Red Light District
Chapter 10: I miss you. I need you. What’s empathy mean?
Sans looked around, but his view was the same from every angle—folded cloth, directly over his eyes. Blindfolded, then—
No. No no no this couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t, it couldn’t be all starting over again. The timeline had reset, he was back in the cell, Clarence was going to come any moment and
Sans felt a hand touch his face. He involuntarily jerked away from it in surprise. He hadn’t heard anyone come in, which didn’t seem right—he could still vividly recall the way Clarence’s shoes echoed as he tapped into the room, the hushed swing of the cell door.
There was a slight pressure on either side of Sans’ head, maybe some kind of cloth too, through which Sans couldn’t hear anything at all. The hand on his face appeared to be offended by his reluctance, because his head was pressed into the floor. Sans tried to speak, but his mouth was pried open and stuffed up with a rubber gag. Had something changed in this timeline? Had Clarence decided a blindfold wasn’t enough?
Sans wasn’t tied up the way he remembered, either. Instead of sitting up with his back to the wall, his hands over his head, he was on his side on the floor in a kind of fetal position, with some very complicated restrictions going on. A small wiggle of his body told him that most everything was tied to everything else—his legs were bent up to his chest and tied to his body, his legs strapped to each other, and his arms were tied much the same way—bent at the elbows, tied to each other, and tied to his chest with his hands clasped together in prayer under his chin. Some pressure when he moved his head or his hands also told him his wrists were tied to his jaw by the gag.
He tried to talk to Clarence, to make noises through the gag that might interest him enough to let him speak, but the hand just kept stroking his face. If he could only say just one thing, maybe this could turn out okay. Clarence was psychotic, but he was one of the more reasonable people in Sans’ life at the moment, and he was still his friend, right? For whatever that was worth.
Then Sans felt something long and hard jut up into the tight space between his crotch and his tied up thighs. It started vibrating and rubbing on him.
This wasn’t Clarence. Clarence would never touch him like this of his own volition, wouldn’t even want to be in the room to see it. So where was he? When was he?
Was he wrong about the reset? Right…he must be, because…if this were a reset, he wouldn’t remember what was going to happen to him later…he wouldn’t know Clarence yet beyond perhaps a strong sense of déjà vu. After all, no matter how many resets there were, the cell was technically their first meeting.
The vibrator pushed more insistently against his groin as though something was supposed to be there. Like Sans was supposed to do something here.
They probably wanted him to make a pussy.
Sans wasn’t wearing anything…that might have been another clue that Clarence wasn’t involved.
The vibrator was pulled away briefly and Sans felt a light slap on the flat of his tailbone. Whoever was there was getting impatient. Sans was about to form his pussy when the vibrator was back on him, pulsing against his thigh.
The hard contact while Sans was concentrating his magic made him jerk in fear. His body tensed, but he still felt the magic at his groin come to life, and an errant spark up his spine told him it hadn’t worked out right. He screeched into the gag, spit dribbling down his chin.
He wanted to curl up against the pain, but he was already as curled up as he was going to get, and it wasn’t helping any. He was trapped in that pain and darkness and silence, hyperventilating through his nose.
Finally, he felt the soothing calm of green magic healing his malfunctioning cunt, and the pressure was taken off of his ears. It slipped off like he’d been fitted with thick headphones. A voice was speaking from close enough that it probably came from the monster healing him.
“—hell were you doing, you fucking assholes? You didn’t think his reactions were a little bit weird?”
“Lots of experienced whores get freaked by sense deprivation. It adds a little spice. I didn’t think a vibe was gonna fucking tear him in half!”
The voice close to him spoke directly against him, magic still easing the pain between his legs.
“Hey, hey, hey, Sans. It’s okay. We’re fixing you up. Hold on.”
When the pain had disappeared completely, Sans felt the gag being undone from his mouth. One of the voices from further away spoke up.
“Hey, don’t take that out—!”
The voice close to Sans snapped.
Sans gave his own voice a try.
“Wh-what’s happening? What’s g-going on?”
The voice near him softened its tone.
“You don’t remember? I just saw Muffet talking to you an hour ago…”
Did she? Sans almost thought he could recall that now…but it was like the memory was underwater. The words were muffled and the images were blurry. Warped by the overwhelming panic at being blindfolded, at thinking he would have to relive everything…
“Where am I now? What…what day is it?”
The voices in the back started laughing hysterically. The monster by his side slammed something down on the floor.
“You think that’s funny, assholes?!”
“He…he literally got his brains fucked out…oh my god…it’s hilarious…”
“Shouldn’t you be calling us ‘sirs,’ Loox? You’re not being very polite right now.”
The monster over Sans snorted.
“I don’t have to be nice to you until the scenario starts. Which is also why you shouldn’t be playing with him yet. Whoever let you in here, you can let them know it’s their fault that gags are banned this session, so enjoy that, y’couple of cretins.”
There was ugly groaning from the back of the room.
“You did it to yourselves. Now get out!”
Sans heard mumbling and grumbling about ‘talkative furniture’ and ‘always ruins the experience’ as the other monsters left.
“Sans, I’m Loox. Do you know me?”
“Y-yeah, I think so…you’re a worker…Cecil talks about you sometimes?”
“So you know you’re in Red City? You remember?”
“I…kind of. It’s uh…it’s coming back, just…not…uh…tonight…”
A hand was slowly stroking his spine. Sans found that he didn’t mind it; it was easing his quaking.
“You don’t know the scenario?”
“The fan-favorite Monster Furniture Night is back. I’m guessing you haven’t done it before.”
“It’s really dumb.”
There was a sound like Loox was tiredly swiping a hand over his own face.
“It’s kinda like a lounge night, but while some workers are serving, others are tied up and used as furniture. You got chosen for the short straw, I guess.”
“…I drop a lot of drinks when I serve.”
Loox took his hand away from Sans’ spine. Sans fought back a disappointed whine.
“That’s right, you’re pretty skittish, huh? You uh…you okay with this? The touching and all?”
There wasn’t really a reason to deny it anymore. Especially with a friendly.
“It’s…fine, actually, could you…keep doing it?” Sans mumbled. “It feels nice…”
Without hesitation, the hand was back on him, joined by another and making pressing and pulling motions on his spine with thumbs and fingers working together.
“Yeah, ‘course. You’re gonna be tied up like that for a while, so you’ll get achey. You’ll probably need a massage after too, honestly.”
That didn’t sound too bad.
“Since we’re not doing gags, just make sure you don’t talk to clients unless they talk to you first, and call them ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am,’ okay?”
When Loox’s hands were further down his spine, approaching his pelvis, Sans trembled. The hands smoothly moved back up, and Loox didn’t comment. Sans relaxed a little.
“So the…the clients are…they’re allowed to touch us tonight?”
“Yeah. They’ll get touchy, and someone’s gonna fuck you. Muffet said you’re dialed back—only one client gets to full-on do the deed, but some other clients are probably gonna be doing some soft play.”
Loox moved his hands to Sans’ shoulder blades and pressed his thumbs into them in circles. The voice was soothing, the touches were gentle, but the words were alarming. A group. This was a group session. Loox could probably feel Sans’ tension.
“You’re not gonna be alone. As far as workers go, I mean. There’ll be a lot of us. Cool?”
Hands delved into the dip of Sans’ collar and stroked his clavicle and neck. Sans gave a satisfied shiver.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be…looking out for you. Eh? Eh?”
Sans didn’t respond.
“Oh, you can’t…I’m…the guy with the huge eyeball, remember?”
So he did know who this was. Sans had seen an eyeball monster walking around, but he hadn’t connected it up in his head with the monster that Cecil sometimes mentioned until now.
“You should have said you’ll be ‘looxing’ out for me.”
“…dammit, you’re right.”
Sans was placed on the floor on his side again, still bound up and blindfolded, but the gag and headphones had been left behind. By the reverberations off the walls, this room sounded a lot bigger than the previous one, probably comparable in size to Lounge B. Maybe it was Lounge B. Sans could hear the sounds of a good deal of monsters in the room. It wasn’t quite the volume of a packed house on lounge night, but it was close.
A monster’s feet shuffled over his spine horizontally like a footrest and settled in the gap between his legs and stomach, practically cradled by his lap. Sans’ bindings and position helped to spread the weight distribution so he wasn’t crushed.
Oh, so that’s how they were doing this. Sans couldn’t help but feel relieved. He’d thought someone might actually sit on him, but even Muffet probably knew he was too delicate for that.
