[center][b]Playing the Bongo[/b][/center]

[center]By Kaydrien Iceclaw[/center]



“Excuse me. May I ask a question?”

The frog looked up from their newspaper- the comics page, obviously; who cared about the rest of that depressing drivel- to the ungulate addressing them. He seemed to be some kind of antelope. Or possibly gazelle; the frog was no taxonomist. In either case, he was a rather pleasant shade of warm cinnamon, with a dark chocolate muzzle framed by white facial marks.

“Who’s asking?” The colorful amphibian inquired. Covered in an irregular pattern of large stripes and spots, trending more toward spots the farther from center mass they spread, red haloed in white on the otherwise black background of their slick skin, they turned in their seat.

“Sorry.” He replied a little uncertainly. “I’m Mosi.”

“Well, ask away, Mosi.” Glancing around the airy café the frog set aside the thin stack of newsprint. “I’m Charlene.”

“Oh.” Mosi’s horns hopped with the nod. “I guess I lose.”

“Lose what?”

“Phil bet you were a girl. I thought you might be a guy.” Belatedly the male blinked, ears drooping as he realized that might not have been particularly tactful. “Sorry, that, uh, you look fine and all. Very nice. Um.”

“It’s cool.” Charlene broke in before he could say something really ridiculous. She leaned sideways to look around him, taking in the cheetah by the window watching intently. “A couple weeks ago you would have won.”

The antelope’s stare was blank, uncomprehending, and frankly hilarious.

“It’s a reed frog thing.” The frog explained, suppressing laughter. Mosi looked like he had been hit in the face by an unexpected airborne trout. “So what do you lose?”

“I…” He cut himself off, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s not that I lose anything, exactly, but I guess I should ask if you want to get dinner, now.”

“Like a date?”

“Yeah. A date.”

The hoofer could have asked more tactfully, but Charlene didn’t detect any ill feeling there, just verbal clumsiness. Besides, he [i]was[/i] fairly good-looking. It could be fun.

“Sure. Where and when?”

“There’s a nice little place on 7th street?” Mosi suggested after a moment.

Charlene searched her memory. “I think I’ve seen it. The place with the chintzy striped awnings, right?”

“Yeah. See you at six?”

“Sure. Casual fine?”

“Yeah.” As if dazed by her acceptance, Mosi stood there for a moment before walking back toward his table, where a cheetah- she assumed this was Phil- was shaking with merriment. The cat waved a thumbs up in her direction.

Well, it seemed Charlene had a date. She went back to her comics.

[center]---[/center]

“So, uh.” Mosi rubbed at his arm self-consciously. “Earlier you said something about being a girl being a reed frog thing?”

“Yep.” Charlene (formerly Charlie) glanced over the menu inquisitively. Lots of things looked good here. Maybe something in seafood. “We can change sex. Pretty easily compared to most.”

“Really? How does that work?” 

“It’ll happen all on its own if we hang around a bunch of other frogs and the girl to guy ratio is pretty heavy either way.” The pasta looked pretty good too. Decisions, decisions. “It doesn’t come up very much nowadays. But it’s pretty easy to do with a few hormone shots.”

“Oh.” Mosi looked over his own menu, plainly distracted by the thought. “So why did you switch?”

“Nothing dramatic. I just felt like a change.”

“Just like that?” She almost laughed at the incredulous look he shot her way.

“I did say it was pretty easy.” She shrugged off a few unspoken reasons, content that they were her own business. “I got really bad mood swings for about a week though while everything shook itself out, though.”

“Wow. That must be so weird to be able to just do that.”

“Meh.” Charlene flicked that aside with a wave of her hand. “I can always change it back later if I think being a lady isn’t working out. So what about you?”

“What do you mean? Bongos don’t change… um.”

The frog across from him was quietly, and then not so quietly, and then somewhat loudly, losing her shit.

“I’m sorry, [i]what?[/i]” She squeaked out between gales of croaking laughter. 

“What?”

This did not help her at all.

