Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8171621.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      backstory_Cronus_Ampora/Eridan_Ampora, Cronus_Ampora/Male_Original
      Characters
  Character:
      Cronus_Ampora, Original_Character(s)_-_Character
  Additional Tags:
      Humanstuck, LITERALLY, Species_Swap, Alternate_Universe_-_1950s, Time
      Travel, Greasers, Gang_Rape, Anal_Sex, Oral_Sex, Vomiting, homophobic
      violence, Beating, Bondage, possibly_underage_characters_having_sex,
      mentioned_amporacest, Dead_Dove:_Do_Not_Eat, Public_Humiliation
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-09-30 Words: 8061
****** Cruisin' for a Bruisin' ******
by FailureArtist
Summary
     Cronus said he wished he was in the 1950s. Unfortunately, he got his
     insincere wish.
Notes
     Note the Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. This is not a pleasant story. Along
     with the overwhelming homophobia, there is a small moment of anti-
     Semitism. Cronus also thinks the r-word in his
     There are historical inaccuracies. For one, people in 1956 wouldn't
     use Greaser as a word for a distinct subculture instead of just a
     slang term for a guy with greasy hair.
See the end of the work for more notes
Cronus Ampora wakes up to find himself completely human. He lays on a sleeping
platform in only a pair of blue-and-black-stripped boxer briefs and a thin
white tank top. His grey skin is now a sickly pink color. His sharp orange-
yellow nails are now a pinkish-purple color with blunt white tips. His tongue
feels his mouth and find the sharp teeth are fairly blunt. His head is lighter
so he rubs his scalp and finds the lightning-shaped horns he was so proud of
are gone. He lifts the tank top to find his chest is much different. In the
middle of his chest are two pinkish-brown nubs. There is a mysterious indent in
the middle of his stomach. Meanwhile, the sides of his torso are completely
free of stubs. The nubs don't feel half bad to the touch, not to dissimilar to
legstubs. He doesn't want to touch the indent, lest something leak out. His
boxers are still firmly on but he doesn't feel he could handle looking at his
crotch at the moment.
He turns his attention to his new respiteblock, in hopes that would make him
less likely to freak out than whatever is in his boxers. Underneath him, the
sleeping platform is very nice even though it is weird to see furniture made of
trees. He is glad humans didn't have recupercoons like the poor unfortunate
Alternians did, since he didn't think he'd be able to wake up slimy. Instead,
he is on soft light blue sheets. The block is lit by the light coming through
the long windows above his bed. There's probably a lamp somewhere but the
windows are fine for now. He gets up onto his new human feet. There are lots of
clothes in the way but the floors are tree-made like the furniture and in the
middle is a circular rug made of some rough fiber. He is satisfied with the
size of the respiteblock. The walls are entirely covered in posters of humans
and their cars. There is a large desk in one corner, though it seemed less a
workspace and more a storage area. Above the desk are shelves crowded with
paperbacks, magazines, and model cars. In another corner is an impressive glass
tower that's filled with electronics that though primitive to a troll are
probably state-of-the-art for a human. Beside it are two crates of full of
cardboard sleeves. He opens up one with a scantily-clad human woman on it and
finds a large black disk. Trolls used to have something similar for recording
music but he doesn't feel like figuring out then how to play it, so he puts it
back. The largest piece of furniture is a vanity with a mounted disk on it. He
finds this disk pointless until he rotates it and finds a mirror. His human
face is at first completely alien to him until he recognizes the trademark
Ampora good looks that transfered from his previous form to this one. His
forehead scars are still there, still looking so unlike normal scars as to
suggest magic, though magic is fake. He smiles, revealing blunt teeth that make
him want to close his mouth again. His tousled hair is just a black as it was
before and he's grateful because despite the fascinating colors human hair
comes in, he'll always think black is the most fashionable. His eyes are a
shade of blue he approves of, though he could do without the whites. His eyes
are torn from his sexy image to a sexy calender image of a human female. He
looks at it to see it is displaying the page "September". He takes the entire
thing off the wall to see it's for the number 1956. He figures this translates
into some time in the human epoch called "The 50s". This is the time of the
greasers, and he must be one of their number.
In his previous life, when he said he wanted to be a human greaser, he said it
knowing he would never ever become one. He didn't actually know much about
them. His research consisted entirely of once watching a human movie "Grease".
He had loved the music and dancing, but he can barely recall the plot. Maybe
the movie didn't have a plot and that's why the title was only one word, he
muses. The walls don't have a poster of that movie or its photogenic stars.
Will he have to get one later?
He looks back at the calender. A day is circled and in the human language he
can now read it says "1st Day!!". The first day of being a human? Or is it
something else?
There's a knock on the door. A female human voice rings out. "Sweetie! It's
almost time!"
"What?" he says and is shocked to find his accents is gone, replaced by an
accent similar to hers.
"Time for high school, remember?" the voice says sweetly but with an edge,
"You're a Senior now!"
"High school..." he mumbles. He remembers school as the place all the
characters in "Grease" hang out at. He must be someone special to be a Senior
at a High school.
"Get dressed and come downstairs! Eulabelle's food is going cold."
After she says this, there are high-heeled steps away from Cronus' door and
down a set of stairs. He wonders who she was and who this Eulabelle is.