The heel of the foot ground into Sans’ crotch.
“Where’s your cunt?”
Sans quickly made his cunt appear. Thankfully he was calm and aware enough now that it formed without problems. Then he remembered his instruction for tonight.
The monster gave a satisfied sigh.
It continued grinding, its foot now partially burying itself in the folds of Sans’ pussy. Sans let out a few fearful noises before he could think about it and try at pleasured moans.
“Mm, keep that up, I like it.”
Sans thought it might be a little difficult to fake now that he’d been asked to do it, but the monster kept finding new ways to draw frightened squeaks from him with the way it moved over him.
After a while, a heel hooked onto Sans’ spine and drew him closer so that Sans could feel the body heat of a third monster. The monster with its feet on him was sitting on another worker like a chair, and had pulled Sans under its knees.
Sans thought it was going to do more to him, but he heard slapping noises that told him it had decided to jerk off while sitting on them instead.
A voice came from the floor near Sans.
Sans was about to snap automatically, he didn’t have to be polite to other workers after all, but the giggling noise the other monster made was so ridiculous it almost made Sans laugh, too.
“I’m—I’m a chair! Heh heh hyuk, ha.”
“…are you high?”
“No, I’m a chair.”
Sans was silent.
“…but yeah, a little, hee heh.”
Sans heard moaning over them. The client was getting close. There were footsteps nearby and the tinkling of glasses with ice—a worker was walking by with drinks.
Then Sans heard the worker blow a raspberry. He heard Loox’s voice.
“Eww, Sans, footrests don’t fart.”
Sans held his breath to stop from cracking. The client sitting over him and the ‘chair’ worker bolted upright.
“Loox, I’ll fucking kill you! I almost came!”
Loox’s voice took on a seductive lilt.
“Ooh, please sir, don’t punish me…”
Another monster spoke up from off to the right.
“Ignore him, Icey. Loox tries to get punished at least once per session.”
A pair of thin hands touched Sans and tugged him out from under the other monster. An airy voice spoke.
“Let’s get you away from all this commotion, shall we?”
Sans kind of liked the commotion. He’d thought he would hate being around so many monsters when he was completely naked, but the blindfold helped a bit. And he liked being near the other workers and hearing them mouth off without fear. But he was only allowed to have one answer.
Sans was carried to a quieter part of the room. The further away Sans and his prone body got from the sound of laughter, the more unease he felt.
He was put down on his back on something soft. He heard more than a few monsters near him, and by what they said, it seemed they were all clients.
“Where’s Old Scratch? He’s the one who asked for him.”
“The fucker’s late. I don’t see why he gets to do him anyway. He’s already had him.”
“You wanna say no to him, be my guest. He creeps me out, so I don’t get in his way.”
The airy voice spoke near Sans again.
“Doesn’t mean we can’t have fun first.”
A buzzing noise right by his face made Sans start.
“Suck on this.”
Sans had barely finished speaking before a vibrating egg was pushed into his mouth. The monster must have had very long arms, or was much bigger than him, because he felt her thin fingers sliding over his clit at the same time.
“Let’s see how much you can take here…”
For one second, Sans got a look at the monster as the blindfold was lifted from his left eye. She was spindly, with large eyes. Something reptilian. Then his vision cut out when she slipped her tongue into his exposed eye.
Sans expected pain, but the attention was practiced and sensual. It apparently wasn’t enough to disturb the magic in his eye. It wasn’t like there was anything else in there to disturb.
She licked delicately over the rim of his socket, then pushed her tongue further in, lapping toward the back and practically kissing his eye.
With that, and her fingers squeezing against the lips of his pussy, Sans couldn’t help but start to get worked up. She removed the egg from his mouth and reached down to rub it against the opening of his pussy, and it easily slid in with a wet squelch.
The monster pulled away from his face and focused on moving the shaking egg in and out of his pussy, stimulating the opening.
“You’re very wet. You like it when I lick your eye?”
She gave a breezy laugh.
“You’ll like this.”
She took the egg out of him and slipped it under the blindfold. The wet toy teased around the rim of his socket, then went inside.
“Not hurting you, is it?”
“I’ll be kind to you. I’ll let you come if you do a good job.”
Sans didn’t have time to respond before he felt the monster sitting over his mouth, her pussy against his face. It wasn’t too hard to guess what to do.
There was something almost gratifying about the way the monster rocked on top of him when he sucked on her clit, hissed in breath when he pushed his tongue in the hole. He could feel the opening tightening around his tongue as he worked, the walls tensing and pulsing more as she was approaching climax.
It took some time, and the closer she got, the harder she ground down against him. Finally she clenched her thighs around his face, cradling his head with her arms and pushing him into her. She bucked a little against his mouth, and he felt a small gush of fluid burst over him. He licked it up and kept brushing his tongue against her clit, remembering how it felt to ride through an orgasm. She rubbed the back of his head almost affectionately as her hips continued to quiver against him with aftershocks.
“Mm…that was very good. I’ll take care of you now.”
She got off of him and reached under the blindfold, taking the egg out. Some saliva trailed after it. The vibrations, combined with the feeling of her getting off against him, had made him extra sensitive. She swirled a finger into his eye, and his magic told him it was being prepared for sex.
“Patience, little whore.”
At least she didn’t say it like an insult.
There was a wet lapping, sucking noise. The blindfold was lifted again, and Sans saw a split second of a dripping wet dildo before it was inserted into his eye.
It was moved in and out gently, teasingly. Fingers were back on his clit, practically lifting his hips up with the energy of their stroking.
“Tell me when you are close.”
That wasn’t going to be a long wait. The dildo was pressing against the back of his socket, rubbing in circles around the inside, spreading wetness and making him feel filled. She thrust it in him a few times, and he tried to buck his hips like he was being fucked. The restraints over his legs held him back.
The dildo was taken out of his eye and the fingers stopped working at him. He lay helplessly aroused, shivering with each light touch of her fingers on his bones. The blindfold was still lifted off his left eye, and he saw her face hovering over him again.
“They are going to come in your eye. Ask them to.”
A few erect dicks came into view, being stroked rapidly over him. Sans gulped.
“P…please come inside me…sirs…”
The spindly monster pet his cheek, then moved out of sight. A moment later, Sans felt her mouth on his pussy, pressing her tongue flat against his clit. It was almost enough.
One of the dicks shot cum over him. Part of it dripped over his mouth, but some drizzled into his eye socket. The hot fluids tingled inside him. His hips shook.
The tongue on his pussy swirled around his clit, then flicked it. Sans let out a quiet, shaky moan. A finger touched his mouth near where cum had spilled over it, and a deep voice spoke.
“Lick this up.”
Sans obediently swiped his tongue over his mouth, cleaning the cum off. The finger stayed touching him, so he licked it, too. Another monster groaned and spilled cum over his eye, this time getting most of it inside.
It was hot and sticky inside him, and the monster licking him gave a hard suck that pushed him all the way, so that when the last monster was shooting cum into him and rubbing the head of its cock on the side of his face, Sans was haltingly moaning through his own climax.
When the other monsters had finished off, Sans was picked up and held on his stomach, and the cum was allowed to seep out of his eye. Sans still felt sensitive, his breath hitching a little as larger globs dripped out. A wet washcloth was used to delicately clean him up, then the blindfold was placed back on all the way and he was put on his back again.
Another monster was approaching.
“What did I miss?”
The scarecrow’s voice. They’d been talking about the scarecrow. He was the one who was going to—
Sans froze up tight, his limp satisfaction immediately forgotten.
“Hey, little guy. Let’s just get you fitted with one of these…”
Sans felt a gag being tied over his mouth. He was forced to bite onto rubber.
“I thought there were no gags tonight…?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I don’t want to get in trouble.”
The scarecrow’s voice went deeper.
“I said don’t worry about it. If you have a problem, you can go on.”
There was an awkward silence. Sans felt the scarecrow’s weight draping over him, practically swallowing him up. The folds of its cape sliding over Sans’ body felt like they were cutting him off from the rest of the room, from help. Closing him in with…
The scarecrow whispered into Sans’ cheek.
“Now if I remember, you need to be taught a lesson, don’t you…?”
Sans made muffled whimpers into the gag.
This wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t still be afraid of him. Out of all his clients so far, thinking back to this first one, he had really been one of the least horrific. Nothing he did even hurt.
But this monster had a way of taking Sans back in time, of making him feel new and vulnerable and small.
The scarecrow nuzzled against Sans’ face.