“You’re a, a-“

He blushed hard enough to show through the white patches of his facial markings, lips twitching taut. “I’m a lowland bongo.”

“I thought- I thought- Sorry, just… I need a moment.” Aware that she was starting to draw attention from other tables, Charlene tried to focus on deep breaths, swallowing down laughter. Which caused her throat to bulge out. 

On the bright side, that almost got Mosi chuckling, which very nearly sent her tumbling back into her giggle fit. She barely maintained control, forcing it back with whatever she could thing of. [i]Funerals. Taxes. Running out of pizza rolls.[/i]

Okay. That was a little better.

“Okay. O-kay. I think I got it out of my system.” She pressed a webbed hand to her chest, flowery blouse between ribcage and palm. She frowned down at the garment momentarily. The thing was a little too much like a Hawaiian shirt to her, and she wasn’t sure a pattern worked well on her already complicated skin tones… That was a problem for later though. At least the thought helped her keep a straight face. “Isn’t that a kind of drum?”

“It’s that too.” Mosi grudgingly agreed. “We don’t change genders. Any easier than most people, anyway.”

“Um…” The amphibian retraced the conversation backward. “I meant more what made you and your friend bet about me in the first place? Seems like there must be a story there.”

“Oh.” A tinge of pink burned through his fur again and he busied himself with his menu. “He was teasing me about being gay. I’m not- I mean, I’m bi, but he keeps saying that I’m really gay and I only go out with guys or something. It’s stupid but he’s the kinda dude who doesn’t let up.”

“I think I know the type.”

“I mean he’s not a bad person and heck knows he’s about as straight as a pretzel himself, but-“

“Like I said, I think I know the type. Real joker, rags everybody about everything without meaning anything by it, huh?” Mosi nodded back at her. “So how’d that end with you coming over to talk to me?”

“He was saying I should play the other side of the field more because ‘I’m missing out on half the cuties’ and used you as an example.”

“He did, huh?” Sipping at her icewater the frog mused, “Maybe he should have asked me himself if he thought so.”

“I shoulda thought of saying that.” Mosi agreed. “But anyway, I said I was pretty sure you were a guy. Then he said-“ Mosi inhaled and parroted the cat melodramatically. “’No way, I bet you she’s a girl. Dare you to go over and ask, and if she is, you have to ask her out or forever confess to being totally gaaaaaaaaaay.’”

The last word was drawn out in flamboyant bathos, and Charlene decided it would probably be fun to meet Phil sometime. He sounded like a heck of a comedian.

“And what if I was a guy?”

“I was going to demand he wear a wig and a dress on his next date.” The bongo grinned back at her giggles. “And take photos.”

“Would he have done that?”

“Oh heck yes. He’d probably go the whole nine yards and put on hideous makeup too. He’s a good sport.”

“You’ll have to introduce me. He sounds like a hoot.”

He nodded. “Yeah but he can get under your skin if you’re stuck with him alone for too long.”

“Hello I’m Sam I’ll be your waiter today may I take your orders?” It was the bored mantra of someone who is nearing the end of their shift and has put up with far too much already, coming from the mouth of a tired-looking woodchuck.

“The shrimp carbonara sounds good.” Charlene said. She belatedly realized it would have been polite to ask if Mosi was read, but evidently needn’t have worried because he answered immediately after.

“I’d like the herb ravioli.”

“One shrimp carbonara and one herb ravioli. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“I’m fine with just water.” Mosi handed over his menu, glancing over to Charlene who just shook her head. “We’re good.”

The waiter said some words to the effect that the food would be ready soon-ish. As usual this was a formality that made no particular impact on anyone involved. The waiter walked off to wherever waiters go and Mosi tried to pick the conversation back up again.

“So, uhm.” The antelope cast about for the lost flow. “Tell me about yourself.

“I’m boring.” She said, deadpan.

“I’m sure you’re not. What do you like to do?”

“…Bonsai.” The frog mock-grudgingly admitted. Mosi didn’t display any signs of comprehension, so she added a bit more. “The little decorative trees? From Japan?”

