Title: That's All, Folks

Author/pseudonym: Tinnean

Fandom: Looney Tunes

Pairing: Injun Joe/Sloppy Moe, Injun Joe/Porky Pig implied

Rating: NC-17

Email address:
Tinneantoo@aol.com

Disclaimer: They belong to Warner Bros. I wouldn't dream of claiming credit for such cleverness.

Status: new/complete

Date: 6/02

Series/Sequel: no

Other Web Site:
http://www.angelfire.com/fl5/tinnssinns

Archive: OK, I surrender. Yes to all the list archives. (I'm so easy!)

Summary: Just what is that secret about Injun Joe?

Warnings: m/m, m/p (man/pig) implied. Didn't I already mention this?

Notes: This is based on the 1945 cartoon, Wagon Heels, and I have to thank someone on the Looney Tunes message board for this information. The Cartoon Network refuses to air this cartoon because it is considered politically incorrect. And as an added surprise, several cameo appearances! This is for Page on her birthday, but only because the real story was taking forever to write. :( Thanks to Gail for not thinking I'm beyond the pale for coming up with this story idea, and for actually beta'ing it! You know what Harry always says. :)


That's All Folks
by Tinnean


The little pink pig was rocking back and forth in his saddle. "Ci-ca-ci-ca come on, and hear. C-c-c-come on and he-ha-he-ha hear. Alexander's rag t-t-t-time band."

His donkey trotted along happily, his neat hooves beating a syncopated rhythm on the hard desert floor. The wooden frame that was fastened to his back was loaded sky high with camping gear and mining equipment. Porky was going to make his fortune in them thar hills!

All of a sudden a *huge* Indian appeared before them. The donkey's ears became erect, and for a moment Joe was distracted, mesmerized by the long appendages. His distraction lasted long enough for Porky Pig to get away.

Injun Joe's shoulders slumped, and he was about to turn and walk away, dragging his big tomahawk, (you know what they say about men with big tomahawks) when a dirty, scruffy, crazy mountain man with *big* feet leaped out of the rocks. "I know something you don't know, you don't know, you don't know. I know something you don't know, but I ain't tellin'!"

And then he ran off.

Injun Joe faded back into the foothills (which really hadn't been taken good care of; they were covered with bunions!) and went back to tracking the pink pig. Each time he was about to grab him, Sloppy Moe, the little mountain man, would pop up. "I know something you don't know, you don't know, you don't know!" he would chant in a sing-song voice. "I know something you don't know, but I ain't tellin'!"

Finally, Joe cornered Porky Pig in a blind canyon. The little donkey cowered behind the pig, who shivered and trembled and pulled the tail of his coonskin cap over his eyes so he wouldn't see the tomahawk when it swung down to bean him on his little pink head.

And then out burst Sloppy Moe, dancing around Injun Joe. "I know something you don't know, you don't know, you don't know. I know something you don't know..."

Before he could finish his taunting song, Injun Joe grabbed him around the neck and held the skinny mountain man up so he could stare in his eyes. "All right, you. What you know?" And he shook him.

Sloppy Moe looked shy. And then he looked crafty. And then he looked aroused. "Well... you see... It's just that... Injun Joe..." He wiggled the toes of his big feet. (You know what they say about men with big feet.)

"What? What?" the Indian demanded irritably.

"Injun Joe... is... a bottom!"

Porky looked intrigued. Injun Joe looked aghast that his secret was out. He dropped Sloppy Moe, but before Joe could deny his allegations, (if, indeed, that was his intention) the mountain man and Porky stripped off his breech cloth and flipped him onto his stomach. Porky waited politely while the mountain man took out his cock (and in his case, it was true what they said about *little* men with *big* feet, just in case you were wondering), and slid it into the bigger man. With deep, slow strokes, Sloppy Moe began fucking the him.

Injun Joe, his vocabulary reduced to monosyllables, raised his hips to accept the thrusts. "More! Yes! More! Fuck! More! More! More!" He grunted in pleasure each time the other man slammed into his prostate.

Porky's own cock had emerged from its dusky pink sheath, and he stroked it leisurely while he watched the two men screwing.

Someone tapped on Porky Pig's shoulder, and he glanced over it to see who wanted him. Behind him was a grey bunny who was nibbling on a big carrot. (You know what they say... never mind.) "Ehh, what's up, doc?"

Porky's eyes grew huge. Creeping up on the bunny was a little man with a big hunting hat on his head, a bigger shotgun in his hand, and an even bigger erection tenting his trousers. "I am, *wabbit*!" He tossed aside his gun, unzipped his trousers and jumped on the startled Bugs before the rabbit could do more than gulp at the size of Elmer Fudd's cock. "Gonna fuck you into next week, wabbit!" He grabbed Bugs' hips, drove his dick into the little pink hole exposed by the fluffy, white tail and suited action to words. His hips pistoning wildly, Elmer Fudd tossed a polite, "Thank you," over his shoulder to the black duck who was watching the proceedings with interest.

Daffy Duck smiled evilly. "I told you it was rabbit season!



~End~