Flip (OFFICIAL WATTPAD UPLOAD)

Chapter 9

He woke up lying face-down in a pile of dead leaves with his flannel draped over him, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, and someone was kicking him in the ribs.

Velvet groaned, slowly lifting his head. Damn, he hadn't had a hangover this bad in a while.

"Get up!" Someone hissed, kicking him again. "Look, I managed to scare him off and wound him, but he's not gonna be weakened forever!"

"What year is it?" Velvet slurred, rolling onto his back.

He instantly regretted it. Pain split his back and chest like lightning, and hissed in surprise. Jesus shit, did I get fucking roofied or something last night—

Wait, no. He hadn't gotten roofied.

No, he was out in the woods and his unfamiliar surroundings were veiled in mist and a strange feeling of fear that made the hair on his neck stand on end. His underwear was on backwards, too, and his skin was tacky with sweat and... well, a certain bodily fluid. A strange, gooey haze was thick in his brain, making him sluggish and muffling the way the forest was whispering frantically, like it was afraid of something.

Oh, and the hair on Velvet's arms had turned bright, cherry red again.

"Goddamn it," he croaked.

Fuck, he could barely remember last night. He remembered the dancing, he remembered stripping down to his birthday suit and rolling around in the dirt with Ant, and he definitely remembered getting mauled. However, he also remembered telling Ant to do whatever he wanted to him, and apparently in the being's terms, that meant something along the lines of ruthlessly fucking his brains out while biting him to shit.

Velvet grimaced, rubbing his head as he groped around weakly for his pants. The last solid memory he had from last night was of blissful agony; fangs sunk deep in his shoulder and claws gripping his hair, scraping his scalp as a spindly yet impossibly strong hand shoved him face-first into the dirt while Ant mercilessly railed him from behind—

"Dude, your pants are literally right there. And your underwear's on backwards."

Velvet groaned, struggling into his clothes, which were uncomfortable and slightly damp from spending the night on the forest floor—wait, what time was it, even? The sky was still dark and barely starting to turn grey with dawn, heavy with rain clouds that seemed to hum with static.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. There was a storm coming.

"Fuck off, man, I just got my back blown out by a goddamn furry cryptid," Velvet grumbled. "Where the hell are my socks— AAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

He screeched, scrambling backwards in alarm when he realized it was Foolish who was looming over him, the guy from the fucking bakery that Boomer and Punz had the hots for, and he was holding a shotgun. The guy looked exasperated, and rather worried.

"No idea," Foolish said awkwardly, his face flushing in embarrassment. "Oh my—oh my god, you were serious. Okay. Uh. Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" Velvet spluttered, grimacing at the soreness in his ass as he awkwardly hauled himself to his feet. "What the hell—damn it, I better not get tetanus or fuckin' hemorrhoids—what the hell are you doing out here? Did Boomer put you up to this? What's with the actual fucking shotgun? Oh, shit, did you see my dick because anyone who's seen my dick and met my friends needs to die—"