A Reunion of Clowns

Buggy’s Devil Fruit body-part sense led us to a small island after another day and night of sailing. The clown himself was all jitters, hovering at the very tip of the prow, binoculars clamped to his painted face as we closed in on land.

“Hey! Hey!” Buggy’s floating head called out, voice bright with excitement.

“What is it?” I called back, only half-annoyed, Buggy’s manic energy was contagious.

“You don’t need to shout so loud; I can hear you just fine!” he snapped, spinning around in midair, nose gleaming in the sun. “Pay attention! I found something flashy!”

Before I could reply, I felt Alvida’s familiar presence sidling up beside me at the bow. Still completely nude of course, pale skin shining, long black hair streaming behind her in the sea breeze, hips swaying with every step. Her massive, buoyant tits jostled with the movement of the ship, nipples catching the morning light.

She leaned in, her warmth pressing up against my side, and I settled my hand greedily into the deep, soft valley of her ass, letting my fingers graze between the plush cheeks, a fingertip teasing at the puckered bud within and the start of her slit beneath. She arched against my palm with a lazy, approving hum, her eyes flicking toward the island.

“Did you find something good, clown?” she drawled, her voice slow and syrupy.

Buggy’s gaze lingered, jaw slack, before snapping his attention back to the horizon. “Yes! That’s my ship, the super flashy Big Top!”

I squinted in the direction he pointed and took the binoculars from him. Through them, I caught sight of it, a riot of colors floating at anchor, painted like a circus exploded on the sea. The figurehead was a leering elephant with a cannon for a trunk, deck lined with painted cannons and a forest of gaudy circus tents and grinning clown-skull flags. “Looks like someone puked up a carnival,” I said dryly, giving Alvida’s ass an appreciative squeeze.

She reached out and plucked the binoculars from my hands, bringing them to her eyes. “Let’s hope the crew’s as easy to spot as that circus monstrosity.”

Not that Alvida could talk. The Miss Love Duck was every bit as ridiculous, a pink-and-white love letter to her own vanity, covered in hearts and ruffles and, if possible, even more over-the-top than Buggy’s circus nightmare.

As we sailed closer, it became clear that the ship was empty. No movement on deck, no clownish crew hustling around.

“Your loyal crew abandoned you, huh?” I teased, nudging Buggy’s floating head.

“Never! Those flashy fools wouldn’t dare! They’re probably just, uh, sleeping it off or something!” he protested unconvincingly.

We anchored near the Big Top and took a rowboat to shore. Alvida leaped gracefully into the shallows first, her smooth skin glistening as water droplets trailed sensually down her voluptuous figure. Each step she took onto the sand caused her big, perfect ass to ripple hypnotically, drawing Buggy’s mesmerized stare. The micro-swimsuit she’d thrown on for landing duties left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“Eyes forward, clown,” I chuckled, stepping out after her and giving him a teasing prod.
He sputtered indignantly, floating quickly ahead, trying and failing to hide his lingering glances.

We picked our way through the detritus of what looked like a weeklong party gone rotten. The shore was littered with confetti, barrels, bottles, scraps of food, a half-collapsed tent, and, dead center, a fresh dirt mound marked by a battered stick and a wanted poster flapping in the breeze.

“What’s with this big grave?!” Alvida asked, one hand on her swaying hip as she stooped to examine the mound. It had a pole stuck in it and one of Buggy’s wanted posters attached like a sign.

Buggy spun around, hands flying up defensively in front of his face. “What?! I have a big nose?!”

He attempted to grab Alvida by the collar for emphasis, but his gloved hands bounced uselessly in front of her enormous, barely contained boobs, his face going redder by the second. “Who’re you calling Big Nose, huh?! EH?!”

Alvida, unfazed, flicked her fingers dismissively. “I said GRAVE, clown, not nose. You’re paranoid.”

Buggy blinked, then narrowed his eyes. “Red?! Red, you say?! Are you calling my nose too red now? That’s slander!” He leaned in, then paused as his gaze caught the faded old wanted poster tacked to the stick atop the mound. “Wait… my grave?!”

It took a beat before Alvida sighed, “Took you long enough to catch up.”

I nearly lost it at that, snorting as I scanned the messy remnants of the camp: empty rum bottles, upturned crates, shredded bunting. There’d been a party here before things went south.

Buggy fell face-first into the sand with a groan, scrambled back up, then shouted, “Who did this?! This is morbid! Couldn’t even use a recent poster?”

Alvida bent low, her lovely heart-shaped ass waving behind her as she peered past the mound. “Oh? There’s someone on the ground over there…”

That’s when I saw them: two guys sprawled in the grass, both looking like they’d just gone three rounds with a sea king. The first was tall and bony, with a hacked-up hairstyle, glossy black hair half long, half shaved, circus stripes all over his ragged clothes. The other was built like a scrappy fighter, fur vest clinging to his ripped chest, white hair stuck up in two points like little fur ears, joining with his sideburns and a streak of beard to frame his face with a look like he was wearing a teddy bear cowl.

