So just a writing prompt I asked for on 4chan. Felt like writing something dumb on my birthday, so I asked the Shortstack thread for ideas on a short story; got the request for a midget and hulking pair of female psychos from Borderlands. I fucking LOVE those games (co-op PvE is my jam) and could play them for years. Basically for you outsiders, most of it's explained beyond it being a scifi wasteland of a planet. Hilarious and very fun game. Grab em on the cheap if you can. But yea, the story's got some cartoonish violence to it, so don't mind a bit of blood and implied cannibalism.I also wrote the ending as a last-minute joke, but I feel confident that I could come up with some further story to this. Whether it's the two lunatics having sweet but murderous adventures, or some kind of parody or side-story to the Borderlands universe, I'm not sure. Or just introducing 4 fetish-based characters that would be "playable characters" being offered with these as their cinematic teasers. Perhaps even some shitty stat/move lists for em.
The caravan was supposed to be safe. Everyone on Pandora knew that the word “safe” was a huge overstatement, as even the large settlements could be assaulted by asteroids, sandstorms, giant worms, giant robots, lunatics, traitors out to make a quick buck, or the ever-present psychos. They said that the laborers/prisoners on the planet were dumped there ages ago when something they found broke their minds, and it was difficult to stake out any territory on the sandy asshole of a planet without running into a bunch of the raving, masked monsters of men.
That was the odd thing, Carlos thought. There were never any lady psychos. Sure, there were some hardass mercs and bandits, but the full blown loony ones? Closest he ever heard was of a little girl who’d blow you up as quick as talk to you, depending on her mood, but she seemed sort of… cracked, not broken. His mind wandered on that subject for a minute while he stood watch on top of the caravan’s eponymous van, strapped into a lawn chair on top. He grabbed on when the van bounced wildly, loud bursting noises coming from below followed by more popping and rattling behind him.
“The fuck was that!?” he called down as the van barely kept from tipping over in its haste to brake among the dunes. The tanned young man leaned over to his driver and his man literally riding shotgun, who stepped out and nearly whacked him in the head with the opening door. They stepped out, where Angus kicked the tire with his metal foot.
“Shit busted it open,” he grunted. He knelt down and picked something out. “Looks like bone. Skags, prob’ly. Those persistent little shits can’t even stay dead without causin’ trouble…” The rest of the vehicles unloaded, reporting similar troubles from the buried debris.
Carlos glanced over at Angus, the big fat thug of a trader. “Are skag bones usually that sharp, though?”
“Could have been sharpened. Wind got them the wrong way, or just…” Angus paused as if sensing the omen of his words, right before the huge BLAM! drowned out the sound of his head popping. The posse stared at his body, which took a moment to realize it was dead and drop thanks to his sturdy prosthetic. Everyone drew their guns and pointed them all over in a panic, not thinking to check the splatter to spot the sniper.
There came a noise like a bellow of a sandworm, but as it reached it peak, they were able to pinpoint it as a huge, deep voice bellowing “FUCK!” and drawing out the U for a good thirty seconds. Hurdling between a pair of rocks, there was a massive woman, built out of nothing but pure muscle, scar tissue, and leather with a little bit of hair as if an afterthought. She wielded a gigantic sniper rifle tipped with what looked like a kitchen knife tied to the barrel, the weapon a good two feet longer than her already 8 foot figure mutated by god knew what kind of chems and mutated diet that grew on Pandora. Leather straps crisscrossed her chest, holding back broad, dense breasts that threatened to turn into pecs, but they simply were there to minimize jiggling since she had her hard nipples out in the open air. She had mismatched combat boots (red and blue) and a gas mask that had been severely cracked and busted open, defeating its actual purpose as her bulging green eye, the edge of a crooked smile, and some blood red hair, missing several large patches, poked out from it.
“Badass psycho! Take it down!” one of the crew shouted as they opened fire. The psycho woman ran straight for them, but at such speed it was hard to predict how close she’d be, not what direction. She also swung up her rifle to fire singlehandedly, not an accurate approach but absolutely powerful enough to rip a few limbs off the defending party. When she was in range, she thrust out her sniper rifle like a spear and ran the other two drivers through like a kebab.