He opens a drawer and in it finds a variety of t-shirts in not just white. He
wants to spend all day looking through them but instead he randomly picks a
violet one. In a lower drawer are various pants. He thought it would be all
blue jeans but mostly it's dull brown black and grey trousers. He finds a pair
of dark blue jeans and shimmies into them. His hips are the same as they were
as a troll but his crotch feels different. He doesn't spend long thinking on
this. Though he wants to wear boots or sneakers, all he can find in a couple
minutes are loafers. He puts them on. The vanity is well-equiped with hair
supplies and he quickly greases his hair and pulls a comb over it. It's not his
best work but maybe the spontanity makes it sexier. He wipes his hand off on a
nearby handtowel before leaving the block.
He walks down the steps until he reaches an entrance hall. There is action
across the way and looks in. It seems to be a food preparation block with a
small dining area. Sitting at the table is an adult woman and an adult man,
though he can't see the man well behind the newspaper he reads. Their skin is
the same pale shade as Cronus'. He figures these are the dual lusii every human
wiggler gets assigned to. Then he sees behind the counters another adult woman,
but her skin is much darker than the other humans. Does he have three lusii?
Cronus enters and the pale woman looks at him and gasps. He looks around to see
what she's reacting to but finds nothing. She then talks in the same voice he
heard upstairs.
"Cronus Ampora!" she exclaims. Now Cronus knows his human name and he's
disappointed it's the same as his old name. He didn't even know Cronus Ampora
could be a human name.
"What's wrong?" he snaps back. The double-u's are still strange in his mouth.
"You can't wear blue jeans and t-shirts to school!" She turns to the adult man.
"Right, John dear?"
The man doesn't put the paper down to look at Cronus. "It's what the kids all
wear."
"Well, maybe THOSE other kids, but not an Ampora. Just because these public
schools don't have uniforms doesn't mean students should dress like hobos."
"The nuns aren't there to send him home. Just let him wear what he wants,
Linda. Otherwise he'll just waste time redressing in the bathroom."
The woman, this Linda, crosses her arms. "We should have never moved to New
Jersey. It's been a bad influence on Cronus."
"We can talk about that later."
"John, damn it, you just can't -" She immediately composes herself.
"Eulabelle," she says to the dark woman, "you have finished packing Cronus'
lunch?"
"Yes, ma'am," says the dark woman in an accent completely different from the
rest of the family.
"Good. And get the laundry started while I'm at bridge club."
"Yes, ma'am."
Cronus figures then the dark woman was some type of servant. She isn't as
elegantly dressed as the pale woman. The pale woman and the pale man seem to be
kismesises as well as joint lusii. Cronus sits down at the table. He can see
John's face better and it looks fairly similar to his, though he sees plenty of
similarities between him and Linda. He thinks human lusii are genetically
similar to their charges but he doesn't remember how it works.
Besides the human lusii at the table, there are plates with unfamilar food. He
picks up with his fork a cylinder, expecting it to taste like a grub, but it's
tastes like some unidentified type of meat. He lifts a flat brown circle with
his fork just enough to eat it. It tastes sweet but bland. John puts down his
newspaper long enough to grab a dark cannister and pour the contents on his
plate. When he's done, Cronus does the same with his own plate. The circle is
now damp and crumbly and tastes all together too sweet. He doesn't want to eat
more.
"Can I just go?" Cronus asks.
"I suppose so. You don't have much time."
"Don't speed," says John as he smiles at Cronus for the first time, "I just got
you that car."
"He didn't need a new car," Linda mutters.
Eulabelle holds up a metal box. "Don't forget yah lunch, Mistah Cronus!"
Cronus gets up, walks to the counter, and takes the metal box from the servant.
He turns back to his lusii.
"So, where is this car?" Cronus asks.
"It should be there," John says, pointing at a back door with a dark window,
"Unless you crashed it last night."
"You had better not," Linda says.
Cronus is about to go through that door when Eulabelle goes, "Don't forget yah
keys!" She points at the hooks next to the door. On one of the hooks is a
leather keychain with the word "Greaser" on it. Cronus proudly takes it.
The garage has two human vehicles in it but Cronus knows which one is his. It's
the shiny red one next to a clean but dull brown vehicle. On the fender and on
the side is the word "Eldorado" in human script. Fins like sharks pop out of
the back. It doesn't have one but two fin hood ornaments. There doesn't appear
to be a roof on his car but he figures he doesn't need it. He gets in the seat
behind all the equipment. Though he has been in the dark about everything this
morning, when he touchs the circular steering device, he suddenly knows all he
needs to know about operating this Earth vehicle. This is especially amazing
since he never got around to learning how to operate Beforan scuttlebugs and
those practically ran themselves. His right hand goes to put on his seatbelt
but he finds none. He shrugs this off and instead adjusts rear view mirror. He
looks so cool in his black leather seat. More is needed for his look. He opens
the glove compartment to find black shades. He puts them on. The double-sided
key goes into the ignition, rewarding Cronus with the purr of the engine. He is
ready to put the pedal to the metal when he remembers he needs to manually open
the garage door. The 50s were a primitive time.
So Cronus opens the garage door into a neighborhood that looks very midblood.
The sun is bright but not deadly. He takes the Cadillac through before manually
closing the door behind him. From there on, it's smooth cruising.