“Ohhhh. I’ve seen those.” Nodding his understanding he cajoled further. “Is it hard to keep them that small?”

“Not very. But they’re really fussy plants. They need just the right soil and moisture and have to be repotted every few years.” Finding that the bongo across from her actually appeared to be paying attention, she relaxed. “I’m taking care of six right now.”

“See, that’s interesting.”

“I also like to read old western novels.” She added. “They’re kind of cliché nowadays but I guess the plot twists would have been really surprising back when. So what about you?”

Mosi had his answers ready. “I like classic films. Obscure stuff, mostly. Old monster movies.”

“Sounds fun…?” Charlene tried.

“Most of them are pretty terrible movies.” Mosi admitted. “But there are some good films, and it’s fun to laugh at the really bad ones. I like to see the crazy costumes they come up with.”

The frog took a sip of her icewater, mulling that over. “That [i]does[/i] sound kind of fun when you put it like that. Maybe you can point me towards some of the good ones later?”

“I can do that. I also play golf, I guess. I’m not very good at it though.” 

“And you like guys too.” She teased. “Are you good at that?”

Sideswiped by the sudden change in conversational direction, he blinked nonplussed at the frog grinning impishly at him.

“…I think so?” Mosi said slowly. “I wasn’t going to bring it up on a date with a lady though.”

“How does that feel, anyway?” Charlene skipped over mentioning that she might be an edge case on that point. “Being out here with me, I mean. Since I think you said you mostly went out with guys.”

“I said Phil said that.” He corrected. “But yeah, I guess it has been a little while.”

He fell silent, thinking it over.

“It does feel a little strange.” Mosi realized too late that might be insulting. “[i]Different.[/i] I meant different. Sorry, I’m making this weird.”

“No, don’t apologize. [i]I’m[/i] the one making it weird.” The tip of her tongue peaked out from the edge of her wide mouth, and she moved it pointedly over her lips to the other side in a lascivious motion. “And I plan to make it even weirder. Tell me: How do you feel about doing stuff in public?”

He goggled at her, taking long enough to decode her question that she was sure he hadn’t thought of it before.

“Stuff? Like…”

“Like… intimate stuff.” She hummed, eyes gliding around the busy eatery. People were all around them, in the various stages of dinner.

“I don’t… um…” He followed her gaze, gulping apprehension. “This is kind of sudden.”

“Maybe I’m still having a few of those mood swings” Charlene said. She did not sound at all apologetic. “Does something like that sound fun?”

“…Yes?” He answered uncertainly. Almost immediately he started backtracking. “I don’t want to get caught.” 

“Then don’t get caught.” The merciless stare was doing things to Mosi’s insides. “Dare you to unzip. Scooch up to the table so you’re covered by the tablecloth.”

His head swiveled nervously around for anyone that might be watching. Momentarily Charlene wondered if she might have pushed a little too hard, before he took hold of his chair to scooch forward until the table edge looked to be digging into his ribs. 

It was a shame she couldn’t hear the zipper opening, but the look on his face was almost as good.

“Good start, Mosi. Now, hands on top of the table.”

“Why…?”

“I could tell you.” She winked at the flustered bongo, all too happy to be pressing her luck. “But I think we could both have more fun if I just showed you instead.”

Hesitantly, he obeyed.

Under the table she extended one long leg, flicking the tablecloth up and over his lap so she could have one fewer layer between her toes and him, and-

Well well well. One fewer layer meant no layers at all, where his pants opened up in the middle.

“Oooh, commando. You are a fun boy, aren’t you? [i]No-[/i]“ Charlene said the last word sharply, heading off the movement in his shoulders before it could get going. “Keep the hands where they are, cutie.”

“What are you doing?” His voice came out uneven with uncertainty. Charlene’s naked foot had planted itself at his crotch, and she was dexterously pulling the zippered-open pants aside as much as they could conveniently go. 

“Showing you something fun.” Her middle toe brushed across a surface covered in neither fur nor fabric, and she smiled brightly. “Seems like you were excited already.”

