around the rims from lack of sleep.
Mercedes met his eyes, at last, looking down at him from their good two feet of height difference. He tried to look stern and disapproving but her smile was so earnest, cute, and adorable that it was impossible to stay actually mad at her for long. "You look really cute today!" she giggled. Behind her, her tail wagged above her copious backside.
Rolling his eyes to distract himself from her comment, he held out the plate. "Here," he grunted. "Go tell your gaming buddies you have to take a break. You look awful."
"Aww, you say the nicest things," she teased down at him, winking, and then sighed. "Yeah, you're right." She glanced back into her darkened room and then down at him again. Something seemed to conflict behind those sparkling eyes before she chuckled and stepped back in. She plucked up her headset. "Hey everyone!" she called into the mic. "I had so much fun with you all. Sadly, I got to go. Breakfast and a shower are calling momma's name." She laughed in a bright voice that made him extremely jealous that anyone other than him got to hear it. He hated how childish that made him feel. "I know, I know, you're all so disappointed," she simpered. "But even this hound dog needs her beauty rest; it's like...6 AM where I am right now! Crazy right?" She laughed. "I'll be back online later tonight, promise!" She blew her camera a kiss, tail wagging happily. "Sorry, sorry, no time for big long goodbyes," she teased. She wiggled a paw and then turned off her screen.
Mercedes exited her room once again, taking the heavy plate from his aching arms and balancing it on one big paw expertly while she used the other to close the door behind her. Together they headed to the kitchen table and sat down across from one another. She was so big that she didn't fit behind her side, furry bulk spilling out on either edge as she gleefully tore into her breakfast like a starving wolf.
"Oh...Spirits..." she moaned in rather a sexual way through her mouthful of food, making Mason's ears warm. "Marry me." She met his eyes from across the table, still munching on hot, fluffy pancakes soaked in her favorite topping: blackberry jam. Behind her, her tail was wagging so fast that it was almost blurring the air around it.
Unable to keep a small smile off his face, Mason just shook his head and concentrated on chewing. "Sorry, I'm a romantic," he quipped back at her, poking at his own food with a fork. "I expect flowers, fireworks, the whole shebang. And Micheal Bolton."
"But it's not a no~" Mercedes shot back in a singsong voice. "Just not right now. So I have hope. I'll take notes." She mimed writing with the back end of her fork on a napkin, mouthing the words, 'Micheal...Bolton...' in an exaggerated fashion before she took another big bite and let out a big squeal of pleasure. Again, it sounded very sexual somehow. "I'll do whatever I have to for more of these pancakes..."
Sighing he looked down from her and away from her endlessly sparkling eyes and adorable, UwU smile. More even than his thankless job, more so than the fricking robin that woke him up every morning; this truly was the height of how unfair his life was. His roommate was the most beautiful woman he had ever met, whether in appearance, temperament, or personality. This was as true as the sun rising every morning in the East, even as airheaded as she could sometimes be. She was always teasing and joking with him like this, seemingly oblivious to how adorable and sexy she was, even rumpled and sleep-deprived. A woman like her was so far above and out of his realm of possible partners that it was almost like a taunting coordinated by the Divine.
Mason had fallen hard for Mercedes from their very first day together in the apartment when he had accepted her interview to become his roommate. It was fair to say that it had skewed the interview in her favor. It was a Cohabitation flat, meant to accommodate both Humans and Anthros. His rooms were sized to his needs, while hers were spacious enough to fit the naturally bulkier, taller, and heavier built Breeds. His last roommate, a Panther, had left to go join the Legion. He missed that guy; if only because of how dependable he had been.
The Canine girl was an entirely different person: ditzy, easy to love but far too trusting, and constantly staying up all hours of the night playing video games. She rarely left the apartment more than once a month unless she absolutely had to. Oh, and there was the additive feature of utter torture that she rarely wore anything other than the skimpiest of outfits on her curvy frame, sometimes just her underwear, during the brief stints of time she spent outside of her bedroom. It was maddening! It was bad enough already, straining not to let himself stare at her fertility-goddess curves when they were covered.