“I liked when you begged, but those little noises are nice too…”
Fingers stretched the opening of Sans’ pussy. The monster sounded smug.
“I told you all you needed was a few more good screws and you’d start loving it. Look how wet you are just from a little attention.”
Sans heard an unzipping, then the scarecrow’s hard member bounced against Sans’ groin. It didn’t make any preparations before slamming in.
The monster let out a breathy moan.
“Ohh…you’re still tight…”
He thrust in once. Sans jerked under him like he’d been stabbed.
“Why’s that? You not working very hard? Whoring hasn’t ruined your cute little pussy yet?”
Sans was probably tight because he was frightened and tense, but same difference.
The monster’s breath tickled Sans’ face. It had rolled its mask up. Sans felt the scarecrow’s long tongue lick and nibble at his neck. Sans made a heaving sound into the gag, breathing hard. The monster’s uncovered mouth made garbled speech.
“It’ssss okay if you ssscream.”
The teeth on its tongue bit into Sans’ clavicle.
“Hey! Sir! I said no gags!”
The scarecrow’s face presumably turned toward Loox, because Sans heard glass shattering and Loox shout in surprise.
“Hoooooly wow, uh, sir, I didn’t realize we were entertaining the ungodly spawn of hell tonight. I mean…no offense, sir.”
“Good friends call me Old Scratch.”
“I’m…not your friend, sir. No offense on that either. I have to insist on the gag thing, or I’m getting a guard.”
Sans felt weight shift over him.
“There’s no need for hostility. See? I’m removing it, like a good patron. You run along.”
The gag was taken off. Sans reacted without thinking, calling out a cry that broke on heaving sobs.
Footsteps rushed toward him. Sans felt the member pull out of him, the weight lifting off him.
“What do you think you’re doing? You’re interrupting my time.”
“Shoo. I don’t care, shoo! Go—go—stick a dick in your cock!”
The blindfold was taken off. It felt wet. Loox was hovering over him.
“Sans, what’s wrong? What happened?”
“I’m scared…I’m s-scared…”
“It’s okay, Butt Scratch is getting out of here. Cavalry arrived.”
Over Loox’s shoulder, Sans saw a large guard escorting the scarecrow out, the scarecrow giving a dirty look back at them.
Sans hiccoughed. Loox picked him up.
“Shh, we’re going. You’re done tonight.”
Sans jerked in the hold.
“But—no, if—if Muffet—I can’t just g-go, I’ll get in…I’ll get in trouble…”
“Don’t worry. Muffet’s not even watching tonight. She’s off in E Section. That’s why B Section’s a bit of a circus right now…ha, you think I’d talk like that to customers with her around? Nobody here’s gonna snitch on you, I promise, so don’t worry about it.”
Sans didn’t reply, but he felt the fight go out of him. And with it, the last of the energy he had.
Loox took Sans into a quiet room, undid all his restraints, and gave him a deep massage. Sans fell asleep halfway through, and he barely noticed that he’d willingly slipped unconscious while his naked body was touched by a monster he hardly knew.
Sans was on his way to a secluded part of the complex to nap when he felt a chill, like someone walked over his grave. There was the tap of shoes behind him.
“Hm. Well. Hello, my dear.”
Sans spun around.
Sans stood in place awkwardly. Nothing came to mind to say that seemed appropriate. Not that anything was appropriate between them. Clarence didn’t look any less awkward than Sans. Uncharacteristically, he looked at the ground instead of making eye contact as he spoke.
“I didn’t come earlier, because…”
He leaned against the wall and slapped a hand over his eyes.
“Oh, Sans, I was embarrassed! I don’t know that I’ve ever failed so spectacularly.”
He rubbed the hand down his face.
“Back with your trouble with the dogs—I wanted to gather some information first, so I ‘borrowed’ Doggo—he won’t blame you for it, don’t worry, doesn’t remember it at all—and he helpfully revealed that the whole thing was a fake. Muffet was already planning on letting all the dogs at you, the blackmail was a bluff, they weren’t actually doing anything I could get them in trouble for. Except!”
He started pacing.
“I discovered their plans with the amalgamate, and couldn’t imagine Alphys knew what was happening there, so I took a risk and went to see her. Her denial took a bit of circumventing first. Then when she did accept what she’d been letting happen behind her back, I had to babysit her through a little meltdown, and let me tell you I am not the monster you want for that job. Eventually, I got her up and going to Red City, told her where to go, and presumably she got here in time to stop approximately nothing.”
He stopped pacing, standing still with his hands folded behind his back and his eyes still on the ground.
“So that’s the long and the short of the story of how I let you down.”
Sans was silent. Clarence scraped his hands over his own face again.
“Oh lord, this friendship business feels awful. Is it always like this? Are you going to keep looking at me like that, or go on and tell me to get out of your sight?”
“You did all that? What, for me?”
“I told you I would. I don’t lie about these things. What on earth is that face for? Is that a shade of anger I just haven’t seen before?”
“You told Alphys. You could have gotten in trouble with the king.”
Clarence looked to the side and laughed nervously.
“I won’t tell him if you don’t. I’m very attached to the way my head sits on my neck, connected to my shoulders as it should—what in hell are you—“
Sans had thrown his arms around the bunny.
“…oh. Oh, well…if you insist.”
He pat a hand awkwardly on Sans’ back.
“And what do you think you’re doing here?”
Clarence stepped away from Sans, holding his hands up like he was being arrested. Muffet had entered the room. Sans looked from Muffet to Clarence and back.
“You…you said I could have visitors.”
“I did, honey, but within reason. Honestly, what is wrong with you?”
Muffet moved to grab Clarence by the arm. He jerked his arm out of reach and started to walk out, Muffet escorting him. Sans stamped his foot. He wanted to sound self-assured, but his frustration triggered his stutter.
“D-d-don’t treat me like a g-goddamn kid, Muffet! Can’t I even choose who I g-get to see?”
Muffet tilted her head at Sans over her shoulder. She almost looked like she felt sorry for him.
“You have terrible taste, dearie.”
She had him there.
Sans stomped down the hall until he was stopped by an unusual sight. The door to a private room was ajar, and a few monsters were standing around outside it,looking distressed. A bird-like worker had a blanket over her shoulders, and Loox was there, giant eye bloodshot and teary. A bulky guard was escorting a disgruntled client down the hall. Sans saw the unmistakable powder of monster dust on the client’s claws.
Sans approached Loox.
“Sans! Don’t—don’t look in there. I mean, it’s not much, but it’s…it’s Cecil…”
The hall froze. The air froze. The world froze.
“They told a guard to stop a session, and the jerkwad wouldn’t do it, so they…they went in themselves…”
Loox rubbed his eye.
“Stupid kid. Just said hi to them this morning…”
Sans’ mind went blank.
“But they’re coming back soon, right?”
“From their day off.”
Sans swept the dust into a pan, transferring it little by little into a slightly more dignified holding jar. He’d chased Woshua away from mopping it up and doing who knew what with it. Sans wished he knew what the mouse’s favorite thing was so he could sprinkle the dust over it.
There was a knock on the inside of the door. Sans looked up to see the human waiting in the doorway. Sans wiped his eyes with a sleeve and motioned them in.
They looked down with concern at the jar full of dust.
“What it looks like, yeah.”
“Ha, you didn’t even ask ‘who.’”
The human grabbed Sans’ shoulders with sudden intensity.
“But a friend of yours, right? That’s why you’re gathering them up like that.”
Sans wiped at his eyes again.
Sans looked into their eyes. Still burning bright, even though the bags under them were getting heavier. The kid needed sleep.
“Please tell me how it happened.”
“It uh…they were on monitor duty…told a guard to stop a rough client, but he wouldn’t do it. Fucking musketeer tried to play hero themselves…”
Frisk grasped Sans’ shoulders tighter.
“Don’t worry about anything.”
They pulled him into a hug.
“I’m going to fix it.”
Sans stomped down the hall until he was stopped by an unusual sight. The door to a private room was ajar, and a few monsters were standing around outside it, looking disheveled. A lanky guard was escorting a client away, and a shaken worker was holding Cecil in a vice-like hug.
“Thank you so much, I couldn’t—I just couldn’t this time. Thank you.”
She saw Sans looking at them. She gave Cecil one last almost possessive squeeze before walking away. Sans watched her go briefly before turning back to Cecil.
“Back at it again, huh?”
Cecil looked thoughtful. They were still watching the feathered worker round the corner at the end of the hall.