Cronus hasn't felt right all morning until now. He had wondered if this so-
called dream come true was an actual dream come true. Yet now he is sure that
the things he said he wanted were what he actually wanted. He hopes that all
his other friends are in this universe so he can show them up. Who he really
wants to see the most is Meenah. It briefly occurs to him he doesn't know
what's in his briefs, but the thought passes.
Speeding along the road is fun for fifteen minutes before he realizes he has
absolutely no idea where this "high school" is. Possibly it is on a mountain,
hence the high, but he sees no mountains. Instead, there's just a neighborhood
that doesn't look the best. He sees a faded sign that says "ANGELO'S" and as
foreboding as it is it looks familar to him, so he turns his car up the alley.
The car stops purring when he takes out the keys and puts them in his pocket.
He gets out of the car and goes around to the front door next to the garage
door. He rings a bell and waits.
When the door opens, Cronus is thrilled to see a bald greaser scowling at him.
"You again?" the man asks in an accent that sounds vaguely like Meenah's.
However, Cronus immediately pushes past the man to see the rest of the garage.
There are Earth cars in various levels of dismantling. Though he didn't before
have any interest in mechanics, beyond what he could fake for Hourss'
attention, now he finds these Earth cars the most fascinating things ever. He
takes off his shades and drinks it in. As he wanders around, he slowly realizes
he's also surrounded by about a dozen or so greasers.
Greasers! Real life greasers! They are greasy, of course, but also so handsome.
Well, maybe they aren't all handsome, some are downright ugly. But just being
50s Greasers makes them sexy to Cronus. The greasers can't keep their eyes off
Cronus either.
"Ampora!" yells the bald greaser, "What'er you fuckin' doin' here?"
Cronus puts back on his shades. "Well, I was cruisin' along in my cherry-red
1956 Cadillac Eldorado, rushin' to get high at school, when I realized - ha! -
I didn't know where school was. So I thought my fellow greasers would be able
to steer me in the right direction."
"Are you jokin', Ampora?" asks a greaser with an eyepatch.
"Um, no, I really am lost," Cronus says.
The bald greaser says "So you got lost and came here to mock us drop-outs?"
"I'm not mockin' you," Cronus says, "I'm one a you...right?"
The bald greaser spits. "Stop sayin' you one 'a us, Ampora. You been tryin'
that since your rich ass moved down last year."
"But can I be one 'a you? I mean, I got the clothes and style and my ride is
cherry!"
The greasers laugh. Another greaser strides up to Cronus and looks down at him
from a great height.
"So you think you can be a Greaser? Greaser ain't something you can buy, rich
boy. Your old man can't buy you the leathers and the cars and hair grease. We
buy everythin' ourselves cause we have no choice. Greaser is a state 'a mind
and you have no fuckin' mind. You got your country clubs, leave us with our
clubs, capiche? Scram, kid."
However, Cronus is too busy admiring how handsome this greaser is. He has such
soulful big brown eyes and he fills out his t-shirt nicely. The greaser is at
the Rufioh level of attractiveness and his cowlick reminds Cronus of the troll.
Cronus wonders if he can get with the Rufioh in this universe.
"Maybe you can make me a man, big boy," Cronus says sexily.
The Handsome Greaser gives a look of confusion that turns Cronus on. "Huh?"
Cronus strokes the greaser's arm. "I mean, maybe you can fuck me until I'm a
Greaser."
The Handsome Greaser steps back. "Fuck you?"
There are gasps and muttering around the block. Cronus stops gazing at the
Handsome Greaser to notice all the disgusted looks around him. Again, he's
chosen the wrong time to hit on someone.
"Unless." Cronus sighs. "You want to take it slow and do all that datin'
bullshit first."
"Datin'? Fuckin'?" the Handsome Greaser asks, "You some kind'er fag?"
The others chime in to, asking Cronus the same type of question.
"What's a fag?" Cronus asks, "Isn't that a smokin' thing?"
The bald man says, "It means you's a girly-boy that's got the hots for men?"
Cronus snorts. "I am not a girl."
"But you got the hots for men?"
"'A course! Who doesn't find men hot?"
A chorus of male voices say they didn't find men hot, that girls were hot, that
they weren't fags or pansies.
"You are all lying," Cronus says, "Is this some sort a Greaser thing? Men and
men not gettin' together?"
A very muscular Greaser says, "That's the law, rich boy. Men and women, Adam
and Eve, only."
Cronus realizes that in "Grease", none of the T-Birds hook up together, nor the
Pink Ladies. In fact, he hasn't seen any human media where male characters or
female characters pair up. He had heard that only males and females could
reproduce together but he didn't know this was so important as to make all
other mating taboo. Judging by the looks of the humans around him, this isn't a
minor faux pas. He lifts up his shades for earnesty.
"But..." says Cronus weakly, "I guess I can learn not to? I mean, I already
like chicks...just cut out the guys part?"
The Bald Greaser laughes. "Oh no, if you want guys so bad...you should get it,
right?"
The surrounding Greasers wink and laugh at each other. Cronus' human hairs
prickle. He is supposedly getting something he wants but he's not sure he wants
it.
"Look," Cronus squeaks as he puts his hands up, "I don't need anything more,
I'll just leave you to be Greasers and shit and I'll get to school."
The Bald Greaser says, "You ain't goin' nowhere. Butch, go!"
