Flamingo'd: Filthy Frankx Reader

Chapter Thirty One Basic Attempts

     Looking in the mirror, you remembered you hadn't been looking in the mirror much. Which was unusual, considering how much everyone looks in the mirror. Everything looked ship-shape. IF IT WAS THE TITANIC. Nah, just kidding, you looked pretty normal. S/c complexion, E/c eyes, H/c hair sticking all over the place, little scar on your cheek, and bags under your eyes. You Lycra was covered with an array of patched up holes when you got burned by the guy over a month ago. and of course, you still had male anatomy. You were somehow okay with this. Like, yeah it felt a bit weird at times with a dick and all, but everyone still referred to you as your gender, so it was fine.

   You walked out and the bathroom to swipe the hand gun Frank had placed in his mouth. This was the third time within the last couple hours, and it was beginning to get old. You felt bad for him, i mean, you wouldn't know what to do if your dominant hand wasn't malfunctioning. But what if someone was ambidextrous? Would you have to have both hands be like that? No, that would be worse, at least with one working hand you can still do most things. Wait, it looks like Frank is having an emotional breakdown on the floor, little cock ass shplick.

      You sat down on the floor with him to get to his level. He continues to sob like a bitch, getting into your lap for comfort or something. You pet his hair, his greasy, greasy Darrell Dixon like hair. You lean down to whisper cunningly into his ear," Frank why do you keep doing this basic suicidal shit?"

     " If I were to tell you, you'd probably just laugh at me like all of those other ripe young ladies."

     " Do I look like a ripe young lady? Come on, you can tell me."

    " Alright, the thing is F/n, I... I can't masturbate without this hand working."

   You kept prolonged eye contact with Frank for about five seconds.

   " It's been five hours," you finally said.

" F/n, F/n, F/n, you have to understand," Frank explains,"with my vast experience of crippling loneliness, I have became a master of rubbing the old snake so discreetly that I could be just standing in line to buy some lean cuisine and be able to jack off with no one knowing the difference. For all you know, I could be jacking off right now."

   "But you aren't."

   "Look again."

   You look at franks crotch to see indeed, his hand is in his pants! It was like a magic trick, how discreet it was. His hand was not moving of course, but this was still impressive an impressive feat.

" So... You're just resorting to suicide?" You ask.

" Well I really have no options here."

" Couldn't you just like, rub against a pillow or something? Or try using your left hand? You could try sucking your own dick or trying to fuck yourself with it- I've seen videos of that- Frank there are many other options."

    Frank looks at you begins to smirk. Not that weird smirk that he does when he makes a perverted joke about a children's show, but that genuine smirk with teeth and everything.

" Well," he began," you could..."

" Stop right there," you interupt," and before you say anything else, yes, I will."

"Really?"

    You don't say anything. Instead you get on your knees and start. You put your lips to it and he gasps. The things you start doing with you mouth is mind blowing, but then you start using your hands, his knees get weak, waiting in anticipation. You finally finish, handing the ballon animal to him.

  "Will this thing keep you occupied?" You ask.

Frank inspects the balloon animal, dumbfounded by the quality, dumbfounded like a hippo eating a watermelon.

    "Holy fucking dick! How did you manage to make this so fast?"

You shrugged," I think my mom used to make a ton when I was really little, and I would make a few so.... Yeah..." You began to trail off, suddenly thinking about a giant milk dud.

You're pulled from your thoughts when Frank wraps his arms around your waist. You could feel he was about to say something perverted. And when I say you could feel it. I mean feel it. Against the small of your back, to be exact.