“It’s funny…the guard Muffet partnered me with on monitor duty is a real ass, and for some reason I felt extra worried about that today…for good reason, turns out—it would have been a disaster if I’d had him today. But apparently his schedule got traded last minute with another guard who actually listens to me.”
Cecil gave Sans a sheepish grin.
“You gonna yell at me for sticking my nose in?”
“Nah, cockblocking clients should be a competitive sport. How many other monitors do you think you could get in on this?”
Sans heard small feet running up to them, and turned to see the human making their way to them. Strange, this was pretty early for their appointment. They treated him to a big smile.
“Hey, Sans! Mind if we visit all together? I wanna get to know your friend.”
The three of them searched the rec room for a three player game. Cecil swore there was a deck of cards somewhere, but other than half a deck of Yugioh cards and a couple of holographic Magic cards, they were unable to dig up the classic 52. At the bottom of the game junk pile sat a novelty mounted bass that Cecil insisted wouldn’t work anymore, but a press of the button brought it to terrifying unholy life, singing a low, lilting rendition of ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’ and causing Frisk to scream bloody murder and vacate the room. After that, the trio abandoned their efforts and sat in the cafeteria.
Sans rubbed Frisk’s back reassuringly. They muttered apologies, ignoring the pile of donuts placed in front of them.
“Sorry…I’m sorry…I don’t like animatronics…they’re…they’re weird…”
Sans snorted, then covered his mouth with a hand.
“Of all the things in here, that’s what you find scary.”
Cecil looked across the room.
“Yeah, speaking of, keep your head down.”
Muffet was passing by the door. Sans held his breath, but she walked by the cafeteria without entering. Sans didn’t think they were doing anything punishable, per se, but he wasn’t sure if visitors were allowed in this part of the complex.
Frisk shuffled their feet.
“I actually…kinda like Muffet. She’s nice to me.”
“Yeah…’nice’…being nice doesn’t cost anything. Having a heart, on the other hand…”
Frisk looked innocent.
“It costs something?”
Sans and Cecil exchanged a glance.
“I guess you can’t buy empathy…”
“If you can, Muffet wouldn’t spend a penny on it.”
Frisk picked up a donut, but started breaking it apart instead of eating it.
“What’s empathy mean?”
Sans shrugged and looked at Cecil as if to say: ‘you take this one.’ Cecil watched Frisk, but the child was looking down at the donut, picking off the sprinkles one by one.
“It’s uh. The ability to like…understand how other people feel. Muffet knows that other monsters have feelings, have inner life, but she doesn’t really get it, you know what I mean? And you can’t teach someone that. It’s just in your soul, or it’s not.”
Frisk stopped picking the sprinkles but didn’t look up.
“I don’t…know if that’s true.” They suddenly looked back and forth between Sans and Cecil, earnest and intense. “Flowey learned it, and he’s a flower. He doesn’t have a soul!”
“There’s this flower…”
“…and its name is—?”
“Its name is mud, far as I’m concerned. Dingy weed.”
Frisk bat Sans lightly on the arm.
“Flowey’s my friend!”
“The weed, Muffet…heck, me…you have bad taste, kiddo.”
Frisk went back to picking off sprinkles, Cecil separating them by color without comment. Frisk spoke.
“I just…think everyone deserves a chance. Everyone has good inside.”
“Sweetheart, you really believe that everyone is good?”
“Everyone can be good. There’s a difference. I…I know people can be bad, too. But I don’t think that means it’s too late for them to choose to be good.”
Cecil muttered, focusing on the growing piles of color on the table.
“I don’t think everyone can be good. Some monsters will be garbage forever.”
“I don’t believe that…”
Sans grabbed the de-sprinkled donut and shoved it in his mouth.
“You’re telling me you think even the worst person can change?”
“I know they can.”
“Whoa-ho, you sound pretty sure, kid.”
Frisk was silent. Cecil had finished arranging the sprinkles into a color palette, and had started on a slow work of art on the cafeteria table. Sans and Frisk watched the mouse work for a while until a picture started coming into being, of a child with red eyes. Frisk’s face brightened in amazement.
“That’s so good!”
Sans licked the palm of his hand and stuck it on the sprinkle artwork, sticking and removing an entire handprint-shaped gap of sprinkles and licking them off himself. Cecil slammed a fist on the table.
“Oh my god Sans you are the worst!”
“And I’ll never change.”
It was almost like Papyrus knew exactly when to call when Sans couldn’t pick up now. Looked like he really wanted to finish telling that mystery serial. Alone in his room, Sans played the new message on his phone.
I miss you. There, I said it, and you…don’t have to fucking delete the message. They—I just thought you might want to know that.
I won’t dance around it. The last time we saw each other was awful. And if being separated is the norm now, I at least want phone conversations to be more…more honest. You’re my only brother.
A long pause.
This was stupid.
The message cut off to the sound of Papyrus hanging up. Sans stayed with the phone to his ear for a long moment. He hardly dared to breathe, as though fluctuating in the least bit would erase this, make it not have happened.
Then he pressed play again.
I miss you. There, I said it, and you…don’t have to fucking delete the message.
Sans turned the message off, then replayed it.
I miss you. There, I said it, and
I miss you.
I miss you.
I miss you.
Sans would take it. That was probably as close as he was ever going to get.
Sans’ walk to the visitor hall gave him just enough time to brew a few questions for Frisk. He couldn’t help but feel that the ‘they’ Papyrus mentioned in his phone call was the human child. That would make Papyrus’ plea for honesty more than a tad hypocritical, but then, Sans supposed you never knew who was listening. Frisk had never mentioned talking to Papyrus either, though. That was concerning. What reason would they have to hide it from Sans?
But what Sans saw in the hall drove all questions out of his mind and brought his soul to a stuttering stop.
Frisk was energetically in conversation with a monster who wore a cape with devil horns.
The monster pet the child’s hair with a soft touch, then stroked a finger under their chin. Frisk’s smile didn’t waver in the slightest.
Before he knew it, Sans was between the two, eye glowing and hands tensed as though he were ready to claw the monster’s eyes out. Hell, if it came to it. The scarecrow chuckled and reached a hand towards Sans.
“Oh hello, sweet thing. Don’t be jealous, now—”
Sans snapped his teeth at the hand, and the scarecrow withdrew it. Its odd fabric smile faltered. Sans growled.
“Don’t go near them or I will f u c k i n g k i l l y o u”
“There’s no need to be like that. I was only being friendly.” The scarecrow leaned to the side to look past Sans to Frisk. “Isn’t that right, sweetie?”
“don’t talk to them don’t touch them I’LL KILL YOU”
The scarecrow took a wide step back, looking put off. It made a dissatisfied huff, as though mildly offended, and started to go. It looked back.
“It’s not like you can do anything to me. I’ll have you again.” It leaned on its heels. “And I’ve seen them around before without you…”
Sans lurched as Frisk caught him from behind and held him in place. When the scarecrow left, Frisk let go, and Sans started back the way he came. Frisk started after him.
“Aren’t we going to—”
“It’s been great, but visit’s over, kid. All of them. You’re not coming here again.”
Sans heard Frisk stop walking. Their voice was like stone.
“You can’t make me go.”
“The hell I can’t—”
Sans turned to face them. One look in their eyes told him all he needed to know in a second. They burned brighter than even Sans could with all of his magic at his disposal.
Fucking humans and their impossible amounts of determination.
“Muffet, I don’t want Frisk to visit me anymore. Please stop letting them come in.”
Muffet looked amused by the request.
“You don’t like them anymore?”
“What could they possibly have done? I’ve never met a sweeter monster.”
Sans didn’t respond. He’d hoped the request would be simpler than this, but of course she had to get curious right when it mattered most for her not to be. She paused from brushing her hair and toyed with the thistles of the brush, a playful smile on her lips.
“Oh my, don’t tell me they propositioned you? You don’t want to refuse them sex, so you’re using me to enforce a soft no?”
She suddenly looked excited.
“Maybe they’ll be a regular client after all—”
Sans couldn’t restrain his disgust.
“I wouldn’t fuck a kid—!”
Sans only realized his mistake as it was already out of his mouth. The look on Muffet’s face made his soul stop.
No. No no no. How could he have said that to Muffet.
“I can’t believe I didn’t notice…but their age is rather difficult to discern, and the way they speak is so mature…but they’re all alone, aren’t they?”
“Th-they’ve got a family.”
Sans’ defense was too quick and too obvious. Muffet continued to herself as though he hadn’t spoken.