Before Cronus can do anything, a heavily-muscled Greaser grabs him from behind
and puts his arms in a lock. Cronus struggles against the uncomfortable
position but even after three sweeps in a video game he's not an expert in the
marital arts and he soon gives up.
"We're goin' to school you, you sonuvabitch!" yells the Eyepatch Greaser.
The other Greasers cheer. Meanwhile, the Handsome Greaser steps up silently.
Cronus has a brief fantasy that he'll tell the rest of them to let him go. That
hope is exploded in seconds when the handsome Greaser punches Cronus in the
stomach hard. Cronus has been punched in the stomach before, mostly by Meenah,
but those were love hits. This human is serious. Cronus would double up but the
Muscular Greaser is keeping him up. His shades clatter to the floor. Cronus
feels like throwing up but there's almost nothing in his stomach. Instead, he
drools. The Greasers laugh at this display.
"That's for tryin' to fuck me, fag!" the Handsome Greaser says in an unhandsome
voice.
Another Greaser, one with long hair, steps up while the Handsome Greaser steps
forward. He reels up and punches Cronus right in the jaw. Cronus' human nose
fills with red human blood, smelling like iron. He spits up again and a few
bloody teeth come out.
"Your precious rich boy dentist is gonner have a lot a work cut out for him,"
the Longhair Greaser gloats. Cronus worries that humans don't regrow teeth.
In a voice that sounds too much like Mituna, he says, "Pleathe thop, 'm
thorry."
"We ain't done yet," says the Bald Greaser.
A high-pitched Greaser yells, "Let's fuck the pretty boy!"
"Yeah," says another, "Rip off his clean clothes, let's see what he looks
like!"
"I wanna piece a that ass!" yells the Muscular Greaser behind him.
"Me too!" yells a Greaser in the back.
Cronus expected the other Greasers to say no after all the fuss they made over
even considering men sexy. He guesses that even humans pretend not to want to
get down when they're gagging for it. Cronus wants to feel flattered that
someone has noticed his sex appeal but he never wanted it with threats behind
it. As for the Greasers, they don't look so sexy to him anymore, not even the
Handsome Greaser. He looks to the Bald Greaser since he seems to be the leader.
The man's face is impassive and Cronus tries to look too gross and pathetic to
bother with. However, the Bald Leader nods his head to the crowd.
"Yeah," he says, "Let's fuck him."
A short Greaser steps up with a knife that's out of proportion to his side.
"I'm goin' cut off his new Sears clothes!" the Short Greaser yells.
The Short Greaser brandishes the knife at Cronus' side and Cronus starts
squirming again. The Short Greaser gets a hold of Cronus' tops and Cronus'
first thoughts are on the damage to his clothes rather than his skin. The
fabric rips easily under the knife.
"How cheap are these clothes, rich boy?" the Short Greaser asks, "You should
fire your tailor!"
The other Greasers laugh. The clothes fall off. Cronus is nicked and exposed.
"These spray-on blue jeans, they're gon'ner be a problem," the Short Greaser
says.
"Take 'em off!" yells the High-pitched Greaser.
The knife moves to Cronus' crotch and Cronus tries to move out of the way.
"Stay still!" the Short Greaser hisses.
"Pleathe," begs Cronus again, this time more pathetically, "Let me take dem off
mythelf."
The Muscular Greaser says behind him, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He
tightens his hold. "But we ain't lettin' you go."
The Short Greaser cuts the fly buttons on Cronus' jeans one by one. The jeans
are pulled down just enough that the Short Greaser's knife can find purchase in
them. Cutting the demin seems to be difficult, with lots of sawing, but finally
the Short Greaser reaches the end. The jeans are pulled off. While the Short
Greaser kneels down, he tsks.
"You tryin' to be a Greaser in school shoes?" he asks.
"Fuckin' shame," the Highpitch Greaser says.
The Short Greaser pulls off Cronus' shameful loafers. He tickles Cronus' feet
and Cronus is surprised at how sensitive human feet are. However, he responds
by laughing. The Greasers laugh back.
"Get off his shorts!" the Highpitch Greaser says.
"Yeah," says the Handsome Greaser, "I wanna see what meat this pansy brings to
the table."
Strange human insult aside, Cronus would have been overjoyed at a handsome
person saying that to him. Hell, he would have been happy if anyone said that
to him. Now he hates those words.
The Handsome Greaser slowly pulls down Cronus' underwear. Cronus hadn't checked
what genitals humans had. "Grease" didn't have the answer and he hadn't been in
the mood to research it. He isn't obsessed with animal genitals like Horuss.
Now he is going to find the truth first hand. Instead, he closes his eyes.
"That's it?" says the Handsome Greaser.
Cronus gives in and looks down. He at first sees some black curly hair which
looks out of place. In the forest of hair, he see flesh mushroom lying on a
hairy sack. It isn't an attractive site but he wonders if there's something
else wrong with it. The Muscular Greaser and the Handsome Greaser turn Cronus
to the crowd. The Handsome Greaser's warm but rough hands gently cups Cronus'
disappointing genitals in a strangely pleasant way.

"Look'it how small this is!" the Handsome Greaser calls out.
"Pathetic!" yelled another Greaser.
Genital size seemed to Cronus to be strangly important in humans. With trolls,
their bone bulges are all about the same size. A small bone bulge could rub as
well as a large one. How big was the normal human bone bulge supposed to be?
