Little shop of horrors

Little shop of homos pt 15

Little Shop of Homos
Kewl_Kid

Chapter 16: One Year Anniversary

Summary:

Seymour sings Grow For Me. Is this chapter canon? Who knows!
Notes:

Sorry for posting this two weeks late, I went on holiday and forgot to finish. Anyways, happy one year (ish) anniversary of this fic!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text
Seymour and Orin were kissing. So hard. It was everything the young florist had ever dreamed of. Except, he had a small problem...

"Sorry," he muttered, pulling away. "I need to use the bathroom."

"Yeah, sure thing, Krelborn."

Seymour stood up, leaving Orin alone on his leather couch. As soon as the bathroom door closed behind him, he slid to the floor in shame.

"Aw, weenie. I don't know what else to do for you," Seymour said, looking down at his limp length. "Dr. Scrivello just met you, but I've been going through this with you for weeks."

He was having some performance issues. He was seemingly unable to harden his hefty hog.

He sadly sat on the toilet, petrified penis in hand. "Grow and wilt, spurt and flop. Are you sickly, little cock, or are you just plain stubborn? What is it you want? What is it you need?"

"I've given you hand jobs to get you to squirt. You've given me nothing. But heartache and hurt," he sang with a sigh, rubbing his regal rod resultlessly. "I'm beggin' you sweetly, I'm down on my knees. Oh, please, grow for me!"

"I've given you spankings, and a firm grip. I've given you butt stuff. You've given me zip!" He fisted his phallus in frustration. His manhood managed to show no signs of hardening. "Oh cock, how I fist you. Oh cock, how you tease. Now, please, grow for me!"

He glanced down at his disobedient dick in disappointment. Standing up, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. What a disappointment he was. He couldn't even get it up, how was he ever going to be enough for Orin?

"I've given your balls a firm cupping to get you to thrive," he continued to sing, desperate to not disappoint the man waiting for him outside the door. "I've stroked your head hard like I'm supposed ta, you're barely upright."

"I've tried you at levels of pressure from tickles to hugs. I've given you kisses and anal and lubricant, what do you want from me drugs?" His fists collided with the ceramic sink, busting open the cabinets above. A pill bottle broke, bouncing off his head, scattering its contents across the linoleum floor.

"Damn cabinets, damn drawers. Clumsy me. Hey weenie, look what I just–" Seymour bent down to inspect. "Huh, some pills. I wonder what they're for."

He placed a small blue pill between his fingers, inspecting the Viagra.

"I think I know what they're for," he muttered, member mindlessly sagging sadly. "Well, I guess a few drugs couldn't hurt. As long as I don't make a habit out of it or anything."

"I've given you moisture, I've touched your prostate. Looks like you're not happy 'less I simulate."

He turned the tap on, filling his free hand with water. "I'll give you a few drugs if that'll apease. Now please. Oh, please."

He popped the pill in his mouth, letting the liquid wash it down. He took one last look at his lengthy line, longingly.

"Grow for me?"