As the psycho got close enough for Carlos to make out her wild expression, he raised his machine pistol and opened fire. The small rounds grazed the giant woman’s stomach and leg, enough to make her stumble. He knew there was no “wounding” a psycho, though. They were dead or they were still perfectly murderous. He moved to quickly pop a fresh clip in, but he noticed the pack she was wearing; it had no weapons or ammo in it, but what appeared to be a purple-haired child…
The “child” looked up at him with dilated red eyes and scars over her face, and with a peculiar stubbiness to her limbs and stout muscle to her that made it clear that no matter how tough living out here was, it was no child at all. As soon as she met his eyes, the midget psycho frothed at her scarred mouth as if she’d just smelled the blood of her big partner.
“Midget! She’s packing a midget!” Carlos shouted out right before the hulking bandit grabbed the agile little shit and flung her like a 100 lb grenade out from the pack. The dwarf wore nothing but a pair of cargo shorts that had been reduced to a flimsy skirt and a life vest, both of which barely covered her overly plump breasts and hips that even outshone the giant one’s curves. Her legs were like iron, with thighs as thick as a horse’s, and had a pair of tomahawks made of pipes and rusty metal that she whipped out in midair.
“I’M THE PRESIDENT OF MEAT TOWN, YA MAGGOT FARM!”
Right before the little psycho and her little ax split open Carlos’ head, the crew’s lives and a title card flashed before their eyes, announcing their demise:
Biggs and Liddie!! (get it? Cuz they’re big and little?)
Biggs whirled and roared as she slashed the throat out of one more gunner with the end of her rifle-spear. Two of them ran for cover behind one of the crippled cars, but Biggs kicked it with her boot hard enough to tip it over and squash them both. Liddie whipped one of her axes into the gut of another while she was busy unrooting her second from Carlo’s brains. “Gimme back! Gimme gimme!” she squeaked in her unnaturally high voice, planting her boot on his face to rip her axe out. One of the bigger bodyguards caught her by surprise as he smashed her face with the butt of his rifle. Her button nose crunched and tilted to the right as it became a blood faucet, but she was otherwise perfectly unfazed as she gave a feral scream and smashed her bloody forehead into his crotch. The guard bent over to cup his junk, letting Liddie flip the rifle up and slap the trigger with a tiny finger to force him to shoot his own skull open. “Confetti time!” she shrieked in delight as the gore trickled back down over her.
She turned back to see one trying to flee the carnage while Biggs was caught up in slowly crushing the last remaining man’s skull between her big, veiny hands. “Gonna make you pop like… like err... a pop song,” she gurgled deeply. The hulking psycho actually dropped her manic grin to look over at Liddie. “Lids! I don’t has a good one! Help me out here!”
“Can’t!” Liddie piped merrily as she stuck her hatchet into her teeth and bolted after the fleeing woman on all fours. “More crotches to chop!”
Biggs grunted and rolled her bulging eyes. “Sorry,” she grumbled to the shuddering victim in her grasp. “I’m usually a little more prepared for this.” One more squeeze collapsed the skull between her hands as she heard a few last squeals from Liddie’s direction.
It was a hell of a score! Health packs, rations, ammo, spare parts… they wouldn’t be able to haul it all back, so they picked and chose. Most of it would be scavenged by skags or other bandits by the time they got back, so they kept the best food and the sharpest, nastiest pieces of metal as top priority. They made it back to the cave, their den under a rocky outcropping that was loaded with old and useless shit. Faded out street signs and things that kind of made sense to a tiny, distant part of their brains from before. But that was before! Before the good times. Before everything made sense. Before everything became blood and meat and that elation of the sight.
Biggs tossed the ration crates into a corner while Liddie stuck the body parts around the place; whether as decorations, snacks for later, or warning signs out front. The midget scurried back in and started to poke at Bigg’s wounded leg and belly. She groaned and pulled off her pants, then her mask and straps to leave herself perfectly nude. There was a lot of red under her clothes, whether the bloody marks or her lazily ignored body hair under her arms and just below her abs. She braced her arms over the old locker, spreading her arms and legs expectantly.