“Hm, they are very cute…they’ll probably be quite attractive when they’re older.”
Sans shook. It had only taken a split second, and he’d fucked everything up. He’d fucked everything up so very, very badly.
He went closer to Muffet and got on his knees.
“Please, Muffet, please leave them alone. I’ll do anything…I’ll do anything you want.”
Muffet rolled her eyes.
“So you’ll do your job, and in exchange ask me not to do mine?”
Sans grabbed Muffet’s skirts.
“Muffet, for…for pity’s sake, they’re just a kid.”
“Yes, dear, that’s rather the point, isn’t it? You know how this place works.”
Sans let go of her and put his hands to the sides of his head like he was trying to drown out the world. He closed his eyes, breathing fast.
“Dear, relax. It’s not so bad. No one would touch them for a long time. And how much longer do you honestly think they would last on the street without protection? They’ll be thanking me in no time. They’re already fond of me, I can tell.”
She pet Sans’ head as she got up from her seat to go.
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to get them here for me, but I do already have their number anyway. I’ll get them right over…”
Sans couldn’t stand up. He rocked himself where he sat as he heard the rustle of skirts exiting the room.
“This is hell…this is hell…”
The next time Sans saw the human, it was blessedly out of Muffet’s sight, and close enough to the entrance of the front building to get his heart racing for them. There was still time. They’d caught him by surprise, startling him with an unscheduled visit and a hand on his shoulder from behind that nearly had him jumping out of his own bones.
“Sans, I’m a little scared—Muffet was acting really weird with me. I got away from her, but—”
Sans clasped their hand in both of his and immediately started tugging them to the door.
“Kid. Sweetheart. You’ve gotta leave. You’ve gotta go and not come back here.”
“What happened? What’s going on?”
They resisted Sans’ pull. Sans yanked them fit to pop their arm out of its socket.
“I messed up, I fucked up bad, I—I told her you were a kid, she figured out you were by yourself—fuck! Come on, get out, long goodbyes are for saps that get caught.”
“Sans, don’t worry, I can fix it, just—what made you tell her that?”
Sans let go and stamped in exasperation.
“You can’t fix it, don’t play the guilt game, please kid, just go!”
They grabbed Sans’ shoulders and shook hard.
Sans’ shock at the rough handling made him switch gears almost immediately. His answer was soft and breathy, submissive.
Frisk’s eyes were pained, but they shook their head.
“Tell me why you told Muffet.”
“I…I saw you with that horned guy…I g-got scared for you…wanted to have Muffet make you stop coming, I just…d-didn’t think about what I was saying…”
Frisk held Sans gently, running soothing hands on his shoulder blades like a physical apology.
“Don’t worry, Sans. Don’t worry. I’m on it.”
Sans walked to the visitor’s hall, his mind buzzing with questions. Frisk had never mentioned talking to Papyrus. That was concerning. What reason would they have to hide it from Sans?
But what Sans saw in the hall drove all questions out of his mind and brought his soul to a stuttering stop.
The scarecrow was talking to Frisk.
Sans was halfway to them when the glint of a weapon made him instinctively halt.
Frisk had drawn their knife.
Their voice was so low that he didn’t know how he could have heard their words so clearly, except that it felt like the vibrations of their speech were carried on the air by a killing aura.
“Leave me alone.”
Sans had never seen the scarecrow intimidated before. Granted, the circumstances of their meetings had hardly allowed for it, but the monster was so utterly silent as it backed away. It visibly shrunk and glided out of the room, without so much as a last minute taunt.
The rest of Sans’ approach to the human was on shaky legs. Adrenaline had drained out of him too quickly. When Frisk faced him, their knife had disappeared as though it was never there, their face was bright as though they’d never spoken a harsh word in their life. Sans’ left eye was still glowing from the excitement.
“Sans! Don’t tell me you were worried about me? I know a creep when I see one.”
Sans let his eye flicker down to normal.
“Well, I…you just always seemed too trusting, kid.” He eyed their pocket, presumably where their knife had disappeared. “I’ve never seen you wave that thing around before…”
“What, you think it’s only for peeling apples? I know what the Underground’s like. I can take care of myself, you know.”
“Yeah, I…I can see that.”
Sans’ body moved before his mind did, and suddenly he was enveloping the child in his arms. He felt as surprised at himself as the child’s startled jump indicated they did.
“What’s…what brought this on?”
“I d-dunno…I had a bad feeling, I guess.” He buried his face in their neck. “A really bad feeling…”
“Because of that guy?”
“Not exactly. I…I felt like I was never going to see you again? That probably sounds stupid. You only just got here…”
Frisk didn’t break contact, but pulled away enough for Sans to see their face. It was heartbreakingly hopeful, as though their hopes had been dashed before.
“…you’re glad I came? You want me to visit you?”
“Oh sweetheart, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He gripped them tighter.
“I need you.”
That was probably as close as he was ever going to get.
The human’s eyes flashed a brilliant red, and for a second Sans thought he saw their soul glow. He felt their hands clutching tight into the back of his coat jacket.
“Oh sweetheart, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I need you.”
“what I’d do without you. I need you.”
“I need you.”
“I need you.”
“I need you.”
“Oh sweetheart, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I…”
Sans tripped, although he hadn’t taken a step. He did a small do-si-do, the human’s arm reaching out for him the only anchor that kept him from falling on his ass.
The human put their hand to their forehead.
Sans put his hand next to theirs on their head, feeling their temperature with the back of his hand.
“You feeling okay, kid? You’re looking a little…sallow.”
It was more than that. Some of the light seemed to dim from their eyes. The shadows underneath them had grown darker.
Sans supposed that just because Muffet hadn’t said anything to him all day, thinking he had the night off had been wishful thinking. When he entered his room for bed, Muffet was waiting for him with a tray of tea on her lap that she clearly wasn’t planning on drinking herself.
Sans sat on the bed next to her without a word. She gave him the cup of tea. Sans shook as he held it.
“Muffet, can I…ask you something…before I drink this?”
Sans looked up at Muffet. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. He fumbled with the cup and quickly brought it up to his mouth.
“N-nevermind, I’ll—! I’ll just drink it—”
Muffet put her hand over the top of the cup and lowered it from Sans’ mouth.
“What is it, dear.”
Sans swallowed, but his throat stayed dry.
“I’m…I want to…do well, but…it’s really hard for me. B-because I get…scared, and then…I d-don’t know what I should do.”
Muffet put the tray aside and pat her lap. Sans scrambled into it and sat himself on one of her thighs. He made a pussy and waited, shuddering.
One of Muffet’s hands brushed up Sans’ thigh.
“What is it that Onion does that calms you?”
“He…he doesn’t touch…”
Muffet huffed and drew her hand away from Sans’ pussy.
“B-but you—! I’ll, I’ll do as you say!”
Muffet looked doubtful. Sans grabbed the hand on his leg, and Muffet allowed him to guide it back between his legs.
“If y-you’re gonna touch me, p-please just…just touch me, don’t be mad at me instead I…I can’t s-stand it anymore, please…”
Sans ground against her hand. The many arms that folded around his back and tugged him in closer told him he was doing all right.
“Hold on, dear.”
Muffet took her hand away and put on gloves, covering them in lube. She reached a slippery hand into his pants and he shifted to allow her in.
When her fingers entered him, Sans’ breath came shallow, but he moved on top of them. Muffet pushed his head over her shoulder, speaking softly in his ear.
“I think you do know what you should do, dear.”
Sans swallowed down noises, barely letting out quiet gasps as her fingers moved faster on him.
“You just need to learn to let go. You’ll get that in time. So try not to worry about it.”
She made him come quickly, the only indication he gave a long sigh that hitched a few times with more forceful presses at his clit. She took her hand out of his pants and let him cling to her for a moment, breathing evenly into her chest. He shuddered a few more times from the come down.
Muffet offered the cup of tea again and Sans took it, his hands just a bit steadier than before. Muffet looked into the tea like she was seeing how his night would go in its swirling dark surface.
“This will probably be a little frightening for you.”
“I want you to remember that you’ll be okay, you’ll make it through, and I’ll be right here when you’re done. All right?”
At this point Sans couldn’t think of anyone he’d like to see less right after a session, but she did at least appear to be making an effort.
Sans drank the tea in long gulps. He passed out before his head hit his pillow.