A young-looking Greaser asks, "Why's't look so funny?"
The Greaser next to him answered, "He got his dick cut up as a baby. Cir-cum-
size-ed. The Jews invented it but lots of babies in rich folks hospitals get it
done up.
"Gross! Fuckin' Jews."
Cronus wondered if he was a "Jew" and given the Kid Greaser's reaction he
didn't want to be.
"No foreskin is so strange, I can't getta hold of this," the Handsome Greaser
mutters to himself.
He hocks in his hand and rubbed it on Cronus' nub. Cronus is grossed out for a
second before the pleasure drives that out of his mind. The blood that isn't
dripping down his face starts to pool in his crotch. There is a wholly-new
sensation of growth in his lower body. This must be how humans experience
arousal. Despite it all, Cronus is reacting to this and he's disgusted he's
reacting.
"The fag's gettin' a stiffie!" the Highpitch Greaser yells mirthly.
The Short Greaser says, "Yeah, but can he get any bigger than
"Prob'bly not!" calls back another Greaser.
"What does he need wit' a big dick anyway? He's a fag," says yet another
Greaser.
"It's the ass that's their trade," says another Greaser in a tone that tries to
be wise.
The Muscular Greaser releases Cronus' left arm but before Cronus can take
advantage of this the Handsome Greaser takes hold of it. Cronus hears the
disgusting noise of hacking behind him and feels the even more disgusting
sensation of a wet hand probing his nook. The fingers seem to want to enter
him. Is this how human nooks are used? Aren't they not used for pooping like a
healthy troll?
"Grothe, get off, get out," spits Cronus, literally in this case.
"I gotta see how tight you are," the Muscular Greaser answers back.
He then jams a finger in and even though the nail is blunt the feeling is
sharp. Cronus' body tenses up around this intrusion.
"Yeah," the Muscular Greaser tells the crowd, "He's tight."
"I wan'ner see how tight he is 'round my rod!" yells a greaser.
Others chime in the same thing. None of them are reluctant. The Bald Greaser
walks to the middle and claps.
"Youse guys, get me some duct tape and that stool over there."
One greaser brings a chest-high stool and another brings a thick roll of silver
tape to the center.
"Shortstack, Butch," the Bald Greaser says to the Short and Muscular Greasers,
"You bend over this stringbean and tape him to the stool."
Cronus is manhandled over to the stool and bends him all the way over. It's an
uncomfortable position and the only mercy is the stool is padded. The Muscular
Greaser, along with the Greaser that brought the stool, keep Cronus in place.
The Short Greaser kneels down and unrolls the thick tape with an omnious noise.
He binds Cronus' dangling arms to the stool legs with an excessive amount of
tape. The duct tape is painful on the skin but Cronus knows it will be agony
when it's torn off - if it's ever removed. Blood and drool from his injured
face drips down on the floor, though his nosebleed is starting to taper off.
The Bald Greaser claps again. "Now, which order should we go in?"
The Greasers yell out age, height, name, or who wants it the most.
"Let's let Lady Luck decide," the Bald Greaser concludes, "We'll throw dice."
Most of the Greasers agree to this, though those who don't agree don't fight
it. They go off to do this dice throw. The Kid Greaser stays a moment with
Cronus. He takes out a bandana and wipes the poor victim's face.
"Musta hurt, bein' cir-cum-size-ed," he whispers.
Cronus doesn't respond. The Kid Greaser shrugs before leaving.
No one seems to be paying attention to Cronus and he's aware this could be his
chance for escape but he doesn't know how other than to hop out. He tries once
to move the stool and almost falls over. With that weak move, he gives up.
It takes forever for the Greasers to roll up an order. They chatter and banter
and argue loudly a few yards away from Cronus, but it sounds so far away to
him. He has time to think.
It is unreal to him. He only just got into this new body and now he's going to
have sex with it. In his previous life, he'd only had sex once and it was with
another troll. Eridan, despite dying at the tender age of six, had already had
sex before with his advanced ex-kismesis. Hooking up with a more successful
version of himself was awkward and not much more satisfying than masturbation.
They split after that. There is a reason why he even after eons he hasn't
hooked up with any of the infinite alt-timeline Cronus. It isn't very lucky
getting lucky with oneself. Now he is going to get lucky with a dozen other
people, if one could call this lucky. Did this count as getting lucky? Would he
really have to suffer from twelve whole cuts to his sleeping platform? Or will
it be more notches? He is not the best at counting.
The Greasers come back and despite how much Cronus hated waiting it's happening
all too soon. Someone approaches behind him.
"I'm gonner grease up this pig," the man behind Cronus declares. Cronus can't
remember if he's heard that voice before but he doesn't try hard to remember.
A tin squeaks open and soon Cronus feels a giant cold glob at his human nook.
He guesses this grease is made for hair, or at least he hopes that because as
bad as that might be for bodies, it's better than something for cars.
"You wanna be a Greaser?" the First Greaser asks as he jabs this mystery
substance into Cronus' body, "Here's some grease for your hair hole!" The other
Greasers laugh at this joke.
The First Greaser lubes up Cronus. One meaty finger and then another meaty
finger presses into Cronus. Unlike Butch, this Greaser could stand to get a
manicure. Still, sometimes those fingers rub against some sensitive part and
the slight pleasure makes Cronus shudder. Were human nooks normally this
sensitive and why the hell were they sensitive? He knows some trolls like nook
play but he thought it was just a black pr0n thing and it has never looked
appealing to him. As time goes by, Cronus wonders if this is human sex. He had
heard it was bone bulges into seedflaps, not fingers into nooks. Is this the
worse of it?