Liddie went about her usual treatment: she climbed onto Biggs’ lap, bare crotch on her knee while she licked and bit at the wounds, occasionally spitting out a bullet or two. The health packs were boring. They didn’t have enough stimulants or painkillers to get their rocks off anymore, so they were no fun to use at all. If Biggs got bored or it stung too much, she’d shove at the wild-eyed munchkin’s face. Liddie would just bite one of her fingers with her bloody teeth, getting the hulk to grunt and relax back into her receptive position.
The lunatics had reached a nearly symbiotic state at this point. Big and loud paired with little and… also loud. Liddie surprised people and did handy little things that Biggs was too dumb, lazy, or twitchy to deal with. Biggs lugged her around, keeping her plump on loot and corpses and generally scaring off any would-be predators or kidnappers. The spiderants could wolf her down in two bites, and the nomads were famous for taking midgets as literal meat shields. All you needed was a plank of wood or an old door and some chain to hold the bitch in place.
It was where Biggs had found her, all that time ago: in her frenzy, Biggs had torn the shield out of the thug’s hand and threw it away before she realized there was a person on it. Liddie looked too small to eat, especially after that fat bandit, but there was something… more.
Liddie finished with the bullets, but wasn’t done feasting on her partner. She licked the blood from her lips and met her eyes. “Eatin’ lead makes me hungry!” she barked/squeaked up at Biggs.
“Give it good, ya little leech,” Biggs grumbled, but her deep voice more of a mother bear than a menacing monster. A low rumble to comfort rather than intimidate, like a beast of burden. Lidde gave a giddy little giggle and stooped to her knees, her heavy breasts popping out of her life vest at the slightest opportunity. Biggs gave them a squeeze with one meaty hand, but it was… gentle. An adjective she didn’t use very often in her actions.
When the madness spread and the inhabitants went wild, the pretty ones went first. They were used up and slaughtered like the prizes of the litter. The female psychos, they didn’t fit in well when everyone’s urges went wild. There was only so much a gal could do except get… well, ugly. There was an unspoken understanding between the two, and not just because they could barely form a sentence. Their eyes met again, like they did that fateful night when they’d first seen each other. Finally found someone who understood and that they could trust, and trust themselves with.
Biggs reached down and pet the violet hair of her little lover, three fingers enough to cover the munchkin’s entire skull. “I’d never eat you,” she grumbled to her. The sentiment brought a few thick tears to the giantess’ eyes, running over the deep scars that mapped her ruined face.
Liddie looked up sadly and climbed up Biggs’ thick thigh, then up her chest and abs like a beefy ladder before she licked the tears out of the furrows of her scars. “Shut your sad up,” Liddie cooed before kissing the salty drops back into Biggs’ mouth. Her thick tongue rolled around with the little appendage not even the size of Biggs’ thumb, grabbing the runt by the arms and lifting her off her feet. Liddie didn’t even jolt from her powerful grip, the devastated remains of human beings finding a sick, strange satisfaction in being with each other. Even with Biggs’ tongue only able to fit its tip into her partner’s mouth and her drool flooding over a partially missing lip, Liddie kissed back with all she had, slurping up the saliva like a helpful caretaker.
“Gimme,” Liddie repeated softly. “Gimme your guts.” Biggs grunted quietly and turned her upside down, handling the midget with a careless ease before stuffing her between her legs like a chubby sex toy. Liddie immediately cooed like a comforted animal, sniffing and then slurping at the shaggy, sweaty privates. Biggs let out a long, almost whale-like groan as her eager little mouth went to work. There was no clear reasoning behind it beyond pleasure; it wasn’t Liddie doing it as a task for Biggs, or Biggs letting Liddie have her pleasure. It just made sense to them. It said for them both what they couldn’t say with words (in this case, because most of the words were swears or synonyms for meat).
Liddie’s little tongue lapped and poked around inside the powerful psycho, her muscles seeming to tense and bulge at random as the pleasure echoed through her body. Liddie popped her lips around her engorged clit, bigger than two of Liddie’s nimble fingers between all the chems Biggs was on at any given time of day. She sucked on it like a baby’s bottle, getting more violent spasms and huskier growls from Biggs. The kind that would make most people run and think she was revving up for something especially nasty (which in some sense of the word, she was).
