Cumaggeddon

A/N: I tried to write something serious for this fandom...

I failed.

Clawhauser stumbled along the city streets in the afternoon twilight, slightly drunk.

Gazelle had once again held another spectacular concert, and being the massive fan he was, he had attended; he always did. However, music concerts and their associated highs were a temporary experience, and every time the experience ended, it would leave Clawhauser with temporary post-concert depression, which he would drown out with donuts and tubs of ice-cream back home until it went away.

However, this time, the misery Clawhauser was feeling was much stronger than before, and he couldn't figure out why. He'd been to every Gazelle concert that played in Zootopia, so he had extensive experience with these downer moments. However, this one was different. This was intense, stabbing sadness that cut right to your core. This was sadness that made you want to go to sleep and never wake up again. This was… well this was unlike anything Clawhauser had ever experienced.

Clawhauser stopped himself next to a brick pillar that formed part of the fence separating Little Rodentia from the rest of Zootopia, placing a paw out to support his weight as he leaned against it and shutting his eyes and falling deep into his thoughts soon after.

He replayed the events in his head in an attempt to pinpoint the source of his mood. In his mind, a sped up version of events played: he could see himself waltzing past the makeshift gates with a wave of his ticket, piling onto the grassy fields along with some ZPD colleagues, jostling with the crowd for space, Gazelle waltzing up onto the stage, microphone in paw, and then the main event when the music really started and the crowd went wild.

At this point, his mental image slowed down, allowing him to once again savour the atmosphere of a concert in full swing: wildly screaming fans, jumping and hopping mammals, the terrible dancing of one very fine looking buffalo ZPD police chief…

Chief Bogo.

Clawhauser's eyes shot wide open. He had discovered the source of his misery. It wasn't post-concert depression, indigestion or anything else that usually plagued him…

It was love.

Clawhauser's mouth upturned into a wide grin, and he allowed himself to softly squeal to himself like a delighted fangirl as wild fantasies flooded his mind.

Ooooohhhhh I'm in love! I'm in love with a big tough buffalo chieeeeef! Oooohhhh it's so wonderful, I'll tell him, and he'll carry me off into the sunset… he'll divorce his wife and we'll get married and, and…

At that point, realizing what he had just thought, reality decided to come crashing into his drunken fantasy, and his depression wrapped its cold clammy fingers around his heart again.

He and Bogo would never be an item. The only way that would be possible would be if Bogo decided to abandon his pregnant wife, and Clawhauser knew all too well that impossible scenarios like that only happened in slash fanfiction.

He leaned his forehead against the brick pillar, blinking away the tears forming in his eyes. There was no way that he could have him, he thought glumly. He would have to settle for fantasizing and wallowing in self-pity until he got over it.

"Oh Chief," he muttered under his breath, "I can't have you… but I wish I could." At that moment, a thought flitted through his drunken mind. "But maybe I can pretend to have you just for tonight."

Looking around quickly and seeing that there was nobody around, Clawhauser discreetly unzipped the fly of his pants, reaching inside to pull out his rapidly hardening member. Feeling it's firmness in the grip of his paw, he grasped it tightly and began stroking, slowly at first, but more enthusiastically soon after.

With his other paw, he pushed himself away from the brick pillar, raising his head to look directly at it. The pillar was thick and sturdy, much like the physicality of the Chief himself. It would make it easier to replace it in his mind with a mental image of said Chief.

It would also make a perfect surrogate target... for his seed.

Clawhauser closed his eyes, and allowed his mind to imagine the sturdy form of the chief, clad in uniform, gyrate suggestively in front of him, eyes ablaze with lust.

"Ooooohhhhh chieeeef! You're so handsome!" he softly squealed at the mental image. "Show me more!"

And with that, Chief Bogo began to slowly, very slowly, unbutton his shirt, hooves working their way downward until the last button was undone and the shirt flapped open in an imaginary wind, revealing his tight torso. He imagined him doing this for a good while, waving his chest around in an exaggerated manner.

Then, leaning forward, the Chief gave a slow, seductive wink. That was enough to send Clawhauser over the edge, as his climax took hold of him, making him shudder and moan. His throbbing member began pumping thick gouts of his seed, and in his mind, he was aiming it nice and high, squarely at Chief Bogo's exposed chest, painting it with perfect arcs of his sticky substance. In the real world, he was trying to aim for the surrogate target – the brick pillar in front of him.

