Well, it’s happened. 4I Falcon has written another lemon for the DAD community! Yay! ^_^

 

You’d actually be surprised at what Falcon gets up to late at night. Renamon sure will be. But, anyway, read on, and you’ll figure out exactly what I mean. X3

 

This lemon is 18+, blah, blah, blah. You’ve probably read this crap enough times anyway...

 

Caught White-Handed

 

Late one night, almost a week after the Renamon’s second encounter with Falcon, the fox Digimon woke up with a start. She had been having a very bad dream, a reenactment of what had happened only a few days before. She was breathing heavily, and, although she didn’t know why, she was wet. Renamon looked between her legs, and, sure enough, her juices dampened the fur on the inside of her thighs. Renamon was shocked at herself, and her body, for doing this; the last thing she expected herself to do was derive pleasure from that horrid little bastard Impmon forcibly raping her.

The dream didn’t even end with Falcon releasing Renamon from her bonds. The horrible dream continued on, and the indignities Impmon put her through did not stop, as if Falcon didn’t even exist. After the clothespins were fastened onto her ears, nipples, and tail, Impmon clamped one last clothespin onto her clit. Even though she could not physically feel the pain in her sleep, she screamed out loud in her dream. Impmon forced her to suck on his long rod, while she was still hanging from the roof… forced a dildo into her unwilling pussy, almost causing her to pass out right there… forced a string of beads into her ass, sending shockwaves of pain all the way up to her ribcage… then left her to die, hanging helpless in the empty room.

Which got her thinking. Why did Falcon come to save her, anyway? How did he know to come to her rescue and defeat Impmon, then Daemon, on such short notice?

And, past the pseudonym, mystery, and technology, who was Falcon?

The fox Digimon wasn’t one to leave questions unanswered. She silently slid out of her position beside the sleeping Rika, then, quickly checking to make sure her Tamer was still asleep, she disappeared out the window. Only the swiftest eye would have been able to see her race along the street.

 

After being given enhancements by Falcon’s super-card, Renamon was faster and more sure-footed than ever before. She was quick as the wind, vaulting over anything in her path, even springing off and running along walls, if for no other reason then to experience the mind-numbing rush of her newborn powers. Not only were her muscles and reflexes augmented, but her senses were as well; she could see the smallest movement from the other side of the street, she could feel every detail of the surfaces she moved so swiftly across, and she could easily hear everything around her for at least ten feet in every direction, even on the move. Renamon didn’t know how she knew Falcon would be out this night; she was functioning on instinct, and her instincts told her quite vividly that she’d find him out here.

Soon enough, she saw a dark, trench-coated figure walking briskly down the sidewalk. She held back from calling out his name, though; it would attract too much unnecessary attention. Instead, she kept an eye on him from the other side of the road, being careful to stay in the shadows, to avoid being seen. That issue seemed to be the last thing on Falcon’s mind at the moment, as it didn’t faze him much whether he was walking under the light of an overhead streetlamp, or the darkness of everything else.

Suddenly, Falcon paused, and looked around, as if he was aware of someone watching him. Renamon instinctively pressed herself against a wall nearby, to stay as far away from the glare of the streetlights as possible. After a few seconds, he continued, and Renamon breathed a barely audible sigh of relief. She pulled herself away from the wall, a few strands of fur sticking in the rough bricks in the wall. It didn’t matter to her; it wasn’t as if she didn’t have enough fur already.

After about a half kilometre more, Falcon found the place he was looking for, glanced around once, then darted inside. Renamon had to be quick to follow, as the door was closing after Falcon. However, as before, her enhanced speed put paid to that.

Renamon was mildly surprised at the state of the inside of the mostly dilapidated building that Falcon, and the still undetected Renamon, had entered. It resembled a fully computerized, albeit not very well lit, home base, with monitors, keyboards, and all matter of technological paraphernalia occupying a whole half of the ground floor. Beside one of the monitors was a small stack of what appeared to be blank Power Cards, accompanied by two D3’s, and what appeared to be a custom-built drive, designed to handle the cards, wired to the computer nearest to it.