The only good thing about it all was that she always, somehow, had her half of the bills covered and was constantly paying for new pieces of hardware, devices, as well as at least a dozen streaming services. She'd often offered to buy him things he had wanted for a long time when he had let it slip his desire for such. But for pride's sake, he wouldn't constantly feel so stymied. As wonderfully nice as she was, he didn't want to feel like he was either taking advantage of her kindness and generosity nor did he want to be beholden to anyone. He had moved away from home for this exact reason.
"You okay, Mace?" she asked, startling him out of his internal brooding.
Looking up from his thoroughly scrambled-together breakfast, he met her eyes across the table. Her head slowly cocked to the side, one ear flopping off her broad shoulder, and a single strand of her dark hair falling across one of those brilliant teal orbs. They were so wide, open, and expressive that he felt like he was looking out across a calm, tranquil sea. He wanted nothing more than to dive into it, to immerse himself in warm fur and soft snuggles. Angrily, he tore his mind away from such wishful thinking.
"Yeah..." he mumbled, sipping at his glass of orange juice. "I just didn't sleep well."
Her ears drooped more and her tail stopped wagging. "Did I keep you up?" she asked, looking pitiful and remorseful. Could those eyes get any bigger?
"No," he told her quickly. "It wasn't you. I'm just...maybe I'm getting sick." He looked away from her, shoveling a large mouthful of slightly cold food into his mouth and chewing on it to avoid having to speak. She seemed extra bright and lovely today. No need to let his tongue slip and spout of something he would regret.
"Aww...I'm sorry," Mercedes sighed. "Can I...get you anything? You don't leave for work for a while." She glanced at the kitchen clock. 6:37. "You could lay down on the couch for a bit? Just get an hour or so? We could even play a game together!"
He glanced up at the Canine girl, meeting her eyes squarely. Her ears lifted a bit. Her tail resumed wagging, almost as if she were hopeful he would say yes. The idea was...tempting. With a heavy sigh, he pointed at her plate with his fork. "Eat," he told her. She drooped again. "After we're done and the dishes are washed...maybe."
The Anthro beamed immediately. "Okay!" she barked, then gave him her most radiant of doggy smiles. The sun had just fully risen in the kitchen window and cast a glowing halo behind her ears. It cast glorious contrast across her pale and dark patterned fur. Divine taunting, indeed.
His face colored and he furiously looked down at his plate. Across the table, he heard Mercedes humming something soft underneath her breath as they finished their meal in silence. Despite the much heavier plate he had made for her, she was done before he was and sat there waiting for him. They stood once he had swallowed the last drop of his juice and then they went to the sink. He was left with the job of washing them while she dried. Keeping up on dishes was an easy chore to share, during the rare times she came out of her room.
Times like these, it was all too easy to imagine them as something more. The quiet companionship they shared right then was angelic. Even her wagging tail, occasionally bumping his leg, was a welcome feeling. For all her quirks, it was moments like this one that really made him unable to object to her strange habits. Plus, she did carry her own weight. Which just made his constant struggle to do so as well all the more troubling. Not exactly the most attractive quality. What right did he have, even pretending or imagining them to be more than they were when he could barely keep up?
After they were done they went over to the couch. The clock on the stove now read: 6:50. He had to leave by 8:30 at the latest. Sinking down into the plush cushions, an immediate sigh left him. His head lolled back into the pillows and a great weight seemed to settle in atop of him, crushing him into the embrace of their living room sofa. He barely even registered the upturned posterior of Mercedes in front of him in those demonically tight shorts, tail wagging wildly, as she turned on the TV and procured a pair of gaming remotes.
She turned around brightly, holding them up. "Got em!" she announced. Her eyes fell upon him then, sprawled out as he was, no doubt very unattractively at that, and her ears fell, drooping lower. "Oh...Mace..." she whined. Immediately she crossed over, footsteps thudding lightly on the carpeted floor, and put down the remotes on the coffee table nearby. Before he could do so much as blink in response, she had propped him up with her huge paw, lifting him as easily as a sack of rice, and then she was flopping down beside him right where he had been laying.