Being turned over as she was, Liddie’s skirt had flipped up to dangle around her chest. The little pussy was presented in front of the goliath, along with a telltale scar than down down to her labia and the sporadically growing pubic hair that resulted. Never one to shy away from a scar, Biggs hugged the runt to her chest tight enough to burly her fat tongue into her snatch. Liddie squealed and kicked her little feet, more in excitement than pain or fear. The slimy appendage filled her to the brim, enough that her drool overran it to pool in between her chubby cheeks and down her ass crack. Liddie let out some wild whoops and yips as the bigger girl quickly worked her into a frenzy, adding to her appetite for her psychotic lover.
The hyper little Liddie squirted like a little water fountain or a reversed impression of an emptying bucket. She kicked her feet and chanted “Gimme gimme gimmeeee!” to demand more, refusing to stop her obnoxiously high-pitched song until she squirted a second time. At that point she returned to her oral attention, letting the brutish partner grope at her fleshy titties for a new set of handles. Liddie started leaning a little hand on Biggs’ fresh bullet wounds and digging her teeth into the rubbery flesh of her enormous clit. Between the size difference and her drug-addled mind, this appeared to be just what the mad doctor ordered.
Biggs let out a roar that seemed to choke out halfway through and actually emit a womanly sob. It was the only time that Liddie ever heard her voice get that high, right before her big outburst after their playtime. The killing had wound her up, and it was the perfect cooldown she needed. Of course, Biggs had to hold onto her tightly as she came over her face, gushing hard enough that Liddie squirmed as if she’d be washed away by it.
Sticky with each other’s various fluids, the bandit finally released her orgasmic death grip on Liddie. The relaxing midget emitted a tiny fart, getting her thuggish partner to toss her onto the pile of bloody blankets they used as a bed. She plopped into it with a cackle as Biggs stomped over and flopped on top of her like a blanket of flesh and muscle.
“Shut your face, little one,” Biggs growled. “Soon the sun will burn you alive.”
“Tuck us in?” Liddie chirped. Biggs responded with a headbutt from one thick skull to another. Liddie sighed contently, headbutted her back, and fell asleep with the lumbering monster of a woman on top of her.
The two jumped to their feet when the noise woke them back up. It was why Biggs slept with her boots on, and why Liddie just used her calloused little feet anyway. They tilted their heads in near unison, confirming the sound of engines nearby.
“MORE BATHTUBS FULL OF TITS!” Biggs bellowed. She snatched up a handful of random rations, stuffing them into her mouth before slamming her busted gas mask back over her face and forcing her pants back on.
“AND MORE DUBSTEP!” Liddie replied brightly as she clambered onto her partner’s back.
(Biggs and Liddie; part of the Borderlands Bootilicious Season Pass)
The caravan was supposed to be safe. Everyone on Pandora knew that the word “safe” was a huge overstatement, as even the large settlements could be assaulted by asteroids, sandstorms, giant worms, giant robots, lunatics, traitors out to make a quick buck, or the ever-present psychos. They said that the laborers/prisoners on the planet were dumped there ages ago when something they found broke their minds, and it was difficult to stake out any territory on the sandy asshole of a planet without running into a bunch of the raving, masked monsters of men.
That was the odd thing, Carlos thought. There were never any lady psychos. Sure, there were some hardass mercs and bandits, but the full blown loony ones? Closest he ever heard was of a little girl who’d blow you up as quick as talk to you, depending on her mood, but she seemed sort of… cracked, not broken. His mind wandered on that subject for a minute while he stood watch on top of the caravan’s eponymous van, strapped into a lawn chair on top. He grabbed on when the van bounced wildly, loud bursting noises coming from below followed by more popping and rattling behind him.
“The fuck was that!?” he called down as the van barely kept from tipping over in its haste to brake among the dunes. The tanned young man leaned over to his driver and his man literally riding shotgun, who stepped out and nearly whacked him in the head with the opening door. They stepped out, where Angus kicked the tire with his metal foot.
“Shit busted it open,” he grunted. He knelt down and picked something out. “Looks like bone. Skags, prob’ly. Those persistent little shits can’t even stay dead without causin’ trouble…” The rest of the vehicles unloaded, reporting similar troubles from the buried debris.
Carlos glanced over at Angus, the big fat thug of a trader. “Are skag bones usually that sharp, though?”
