Mr. Gordo Woke Up Gay
I remember that night as if it were yesterday.
The day had started like most others. The Mistress had lain in her bed as the sun rose, golden hair spread out across her pillow, red lips slightly parted to allow drool to trickle down her cheek and onto the pillow. The alarm clock made its dull beeping sound at the usual time, and as always the Mistress bashed it with one hand, causing it to sail across the room and land with a clatter next to my bookcase, silenced by her might. Mentally, I swooned.
The Mistress continued her slumber until some time later the Goddess marched into her room and cried, "Buffy!" The Goddess stood there, hands on shapely hips, sunlight glinting in her blonde mane, until the Mistress muttered something about being awake, already. "Hurry up, then," the Goddess said irritably and swished out of the room.
I watched with barely disguised lust as the Mistress washed and dressed, and considered how lucky I was to be able to witness this every morning. Then she swept out, and I spent the day watching the world go by on the other side of her window, and imagining the day when I share her bed once more.
It was night when the window opened. I perked up, as I now expected to see my Mistress return, but instead was greeted by the sight of the Mistress' paramour, the dark and brooding Angel. "Buffy?" he called. There was, obviously, no answer -- even the Goddess appeared to be out of the house.
He called again, louder this time, then upon receiving still no answer, slid the window up and clambered in to the Mistress' sanctuary. He paced about the room for a time, looking into her underwear drawer, extracting garments and rubbing himself. He replaced the underwear once he was done, and looked around the room again. He caught sight of me and one large hand reached out. I felt the cool grip encircle my torso and I was in the air. There was a noise -- the Mistress! -- and in panic he pushed me to his body.
For years I'd lusted after my mistress, who would lie in bed in flimsy nightdresses and inflame my stuffed passions with her womanly curves. I did not think anyone could replace her in my affections- but when he held me to his firm, muscled chest, I felt a strange feeling pass through my acrylic fur and deep into my polystyrene bean filling. I almost forgot the Mistress existed until she spoke.
"Just dropping by for some quality time with Mr Gordo?"
I wanted to deny it -- I wasn't that sort of pig! -- but the words stuck in my throat. Angel was confused. "Excuse me?"
The Mistress looked at me. I must have looked deliriously happy, and shame coursed through my man-made fibers. "The pig," she said. I blushed.
"Oh, heh, I, uh..." Angel said. Then he tossed me away and I landed inelegantly in the chair. I spent the rest of the night awake, fur a-quiver, unable to think of anything but Angel. I drifted off as the sun rose, but started awake in the chair as the alarm clock beeped once again.
It was only then, in the light of a new morning, that I realised what had happened. The touch of Angel had made me a homosexual pig. I had woken up gay!
I was grateful I was already pink, as this made celebrating my new sexual identity much easier. I came out to the other toys in the room, who were very accepting. Mr Pointy even let me use him to explore the new me a few times when the Mistress was away. I don't think she suspected anything.
I did think that my one night of passion with Angel would be our last, and that I would be doomed to more years of unrequited passion. Yet every time he came back to the room -- even when the Mistress said he was evil -- he always took the time to squeeze me to his chest. I think he knew of our bond.
He's gone now, but I still think of him. And I know one day we will be reunited, and live in big gay harmony forever more. Our love is immortal, and, hey, so are we!