# Reeda And Stella Chapter 1

Reeda And Stella
Chapter 1 - Her and Her Circumstances
​
A familiar pink velociraptor shuffled through the halls of Volcano High slower than usual,lately. From her vibrant pink scales and wild mane to her tattered, loosely fit clothing -- jeans with holes torn from every over-extension of her lean, but sizable hips and the sleeveless, side-less remains of an old Warped Tour t-shirt (back when that stuff actually mattered) -- one would expect a laid-back attitude with glimmers of perceptiveness used to wash over sorrows with absurdist gags and dude-isms.
​
You could tell her she practically wore a loin-cloth over her modest chest, and that it didn’t even do its job well, and this pink raptor in question, Reeda, would just tell you to keep your eyes peeled, and guarantee there’s better things to spot.
​
For the past few weeks, all that’s gone through the wringer.
​
Reeda quit carfentanyl, which meant giving up hordes of associates and a potential vocation.
​
She was tired of sleepless nights from waiting for highs to burn out, tired of the contradictions of tranquilizers getting her giddy and uppers wearing her down. She was tired of sharing boofs with strangers, buyers, and the aforementioned ‘friends’ who now blew up her phone with temptations or demands of her services:
“dude what am i supposed to do without your jurassic park slamdown?”
“the city’s stuck with schwag and mids without you.”
“r u fuckin with me on purpos?”
“twiggy bitch”
​
With a decisive clacking of her manicured claw, she blocked yet another number.
​
“Hey, Reeda,” Fang’s confident, velvety voice broke through her mental fog.
​
“Whassup?” she replied, taking Fang’s hand and using her tail like a carjack to peel herself off the auditorium bleachers.
She tried to grin in her token glowing, carefree way, but it didn’t come out right.
​
Her friend’s palm was the only warmth she felt in ages. It momentarily distracted her from the stark chill of the real world she had to face: no carfe, no schmoozing her way into rides and couches to crash on, and worst of all, no pockets full of cash.
​
“You still feel-?” Fang started.
“Useless. Kinda. Yeah…” Reeda replied.
“Trish should’t’ve said that crap. It’s like she expected the venue to pay for itself, or you to pay for us.”
​
Noticing the pink raptor hanging from her grip, she bided her next words, but it was hard to gauge Reeda’s expression. Even with her bandanna on, a mound of downy feather-hair hung over her face, revealing nothing but the spiny crags of cowlicks. Where were her enviable, voluminous lashes and glowing aquamarine gaze complete with the ‘naturally’ dark eyelids a past-time in carfe gets y-?
​
Oh right, the carfe…
​
“No one thought a bunch of stoners would boycott you. If anything, we should worry they’re a big enough part of our fanbase to dent ticket sales.” Fang said, grumbling the last bit.
​
“It’s cool.” Reeda said numbly. “I-”
​
Her words caught in her throat. She felt for them with rolls of her tongue, and if she could tongue her brain she’d look there too, but only uncool, un-chill things came to mind:
‘It’s like the world wants me to be high forever.’
‘How am I supposed to quit when I get all this cool shit?’
‘I’m a dopey idiot. I should buy clown shoes and wear them over my snout…’
‘I had it so easy before, but it wasn’t easy. It hurt. I’m tired of neurotic losers talking sideways at everyone and everything. You skip out on a single favor and they say you’re insane and broken, and they’ll recall every contradiction you’ve made and blow it out of proportion, all with a confused smile.
‘I was scared at any time they’d take more sleeping pics. They hid all their blankets in the crawlspace, so I smoked four bowls just to stay warm for the night. Their cameras flashed and I was sprawled across the couch like a doll.’
​
She wanted to say any of these things, but an uneasy beating in her chest told her it wouldn’t matter, that most saurs, especially Fang, had enough to deal with. Any complaints would only bum her out, and for what? Feelings ebb and flow, inner bro.