“Could have been sharpened. Wind got them the wrong way, or just…” Angus paused as if sensing the omen of his words, right before the huge BLAM! drowned out the sound of his head popping. The posse stared at his body, which took a moment to realize it was dead and drop thanks to his sturdy prosthetic. Everyone drew their guns and pointed them all over in a panic, not thinking to check the splatter to spot the sniper.
There came a noise like a bellow of a sandworm, but as it reached it peak, they were able to pinpoint it as a huge, deep voice bellowing “FUCK!” and drawing out the U for a good thirty seconds. Hurdling between a pair of rocks, there was a massive woman, built out of nothing but pure muscle, scar tissue, and leather with a little bit of hair as if an afterthought. She wielded a gigantic sniper rifle tipped with what looked like a kitchen knife tied to the barrel, the weapon a good two feet longer than her already 8 foot figure mutated by god knew what kind of chems and mutated diet that grew on Pandora. Leather straps crisscrossed her chest, holding back broad, dense breasts that threatened to turn into pecs, but they simply were there to minimize jiggling since she had her hard nipples out in the open air. She had mismatched combat boots (red and blue) and a gas mask that had been severely cracked and busted open, defeating its actual purpose as her bulging green eye, the edge of a crooked smile, and some blood red hair, missing several large patches, poked out from it.
“Badass psycho! Take it down!” one of the crew shouted as they opened fire. The psycho woman ran straight for them, but at such speed it was hard to predict how close she’d be, not what direction. She also swung up her rifle to fire singlehandedly, not an accurate approach but absolutely powerful enough to rip a few limbs off the defending party. When she was in range, she thrust out her sniper rifle like a spear and ran the other two drivers through like a kebab.
As the psycho got close enough for Carlos to make out her wild expression, he raised his machine pistol and opened fire. The small rounds grazed the giant woman’s stomach and leg, enough to make her stumble. He knew there was no “wounding” a psycho, though. They were dead or they were still perfectly murderous. He moved to quickly pop a fresh clip in, but he noticed the pack she was wearing; it had no weapons or ammo in it, but what appeared to be a purple-haired child…
The “child” looked up at him with dilated red eyes and scars over her face, and with a peculiar stubbiness to her limbs and stout muscle to her that made it clear that no matter how tough living out here was, it was no child at all. As soon as she met his eyes, the midget psycho frothed at her scarred mouth as if she’d just smelled the blood of her big partner.
“Midget! She’s packing a midget!” Carlos shouted out right before the hulking bandit grabbed the agile little shit and flung her like a 100 lb grenade out from the pack. The dwarf wore nothing but a pair of cargo shorts that had been reduced to a flimsy skirt and a life vest, both of which barely covered her overly plump breasts and hips that even outshone the giant one’s curves. Her legs were like iron, with thighs as thick as a horse’s, and had a pair of tomahawks made of pipes and rusty metal that she whipped out in midair.
“I’M THE PRESIDENT OF MEAT TOWN, YA MAGGOT FARM!”
Right before the little psycho and her little ax split open Carlos’ head, the crew’s lives and a title card flashed before their eyes, announcing their demise:
Biggs and Liddie!! (get it? Cuz they’re big and little?)
Biggs whirled and roared as she slashed the throat out of one more gunner with the end of her rifle-spear. Two of them ran for cover behind one of the crippled cars, but Biggs kicked it with her boot hard enough to tip it over and squash them both. Liddie whipped one of her axes into the gut of another while she was busy unrooting her second from Carlo’s brains. “Gimme back! Gimme gimme!” she squeaked in her unnaturally high voice, planting her boot on his face to rip her axe out. One of the bigger bodyguards caught her by surprise as he smashed her face with the butt of his rifle. Her button nose crunched and tilted to the right as it became a blood faucet, but she was otherwise perfectly unfazed as she gave a feral scream and smashed her bloody forehead into his crotch. The guard bent over to cup his junk, letting Liddie flip the rifle up and slap the trigger with a tiny finger to force him to shoot his own skull open. “Confetti time!” she shrieked in delight as the gore trickled back down over her.
She turned back to see one trying to flee the carnage while Biggs was caught up in slowly crushing the last remaining man’s skull between her big, veiny hands. “Gonna make you pop like… like err... a pop song,” she gurgled deeply. The hulking psycho actually dropped her manic grin to look over at Liddie. “Lids! I don’t has a good one! Help me out here!”