"Get on with it!" yells the Highpitch Greaser. Other Greasers agree.
"Fine!" grunts the First Greaser.
Behind Cronus, a zipper goes down and clothes rustle. Against his ass checks,
he feels warm throbbing flesh that could only be a human bone bulge. It is much
larger than Cronus', both in length and girth. The First Greaser grabs Cronus'
thighs and shoves in. With the contents of an tin crammed into Cronus' nook,
there's no friction, but the stretch is immense. The First Greaser doesn't
start off slow but gets immediately into his pace. The stool squeaks on the
floor. The Greasers cheer and clap. Cronus sobs.
The thrust just keep coming relentless and erratically angled. Only a minute or
so later, a thrust goes in just the right angle to hit an organ Cronus didn't
know he had. All at once, Cronus comes with a wail. The human orgasm is much
shorter than a trolls and after a couple spurts, Cronus is spent. The First
Greaser slows for a moment and the Greasers quiet down.
"Damn," says the Handsome Greaser, "The fag was really gaggin' for it."
Cronus curses that he was put in such a sensitive body. He wants to say he
wasn't gagging for this stupid orgasm at all, that it was forced upon him by
this perverted gang, but he just can't.
"Please," chokes out Cronus, "You can stop."
"Look," says the Bald Greaser in a patronizing tone, "We gotter lots a guys to
go. You don't wanner disappoint 'em?"
"I better get my turn!" yells the Short Greaser.
"Me too!" yells another.
"Who wanna trade with me?" asks a third.
Cronus can't see well but he notices some Greasers pull down their jeans and
rub their bone bulges. The First Greaser seems to be average in size.
Meanwhile, the First Greaser starts up again. Cronus is incredibly sensitive
and overstimulated. Whatever that organ was that gave him so much pleasure, it
is now a source of pain. His body vibrates under the assault on his senses.
After too long, the First Greaser moans, "Oh fuck I'm comin'!"
Cronus has images in his mind of a bloated stomach from a bucket of cum and
this finally makes him want to scoot away from whatever horror this man's
orgasm will bring. The man just shoves him back onto his bone bulge. The bone
bulge in Cronus' nook throbs and grows bigger for a second. After not that
long, the First Greaser pulls out. The liquid dripping out of Cronus' nook is
unpleasant but it's not what he feared. Humans may have bigger genitals but
their output was pathetic. The Greasers cheer anyway.
The First Greaser sighs. "Hot damn that was good. Who's next?"
"Me," says the Longhaired Greaser.
"I got him busted wide open for you, Hank."
Cronus gets a brief respite as the two Greasers change position. Then there are
new hands on Cronus' ass. The Longhaired Greaser doesn't do any prep before
thrusting in. Either the Longhaired Greaser has a pencil bulge or the First
Greaser really ripped Cronus open because there's no stretch. However, the
Longhaired Greaser is really long and he takes long strokes. It's not as bad as
the first time but it's still horrible.
Around Cronus, the Greasers chatter. They throw insults that Cronus can't
understand but knows they are insults. The noise is deafening but he can barely
understand it. He wants to snap back with the best insult ever. He knows how to
devaste. Yet that's back with trolls who don't take ridiculous things like
having the hots for men as a flaw. He doesn't get human culture and he wishes
he had made the time to do it. Plus, if he did talk, he'd just sound like that
retard Mituna. Better to suffer in dignified silence, though that silence
includes sobs and groans.
Cronus wonders why he's suffering. Was this some crazy karma for being a little
too forward? Was giving that poor retard a backrub really the equvilent of
being butt-fucked hard? Should he have listened to Porrim's boring lectures on
consent instead of wondering how many tattoos she had? Who is behind this
punishment anyway? How did he wake up here? Is a human troll Rod Sterling going
to come out to deliver a moral?
Cronus' thoughts are interrupted when the Longhair Greaser starts grunting like
a pig. A few quick slams and Cronus is filled with a second load. The product
of the two human greasers is just a fraction of what one troll could do but
it's too much Cronus. He doesn't want any more of this disgusting human juice
inside of him.
The Longhair Greaser pulls out of Cronus but another greaser takes his place.
This greaser isn't a pencil bulge and Cronus feels stretched like he was the
first time. He thought he was over all this but here it comes again. The
greaser keeps saying "so tight so tight I knew it would be" and Cronus wishes
he was so tight he could break off this asshole's bone bulge and shit it out
into the asshole's face. Instead, Cronus' asshole throbs along to the joy of
the rapist. The Tight-Loving Greaser comes while stretching out the words "so
tight" until Cronus completely hates that phrase now and forever. Anyone who
uses that phrase with him again will get slapped.
The Tight-Loving Greaser leaves and the Highpitched Greaser laughes as he takes
his place. His bone bulge doesn't hurt Cronus, at least not that much, but his
voice is like nails to Cronus' ears. He's like Kurloz before the freakish troll
was smart enough to cut out his own tongue.
"It's time for Carl "Ducky" McKensey, kid," he says as if he won't always be
the Highpitched Greaser to Cronus, "You gonner get what you've been dyin' for,
aren't you?"
