Hamtaro Fan Fiction ❯ Primal Urges ❯ The Nicopatch Technique ( Chapter 3 )

AUTHOR’S NOTE: And so, the story continues. You can imagine how hard it is to keep this below PG-13. :) If you review though, please answer this: Should the story be given an R rating, so that the story’s subject can be more thoroughly explored and exploited, or is the PG-13 rating just fine? (Don’t even THINK about suggesting I should turn this into a quickie lemon, however. The story has a lot more going for it.)

CHAPTER THREE

“No! I don’t want to go!”

“C’mon, Max! We’ve made it this far! Don’t chicken out now!”

Not too long ago, the hamster intellectual and the tiger-striped hamster twins were traveling in the subterranean tunnels towards the underground clubhouse. However, after three-quarters of the trip was done and gone, Maxwell’s analytical mind concocted the most absolute, terrifying, spine-tingling scenarios of what could happen if he found himself completely seduced by an unsuspecting female hamster. Needless to say, Maxwell panicked like a triple-K member at an all-black convention and attempted to run away to the nearest corner to curl up into a ball and whimper. Of course, Sandy and Stan took the liberty of incapacitating Maxwell’s upper limbs, that way the bookworm would be dragged to the clubhouse, kicking and screaming, for the remainder of the journey.

“Like, you have to think positive, Maxy!” Sandy said, as the trio approached the final stretch to the clubhouse. “You’re a hamster, not a rabbit!”

“Positive? What’s left to be positive about?!” Maxwell wailed, “There’s no way I can control my hormones in there! I’ll be conceiving bastard litters for sure!”

“If that was true, then you’d have done it by now,” Stan pointed out, “But you’re, like, way too ethical for that.”

“That’s because I had the sense to stay in my cage, dammit!”

Woah…I never heard Maxy swear before, Sandy thought, he must really be stressed out about his thingie.

By this time, the door to the clubhouse came into full view, being just a few feet away from the trio of rodents. Maxwell’s squirming jumped tenfold, forcing Sandy and Stan to amplify their hold on his limbs.

“I don’t wanna go! I don’t wanna go! I don’t wanna go!” Maxwell pleaded.

The bookworm’s resistance grew to such an extreme that the hamster twins had to pin him down entirely, forcing the group to stop.

“C’mon, Max! Stop acting so chicken!” Stan snapped, “Nothing bad is going to happen!”

“How do you know?” Maxwell retorted.

“I just do! I mean…we did all we could to reduce the swelling, we got you a loincloth like you asked…You have nothing to worry about!”

“You’re wrong! All of what was done before was in vain! I’ll become a monster in that clubhouse, loincloth or no loincloth!”

Stan was at a loss. Maxwell, now unnaturally stubborn, could not be convinced to go into the clubhouse even if he was bribed with a lifetime’s supply of sunflower seeds. Forcing the bookworm would most likely give him a heart attack, seeing how terrified Maxwell was of himself.

What’s gonna get this guy to go in? Stan pondered.

That question, fortunately, was answered when Maxwell’s girlham suddenly engaged in an unusual line of questioning towards the intellectual.

“Maxy…you’re a guy, right?”

The inquiry caught Maxwell completely off-guard. “What? Oh…well, yes.”

“What is it that every guy wants the most?”

Maxwell hesitated. “They want…they want…”

“What guys want most is a mate,” Sandy answered for her boyham, “Not food, not shelter, but a mate. No matter how nice they are on the outside, deep down they’re all pigs. Some just have a harder time keeping it to themselves.”

“But Sandy…I can’t keep it to myself in my current condition,” Maxwell pointed out.

“So what?” Sandy replied, “Like, you think you’re the only one with that kind of problem? You have no idea how many pervs I have to clobber every day just to keep their dirty hands off me!”

“You mean there are others who ate the blue diamonds too?”

Sandy tried her best to stifle her small chuckle. “No, Maxy…they, like, choose to be like that, ‘cause they got nothing else going for them.”

The tiger-striped female leaned over Maxwell. “But you…you’re smart, noble, gentle…you have everything going for you. You will beat this, You just have to try.”

It felt like an eternity before Maxwell finally replied, “Alright. I’ll go in. But we must take every precaution.”

“No problem, Max. We got you covered,” Stan reassured.

Helping the bookworm back onto his feet, the trio of rodents now walked peacefully towards the clubhouse door. Stan gave the entrance three hard knocks; minutes later a small, orange-white hamster imbued with optimistic glee answered, his eyes wide open in ecstasy.  

“Sandy! Stan! Welcome back! And Maxwell! Long time no see! How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” Maxwell replied nervously.

“Can we come in?” Sandy asked.

“Sure!” Hamtaro answered.

Inside the clubhouse, Maxwell found that very little had changed in the past three days. The floor still had a layer of smooth, green carpeting; the walls of earth retained their cavernous shape and texture; the piles of hay beds still lay in the corner; and the large, signature discussion table still stood in the center where the following hamsters sat slumped in their chairs, sleeping like babies:

Dexter…a self-styled nobleham who wears a bowtie. Howdy…a shameless comedian with a southern accent who sports the signature apron of his owner’s general store. Boss…the resident field hamster who acts tough but is actually quite sensitive. Penelope…the cutest hamster toddler in the known universe, flawed only by a one-word vocabulary. And, of course, the two hot vixens known as Bijou and Pashmina.

“So, why’s everyone conked out?” Stan asked Hamtaro, as the four hamsters approached the dreamland surveyors.

“Aw…we just ran out of ideas when a lot of the ham-hams had to leave early, so we got bored. Boss and I hung on for awhile, but then he zoned out too when he started to look at Bijou funny.”