“Can’t!” Liddie piped merrily as she stuck her hatchet into her teeth and bolted after the fleeing woman on all fours. “More crotches to chop!”
Biggs grunted and rolled her bulging eyes. “Sorry,” she grumbled to the shuddering victim in her grasp. “I’m usually a little more prepared for this.” One more squeeze collapsed the skull between her hands as she heard a few last squeals from Liddie’s direction.
It was a hell of a score! Health packs, rations, ammo, spare parts… they wouldn’t be able to haul it all back, so they picked and chose. Most of it would be scavenged by skags or other bandits by the time they got back, so they kept the best food and the sharpest, nastiest pieces of metal as top priority. They made it back to the cave, their den under a rocky outcropping that was loaded with old and useless shit. Faded out street signs and things that kind of made sense to a tiny, distant part of their brains from before. But that was before! Before the good times. Before everything made sense. Before everything became blood and meat and that elation of the sight.
Biggs tossed the ration crates into a corner while Liddie stuck the body parts around the place; whether as decorations, snacks for later, or warning signs out front. The midget scurried back in and started to poke at Bigg’s wounded leg and belly. She groaned and pulled off her pants, then her mask and straps to leave herself perfectly nude. There was a lot of red under her clothes, whether the bloody marks or her lazily ignored body hair under her arms and just below her abs. She braced her arms over the old locker, spreading her arms and legs expectantly.
Liddie went about her usual treatment: she climbed onto Biggs’ lap, bare crotch on her knee while she licked and bit at the wounds, occasionally spitting out a bullet or two. The health packs were boring. They didn’t have enough stimulants or painkillers to get their rocks off anymore, so they were no fun to use at all. If Biggs got bored or it stung too much, she’d shove at the wild-eyed munchkin’s face. Liddie would just bite one of her fingers with her bloody teeth, getting the hulk to grunt and relax back into her receptive position.
The lunatics had reached a nearly symbiotic state at this point. Big and loud paired with little and… also loud. Liddie surprised people and did handy little things that Biggs was too dumb, lazy, or twitchy to deal with. Biggs lugged her around, keeping her plump on loot and corpses and generally scaring off any would-be predators or kidnappers. The spiderants could wolf her down in two bites, and the nomads were famous for taking midgets as literal meat shields. All you needed was a plank of wood or an old door and some chain to hold the bitch in place.
It was where Biggs had found her, all that time ago: in her frenzy, Biggs had torn the shield out of the thug’s hand and threw it away before she realized there was a person on it. Liddie looked too small to eat, especially after that fat bandit, but there was something… more.
Liddie finished with the bullets, but wasn’t done feasting on her partner. She licked the blood from her lips and met her eyes. “Eatin’ lead makes me hungry!” she barked/squeaked up at Biggs.
“Give it good, ya little leech,” Biggs grumbled, but her deep voice more of a mother bear than a menacing monster. A low rumble to comfort rather than intimidate, like a beast of burden. Lidde gave a giddy little giggle and stooped to her knees, her heavy breasts popping out of her life vest at the slightest opportunity. Biggs gave them a squeeze with one meaty hand, but it was… gentle. An adjective she didn’t use very often in her actions.
When the madness spread and the inhabitants went wild, the pretty ones went first. They were used up and slaughtered like the prizes of the litter. The female psychos, they didn’t fit in well when everyone’s urges went wild. There was only so much a gal could do except get… well, ugly. There was an unspoken understanding between the two, and not just because they could barely form a sentence. Their eyes met again, like they did that fateful night when they’d first seen each other. Finally found someone who understood and that they could trust, and trust themselves with.
Biggs reached down and pet the violet hair of her little lover, three fingers enough to cover the munchkin’s entire skull. “I’d never eat you,” she grumbled to her. The sentiment brought a few thick tears to the giantess’ eyes, running over the deep scars that mapped her ruined face.
