He rose; the aroma of pie had woken him up, he would leave the bend and walked towards the kitchen where another pie was waiting for him. "Good morning, my child" the goat said with glee. Frisk was no child, although it seemed as Toriel had some sort of "motherly vibe" to her, and he didn't argue.
He'd stare at her, curious as to why she called herself a "monster"; no qualities of such thing existed in her. She had fur as white as snow, and a rather curvaceous build for a humanoid goat. Such thoughts would arouse him, but they were true. How much longer would have to stay here?
"Is something wrong, my child?" Toriel asked, worried the boy wouldn't like her pie; "I hope you're not getting sick of eating my pies, they're the only thing I'm good at." Frisk shook his head, as if something had possessed him; he felt a sense of lust and arousal consume him.
"...My child? Is something wro-mmph!" Frisk dove at her, tackling her to the ground. His lips would press against hers as they locked into kissing. Their tongues entwined as they played with each other, he would grope her breasts and she would moan. Frisk was feeling DETERMINATION.