Cronus remembers that this whole thing started, so long ago, because this fag-
hater for some reason wanted to fuck him. If he hadn't spoken up, Cronus could
have gotten away with just a beating. He had been trying to be silent in
protest but he can't stand it anymore.
"You," he says, "You want to fuck me, you fag."
The Highpitched Greaser stops. "What you say, kid?"
The other greasers, who had been busy chattering amongst themselves, repeat the
question.
Cronus answers, "I SAID..you FAG." The insult feels strange in Cronus' mouth
but it's all so satisfying to say.
The Highpitched Greaser responds by slamming Cronus. "I'm not the queer one
here," he says, "You said, you got the hots for men like us."
Cronus is gasping but he still manages to snap back, "You! Got the hots! For
me! You want me! You think! I'm pretty! Pretty boy!"
"You're a pretty girly-boy."
"Yeah!" chimes in the Tight-Loving Greaser from somewhere far away, "That's why
we love your ass!"
The Short Greaser says, "That's why we like your pretty lips too."
"We're real butch men," says the Highpitched Greaser, "Real normal men. You're
the one gettin' off on being fucked in the ass by a real man. I'd never get off
from that!"
Cronus wants to say he's normal but it does seem pretty queer he actually had
an orgasm from that. He'd been a normal troll and he got put in a queer human
body. Still, he bets the Highpitched Greaser also gets off on assplay and does
so every night. Cronus would totally fuck the Highpitched Greaser in the ass.
Not with the lame human bone bulge he'd been handed out, but with a broom or a
crowbar or anything long and hard. Just fuck that hypocrite to death.
The Highpitched Greaser's continued scretching doesn't drive Cronus out of his
fantasy, but a hard slap on the ass does. Then came a second on the other
check. Cronus knows his pale skin will show those handprints like red tattoos.
This is worse than the fat lip he's been growing on his face.
The Highpitched Greaser gives a final squeal that could break glass. Instead of
adding to the gloop in Cronus' nook, he pulls out and paints Cronus' red ass in
genetic material. Cronus thought it was shameful being used as a pail but being
used as a canvas doesn't feel better. The Highpitched Greaser give one last
pat.
"Hope you 'member me when you sit down!" he blesses.
The Highpitched Greaser then calls to someone else.
"Romeo, it's your turn."
"Thanks, Squeaky," replies the Handsome Greaser.
The Handsome Greaser puts a hand on Cronus and Cronus' heart stops a second.
Here was the cat he'd wanted to fuck in the worst way and now he's getting him
in the worst way. It was a terrible wish.
"This will be a real treat for both 'a us," the Handsome Greaser says and his
voice sounds too sexy.
"It's won't be a treat for me," Cronus says weakly but proudly.
"Which one a' us hit on who, boy?"
Cronus sighs in response.
"I'm gonna make this swell for you," he says.
Another tin is opened. The Handsome Greaser puts his moist hand on Cronus' sore
nook as tenderly as he did Cronus' genitals earlier. More grease is added to
Cronus' hole, to his relief since he was getting dry. Cronus' stretched opening
sting when the Handsome Greaser circles it with his finger, but it's almost a
nice sting. Cronus is amazed the Handsome Greaser is bothering with foreplay.
"I ain't a bad lover, am I?" the Handsome Greaser croons.
An appreciative greaser yells out, "Romeo knows how to treat them chicks good!"
"He's alway got 'em hangin' off him," another says.
So Cronus is just another chick to Romeo? Cronus wonders if those chicks know
this Romeo is a complete douchebag? Or maybe they do know and that's why they
go for the greasy rapist. That would be just like chicks. He probably also
secretly gets the cats. Maybe all these greasers have gotten the Romeo
treatment and that's why they're all gaga over him.
Cronus does have to admit the treatment is working for him when Romeo starts
stroking Cronus' bone bulge with his other hand. Cronus had forgotten it had
existed after being ignored so long. It starts to grow again and he knows as
slight the change is the other greasers notice. Romeo certainly must know.
"Hey," he says, "Your pecker likes this."
"I can't see it!" says another greaser.
Cronus wishes he had a bigger "pecker". Maybe one as big as Horuss' sculptures.
He wouldn't be able to wear skinny jeans but he could beat these bulge-obsessed
fuckers to death with it.
Romeo stops using his hands on Cronus. He uses them to unzip his jeans. With
his erection free, he rubs it between Cronus' cheeks. In total size, it seems
to be bigger than the rest. This playboy is better than the rest. Human chicks
dig that, Cronus guesses.
After all the teasing, the Handsome Greaser enters Cronus and this moment is so
different than what Cronus expected when he hit on the stranger. Why couldn't
humans just rub their bone bulges together like trolls did? True, sometimes
trolls did put their bone bulge in their partner's seedflap, but that was like
sticking in a finger and not this ridiculous act. Cronus hates human sex so
much.
When Cronus is used to that big bone bulge, the Handsome Greaser rubs Cronus'
little one. This and the slow strokes almost feels enjoyable and Cronus can
pretend for a second he's not being raped but it doesn't last long. In a better
day, this might have been a swell experience, but not in this mixed-up day. He
can still hear the insults reminding him he's being punished.
The Handsome Greaser gets his orgasm while Cronus plateaus. When the Handsome
Greaser ends his turn, he says nothing. Cronus speaks.