Both were bruised, dirt-smeared, and snoring on the job.

“Mohji! Cabaji!” Buggy squawked, his voice catching as he floated down, all hands and worry. “What happened to you guys?!”

Mohji, the weird bear-themed one apparently, stirred first, face screwing up as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. “C-Captain Buggy… I thought you were dead!” His voice cracked as he half-crawled, half-flopped into a pathetic embrace with Buggy’s disembodied hand.

The black-haired one, Cabaji, groaned, sitting up with a wince and clutching his ribs. “It’s so good to see you, Captain..."

Before I could blink, Buggy had both of them in a ridiculous floating hug, blubbering like a reunion show reject. I glanced at Alvida, who was busy adjusting a string back over one stubby nipple, “Is it nor-er, I mean usual for pirates to be this touchy-feely?” I muttered.

Alvida just snorted, arching a brow,“If I ever caught my crew bawling like that, I’d clobber ‘em myself. But I guess clowns have lower standards.”

“I’m so glad you’re alive, Captain!” the fuzzy one sobbed. “We thought we’d never see you again!”

“Enough with the waterworks!” Buggy sniffled, yanking himself free. “What happened here? Who did this to you?”

Both pirates glanced at each other, then at the grave, then back at Buggy. “Uh… not sure. Some kinda wild animal maybe? Everything’s a blur…”

Buggy floated up, scowling with exaggerated suspicion at his two subordinates. "A wild animal, huh? Seems convenient, Mohji. Cabaji. You sure it wasn't some embarrassment you're trying to hide?"

Mohji waved his hands frantically, eyes wide in panic. "No, Captain! Really! It was huge, enormous!"

Cabaji nodded rapidly, grimacing as he sat upright. "Absolutely, Buggy! Completely vicious!"

Buggy narrowed his eyes theatrically, his head bouncing from Mohji to Cabaji and back again, red nose twitching with suspicion. “Oh, so it was a giant, wild beast? Really? You sure it wasn't a sleepwalking Richie, huh?

Alvida rolled her eyes at the spectacle, her plush lips twisted into a smug smile. "Really scraping the barrel with these clowns, aren't you, Buggy?"

Buggy sputtered, turning indignantly. "They're loyal officers! And speaking of officers, now that we're reunited, meet your new crewmates, my partners in flashy vengeance!"

“Who said we’re going to be his officers?” scowled Alvida to me and I shrugged and waved to just go along, communicating with a look that I could make it work however we wanted.

She relaxed with an evil smirk and a nod.

Mohji and Cabaji squinted in confusion, eyes darting between Alvida and myself. Buggy swung his gloved hands theatrically toward Alvida first. "This beauty is none other than 'Iron Mace' Alvida! She ate a Devil Fruit that makes her skin perfectly smooth! And as you can clearly see, she's not exactly shy about showing it off."

Alvida cocked her hip, hand resting confidently upon it, her micro-swimsuit little more than strings, fully emphasizing her flawless, voluptuous body. Her thick thighs and round ass rippled enticingly as she shifted her weight, drawing a slack-jawed stare from both pirates.

"Eyes up here, boys," she purred with smug amusement.

Buggy then gestured grandly at me, his grin growing wicked. "And this is my other flashy partner, the not-so-legendary… uh… Iron- uh... Clonk Tsujo! No, wait, Iron Clock Tsujo, eh, Iron Clod? Iron Crock? Hell, what is it, kid- Iron Cod?!”

I sighed. “Cock.”

I could tell this was going to be a constant bit.
Not missing a beat, Buggy continued “Right! Iron Crotch Tsujo! The man with the most notorious bulge this side of the Grand Line! They say he could club a Sea King with it, if he could get it out of his pants!”

Alvida rolled her eyes, “It’s ‘Iron Cock,’ clown.”

“Iron Cock! See? Even his name’s a circus act! We got Iron Mace and Iron Cock! You two should start a blacksmith shop!”

Mohji and Cabaji gave me puzzled looks, their gazes briefly flicking to the exaggerated bulge in my tailored pants, eyes widening slightly before quickly turning away.

For a brief moment, I wondered if they might resent my sudden rise in rank, after all, I had only recently escaped the life of a lowly cabin boy. But just as quickly, I realized how stupid that idea was. Thanks to the magic earrings, it was completely natural for everyone around me to accept my status as perfectly normal, no matter the context. Being a pirate officer was now simply what people would expect from me (if I was introduced that way or acted the part anyway).

Pushing the thought aside, I turned and glanced around the camp. A spear sticking prominently out of the sand caught my eye. Curious, I reached for it, testing its weight in my hands. "Hey, check this out. Maybe it's a clue?"