Liddie looked up sadly and climbed up Biggs’ thick thigh, then up her chest and abs like a beefy ladder before she licked the tears out of the furrows of her scars. “Shut your sad up,” Liddie cooed before kissing the salty drops back into Biggs’ mouth. Her thick tongue rolled around with the little appendage not even the size of Biggs’ thumb, grabbing the runt by the arms and lifting her off her feet. Liddie didn’t even jolt from her powerful grip, the devastated remains of human beings finding a sick, strange satisfaction in being with each other. Even with Biggs’ tongue only able to fit its tip into her partner’s mouth and her drool flooding over a partially missing lip, Liddie kissed back with all she had, slurping up the saliva like a helpful caretaker.
“Gimme,” Liddie repeated softly. “Gimme your guts.” Biggs grunted quietly and turned her upside down, handling the midget with a careless ease before stuffing her between her legs like a chubby sex toy. Liddie immediately cooed like a comforted animal, sniffing and then slurping at the shaggy, sweaty privates. Biggs let out a long, almost whale-like groan as her eager little mouth went to work. There was no clear reasoning behind it beyond pleasure; it wasn’t Liddie doing it as a task for Biggs, or Biggs letting Liddie have her pleasure. It just made sense to them. It said for them both what they couldn’t say with words (in this case, because most of the words were swears or synonyms for meat).
Liddie’s little tongue lapped and poked around inside the powerful psycho, her muscles seeming to tense and bulge at random as the pleasure echoed through her body. Liddie popped her lips around her engorged clit, bigger than two of Liddie’s nimble fingers between all the chems Biggs was on at any given time of day. She sucked on it like a baby’s bottle, getting more violent spasms and huskier growls from Biggs. The kind that would make most people run and think she was revving up for something especially nasty (which in some sense of the word, she was).
Being turned over as she was, Liddie’s skirt had flipped up to dangle around her chest. The little pussy was presented in front of the goliath, along with a telltale scar than down down to her labia and the sporadically growing pubic hair that resulted. Never one to shy away from a scar, Biggs hugged the runt to her chest tight enough to burly her fat tongue into her snatch. Liddie squealed and kicked her little feet, more in excitement than pain or fear. The slimy appendage filled her to the brim, enough that her drool overran it to pool in between her chubby cheeks and down her ass crack. Liddie let out some wild whoops and yips as the bigger girl quickly worked her into a frenzy, adding to her appetite for her psychotic lover.
The hyper little Liddie squirted like a little water fountain or a reversed impression of an emptying bucket. She kicked her feet and chanted “Gimme gimme gimmeeee!” to demand more, refusing to stop her obnoxiously high-pitched song until she squirted a second time. At that point she returned to her oral attention, letting the brutish partner grope at her fleshy titties for a new set of handles. Liddie started leaning a little hand on Biggs’ fresh bullet wounds and digging her teeth into the rubbery flesh of her enormous clit. Between the size difference and her drug-addled mind, this appeared to be just what the mad doctor ordered.
Biggs let out a roar that seemed to choke out halfway through and actually emit a womanly sob. It was the only time that Liddie ever heard her voice get that high, right before her big outburst after their playtime. The killing had wound her up, and it was the perfect cooldown she needed. Of course, Biggs had to hold onto her tightly as she came over her face, gushing hard enough that Liddie squirmed as if she’d be washed away by it.
Sticky with each other’s various fluids, the bandit finally released her orgasmic death grip on Liddie. The relaxing midget emitted a tiny fart, getting her thuggish partner to toss her onto the pile of bloody blankets they used as a bed. She plopped into it with a cackle as Biggs stomped over and flopped on top of her like a blanket of flesh and muscle.
“Shut your face, little one,” Biggs growled. “Soon the sun will burn you alive.”
“Tuck us in?” Liddie chirped. Biggs responded with a headbutt from one thick skull to another. Liddie sighed contently, headbutted her back, and fell asleep with the lumbering monster of a woman on top of her.
The two jumped to their feet when the noise woke them back up. It was why Biggs slept with her boots on, and why Liddie just used her calloused little feet anyway. They tilted their heads in near unison, confirming the sound of engines nearby.
“MORE BATHTUBS FULL OF TITS!” Biggs bellowed. She snatched up a handful of random rations, stuffing them into her mouth before slamming her busted gas mask back over her face and forcing her pants back on.
“AND MORE DUBSTEP!” Liddie replied brightly as she clambered onto her partner’s back.
(Biggs and Liddie; part of the Borderlands Bootilicious Season Pass)
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