“Funny” was an understatement, for Boss looked like a freakish mannequin with oversized, beady eyes, along with the incriminating stream of drool flowing out of the corner of his mouth. Sandy, for reasons that are blatant to the extreme, scowled at this primal display of lust, and gave the “romantically deprived” field hamster a devastating bitch-slap to his cheek. Boss yelped from the rude awakening, grabbing hold of his throbbing face, while the three witnesses recoiled in fear of the vengeful female.

“Ow…who did that?” Boss said, slightly disoriented from the blow, “Oh…er, hi Sandy! I didn’t know you came back!”

“And it’s a good thing I came back, or else you’d probably drown Bijou in your drool.” Sandy said, still giving Boss a dirty look, which caused the field hamster to blush a cherry red in shame.

Oh dear…I didn’t know Sandywas so swift in discipline, Maxwell thought, Andto think I was under pressure before I knew this!

“Ah-heh-heh…say, how about we wake everyone up now?” Hamtaro said nervously, as small beads of sweat trickled down the side of his head.

Those who were awake hastily agreed to this, and set about to release the sleepers from their slumber:

“Oui…my beauty sleep has ended.”

“Ook…wee? Ookwee!”

“Not yet…I’m still so sleepy…”

“Odeley…I was having a good snooze, too.”

“Not yet mommy…just five more minutes…Hey, you’re not my mother!”

Now there was a group of ten hamsters, four of them girls and six of them boys. Eventually, they would go about to engage in pleasant sport…but first, one teeny tiny little question had to be eradicated from their general conscious, which was best summarized by scarf-bearer Pashmina when she asked, “Maxwell, why are you wearing that apron?”

“Huh? Hey, you ARE wearing an apron!” Boss exclaimed.

“Are you trying a new fashion?” The white-furred frenchie inquired, “I like how it blends with your belly fur so well!”

The bookworm’s nervousness spiked to unbearable levels, paralyzing his bones and muscles. His growing mood of panic effectively killed off any memory of his planned façade for his “tiny” problem, thereby leaving him with nothing but the cold, hard truth that would surely penetrate into the darkest, most disturbing corners of their minds. Had not Sandy and Stan intervened to rescue him, poor Maxwell would’ve screamed and run off like a decapitated chicken.

“Max just felt like trying something new,” Stan answered.

“And he, like, loves Howdy’s apron so much, he went and made an apron for himself! Right, Maxy?”

Maxwell began to relax again. Sort of. “Yeah, that’s right! I’ve always admired aprons!” he confirmed a little too enthusiastically.

Howdy, his ego boosted, smirked in Maxwell’s direction. “Well, Max, if ya wanted an apron so badly ya coulda asked for one of mine. I got lots of them! But still, I’m plenty flattered.”

“Oh, for pete’s sake, Howdy!” Dexter exclaimed, “It is the apron he admires, not you!”

“Shut your trap, Dexter!” Howdy snapped, “You’re just green with envy because Maxwell likes aprons more than your preppy little bowtie!”

“How dare you accuse me of such childish thoughts! I’m not the one blowing up my ego over an insignificant garment such as yours!”

“Alright, that’s it! You’re asking for it!”

The two rivals prepared to charge each other, revving up for the testosterone-drenched, royal rumble that almost always occurs between two members of a love triangle. But before one could crush the other with the trademarked “People’s Elbow,” The rest of the hams separated the two and helped to calm the two bulls down. Pashmina, as always, looked at the rivals for her affection with dismay.

“Ok, Ham-hams, listen up!” Hamtaro announced, once the hostility had died off, “I know we couldn’t come up with anything before, but now that Sandy, Stan, and Maxwell are here, maybe they can think of something!”

The group turned towards the trio, who understandably appeared uneasy. “What’s it gonna be, hams?” Boss asked them.

“Um, could you guys give us a minute?” Stan asked, as he signaled the other two to huddle for the plan.

“Sure thing! Just try not to take too long,” answered Hamtaro.

The twins and the bookworm gathered in a tiny circle, speaking in whispers as the rest of the group watched in curiosity:

STAN: Listen, you two…We’ve got to make this as normal as possible. They can’t get the slightest idea that something’s wrong, or else Maxwell’s screwed.

MAXWELL: Gee, you have such an interesting choice of words-

STAN: You know what I meant!

SANDY: Well, what can we do? We can’t play any ball games because Maxwell could, like, get injured.

MAXWELL: Whatever we choose, it will have be low on physical activity.

STAN: [groans] Are you telling me we should play card games all day? They might as well go back to sleep! No…we have to do something more interesting…and I have just the game.

SANDY: What game is that, bro?

STAN: The only one they’ll want to play for more than five minutes…ever heard of “Spin The Bottle?”

MAXWELL: What!? Are you insane!? I thought we were trying to avoid seduction!

SANDY Yeah, bro! That just isn’t smart!

STAN: Max can’t hide from the girls forever, Sandy. That just ain’t healthy. If he’s really loaded with lust, he can let it out in small amounts instead of just letting it explode like an A-bomb. You can’t go wrong with the “nico-patch” technique. You up for it, Max?

MAXWELL: [Grumble] While I think you’re just adding fuel to the fire, at this point I’m desperate enough to try your freakish ideas again. I’ll give it a go, but if find myself yodeling in someone’s valley lane then I’m leaving!

STAN: Ok then…just try to lay off on those innuendos, ok?

MAXWELL: Oh…sorry about that.

“Ok, ham-dudes,” Stan announced, breaking the huddle, “Who’s up for a game of ‘Spin the Bottle?’”