You’d feel fine or shitty eventually, so why talk about it?
​
Reeda pounced at Fang and hugged her tight.
​
“Wh-woah! Easy!” the white ptero flared her wings to dampen the knock back, saving them from tumbling over a row of benches and down an ample flight more.
​
Reeda buried herself at the side of Fang’s smooth neck. Her massive feather duster of a tail worked around her waist. Fang reciprocated by wrapping her wings around the both of them, enveloping her dreary friend in downy white.
​
“You almost killed us, you dweeb. You’re-”
‘-usually good at not tripping up,’ was what she nearly said, but it’d be the last thing Reeda’d want to hear, in any context.
“Take some time off the band.” she cooed in a way that melted the pink raptor’s heart. “I’ll take care of Trish,” she added, although dreading the prospect.
“I-I’ll still get some lyrics out. If that’s okay.” Reeda’s voice trembled.
​
--
​
Reeda took things easy, as her frontliner ordered. She’d spend her free time wandering around, as if getting reacquainted with her body, until she found herself attending gardening club after school.
​
Maybe it was something to do with the sun, or the smooth-but-stern melody of Rosa’s voice, but she worked the earth with her hands.
​
It was hypnotic.
​
Damp, black potting soil and bits of perlite trickled over fresh seedlings, and loud arrangements of roses and azaleas and even ‘filler plants’ (Rosa’s words) like morning glories overloaded her eyes with sensuality until they watered.
​
She rocked the apron-and-gloves combo, too, or so she thought.
​
A quiet, dainty voice suddenly lapped her ears like a soft wave at the beachfront, “Reeda. Hey. I didn’t know you helped the garden too?”
​
The former stonersaurus plucked her head from the clouds long enough to take notice of the lime stego before her. It was Stella, of course.
​
From her squatting position, she couldn’t help but eye up her soft features: that wide, curved snout… or the way her indoor-lifestyle blessed her with a waist that burgeoned into supple legs and a caboose sturdy enough to support a behemoth of a tail.
​
“Are you busy?” Stella asked, this time more nervously.
​
Reeda snapped to attention, for real this time, after noticing how those bare legs grinded together squeamishly.
​
“Sorry, bro!” Reeda chuckled. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”
​
“I can tell.” Stella said softly. “You planted the seedlings upside down.”
​
Fuck fuck fuck!
​
Reed’s brain flooded with panic. Against all urges to stay willfully ignorant, she looked down.
​
Any sign of stems and leaves were smothered, non-existent.
​
So much for her lengthy self-education in botany.
​
The stego kneeled right next to Reeda, both hurrying to salvage the crop before a certain latina longsword descended on them.
​
--
​
Stella claimed this situation paralleled perfectly with a metaphor in one of the animes she watched all the time.
​
Reeda was thankful they recovered the seedlings and stayed partnered for the afternoon. She did her best to listen respectfully, but found herself drifting.
​
She felt guilty for not knowing Stella too well, but she didn’t exactly mesh with the saurs near skin row… But those were old stomping grounds now.
​
As Stella talked about kids piloting their mothers and thermal expansion, or something, Reeda decided there was a playful exuberance to her, the way she seemed polite and sensitive, but was passionate about what she enjoyed.
​
“I remember when the entire cast bounced their naked bodies toward the screen -- a PoV shot, of course -- and told him to be one with them. My grandma walked in and I got grounded for-.”
​
Relentlessly passionate.
--
​
After Reeda mentioned she used to watch OVAs with a couch surfer a while back, Stella seemed keen to have her over.
​
“It’s just me and my grandma. It’d be really nice to have you visit. I’d love to show you some of my collection. It’d only take a weekend.”
​
Sweet Raptor Jesus. That tenderness. Reeda thought.
Stella was so primed to express herself, but did anyone really take her up on it? No. Not even Anon, and that guy was chill to everything, even with those anxious scruples wriggling inside him.