"'t's ober," he says, "You got your rebenge."
The Bald Greaser answers, "No, we got ten - no, eleven - guys to go."
Fifteen greasers! And he is only through 1/3rd. The familiar Muscular Greaser,
whom Cronus hadn't heard from in a while, gets behind him. Though Cronus fears
he'll be big and rough, he doesn't turn out to be that big and rough. However,
he takes forever. Cronus isn't the only one impatient.
"God damn it," yells the Short Greaser, "I can't wait my turn! I'm burstin'
here!"
"Too bad," says the Bald Greaser.
The Short Greaser rubs Cronus' fat lip. "Can't I use his piehole?"
The other greasers chatter amongst themselves.
"Go ahead," says the Bald Greaser, "Not my problem if he bites it off."
Cronus wants to bite it off. He doesn't know if he can with his blunt human
teeth. Instead, he tries to keep his mouth closed but it's too hard breathing
through his nose so he opens up anyway. The Short Greaser pries Cronus' jaw
open and sticks in his erection. He doesn't have Cronus fellate him as much as
fuck his face like it was another hole. Cronus' mouth hole drools. The bone
bulge isn't that long but it's long enough to hit a spot in the back that makes
he gurgle up some stomach acid.
"Yeah, gag on it," the Short Greaser says, "That's what you get for sayin' all
that bullshit."
There are so many things Cronus could say right now but he can't. Since these
greasers seem to know him, he wonders what he said previously. Whatever it was,
it wasn't bullshit enough.
Cronus is near suffacating to the point he can see stars. He's afraid he'll die
this way. Luckily, the Short Greaser is worked up enough to finish quick.
Unfortunately, he doesn't ejaculate deep into Cronus' throat but instead gets
his genetic material right on the worst part of Cronus' tongue. The genetic
material is the most disgusting thing he has ever tasted, like a soup made of
spoiled cheese and sprouted onion. The Short Greaser withdraws and Cronus
immediately throws up. It tastes worse on the way up. A few greasers gag
themselves and one runs off, probably to vomit.
"Gross," says the Muscular Greaser, though he doesn't stop.
"Someone clean it up," the Bald Greaser says.
The Short Greaser gets a rag and half-heartedly cleans up.
"Good enough," says the Bald Greaser.
The Muscular Greaser finally finishes.
"Your turn, kid."
"R-really?" says the Kid Greaser.
The Kid Greaser seems like he might be not that older than the Eridan Cronus
lost his troll virginity too. Cronus said he'd never again have sex with anyone
physically under eight sweeps (unless they were really hot) but his vow has
been broken for him and not even with a hot minor.
"Sorry 'bout this," the Kid Greaser whispers as he gets behind Cronus.
Cronus doesn't accepted this snotnose brat's apology. A flat "no" is all Cronus
says.
"Eeeeeeh..." the Kid Greaser says as if he's about to change his mind.
However, the Kid Greaser doesn't change his mind. He fucks Cronus like the
rest, though it only takes three strokes.
Another greaser goes at it but by this time Cronus is out of it. It doesn't
matter who is having sex with him. It's all the same. He's somewhere in the
rafters, appreciating the cars. He should look into cars, he thinks drunkily.
It would be a swell hobby. Maybe Meenah would dig it. Or maybe she'd remain an
ice queen.
Cronus is slapped back into his senses by the Bald Greaser.
"You were talkin' 'bout Meenah or some shit," the Bald Greaser says, "But I
need you to focus on me."
Cronus looks to see the Bald Greaser. His eyes travel to this bold leader's
crotch. Hanging from his jeans is a big human bone bulge. He takes the monster
and slaps Cronus' bruised face with it. There doesn't seem to be any anger in
this violence. He actually seems bored. His bone bulge does react. Cronus is
horrified to see it get longer and fatter. He didn't know bone bulges grew like
that. He can't say for certain but he thinks this is the biggest one yet. It
might be the biggest one in the human race for all he knows. He just knows it
will hurt like a sonvabitch. The Bald Greaser pauses for a moment and Cronus
asks the question on his mind.
"Are you leader...because bone bulge?"
"Don't know what that means," he answers, "I'm just Angelo."
The other greasers cheer and laugh.
Angelo rubs the red bulbous head of his bone bulge along Cronus' swollen lip.
"Lick it."
Part of Cronus wants nothing to do with oral sex. Another part knows it could
be worse. He licks the head of the bone bulge gingerly. It bounces as it fully-
hardens.
"That does it," the Bald Greaser says, "Sorry for the wait."
The Bald Greaser walks behind Cronus. He positions the tangerine-sized head at
what Cronus' thought was his completely stretched hole. Time goes slowly and
Cronus spends the time wishing he had taken up religion so he could have a
deity to pray for. He promises if he got back to his own world, he'd take up
that clowny soda faith.
"You'll never be a Greaser," the Bald Greaser says.
He penetrates and Cronus' existence is pain. The pain doesn't stop. Yet Cronus
doesn't actually exist in his body anymore. He refuses to be here. Still,
somewhere, a man in a strange lilting accent goes, "What are you punks doing in
here? Get away from him!" Then everything fades away.
Cronus wakes up in a white block to find himself still human.
 
 
End Notes
     I prompted this ages ago on homesmut but I can't find where the
     prompt is.
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