The other side of the room appeared to be half workstation, half laboratory. Dozens of unidentifiable tools and materials, along with a few flasks of chemicals, were semi-organized along the workstation’s main table, and what looked like a half-finished project was in the center of the table. The project itself resembled Falcon’s old wrist-mounted energy blade, but the interior was exposed, and the inner generator in full view.

Renamon didn’t have time to study the new blade further, as Falcon re-entered from another door on the far side of the room. As Renamon dashed out of sight, all Falcon saw was a gold-coloured blur. He blinked twice, squinted at the empty air, then shrugged, shaking his head, and proceeded to an office chair near one of the numerous computers.

After spinning contentedly for a few seconds, Falcon went to work. Renamon heard clearly the rapid tapping of keys on the keyboard as Falcon wrote line after line after line of code to put into a new Power Card. She waited another few minutes, hiding in the shadows and listening to the irregular tapping of the keyboard; then, assured that Falcon was engrossed in his coding, she quietly resumed exploring the room.

The unfinished project on the workstation, which Renamon had taken to be Falcon’s blade, actually was Falcon’s blade. Falcon had added some parts to the exterior, and had recoloured what remained of the metal outer shell of the fearful blade’s hilt. Instead of sporting a flame pattern, the hilt was now a shiny black shade. It had been skilfully painted over, if it had at all been painted over, and not simply replaced. The inner generator, now exposed by the hole in the top of the hilt, resembled a glass cylinder with rounded metal ends, which contained a bright blue-and-white ball of what appeared to be pure electric energy, apparently paying no heed to the forces of gravity as it floated effortlessly inside the glass cylinder. The two metal ends were wired to several other things inside the base of the blade; the majority of the wires ran to where the blade came from the hilt. Another bundle of wires ran to the bottom, or where Falcon would wear the blade on his wrist. There were also two new things, two short, pipe-like projections protruding from the front of the hilt, on either side of where the blade would be emitted from the hilt. On further examination, the projections turned out to be twin pulsating gun barrels, although Renamon could not discern any specific source of ammunition for the guns.

Renamon decided to quickly listen to check if Falcon was still engrossed in his coding. As she fine-tuned her ears, she realized that Falcon was no longer tapping away at the keyboard. The thought of him having found her in his base, and quietly walking up behind her, threw the fox Digimon into a silent panic.

Standing stock still, she weighed her options. She could either explain to Falcon what she was doing in his base, and hope he would be understanding about it, or bolt as fast as she could, in hopes she could make it home to Rika’s house without being seen.

Renamon chose the latter. She was about to cut and run, to avoid being caught, but stopped when she noticed the miniscule clicks of a mouse button. It took a few seconds for it to register upon her what had happened.

Silently sighing with relief, she rolled her eyes, chiding herself mentally. Falcon had simply taken a break from coding to do something else. By the sound of the multiple clicks on his mouse he was calmly surfing the Web. He still paid no notice to the fox Digimon standing only about ten metres away.

Renamon turned her back on Falcon, and looked again over the workstation/laboratory. She immediately spotted a test tube rack, with every slot occupied by a tube, filled with a dull-green liquid, labeled “HPE”. On closer examination, the rack itself was engraved with an inscription, which read “Hnucmea nE nPhearnfcoerrmsa”. This did not look like any language Renamon understood, so she still was unenlightened as to what this HPE substance was. She plucked one of the test tubes out of the rack, and examined it carefully, making sure it didn’t slip from her furry fingers. A few bubbles rose from the bottom of the tube, but other than that, it was a simple, dull green liquid. She sniffed the rim of the tube; it had an odour reminiscent of that of lime, but with a strong, almost biting tang to it. She quickly lifted her nose away, and placed the tube back in its place in the test tube rack, without allowing it to make so much as a clink. There was something about that liquid that sent a chilling shiver down her digi-spine and caused the fur on the nape of her neck to stand straight out. Her eyes were still locked upon the strange label, and she was unconsciously pondering every idea possible as to what the apparent gobbledegook could mean. Coming up with a whole bunch of answers that made little to no sense, she blinked once, and tore her eyes away from the test tube rack.