“I, uh.” Mosi winced, as the big slimy toe traced down the front of his half-hardness until it rested against his sheath. Charlene held it there for a breath, then pressed down at the fuzzy tube, a pressure that coaxed more of the narrow penis out from hiding.

“Just relax and let me take care of things.” She cooed, running a finger around the rim of her water glass. 

He nodded, perhaps not trusting himself to answer. Sharlene’s long amphibian foot traveled further downward, two toes patting gently at the bongo’s family jewels. Watching Mosi’s eyes glaze over, she knew she had him.

“So, how about I ask again. How does this compare with the guy’s you’ve been out with before?”

Blinking his way back to alertness, he took a moment to process the question. “I, well… None of them did anything like this.”

“Like what?” Charlene asked mock-innocently. Her date was looking around at the other restaurant guests again, such a worry wart. Then again she should probably be a little more cautious herself… Nah. This was way too much fun. She straightened her knee a little farther to press her webbed sole against the front of his balls and rubbed softly upward against the front of his fully extended erection.

“Like, I don’t know what you call it. With the… the feet?” He was having to work to keep his voice steady. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“I’m getting to do bongo-boy’s first footjob? How sweet.” Reaching his top she rested her middle toe on that narrow tip, and swirled the hard rod in little circles until the natural moistness of her skin made her lose purchase and it slipped out from under. “What have you done with the other boys, then?”

“Um… Um.” Mosi’s eye contact was faltering, with the effort to remember the past coming into conflict with desire to focus entirely on the present. “Just… guy stuff.”

“Details, cutie. No need to keep ‘guy stuff’ a secret from [i]me.[/i]”

“R-right. Because, ah…” She nodded him past the obvious point that she’d been one. It might take him far too long to explicate it, what with how she was pressing his length. She had that narrow antelope penis pinned between her self-lubricating slimy sole and his abdomen- with a few layers of wadded tablecloth and rapidly-wrinkling shirt sandwiched behind his dick, too, but who cared- steadily rubbing the bottom of her foot up and down the sensitive length. “Right. I’ve done… mouth stuff?”

If he was concerned about being overheard, Charlene didn’t share the worry. This place had absolutely terrible acoustics; as long as he didn’t yell, their conversation subject would never be noticed in among everyone else’s chatter. 

“Only oral sex? Don’t you get bored?”

“No. I’ve… I’ve taken it up the butt, too. And handjobs, and… anything with dicks, really.”

“I bet not everything.” Charlene had a wonderful view of the male turning into an incoherent mess across from her, and she was loving it. “Not what I’m doing to you right now, for example. I never had one, though.”

“Never had… what?”

Mosi might just be a keeper. As worked up as this and still showing interest in what she had to say. Putting up a real fight to hold up his side of the conversation like a champ.

“Oh, a penis. I’ve never had one.”

“What?” [i]That[/i] got his attention. Charlene decided that was a real shame and sped up the stroking to split his focus like it ought to be.

“Amphibian thing. And most birds. You must go out mostly with other mammals.” She got a little nod back at her to confirm her supposition. “We just… let go. Onto each other, or into a pool. Scissoring. A downstairs kiss, for the birds. It can be very sensual.”

Mosi looked like he was thinking that over very hard. Something certainly had him distracted at any rate. Naturally, she just had to pour even more naughty thoughts into his head to keep him company.

“Don’t you worry, though.” She purred. Not a feline purr, but a husky low croak of sensuality. “There’s plenty I can do. I’ve put in a little practice so I can take something into my cloaca. And if you want to talk about the other way around, I’ve got those big slippery froggy toes I can slip right inside.”

She caught the motion because she was looking for it. His hands’ start backward was aborted by grabbing them with her own.



“Ah ah ah. Hands.” She tsked. From the outside it would look like they were just holding hands passionately. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think you were touching yourself down there.”

That hit home, reminding the ungulate that they were in a crowded restaurant. No doubt from the guilty look on his face he truly had been about to lose his self control, grab his cock and start stroking like a man possessed. Or grab her foot to stroke off with. She might revisit that idea with him later.