Clawhauser should have probably opened his eyes however, as aiming with your eyes shut while drunk didn't tend to lead to good results. Had he opened his eyes, he would have realized that his seed wasn't hitting the brick pillar in front of him…

It was headed straight into Little Rodentia.

"Gentlemen." The well-dressed rodent standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window said to the assembled crowd of ten or so mammals seated at the rectangular boardroom table, the twilight sun throwing his shadow across the room. He was the chief financial officer of the company, and he had a very important presentation to make. The mammals in attendance seemed to think so too; looking down the length of the table, he could tell all of them were listening with rapt attention. "Let's take a look at the projections for our financial performance for the fourth quarter."

With that, the rodent clicked a remote that was in his left paw, and the projection that was displayed on the far left wall changed to various colored bar graphs.

All the mammals currently in attendance turned their attention to the screen, as the rodent began speaking again. "Current market projections indicate that we will meet most of our financial targets by next year. However, there is still room for improvement. As I will show you, strong competition, and a slackening economy have hurt us…" The rodent stopped speaking when the sun behind him suddenly darkened, throwing the room into deep shadow.

The assembled mammals turned their attention to something outside the window behind him, and their eyes immediately went wide in shock. Curious, he turned around to look as well, and barely had time to register in his mind when a large cream colored blob of… something, smashed through the window behind him, slamming his body into the wooden boardroom table hard enough to crack open his skull and kill him instantly.

The assembled mammals jumped back in fear at the horrible sight of their financial officer buried beneath a stinking white blob, the blood pouring from his smashed head comingling with it and making the mess look unnervingly like strawberries and cream.

None of the mammals in attendance were ever able to eat strawberries and cream ever again.

A female rodent in attendance finally found her voice again and began a high pitched scream, filling the room with an ear-splitting wail, as she backed away to the door. Outside, the mammals started to hear more screaming from the pedestrians below, and as they walked closer to the smashed window and looked outside, they could see why.

Silhouetted in the twilight, were many more blobs raining down from the sky, slamming into buildings, smashing cars, flattening unlucky pedestrians…

It was a nightmare.

Somewhere, a street preacher yelled above the panicked screaming of the masses. "Armageddon is here! Repent for your sins! Judgement day is here! Repent for your sins! Repent…"

In the madness of the current events, the mammal sounded eerily sane.

Meanwhile, outside the gate, Clawhauser was enjoying his sinful fantasies a little too much.

Currently, in his mind's eye, Chief Bogo had stripped himself entirely of his shirt, and was now slowly working on his pants as he turned around, wagging his rump toward Clawhauser.

"Oooohhhh Chief!" moaned Clawhauser, still stroking his member, eliciting more excited squirts. "Wait until you see what my weapon of mass – I mean ass – destruction can do!"

He gripped his member tighter, picking up the pace of his pumping again as jolts of pleasure coursed through his body. He was in heaven.

Meanwhile, on the streets of Little Rodentia, it was hell.

Entire rows of parked vehicles were smashed, covered in a mysterious sticky white substance, mammals were running in all directions, screaming hysterically, somewhere amongst the crowd, young children could be heard calling out for their missing mothers…

Nearby, a series of blobs crashed into a nearby fuel station, smashing fuel bowsers and sending petrol all over the pavement. Soon after, the petrol caught fire, engulfing the station in flames and causing a massive explosion that ripped through nearby buildings and leaving a mushroom cloud in its wake.

"Repent! Repent!" The crazed street preacher yelled, as he waded through the stampede of mammals running toward him and the dead bodies strewn throughout the streets. "Judgement day is here! Repent!"

Clawhauser was finished now, the lovely mental image of Chief Bogo beginning to fade from his mind. Now all that was left to do was to go home, clean up and tuck into a tub of ice cream and donuts.

A burning smell wafted over to his direction and Clawhauser opened his eyes to look for the source of the mysterious burning. Looking through the grating fence into Little Rodentia, Clawhauser's eyes widened when he saw what could be described as an apocalyptic scene.

Fires engulfed many buildings nearby, the panicked residents desperately climbing out of windows to escape the billowing smoke. Cars were smashed by the dozens in the streets, the injured mammals crawling around on the tarmac, some being treated by paramedics, while some were left writhing, moaning in pain.

There were also dead bodies. Lots of dead bodies.

Looking closer, Clawhauser could see a crowd of mammals, pointing to the creamy white substance that dripped off nearby buildings, before pointing toward the sky, then toward his position behind the pillar. More mammals congregated around this group, pointing and nodding, and soon enough, there was a massive crowd, looking and heading his way.

Oh no.