"Mercy...!" he tried to object right before she was forcing him to lay back down. He made to sit up before his full weight could crash back down onto his overworked, exhausted frame when his head hit something plush, warm, hairy, and very soft. Fur tickled his ear and nose and he felt a heavy paw settle itself atop of his shoulder, effectively pinning him in place without trapping him. His voice died away into a soft murmur and his eyes immediately began to droop.
Her other paw stroked his hair, combing out the tail so he wasn't laying atop of it with his head now in her lap. "You get some sleep," she told him in her gentle, melody-like voice. "I'll make sure to wake you up in time to get to work."
"C-can't..." he protested sleepily. "We were...going to play..." his words devolved into a yawn. "A game..."
She patted his head, paw as gentle as featherdown. "We have all the time in the world to play games together," she consoled him. "I'll even take a break from streaming if you want, come out and we can hang out more. If you want. You're always on me to get sleep, shower, eat proper meals...but you never seem to take time for yourself, Mace."
He mumbled in response, brow furrowed. He had tons of arguments curtailed to defending his masculine, old-world, previous generation need to provide, to put in his hours and one day finally be able to relax and take a load off, just for a second. His father had worked till the day he had been forced to retire. A man's only worth was what he brought into a home, by paying his own way. He just wasn't as strong as his dad had been.
Her humming had resumed, slowly lulling his leaden eyelids to slowly and inexorably drift closed. Her fur smelled, not bad in fact but rich and with a wonderful slight musk to it that was all her own. Her stroking paw on his hair was soothing, and the plushness of her thigh was better than any pillow had ever been in his life.
"You're always working so hard," he heard her voice echoing as if from some great distance away. "I know I'm kind of a ditz, that I don't come out of my room often, and I know my constant streaming can get a bit distracting."
"Mm..." he mumbled.
"I guess I just get nervous, coming out and forgetting that there's a world out here. That there's such a great guy who takes care of me even when I don't do much other than just pay for my half of stuff." She laughed then but it sounded sad. "I guess I really wouldn't have made it as a Social Services worker after all..."
He yawned again. "Social...?" he asked, barely able to get the words out from how relaxed and calm he felt.
"Yeah, I know it's kind of weird," she chuckled. "I used to work in a clinic where I helped people with PTSD and stuff. The training was right up my alley, for a while. I liked helping them. But...the stress got to be too much. I failed them by not being strong enough, I felt like. After an...incident...I ended up leaving. You really saved me by giving me a place to live."
He stirred only a little, adjusting himself to lay flat on his back. She let him do so, combing the errant strands of his black and blue hair away from his haggard face. "You didn't...fail," he told her, voice still soft. "That's a hard job. I know you did all that you could for as long as you were there. You're a beautiful person like that, Mercy." His eyes remained closed. He was too tired even to feel shy at complimenting her so openly.
Mercedes' tail wagged, making the back of the couch jostle somewhat before she stroked his cheek. "Well you ain't too bad yourself, Mace," she murmured. "Are you comfortable?"
"So...comfortable..." he whispered.
"Good," she hummed. "Then at least I'm still able to help someone after all this time." Her soft paw pads continued to softly rub at his freshly shaven cheek and throat. "Especially someone I care about, even if I don't do much to show it."
Darkness slowly converged on Mason as he lay there in his roommate's vast, plushly-furred lap. He didn't want to fall asleep. She sounded like she was leading up to something. Her paw came to rest atop his forehead. Even its slight weight was immense and he felt himself falling slowly away.
The last thing he heard, or maybe just thought, hoped, imagined that he heard, before blissful slumber took him, was Mercedes saying, "That's why I..."
*TBC, soon. This is intended to be a short, fun, kind of goofy, and a little pervy story to give me a break from my workload of larger, more serious, or more emotional works. Nothing to hide here, nothing to allude to. Just a cornball romance between two mismatched but adorable folks. I cannot however allow great thanks and honors to go to my friends, my fellow Simps, the ones who encourage me each and every day. I love you guys.*
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