When Sans woke up, it was to a room full of strange machines and equipment. He’d been stripped of his clothes and put in a hospital gown, and he was strapped down to a high examination table. His wrists were strapped to the table above his head, his arms bent up in L shapes. His legs were held over the edge of the table, spread and lifted up by metal stirrups. His pelvis was blocked from his own view by the gown, but it was fully exposed to anyone who might stand at the end of the table. Not that they’d see anything but bones.
Except for, or maybe including, the targeted exposure of his body, the setting didn’t read as sexual at all, and that somehow made the restraints even more concerning.
Muffet was right. Sans definitely found this frightening.
There was a tall monster standing in a corner, busily writing down notes and checking a small device that looked like a thermometer. Sans couldn’t tell if the monster was a slime or a ghost—the parts of its body that could be seen between pieces of clothing were somewhere between sticky and tar-like, and smokily insubstantial.
After Sans had been staring at it for a minute, the monster raised its head and met his eyes, apparently registering that he was awake. Its face was the nondescript kind of face you couldn’t help but forget as soon as you looked away, and its expression was bland.
It approached Sans and stood between the stirrups, reaching out to stroke Sans’ right shin with a gloved hand.
“You may call me ‘doctor.’ I’m going to give you an exam, I will choose the best way to inseminate you, and then we will engage in intercourse. Do you understand?”
Sans wasn’t entirely sure he did understand, but there was still only ever one answer.
The monster quirked its mouth in what could either be a smile or a smirk.
“Make a vagina.”
Sans made a cock. The monster tilted its head, eyes narrowing.
“…are you trying to be funny with me?”
“N…no doctor! I uh…didn’t know which…one you meant…I t-took a guess, it was stupid…”
The monster raised an eyebrow.
“You can make more than one kind of sexual organ?”
“Uh…yeah.” Sans quickly dispelled the cock and formed a cunt instead. “Did you mean this one?”
“Yes.” The monster touched a finger to the lips of the cunt. “What do you call this?”
Sans attempted to read into the monster’s blank face.
“Ugh. You really are a prostitute. Gaster would be mortified.”
“You don’t recognize me, do you? I suppose you were very young. I knew Dr. Gaster well—I was over a number of times. No memory…?”
Sans paused and shook his head.
“Hm. Well, anyway, it’s a shame, what he did.”
“What he did?”
“Oh, I only mean how he died.”
Sans went stiff. His tone was unintentionally argumentative.
“The lab accident, yeah.”
The other monster was silent. It moved around to the side of the table, tracing a finger over Sans’ ribs and along his right arm. Sans shivered.
Most of the monsters who knew Gaster personally had died in the lab, same as him. Sans had an idea that if he ever did meet an old surviving acquaintance of his father, they would be like another mentor. At least would have come around to reintroduce themselves to the skeleton brothers at some point. Never in his life would he have imagined he’d meet someone close to Gaster in a place like this, much less be expected to have sex with them.
The monster had come full circle around the table. It slipped a hand up Sans’ thigh and fondled the underside of his knee.
“You always were quite small…you didn’t grow much. How did your brother do? Is he tall?”
“Yeah, he…got pretty tall.”
“Second time’s a charm, I suppose.”
Sans might have thought that was rude if it weren’t true.
He couldn’t see what the monster was doing, but he heard a squelch like it was lubing up its hands over the gloves. The hunch was proven true when Sans felt slick fingers probing the opening of his cunt. A finger entered him and whirled around, then thrust in. Sans’ hips raised up in response, and he let out a shaky breath. The monster’s eyes snapped up from the focused attention between Sans’ legs to a piercing stare right into Sans’ eyes.
“Was that a reaction of physical excitement?”
The monster rubbed the finger on the bottom wall as though it were lightly scratching an itch.
“Is that sensitive? Are you becoming aroused from that?”
“I…y-yeah, a little…”
The monster removed its finger. It tapped the outside folds again.
“I thought so. The whorehouse told you how to make this for customers?”
“Onion…designed it, yeah.”
“I want you to make a more natural one.”
Sans nodded, then back-tracked over what the monster had said.
“I’m…not sure I know what you mean…doctor?”
The monster gave him an incredulous look.
“…this is the only one you know?”
Sans didn’t know why, but he shrunk a little at that.
A finger reached over and inside Sans’ pelvis and touched the outside of the magic structure. Sans flinched hard at the contact—no one had touched it there before. The monster didn’t appear to notice his alarm.
“This one is made only for pleasure.”
The finger brushed over the surface of the magic to where it ended a little ways up the tailbone.
“It doesn’t even have a uterus attached.”
It withdrew its hand, and Sans sighed in relief. He was so distracted by the reprieve that he yelped in shock when a slimy finger entered him again.
“When a vagina is used as a birth canal, too much sensitivity would make for a very difficult birthing process…normally, the inside of a vagina is relatively insensate.”
The finger jut in a few more times, then pulled out to massage the outer folds.
“The more sensitive parts are all external.”
The monster pressed on Sans’ clit with its thumb, then hooked a finger shallowly inside the cunt.
“For a humanoid vagina, most of the vaginal stimulation from the inside comes from pressure put on the internal parts of the clitoris.”
The finger inside jabbed upwards in demonstration, then nuzzled the same spot with a fingertip. Sans bucked and held in a noise of pleasure. He felt especially reluctant to react in front of this monster.
The monster removed its hand altogether, leaving Sans in a state of frustrated arousal.
“Of course, I could explain better if you knew how to make it correctly. Let me show you…”
The monster took out its thermometer-like instrument and pushed Sans’ hospital gown up to his underarms. It waved a hand over Sans’ chest and pulled his soul forward.
Sans made a low whimper.
The other monster wasn’t indicating that it regarded any difference between handling Sans’ bones and tugging at his soul. It didn’t acknowledge Sans’ obvious fear at revealing the soul, either. Made no move to comfort him or even to mock him in sadistic delight. It just didn’t notice.
It inserted the thermometer into his soul. It didn’t feel painful, but the careless intent made the insertion feel cold and dead. Sans made a choking noise.
The monster removed the glove from its right hand, then touched the exposed end of the thermometer. Sans saw tar-like magic sloughing off the monster’s hand and funneling into the device. Its journey could be followed through thin, clear tubes on the front as they clouded up with black. Then Sans felt a chill deep inside, proceeded by something close to the feeling he got when Onion penetrated his soul for the purpose of shaping his magic.
“This may seem like a convoluted method. I’m actually allergic to the magic of other monsters…I grew up very sickly, unable to receive healing magic without doubling my problems. Your father developed this device to help me receive healing injections to my soul. It inures me to another monster’s secondary magical characteristics. Of course, it can be used on other monsters as well…I’m not sure Dr. Gaster considered that.”
The monster removed the glove from its left hand with its teeth, then tentatively reached down to touch Sans between the legs again. Sans felt its bare skin, or whatever its surface was, touch the lips of his cunt. The monster gave a satisfied sigh and continued to fondle Sans.
“There, that’s better…now to do something about this…”
Sans felt the shape of his cunt change as it was directed into a new configuration by the foreign magic in his soul. Without the gown blocking his view anymore, Sans could see a new organ forming above the pussy—an elongated sack with two tubes curling out from it. The sack floated eerily inside his pelvis.
The monster was leaning over and moving its forearm as though it were plugging its fingers into Sans, but Sans didn’t feel much above a small, insistent pressure.
“It’s…not very sensitive.”
As the fingers were taken out, Sans felt an odd disappointment. Despite himself, he’d grown a little attached to the way his pussy was. He hadn’t gotten it in the best of circumstances, but at least it was his. It had become familiar. This new one felt alien and unsettling.
The doctor appeared to be very pleased, though. It reached to the thermometer in Sans’ soul again.
“Why stop there? Let’s make a few more things, shall we? I’m told you have an impressive talent with complex magical organics.”
Sans had the nasty feeling he was about to wish he didn’t.
The magic invading his soul instructed him to create a branching system of tubes that traveled like spiderwebs over and under his bones. They all connected back to a pulsating lopsided organ that floated above his soul. Sans’ vision went blurry with the first wild pulses of the organ, and then sensation spread through the branching tubes as a simulated magic liquid flushed through them.
“This one is a circulatory system.”
Sans was barely given a break from the demanding task before he was forced to shape more magic—a tube starting below his jaw, running down his throat, and expanding into larger sacks above his pelvis. The tubing ended at the bottom of his pelvis, with two expanded bags cushioning above and below his altered pussy.
“And a digestive tract.”
Sans was sweating from effort. The monster excitedly pulled a rolling tray over by the examination table, oblivious of Sans’ condition.
