End of the Tour – The Angry Yobs 3

Awesome covert art by Bobert Ottah
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This story and the artist’s account contain adult content.

And so the final chapter in the 3 part series comes to a close! Man this took a lot longer than it should have! Burnout is a mother-fluffing bench! (it’s funnier if I censor the swears). I hope you read and enjoy! If so, please leave a rating and review!

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The band had seen quite a bit of success ever since Scarlett came on the scene. Her unique talents (including more than just her singing) had created something their fans seemed unable to get enough of. They had been on a tour of the surrounding area, which meant they needed to travel. Thankfully, Jimmy’s sister Caroline managed to get them a means of transportation. She had even taken sufficient interest in the band that she wanted to be involved. Now they had wheels, a manager, and a hit album that had only just dropped as they started the tour. By the end, they would be able to actually see how fast they were growing, and not just by way of measuring Scarlett’s waistline.


Hyena, Red Panda, Hybrid, Squirrel, Kestrel, Avian, Newt, Hermaphrodite, Transgender, Pregnancy, Unbirthing, Endosomatophilia, Cum Inflation, Belly, Hyper, Oral, Anal, Lactation, Nursing, Messy

~ ~ ~ SAMPLE PREVIEW ~ ~ ~

Throngs of people moved and undulated as one grand organism. The crowd was enormous, filling the open air venue and echoing through the combination bar and restaurant that had opened one whole wall to face the stage. It was an interesting location, one that likely wouldn’t weather colder temperatures or precipitation that well, but on evenings like this, when the air was warm and the sky was cloudless, it was perfect. The thousand or so onlookers were well fed and liquored up pretty well, but that didn’t matter. They could be buzzed out of their heads and that would have been fine.

On stage, the band was playing their signature hit. It was the crowning achievement for their recently completed and released album. It had taken them quite a while to figure out the name for it, but when Evocative Dissonance was offered, it was hailed as a stroke of absolute genius. The hyena-red-panda hybrid held her guitar to one side as she absolutely shredded with it. She leaned in towards the microphone, careful to keep her balance just right. It was a stance she had perfected over the first several months she had found herself in such a swollen condition. Her stomach pushed out in front of her, making holding her instrument slightly awkward. But then Scarlett wasn’t the only one to have issues.

Jimmy and Virgil had been required to learn from the lady how to contend with such a ponderous gut. Marvin had it the easiest of the group, seated behind his drum kit. He still had to work around his bloated middle, but at least he wasn’t holding something directly against himself. The Angry Yobs was the only band where all of their members each possessed a large, gravid stomach, and for reasons the band wasn’t going to question, that seemed to make them that much more popular. It had started with Scarlett, then when the other three gained the courage to permit an appearance on stage so bloated, their fame really took off.

After all, no one else had the gimmick of a whole band looking like they were all pregnant. It even inspired a new name for a sub-genre on the order of hair metal. They were named the first ‘preg punk’ band. That was the term that stuck. Others had been tossed around but failed to land. ‘Rock-a-belly’ was another that had been popular, but it required too much explanation behind it to be effective, and didn’t fully capture the spirit of the band’s music. ‘Preg punk’ was self-explanatory, if somewhat inaccurate. The three boys weren’t actually pregnant, though they looked the part. And Scarlett herself wasn’t actually pregnant in the traditional sense. Those details didn’t seem to matter too much. The name was an evocative term that was sold by what the band provided.

The song whipped the crowd into an absolute frenzy, telling the tale of a young rat working as a ‘wage slave’ by day and a ‘thug’ tagging walls by night thanks to his remarkable graffiti skills. The rat only returned to his day job because he had to pay for his ability to live, but there was a great deal of colourful language vividly describing the mind-numbing drudgery he had to endure. But when the bridge hit, night would fall, and the ‘hero’ would begin his quasi-vigilante style social justice and commentary. It played well with the crowd since most everyone could identify with the ‘wage slave’ side. As for the alternate persona, that was less directly accessible, but there were more than just a handful who had their share of spray-paint on their paws.