​
Reeda wondered how often she was there for her friends. She used to think she knew the whole town, but that went out with the carfe habit.
​
And even with how sweetly Fang treated her, Reeda was still shocked when hearing about her preening issue on the school roof.
​
It rattled her to think she missed so much, but a five-speed manual transmission packed into a fatass brick van, her astro, didn’t care for emotional issues.
​
And mid-town traffic got vicious this time of day.
​
“Ah. Um. Turn left.” Stella peeped, and braced her feet against the door frame to survive Reeda’s power steer through a five-way intersection.
​
When the van rocked back onto all four wheels, Stella whimpered as she landed right onto Reeda’s smooth, but firm lap. The e-brake stood like a pungee, just inches away from her face.
​
“Awh man. Sorry about the broken seatbelt. I dunno who used it to practice sailor knots. It’s a bummer no one told me before.”
​
“I- I meant to say right.” Stella gurgled as if she’d melt from fear at any moment.
​
--
​
Soft blue floral print lined the walls of Stella’s apartment. It was a real oldie-dominated place, Reeda thought, given the constant machine-clicks of several grandfather clocks and shelves lined with ceramic toy figures.
​
“Their eyes are following us,” Reeda said and snickered, but Stella silenced her with a soft touch on her speartip of a snout.
​
“Shhh. Wait ‘til we get to my room.” Stella whispered.
​
Reeda wondered what she got herself into. Would this weekend suck? Would she have to help change bedpans and be in bed before eight?
​
The raptor’s opinion one-eightied once they entered Stella’s room. Call it hypocrisy: the decor was still as homely as a haunted mansion in the countryside and toys still lined the walls…
​
But these toys were giants robots and naked women.
​
This was objectively much cooler.
​
Stella’s den was shut-in certified. A backup stock of cookies and tea were in arm’s distance at all times.
​
Reeda enjoyed a soggy mix of both, her legs kicking lazily as they hang off the stego’s bed.
Stella’s fingers danced across DVD cases as she parsed through her collection. She paused for a moment and tapped the choker at her neck. Then, she quickly turned to her carnivorous companion.
​
Their eyes, both aquamarine, locked to each other.
​
Without breaking her gaze, she plucked a random case.
​
“Putting faith in fate, huh?” Reeda chuckled, but her expression straightened as Stella tossed the case to her.
​
“FLCL?”
​
Stella placed the DVD into an old gaming console planted herself tentatively beside her visitor.
​
“I’m not sure if you’ll actually like this one. It’s really relatable, but also surreal and pretty entrenched in the studio’s production culture.”
​
Reeda blinked. “Bro, I’m fine with anything. If you don’t feel right we can just change the watchies. No biggie.”
​
Stella’s face softened again. Her worries seem to fade.
​
--
​
Reeda’s brain buzzed with electricity by the time the pop rock and live-action credits played. The show was short, but powerful, frenetic, and more visually arresting than most things she’d ever seen. There was a universal sense of playful expertise as key animators inserted their own flairs into each scene.
She couldn’t help but grasp at as many details as she could, listing them aloud before they drifted away just for the consolidation of sharing an experience with someone else.
​
Stella nodded knowingly, beaming with pride. Frankly, she was surprised Reeda even knew what key animation was. Then again, the woman was school whiz, and she always tended to smelly plants in the chem lab, so she had to be a polymath of some kind.
​
Still, she had to seal the deal. She needed a read on Reeda.
​
“Who’s your favorite girl?”
​
“Minamori.” Reeda replied without hesitation.
​
“A very theatric choice. I’m glad to hear it.” Stella meeped and clapped softly.
​
“How about you?” Reeda asked coyly, but before Stella could provide a long, articulate reply about the struggles of Mamimi, something rested against her shoulder.
​
A giant pink pom pom?!
Wait! No! That’s Reeda’s head, and it’s draping across my shoulder! Stella screamed internally.