“How about I remove the temptation, hmmm?”

Charlene’s sole pulled away from Mosi’s erection, and the pleading look on his face would have been heartbreaking, if she had any intention of so depriving the male.

Adjusting her angle, the frog went in for the kill. Her middlemost toes caught the slim erection between them, and she started stroking again. With sides pressed between her phalanges and edge of her webbing pressing into the sensitive front of his flesh she stroked fast and hard.

Mosi panted, making strangled murmurs of overstimulated pleasure as she worked him with her foot. That froggy extremity was sensitive as well as dexterous; Charlene felt the pulsing twitches of the bongo-cock just as they were beginning. She leaned back in her chair, the other foot moving outward.

As he came her left foot closed over the top of his erection to catch the first spurt of cum. His tip, caught in the translucent thinness of her webbing, painted it white with wild abandon. The jizz hit with enough force to balloon that membrane out, half of it sticking to the bottom of her foot and the rest falling down off it to splatter against the bridge of the other foot with which she was still jacking his pole.

“AAAAaaAAAAH!”

Caught in the midst of one of the better orgasms of his life, Mosi took a moment to realize that he had made a noise. A rather [i]emphatic[/i] noise.

Once he did, the rest of the endorphin-fog cleared much, much faster.

Everyone seemed to be looking at him. Everyone seemed to be, because just about everyone was looking at their table.

Imminent demise makes for some of the fastest thinking anyone will ever do, and luckily for Mosi, survival instincts are bad at telling actually-about-to-be-ripped-apart death from metaphorical, social, death.

“…Ah. Hah. Hahahahaha.” Mosi choked out the laugh. “That, uh, that’s really funny.”

With a gleam in her eye and an unwholesomely satisfied expression, Charlene joined in on the ramshackle charade immediately. “It’s a true story, I swear.”

“Really… really incredible. Hahaha.”

In twos and threes, gazes dropped away from their table in the middle of the room and conversations restarted. Not nearly fast enough to suit Mosi, whose heart felt like it would pound out of his chest at any moment, but it was. He had a sick conviction that no one really bought his impromptu act, only thought it was too awkward to call him on it.

“Hah. Ahah. Hah.” The bongo buried his face in his hands, riding out the edge of hysteria. “That was crazy.”

“Oh, but it was so much fun. Nice thinking, by the way. For a moment I thought we might get thrown out.”

“Oh god.” Mosi didn’t think Charlene, whose feet were delicately leaving his messy crotch, sounded nearly distressed enough at that idea.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like it.” The frog teased, unfolding her napkin. She crossed her legs in the chair, wiping Mosi’s cum off of her feet luxuriantly. “The chance of getting caught is part of the fun. Like, imagine if this tablecloth weren’t here, and everyone could see you while you covered my feet in your jizz.”

Mosi groaned, finding he was imagining that all too vividly. And worse. Stiffening back up so hard that he could feel it.

“Shrimp carbonara for the lady, and herb ravioli for the gentleman.” 

Mosi started back upright with a jerk, in time for his order to slide into place in front of him. 

“Will there be anything else?” The same woodchuck, still playing his internal script on automatic.

“I could use another napkin. I had a little spill on this one.” Charlene said sweetly, holding out the wadded up… cummy…

Mosi watched in horror as the waiter accepted the napkin, and paused. The eyes widened, looking slightly less bored, and flicked to Charlene, then over at Mosi. Who realized that, in sitting back up so abruptly, certain pieces of his anatomy had come free of the tablecloth.

Without thinking, he pulled his own napkin over his lap, shoving it into place with enough roughness that he expelled a little cry of self-inflicted discomfort. His heart just about exploded, his blush probably visible from orbit.

“A… new napkin for the lady, yes.” The woodchuck nodded. One could almost see the gears in his head turning into a new configuration labeled ‘not my problem’. “I will be right back.”

As the waiter walked away, Charlene giggled at the sight of Mosi gasping in air to match his heart rate.

“Oh, you’re fun.” She complimented him, picking up her fork.



[center]The End[/center]