There was some sense of irony. There was a decidedly anti-capitalist message and yet it was being used to entertain in exchange for money. But at least there wasn’t any greedy corporate overlord looking to take their cut. The Yobs had managed to keep themselves ‘pure’ in the eyes of their fans. And with the advent of music streaming, where anyone could put together an album and throw it online, the strings of the ‘music industrial complex’ were being cut. Or so that was the hope. Bands were still getting snatched up by record labels, usually by way of deals promising more money and fame than God. The band had a song specifically referencing selling out and how it destroyed the artist’s soul in that particular tale. That one was less popular, mainly because the lyrics didn’t work quite as well, and it wasn’t quite as accessible. It still got a decent roar from the crowd.

They performed three encores. It was a successful show.

At last their set was over and the audience immediately shifted into the usual post concert milling about. Much of that was dedicated to purchasing merchandise, supporting the venue by buying food and drink, or making their way to the exits. The band meanwhile made their way to the green room for a short break. They wouldn’t get long to rest. Once the main stage was no longer a focal point for the crowd, there would come the matter of removing the band’s gear. Thankfully, the venue had provided some help on the matter.

“Great show! Absolutely brilliant!” cried Caroline as she walked in on the group, “Did you hear that crowd!?”

“Kinda hard not to, luv. We were front and center.” Scarlett said, offering a wink and a smile at the squirrel.

Jimmy’s sister had proven to be quite the manager. It turned out she had been looking for something more regular than her hobby restoring and repairing vintage vehicles. Often the word ‘vintage’ was just a polite way of referring to a broken down junker from the era before CD players came standard. It was less to do with the money and more to do with just wanting structure and challenge. As it happened, the band had turned out to be fairly lucrative, especially once Scarlett came on the scene.

“Front and center’s right.” Caroline shot back, giving the lead singer’s belly a light pat with the back of her paw.

“How long ‘fore we can head back out and pack up?” Virgil asked, sprawled out across an easy chair.

“Give it about ten minutes. Crew’s already coilin’ up the cables and boxin’ up the basics.” the squirrel lady said as she moved to drape herself across the somewhat silent avian fellow’s lap across from the newt.

She had no compunctions whatsoever displaying her affection for him. Marvin meanwhile was still getting used to it. It had been several months since they had made their intentions for one another known. Caroline had indeed been the aggressor after Marvin followed her brother’s advice and bought the part he suggested. The poor bird was still somewhat clueless, but Caroline found him to be sweet and well intentioned, even if he still had a fair bit of learning to do.

“You two look comfortable.” Jimmy said as he eyed his sister’s efforts to spill herself into the bird’s embrace in spite of his swollen stomach.

“Look who’s talking.” the lady manager said, pointing with her chin over at her brother.

The squirrel guitarist was seated on the couch with Scarlett, an arm wrapped around her shoulders, and a palm pressed gently against the hybrid lady’s stomach. The deer contained within pressed out against the paw, prompting the gravid lady to hum with muted glee.

“Aww, is little miss butch lady jealous that I snagged her brother? Wishin’ ya had managed ta land me yerself? Or do I detect a hint’a desire for a good round’a ‘brotherly love’?” Scarlett asked, teasing the other lady.

It made Jimmy’s cheeks flush and he frowned. He wanted to jump in and refute the idea of the two of them bedding down together for what had to be the millionth time. Before he could express his protest, his sister just laughed and offered the hyena-red-panda a return wink.

“I won’t lie, I’ve had more than a few impure thoughts ’bout you. Trust me, if I was so inclined, my brother wouldn’t stand a chance. I’d have ya ta m’self.” Caroline said.

“I dunno if I should consider myself lucky or not.” Scarlett replied.

That time, Jimmy managed to get his protest out.

“Hey!” the squirrel cried.

The two ladies laughed, which calmed him down. Ever since Caroline joined the group, even if it was only to handle the business end of their affairs, she and Scarlett had found it far too easy to gang up on the boys, even though they were outnumbered. But then, technically, they weren’t outnumbered at all. Sophie made three. She just didn’t have much to offer in the way of witty repartee. Often she would just moan, though on occasion, she would produce some meaningful comment.

“Also, I thought you’d all like ta know, ’cause you put on such a brilliant show, online album sales are absolutely mental. Two minutes before I came in here, you lot crossed the hundred thousand download mark.” Caroline said, lifting her phone to show the very statistics she had just described.

Marvin’s eyes widened as he reached up with a wing-hand to cup the display so he could read it properly. Virgil lifted his head and jerked his gaze over at the squirrel. Jimmy and Scarlett were similarly stunned.

“You can’t be serious.” Jimmy said incredulously.