Alvida sauntered over, effortlessly plucking the spear from my grasp. As she did, her free hand dipped casually between my thighs, fingertips grazing my bulging crotch in an approving, almost possessive pat. "Good boy," she murmured teasingly

She lifted the spear, turning it in her hands, eyes narrowing at the rough carvings along the shaft.
“Kumate Tribe,” she announced, her tone dry and unimpressed. “Cannibals that live on this island. Didn’t bother to mention it before because my crew never would’ve gotten themselves snatched by jungle idiots with sticks and a stew pot. Pirates are supposed to be dangerous, not dinner.”

Buggy's eyes bulged. "Cannibals?! Are you kidding me?! They might already be boiling my crew alive!"

"Relax," I said smoothly, quickly seizing upon a normality to buy us some time. "Isn't it normal that these Kumate Tribe cannibals always fatten their captives up for three days and nights before finally cooking them?"

Alvida blinked, then nodded slowly, her own memories subtly shifting. "Right. They'll still be alive. They always perform a ritual boil to soften the flesh, then spend a few days fattening them before the final feast."

Buggy sighed in exaggerated relief. "Then we've got time. But let's move fast, I don't want those idiots getting eaten by a bunch of flashy savages!"

He gestured dramatically toward the jungle. "Mohji, Cabaji! Get your lazy asses up! We've got a flashy rescue to stage!"

Farther inland, at the heart of a smoky jungle clearing, the Kumate Tribe’s reality twisted around the new normal like a vine. The great cauldron at the center of their camp no longer meant imminent doom, it was now the ceremonial softening, “to honor the spirit and open the flavor,” as every tribe member could now swear was their sacred tradition.

The Buggy Pirates, along with the bewildered Richie, lounged dazed in the cauldron, not screaming but blinking as hot water was ladled over them with solemn reverence. Drummers struck up a steady beat, warriors chanted, and soon, the chief raised his hands.

“Begin the Fattening Ceremony!” he declared, as if he’d been doing this his whole life. “Feed, pamper, and plump our honored guests, three days, three nights! Only then may the true feast commence!”

Painted tribesfolk swarmed the pirates, shoving sticky fruits, roasted yams, and bowls of sweet, fatty stew into their hands. Richie, looking baffled but not displeased, allowed a watermelon to be crammed between his paws.

Back on a path through the jungle, Alvida’s hips swayed as she cut ahead. She shot me a sidelong glance, lips curling in a sly smirk. “Not bad, cock-for-brains. I saw what you did there. You’re useful for more than just ballast after all.”

I grinned, falling into step behind her, Buggy muttering somewhere up ahead about not wanting to rescue fat pirates.

The “rescue” turned out to be a farce, at least for us. Honestly, with how easy it went down, I had to wonder how the pirates got caught in the first place.

It all kicked off the moment Buggy’s body parts, which a half-dozen warriors were still slathering with oil and bickering over. They shot into the air like a handful of circus props, his head snapping onto his shoulders with a triumphant cackle as the rest assembled mid flight. “Let’s put on a show!” he crowed, launching his fists and feet in every direction.

Mohji wasted no time. He barked a command at Richie, snapping his fingers. The dazed lion’s eyes sharpened, and he let out a guttural roar, scattering the nearest tribesmen like bowling pins. Richie surged forward, slapping a pair of warriors aside with a swipe of his paw before plopping himself protectively next to his master.
Cabaji spun through the crowd on his unicycle, blade flashing, carving a path with wild, showy sweeps. Mohji’s whip cracked overhead, knocking tribal clubs and spears out of hands.

And then there was Alvida. If anyone stole the show, it was her. She barely seemed to run, she glided across the packed earth, feet so slick she just slid between the warriors, hips swaying, her huge breasts bouncing with each twist and turn.

Every time a spear jabbed at her, it just slipped right off her skin with a faint shwick sound, the point glancing harmlessly off her perfectly polished body. She laughed, turning and twirling through their ranks, her long black hair streaming behind her. A flick of her wrist, and her iron mace sent two tribesmen flying end over end into the jungle.

I half-jogged up behind, mostly keeping out of the way while watching my new crewmates bulldoze a hundred cannibals like it was an afternoon warm-up, between Buggy’s limbs darting everywhere, Richie’s reawakened fury, Cabaji’s circus act, and Alvida gliding around like a living bowling ball, the Kumate Tribe broke in moments.

By the end, the only thing left in the clearing was confusion, a few bruised cannibals, and the rest of Buggy’s crew, mostly drenched, dazed, and blinking at their sudden freedom.

By the time I strolled into the clearing, Richie was roaring in triumph, Mohji and Cabaji were catching their breath, and the rest of the crew was already feasting on the ceremonial fruit and pork left behind. Buggy was soaking up his crew’s cheers, bowing and posing like he’d just single handedly defeated a Marine fleet. Alvida stood at the edge, her hands on her hips, breasts heaving, looking every bit the queen she believed herself to be.