Renamon gradually came to realize that the clicks coming from Falcon’s general direction were strangely, disconcertingly, regular in speed and amplitude. They didn’t even sound like clicks anymore, but rather more like slaps. Quiet, regular slapping noises.

Without a sound, Renamon moved towards Falcon, remaining alert and taking in everything around her. She could not yet tell what was on the computer screen, but she already had a general idea of what Falcon had been doing. As she approached him, she saw what was on the screen.

Herself.

Renamon’s jaw dropped. Falcon was masturbating to pictures of the fox Digimon in poses she would never have agreed to do. And in every picture, her breasts, pussy, or both were exposed to view. The artists tended to overexaggerate the size of her modest-in-reality tits, but that didn’t seem to bother Falcon much.

Her mouth was moving, but no sound came out. As if one night with her wasn’t enough, now Falcon had to find pictures on the Net (highly inaccurate pictures, at that) to satisfy himself every night.

And it wasn’t only pictures of her. She recognized several of the 01 and 02 Digimon in the pictures as well. All of the females, especially Gatomon, Biyomon, and Renamon, were drawn in exposing positions.

Of course, there weren’t only exposition poses in those pictures. Some of them showed the female Digimon fucking each other, themselves, or the Tamers, their own or somemon else’s. The same went for the males, and the artists, like they did the female’s tits, overexaggerated the size of their dicks. She knew they had done so because she had done it with a few of the 01 and 02 Digimon before, but never as pornographically as the ways shown on this site Falcon was browsing.

Gatomon, Biyomon, and the other smaller Digimon were occasionally drawn in an anthropomorphic form, so as to allow them to have perceivably proportional tits, for the most part. Besides, Renamon thought to herself, the humans would probably much rather see a humanoid form of us Digimon rather than our normal selves. That’s not a surprise.

However, contradictory to her thoughts, there were also pictures of the smaller Digimon in their smaller, unanthropomorphic form. Agumon, Gatomon, Veemon, Palmon, were all shown in both small and large forms in different pictures. For fuck’s sake, there was even one with both an anthropomorphic and a non-anthro Veemon, sucking each other off.

It seemed like there was an “everything goes” attitude to how the artists drew these things. Male/female, male/male, female/female, females with toys, bondage, rape, tentacles… There seemed to be every type of fucking style possible, and then some, drawn somewhere.

Falcon threw his head back, with his eyes tightly shut. Renamon had been leaning over his shoulder, and so was about an inch away from knocking heads with him. Renamon could not help but stare as a small river of cum spurted out from his dick, coming down again to land on his still moving hand.

Falcon exhaled with pleasure, relaxed now that he had cummed. He opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was Renamon leaning over his shoulder, staring at his slowly shrinking cock. Not surprisingly, this was not at all what was expected, for neither Falcon nor Renamon.

“Ahh!” Falcon screamed in utter shock. He tumbled sideways off of his chair, landed sideways on the floor, and cracked his head upon the hard stone. Renamon immediately knelt down beside him, unsure of what to do. The first thing she thought of was to check for Falcon’s pulse. Laying a finger along the side of his neck, she waited, and her reward came: a strong, regular beating pulse. Falcon was alive and well, despite being unconscious.

Renamon looked back up to the computer. She was almost primevally angry at it, for displaying pictures of herself to the open public. She wanted to destroy that website once and for all, to prevent anyone else from seeing her or any other of her fellow Digimon in suggestive poses like Falcon had.

Still… there was something about it that was simply captivating…

She flipped back from the picture Falcon was satisfying himself with, which was an abnormal picture of Renamon being attacked by tentacles forcing their way into her mouth, pussy, and ass. Renamon shuddered at the thought of having that actually happen to her in real life, but she shook her head, dismissing the thought completely. As she searched further into the site, she realized that by looking at each shot of herself she saw, she became more and more…

…horny.

Unconsciously, she slid a hand under her thick mane of neck fur, and began to massage one of her tits lovingly, which in turn sent waves of pleasure through her entire body. She realized she actually enjoyed looking at herself being fucked by god-knows-what. She knew she wasn’t narcissistic or anything, but these artists were just so skilled at drawing her. They did it so well, and they knew exactly what they were drawing, even if it was herself naked being fucked in three places at the same time. They were just that good at it.