“All of it being red is a little visually confusing, though…so let’s do some color-coding.”
The monster opened a box on the tray, revealing an array of needles with various colorful liquids inside. It chose a blue one and pushed a drop of the liquid up through the needle, flicking the glass to get out air bubbles.
Sans squirmed nervously. The doctor finally seemed to notice Sans’ state.
“It’s only a magic dye. It’s harmless.”
It directed the tip of the needle to the tubing on Sans’ throat. Sans made a fearful gurgle, not sure how the new magic structures would react to pain.
“We’ll leave the bloodstream red…and do cyan for the digestive tract.”
The needle injected the dye into the tube. Sans felt a pinch. He was afraid to move or breath. He held his breath until the needle was removed. It was left in for a long, slow moment as the color spread from his neck to his groin, so that when the needle was finally removed, Sans was gasping and convulsing.
“…you don’t need to be so melodramatic.”
It chose another needle.
“Fuchsia for the reproductive system, I think…”
Sans tensed. The needle was being aimed between his legs. Sans made to close his legs, but the stirrups had them locked in place. He made a noise of desperation that agitated the sore spot on his throat.
“Now now, it will only take a moment.”
Sans hissed as the needle stabbed into the vaginal wall in a downward angle. Now he was thankful it wasn’t as sensitive as before, but he still felt a disturbing pressure, and just the knowledge of where the needle was made him want to vomit. When the needle was taken out, Sans was trembling all over.
The colorful magic made a nice palette, though.
The doctor grazed a hand over the tubing coming out from the red pulsing organ on Sans’ chest.
“Hm…I wonder how a connected system would react.”
It tweaked the magic in Sans’ soul at the same time as it physically coaxed a red tube to connect to the blue one at Sans’ throat. When they melted together, the red swirled with the blue magic, tinting it purple at his neck.
Sans gagged, spasming.
“Hold still. I want to see it make its way.”
But Sans wasn’t able to control his back from arching, or the hard shudder as he felt something clogging inside him, tasted pennies even though nothing was in his mouth.
The monster massaged his neck gently.
“Make like you’re swallowing.”
Sans tried to obey. He made a few gulping motions, and finally he felt the clog clear and fluid streaming into his system, thick and heavy. It wasn’t a much better feeling than choking.
The purple in his throat changed back to red in his stomach, some of the liquid magic staying there, and more of the magic continued down his body and gradually changed back to blue as it nestled further down in one of the lower sacks.
Sans didn’t really think so. The red liquid was still streaming into his throat with each clench of the pulsing red organ, and each release of red fluid into the blue tubing made Sans feel weaker.
“How does that feel?”
“It…f-feels disg…usting…I’m g-gonna faint…”
“You’re probably lightheaded. Hm, even though you don’t need the blood, draining it has the same effect as though you do. Interesting.”
The monster finally separated the differently colored tubes and set them back as they were. Sans’ chest heaved.
The monster was back to examining Sans’ pussy, pushing at his clit and stroking fingers inside the opening.
The monster did say they were going to have intercourse…it was still planning to fuck him, right? Maybe Sans was going about this wrong. He’d managed to seduce Lesser Dog, sort of. He could try the same tactics to move this session past the weird and frightening foreplay into the sex.
He rolled his hips up as much as he could, panting a little.
“C-come on, stop teasing me, doctor. I want your thick cock inside me.”
One look at the monster told Sans he’d chosen the wrong route.
“I don’t have a penis.”
Sans snapped his mouth shut.
“I can form a variety of them with my magic, however…which one would be best to use on you?”
The monster moved a hand over the crotch of its pants, then pulled the hand away to reveal a member with a barbed head.
“A cat penis is covered in hooks, with the same make-up as their claws. The penis’ claws scrape away the semen of competing mates.”
It morphed the shape on its crotch. It lengthened a great deal, curling into a spiral at the tip.
“Pigs have a corkscrew member—it takes about thirty minutes to push it all the way to the cervix, where it locks in place, and only then can it ejaculate. The spiral shape prevents semen from escaping.”
It made the organ disappear.
“But I’ve been particularly fascinated by bed bugs lately. It’s the picture of efficiency and simplicity.”
It made a new penis, this time a thick tube that tapered into a point so sharp it almost glinted.
“Their members are knife-like, and are used to pierce the abdomen of their mate and inject sperm through the blood stream. Of course, without the obstruction of skin and fat, you could use it to directly penetrate the womb.”
The monster was getting closer to Sans, practically getting up on the table with how heavily it leaned over it.
“The process is called ‘traumatic insemination.’”
A finger delicately touched the magic organ that was linked to Sans’ cunt.
“I made a womb for you, of course…”
Sans felt a loss of control, and then fluid was emptying from one of his other organs. He felt it leak out from between his legs and make a warm pool on the table under him.
“Oh my. Wetting yourself? How pitiful.”
The monster touched Sans’ knee as though to move it for a better look—of course, with the stirrups, everything was already exposed. The monster’s expression hadn’t shifted to indicate anything more than clinical interest. Sans couldn’t restrain the small whimpers of fear the contact drew from him, at his inability to stop the leak even though he was probably in trouble now. He heard dripping from the edge of the table to the floor.
“I hope you at least know enough to be ashamed to do this in front of me…it’s incredibly crude.”
Sans couldn’t tell if the monster was taunting him or was really this cold. A lump formed in his throat at the indignity—really the least the monster could do if it was going to treat him like this was unhook the stirrups and let Sans close his legs. As it was, all Sans could manage was to wilt in a puddle of his own filth and weep from humiliation.
“Oh come now, there’s no need to start on that too. You were already plenty pathetic enough.”
Sans missed Onion. At least when the octopus forced him to lose control of himself, he laughed at him playfully and then moved on.
The monster climbed up on top of him, pointing its sharp member at the artificial womb. Sans gasped.
“N-no, no, y-you’re not really—? You’re joking—you’ve g-gotta be—”
The monster slammed its hips down once and punctured the womb with its member. Sans tried to scream, but it was like his volume had been shut off. He squeaked out helpless cries of distress. He had to fight hard against his instinct to thrash away, since the only part of him he could move was his middle, and that would only bury the dick deeper in him. Or cleave him open completely.
A hot fluid gushed into the wound.
“I’m ejaculating semen into you now. Can you feel it?”
Sans gave a whimpered wordless reply.
“Describe the sensation for me. How does it feel for it to go directly into your womb?”
Sans couldn’t answer. He had to answer or he’d be punished. He couldn’t form anything close to words anymore, breath coming out in grunts that sapped him of what little air he had left. Everything was being sucked out of him, like being crushed in a vacuum of space.
Then there was a flood of endorphins, a flash and a hand reaching for him, and it was over.
“Oh come now, there’s no need to start on that too. You were already plenty pathetic enough.”
Sans shivered in the cooling puddle underneath him. He was hit with a terrifying sense of déjà vu. The monster was climbing up onto the table, aiming the awful member at the womb.
“No! No! S-stop, don’t do it please don’t—”
The member pierced him, and the monster was muttering grotesque questions to Sans as though he could answer, as though he weren’t in blinding pain, as though it weren’t killing him.
Sans’ vision tunneled, then spiraled into a hush of black.
“Oh come now, there’s no need to start on that too. You were already plenty pathetic enough.”
Sans strongly felt that he’d already been through this, that he could still see it coming but couldn’t stop it, the monster getting up on the table and readying itself to bury its member inside him.
Sans’ whimpers turned to heaving sobs. He pulled hard at the restraints on his wrists, but the sharp pain still came, the vile gush of fluids, the casual interview that continued callously despite the lack of answers.
The bastard was still asking Sans how he felt as Sans was accepted into the merciful clutches of oblivion.
“Oh come now, there’s no need to start on that too. You were already plenty pathetic enough.”
“D-don’t do it, don’t do it please it’s too much, I’ve had enough, please, I c-can’t take it I can’t take any m-more”
The monster got up on the table.
“Quiet. I haven’t even done anything to you.”
It…hadn’t. Why did Sans think it had? Why did he think he already knew what it felt like for the sharp member to punch a hole in him and cum inside?
Sans coughed out a dry sob.
“No no no no…no no no…mercy, have mercy…”
It drove into him, and it felt exactly like he thought it would, it was disgusting and cold and the monster didn’t even care what it was doing, and maybe Gaster knew a thing or two and that’s why there were no photos of this monster along with the pictures of his lab partners and old colleagues.
