Hamtaro Fan Fiction ❯ Primal Urges ❯ Preparations ( Chapter 2 )

Author’s note: I just want to extend my thanks for the positive reviews I have received thus far. Be sure to let me know how I’m doing. :)

Chapter Two

“S-S-Stan! I-I-I’m fr-fr-freezing in h-h-here!”

“That’s kind of the point, Max. Can’t have you going around like a total horndog, right?”

Earlier, Maxwell and the twins ran into a notable problem while designing the loincloth. No matter how long, wide, or thick the material they utilized, the item meant to cover Maxwell’s obscene visual would end up looking like a cotton mountain. Obviously, the “inflation” had to be reduced somehow. So Stan, having since recovered from his initial shock and reverted to his calm, collective self, suggested cooling off Maxwell; but the method to doing so was not the standard “cold shower” technique. Not even close. Instead, Maxwell was coerced into a cruel and unusual torture device: A mundane, plastic cup filled with chunks of ice and freezing water, constantly blown upon by a tiny little fan set to hurricane levels. All these elements combined to pitch Maxwell into an artificial Blizzard, chilling the poor hamster down to the bone, never mind his equipment.

“Are you sure this’ll work, bro?” Sandy inquired Stan, as the two watched the bookworm suffer like a sinner in Satan’s abode.

“I do this all the time, sis,” the twin brother replied, “I hang out with lots of cute ham-chicks in my spare time, so I gotta keep the hormones down ‘til I get the chance to score!”

One could almost hear the needle of a record player swerve wildly off the track. “Score?! What do you mean, ‘Score!?’” Sandy exclaimed, her suspicion of Stan’s habits spiked to the Nth degree.

Stan hesitated, realizing he trapped himself in a nasty corner. “Well…um…to score means to win one’s affection!” He finally sputtered.

Sandy managed to calm down a smidgen. “Oh…for a moment there I thought you meant something else.”

The tiger-striped brother laughed nervously, scratching the fur behind one of his ears. “Yeah, I had you going there, didn’t I?”

“So…how many times have you scored?”

More hesistation. “Um…I can’t really say-”

“Why not?”

Stan’s fur became moist with his nervous sweat. If there is anything in the world, ANYTHING that he couldn’t say to his own sister, it is how many times he has achieved the subject matter of a “pleasurable dream” in real life. Depending on the number, it could result in endless ridicule or never-ending punishment. Fortunately, Stan avoided this consequence when Maxwell cried out “G-G-GUYS! I-I-I C-C-AN’T FEEL MY L-L-LEGS!”

“Oh, no!” Sandy exclaimed. “Like, we gotta get him out of there!”

At once, the Hamster twins rushed over to the cup, pulling the shivering Maxwell out of the cup and laying him flat on the floor. The bookworm gasped eagerly, attempting to obtain as much warm air into his lungs as possible.

“So cold…so cold,” Maxwell whispered meekly.

“Oh, Max…I knew this would be too much,” Sandy said, holding the bookworm’s paw intently while glaring at her brother. Stan ignored this, however, for a certain object had instantaneously grabbed his attention.

“Max…you’re not going to believe this,” Stan said.

“What?” Maxwell asked weakly.

“Your THING hasn’t shrunk an inch!”

“WHAT!?”

Maxwell bent his head upwards, catching (much to his dismay) the sight of his organ sticking up like a rock-solid tower. His noggin plopped back to the ground as tears began to form in his beady eyes.

“I froze like a popsicle for nothing!” The freezing bookworm sobbed.

“Well, it was worth a shot,” Stan said, shrugging, “But we still have our back-up plan. Sandy, we’re gonna need a whole lotta tape.”

Many, many inches of invisible adhesive tape later, the bulge underneath the cream-colored loincloth finally had been reduced to an unnoticeable level. In fact, the attire looked less like a loincloth and more like the typical apron of a shopkeeper, just like the one a certain, squinty-eyed hamster wears in the company of his own kind. If nothing else, it gave Maxwell the perfect excuse for wearing the cloth: imitation as a form of flattery.

“Not too bad, Max,” Stan complimented, “The color goes well with your belly fur.”

“I suppose this’ll have to suffice,” said Maxwell, wincing slightly, “But did you have to use so much tape? It feels like it’s being squeezed to death!”

“Yeah, Stan, you can’t even, like, see his thingie anymore!” Sandy added.

“Max’s gonna be around three of hottest ham-chicks in town at the clubhouse. That would, like, send his hormones to the roof!” Stan stated, “Without all that tape he’d go off like a dog!”

“Yes,” Maxwell agreed, “We can’t be too prudent.”

‘So,” the reader may ask at this point, “Just who are the three hot hamster chicks Stan was talking about?” Well, one of those females have already been revealed (Stan’s sister, Sandy.) But the athletic, out-going sister of the tiger-striped twins is merely a taste of the hot, sexy trio of hamster gals Maxwell must resist “contacting.”

There’s Pashmina, for instance. Sporting a lovely, pink scarf and a cute, bubbly personality, she is like the shy girl from next door, complete with all the sensitivities. She would be easy fodder for constant flirts if it weren’t for the fact that several males are constantly fighting for her attention, thus making her indecisive as far as romance is concerned. But one would never know when she might grow sick of all the fuss and go for someone who’s normally docile. But that would NEVER happen, right? Besides, she knows Maxwell’s relations with Sandy…but it may be Maxwell who would make the first move in this case, especially if Pashmina unintentionally sets off a hormonal rush.

And Bijou. Oy vey…if Pashmina is the cute girl next door, then Bijou is the seductive French maid with the jaw-dropping figure (ooh-la-la!). Sophisticated, pampered, and blessed with a notable absence of snobbish behavior, the all-white female with the slight French accent is hotter than boiling magma. Her romantic relations are about as stable as the San Andreas fault: she is constantly pursued by a gruff field hamster who’s too shy to reveal his love directly, and she pursues the love of a hamster who is completely clueless as far as romance is concerned, nevermind the birds and the bees. She might actually submit to Maxwell if she was desperate enough for someone mature AND direct.

Ah, who the heck are we kidding? Anyone knows that these hamster girls (except for Sandy, perhaps) would most likely run in terror from a sex-crazed male on the brink of bursting…and poor, misunderstood Maxwell would have to bear the full wrath of the hamster boys…especially the brawny field hamster, who could toss the bookworm around like a rag doll if he wanted to.

All Maxwell can do is suppress his instincts and hope for the best. And, of course, avoid staring at the hamster girl’s particular areas of sensitivity.