After a few minutes, she had to remove her hand from her mane because her other hand, the one that she had been using to move the mouse around, had migrated to her pussy. Sliding her finger in and out of her love hole like a dildo, she gasped softly, enjoying the ecstasy of her own gentle touches.

Finally, she came to a picture of an anthropomorphic Gatomon and Renamon pleasuring each other with their claws and fingers, not to mention tongues. Gatomon was rubbing Renamon’s tits and licking her wet pussy, and Renamon was doing pretty much the same thing, inserting her tongue into Gatomon’s dripping pussy and manipulating her, as was earlier assumed, slightly oversized tits.

This was all that was needed to arouse her. Gatomon had been her best friend and confidant, and Renamon was Gatomon’s best friend as well, but the fox Digimon had never imagined them consummating their relationship like this. Renamon’s finger felt like it was getting warmer inside her pussy… warmer and wetter. As she pushed and pulled her finger in and out of her pussy, she completely forgot about the mouse, and resumed massaging her breasts, especially her stone-hard nipples, as she imagined Gatomon lovingly licking her wet pussy. She closed her eyes, visualizing Gatomon’s pussy right in front of her face. She even extended her tongue out to the air, as if to lick the imaginary cat Digimon’s pussy in front of her. Finally, after touching her G-spot a few times too many, she came with some force, soaking her fingers and the chair in her juices.

Renamon’s eyes snapped open. She slowly pulled her drenched fingers away from her pussy, and stared at them in what could almost be horror. What’s happening to me? Renamon thought, hysterically. Why have I become such a sex-crazy beast lately? What the hell is wrong with me?

Gradually standing up from the chair, she could not take her eyes off of her hand, and the glistening liquid coating the fur on her fingers. With one hard flick of her wrist, her juices were dislodged from the fur on her fingers, and they spattered onto the floor. Although this had been done, she still could not look away from her fingers. With a single tear brimming in each eye, she bolted from the dilapidated fortress, and ran as fast as inhumanly possible through the streets and back to Rika’s house.

 

Falcon slowly came to a while later. His pants were still undone, and his dick, now obviously gone soft again, was still hanging loosely out of his pants. There was an immense pain banging away at the back of his head, and he rubbed his head, as if to mollify the throbbing pain. Quickly zipping up his pants, he tried feverishly to recall what had happened before he fell to the floor. Just after he had finished jacking himself off, Renamon had appeared over his shoulder. He fell out of his chair, and cracked his head on the ground. He attempted to remember something, anything else, but everything was unclear, a hazy blur, in his mind.

He stood up, unsteady on his own feet. Pushing his glasses up further on his nose, he glanced once more at the picture on the screen.

Then he realized that that wasn’t the last picture he had seen before he had closed his eyes.

Someone’s been here.

Renamon.

But what would she be doing on a site like that?

The same thing I’d be doing, obviously.

But how…? Why?

A whole bunch of indistinguishable thoughts ran through his head, and he tried to make sense of even one or two of them as he sat down in his chair. He was weaving back and forth dangerously in the chair, as if he had no control over his upper body. He shakily got up from his chair, and erratically began to make his way towards the only washroom in his base. However, he only made it halfway there before he collapsed to the floor.

Everything seemed to be waving back and forth in front of him. His vision could only be described as a shadowy miasma. He felt the pounding pain in the back of his head again as he struggled onto all fours. Not able to regain his steadiness, he threw up, and finally, mercifully, he lost all consciousness, and he passed out once more on the hard, cold stone floor.

 

 

The third lemon in the “Enter: Falcon” series is finally complete. I hope you enjoyed it.

 

No thank-you’s this time, as I wrote this story on my own. However, greetz go out to Renamon Fan, wherever you are; Raab the Undertaker, for remembering I exist; and everyone at both the DAD and the DHZ, for, uh… being.

 

In any case, I’ll try to have my next lemon out between now and when the sun explodes. Yep.

 

L8rz all!

 

- 4I Falcon