⚠mentions of self harm⚠
This whole chapter was deleted on accident. I'm so glad I got it back. Anyways enjoyyyyy.
~A.King
Quackity scribbled on a piece of paper. It was something about Las Nevada's..... Well, he had no clue. He was horny as fuck and he knew why. It was getting close that time of the month for him, which means for the next two or so days he's going to be more horny than a bitch in heat.
Now, he has the option to take testosterone and likely end his period, but he doesn't like the thought of stabbing himself everyday. In fact, he's very happy with his body as it currently is.
He loves his curves and most of his feminine features, he likes his voice because he can make it masculine or feminine without outside help, and he'd say the only thing he doesn't like is the fact that he was born with boobs. He's gotten top surgery, though, so he's happy now.
And the only people that know he's trans are Schlatt, Sapnap, Karl, and the doctors who did his surgery. And he plans to keep it that way because despite being happy with himself as he is, he blames his body for everything that happened. His inability to be "manly" enough is why Schlatt abused him. His lack of ability to please Sapnap is why he chose Karl. And his inability to be as strong and protective as Sapnap (because his build isn't made for body building and athleticism) is why Karl forgot him. That's what he tells himself, and so he's damaged his beautiful body because of it.
There was a knock at the door and Quackity got up, stretching with a yawn. He's wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants because he hasn't left his penthouse yet, and honestly he doesn't want to.
He opens the door expecting to see a goopy green mess standing in front of him, but instead he sees sandy, nasty looking combat boots. He looks up to see pants in a similar condition, and looks even further up to see a what he thinks should be yellow sweater with an almost black trench coat. Then proceeds to move his eyes up again and sees a very punchable face.
"Hello, Quackity!" Wilbur smiles adorably, and suddenly Quackity doesn't want to punch him anymore.
He forces back a smile. "What do you want?"
"To visit you, of course," Wilbur pushes past him, dully taking note of something he thought he saw on Quackity's arm, but he didn't think he should push.
Quackity shut the door and followed Wilbur. They stopped in the kitchen where the taller started making himself and Quackity sandwiches, and Quackity sat on the counter and watched.
"You don't look like you've eaten in weeks," Wilbur commented; Quackity remained quiet, and Wilbur was confident he knew why.
"Quackity," Wilbur paused his sandwhich making and stood in front of the duck, "I'm not going to make you eat, and I'm not going to ask you why you haven't. And don't you dare feel obligated to tell me, it's none of my business, but I am going to make you a sandwhich, and I want you to eat it. But don't feel bad if you can't."
Quackity stared at him a moment before nodding. He thought this was very out of character for Wilbur, but he wasn't about to complain. In all honesty, he's been too depressed to even really get out of bed this week. The only thing that made him move today was because laying in bed made him focus on the fact that he was horny. So, logically, he got up and threw himself into paperwork he was too depressed to do.
Wilbur finished making the sandwiches and handed one to Quackity. "If you don't eat it, or can't finish it, I promise I won't get mad."
Quackity nodded and took a bite. He didn't realize how hungry he was until that point, but he wasn't about to scarf down the sandwich either. He ate slowly and smiled at Wilbur when he finished.