​
The pink, street-weathered stoner’s snout gently opened and let out a contented sigh. Her eyes glimmered in the soft overhead light as they glanced up to the now fidgeting Stella, who’s sharp, calculating inner-voice was clamming up just like in real life.
​
“Y-you’re so cute.” she squeaked so quietly Reeda could just barely hear.
​
But she did hear, and her dark eyelids sunk into a half-open ‘gotcha’.
​
Stella’s tail hammered against the bed with the grace of a sledgehammer, and her spines nearly tore the upholstery until Reed’s own coiled around hers and held it down tenderly.
The avocado anime aficionado sat dumbfounded by the flood of feelings. She sat there, spaced out, while Reeda’s face nearly flushed purple.
It was taking all her strength to suppress Stella’s destructive emotional energy.
​
“G-gaawd! Okay. I give. You win the tail-wrestling trophy.” Reeda wheezed.
Stella’s heart pounded in her chest so hard each bump jostled the creases of her t-shirt.
​
It was her first time having a friend over who actually wanted to watch anime. She knew there was something special about this. Something very, very special.
​
She couldn’t let it go to waste.
​
All she had to do was move.
​
Their bodies collided like a lightning strike. Their chests cushioned their impact as Stella pounced Reeda easily, her superior weight and lower center of gravity pinning the raptor to the bed.
​
“H-hey. Easy now.” Reeda squawked in protest at first, but once Stella knowingly planted her wide, well cushioned rump across her belly and lap she quickly reconsidered.
​
“Oooh~. That’s the stuff.”
​
“I-I saw the way you were staring at me back there. I um. I didn’t think you’d be into me. You seem so cool, and I’m, well… like an isekai protagonist.” Stella said.
​
“A what?” Reeda replied between forced breaths, baring the weight of her well-endowed friend. “You’re really cool, bro. I didn’t put in the effort before, but I-” she decided to say it before this -- whether a friendship or an extremely nerdy fling -- go any further, “I quit the carfe. I’m cleaning up. I- I’ve been going through a lot lately. And, I feel really uncool for not being there. My head’s been giving me a lot of trouble. It almost feels like I can’t trust my own feelings, and it’d shbe schill ifsh!-”
​
Reeda’s cheeks smeared together until her lips pursed. Her voice muffled between two massive, silky soft logs Stella called thighs.
​
The weeb looked down at Reeda with an innocent smile as she gently squeezed her legs, smothering the raptor in hot, meaty darkness. She practically milked the moan right out of her chair-friend’s mouth with the gentlest shift of weight and occasional clench.
​
Despite being completely interrupted and nearly suffocated, Reeda loved every second of her treatment. She could taste the sweat and heat of the stego flossing themselves in her mouth and nose. The best part was the completely innocent way she was getting dominated. Her entire body went hot as her trembling legs wrapped themselves around the circumference of Stella’s tail, so frisky she had to touch something with everything she could.
​
Reeda’s muffled moans filled the room until her tail thumped against the bed, a sign Stella correctly interpreted as a breathing warning.
​
Stella, expressionless aside from her innocent, sweet smile got off her raptorian chair. She only huffed with lust after she saw the beet-red, trembling body of her new anime explorer pal sprawled across the bed, immobilized and twitching. Stars swam in her eyes, and as she gasped her breasts swayed with reckless abandon.
​
Her nipples poked through her shirt like diamond cutters.
​
“R-right on. Thanks for the rapport, bro,” Reeda wheezed before she fainted. Her hand fell off the bed and bumped another dvd off the shelf:
Stella read it, then planted her knuckles at her chin like a jazz-club enthusiast and nodded sagely.
“Huh. Texhnolyze. Interesting choice. You ready for twenty-two episodes of cyberpunk existential dread?”
Reeda grumbled. A trail of spittle trailed off her open-mouthed, satisfied face.
​
She managed a weak thumbs-up.