“Oh come now, there’s no need to start on that too. You were already plenty pathetic enough.”
Sans gasped like he’d been pulled out of a pool. He tasted burnt rubber. His body went rigid, the other monster’s words drowned out by the roar of panic in his brain.
“Use the pig one!”
Sans felt a clench of mortal terror, and he abruptly knew with absolute certainty that it was this or the end.
“Please use the pig one, fuck me with the pig one instead, it…looks like it would be really…interesting? D-don’t you want to see how it works on me—with the tip going all the way up? And you’d feel really g-good, right? It seems like it would really…it would…”
Sans choked on the words. He couldn’t tell if any of that sounded appealing to the other monster, still didn’t know at all what it wanted.
“don’t kill me please I—” his voice broke. “I d…on’t want to d-die like thi…s”
For a terrible, long moment as Sans’ soul held on one beat, the monster considered him.
“Hm. That seems fair.”
The monster got rid of the sharp member and brought back the pig penis. The shape was still frightening, but at least it couldn’t stab his womb like a knife.
The monster settled itself between the stirrups and touched the tip of the member to the hole of Sans’ pussy, leaving the dick pointed straight out between them and not pushing it in yet. It put gloves on its hands again, then dragged a hand through the bluish puddle under Sans’ legs and used the waste magic to begin to lube up the penis.
Then it started pushing. The spiral stimulated Sans some going in, but after it was through, the girth of the member wasn’t enough to make the pressure pleasurable. Instead, the long thin shape made its insertion feel more like the tight pressure of a giant needle.
The member hit an obstruction, and the doctor gave an unceremonious thrust to push past it. There was a cutting pain, and then some red leaked out over the pinkish purple opening of the cunt. The monster ran a finger through the red fluid.
“It looks like I’ve pierced the hymen. I suppose I didn’t need to design a virginal entrance for you.” The monster made a mocking facsimile of reassuring smile. “I apologize for that.”
Whatever that meant, Sans guessed that it translated to the doctor making some extra unnecessary pain for him on purpose.
The member kept inching forward carefully for what must have been the longest thirty minutes of Sans’ life. Finally, there was an unpleasant tightening higher up than Sans felt a dick should ever go.
“I’m in the cervix now. Tell me when you feel the ejaculate.”
The torrid gush was hard to miss. Sans looked down against his better judgment. Through the semi-translucent magic, Sans could see the cum flooding past the cervix and filling the womb. He decided to look away after that.
The monster sounded impatient.
“Do you feel that?”
Sans’ words unexpectedly broke on a sob.
“Describe the sensations. Be detailed.”
Sans only cried harder. He couldn’t deal with this, couldn’t be a whore and an experiment at the same time, he needed to go home and scrub himself with his own two hands, needed to bury himself under seven layers of covers, needed someone to tell him he was good and everything would be all right. He also really needed to pee again, but he held on desperately.
The monster struck him across the face.
The penis was still releasing inside him, mostly blocking semen from leaking out. But since the cunt wasn’t also spiral-shaped, the tip of the penis made an imperfect plug. Some cum crept sluggishly through the block, making a slimy itch.
Sans couldn’t begin to know how to verbalize any of that. He couldn’t think of or form any original words, so he pulled from one of Onion’s scripts and repeated it mechanically.
“It f-eels really h-hot inside me. Y-you’re filling me up…”
The monster’s face scrunched in distaste.
“I suppose that’s what I get for asking you.”
It got to work at easing out, a significantly simpler process than entering once the penis started to soften. After a short time, it flopped out the rest of the way on its own. The monster dispelled it.
“You want me to rut you like a sow? Want me to stimulate you to climax?”
“I…I was only…I was…”
The monster reached to the device in Sans’ soul.
“Those sensations are only nerves—they can be simulated.”
The foreign magic took control again and Sans’ whole body spasmed. His cunt was seized by the tight contractions he only got when he’d been pushed all the way over the edge. He’d somehow skipped over physical stimulation entirely and cut right to the chase, his pussy swollen and pulsing in spent satisfaction.
“Are you having an orgasm?”
“How about we do multiple?”
Three consecutive orgasms rolled through him, his hips freezing up and jolting with each one. The monster tapped at the device.
The monster fixed its cold eyes back on Sans’ face. It appeared unmoved, but took its hand away from Sans’ soul.
“It doesn’t feel good?”
“No…I mean…it, it feels good, but it…doesn’t…”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“I.” Sans gulped. “Y-you don’t care at all. It makes it k-kinda…scary.”
“Why should that make any difference?
Sans looked away. Maybe it shouldn’t make a difference? It certainly shouldn’t make a difference to Sans, because he was probably never going to have sex with anyone who cared about him.
Either the monster accepted the plea or had gotten tired of toying with him, because it shifted its focus back to Sans’ womb. It touched the outside lightly, and Sans cringed.
“Muffet insisted that I not actually impregnate you, so we’ll be dispelling all this. A shame…”
Sans held his breath. The monster quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Well? I don’t need to show you how to do that too, do I? You know how to dispel?”
Sans quickly let go of the magic—too quickly, for how much and how complex it had been. He felt a dizzying backlash from the abrupt change. He expected the fluids made from his own magic to disappear, but he’d also expected to feel the foreign fluids spilling onto his bones. But those had gone too.
The doctor’s mouth twitched as it felt down Sans’ spine from the bottom of his rib cage to just above his pelvis.
“…of course, there’s the question of whether the reproductive organs would reform in the same state if you were to call it all up again. Or, were you to become fertilized, if its status would continue to develop while not formed.”
The monster showed Sans a mischievous half-smile.
“Hm. Schrodinger’s pregnancy.”
It shrugged, removing the messy gloves and eyeing Sans’ bare bones with interest.
“Muffet tells me that you’ve been used.”
“I…th-that’s my…job, doctor…?”
The monster waved a hand dismissively.
“Not physical sex. I mean melding with magic.”
The way Sans immediately broke eye contact must have been answer enough for it.
“Was it soul to soul?”
“N…no, it was…uh…genitals…”
“It had parts made of magic as well? And it made you meld them?”
Sans closed his eyes, voice small.
“That must have been very degrading.”
Its voice was mild. It wasn’t trying to empathize, only offer an observation.
“It surprised me to hear you had any experience at all. Monsters these days seem to think melding is too old-fashioned…too vulnerable to try.”
Sans felt the doctor’s hands fondling his lowest ribs, but he kept his eyes closed.
“To be frank with you, I don’t have much interest in participating in the physical act of sexual intercourse. I’m much more intrigued by the idea of melding.”
The hands touching him moved to cradle his soul, thumbs rubbing small circles on the surface. Sans couldn’t open his mouth. His breathing came rapidly.
“Unfortunately…due to my condition, attempting to meld soul to soul with another monster would likely be deadly for me.”
That’s right. It couldn’t do that. It wasn’t going to do that. This wasn’t going to come to that.
The monster thumbed the device still sticking out of Sans’ soul.
“But this device allows for something I call a ‘soft meld.’ I can’t feed primary magic into it directly from my soul, but I can meld my secondary magic into your soul, at least. I’ll only get the feedback when I recall my magic, but I’ll be able to watch you react to the process.”
The hand was back on the end of the device, funneling more of itself inside.
Sans struggled, hampered by the restraints.
“No! Not that—not that, please! No… no-o…”
The monster lurched violently forward and clamped a hand over Sans’ mouth.
“Shut up shut up, haven’t you heard your own voice enough tonight you disgusting little whore?”
Sans went rigid. The monster straightened, but kept its hand on Sans’ mouth.
“You should be grateful I’m sharing myself with you like this. It’s not as though you deserve it, but I’m curious. And unwell as I am, it’s not a chance I get frequently.”
The monster kept feeding magic inside, and rather than taking control or sharing information, Sans felt it seeping into him, mixing with him so he didn’t know what was his and what wasn’t.
There should have been some pitiful noises mumbling into the hand over his mouth, given how Sans felt his throat clench, but it was as though the other monster had set him on mute. The most that came out were small, huffing breaths of air on the palm of the monster’s hand.
Eventually, the monster took its hand away, and Sans only gave a helpless shudder in response each time more magic was introduced and melted into him.
Sans didn’t know what a proper soul-to-soul meld would feel like, but he had a guess that it wouldn’t feel this crushingly lonely, like something was with him but not, something unaware and unthinking was inside sharing space with him. It was like the thing had died in there, and someone had strapped a mocking, smiling mask on it like Sans wouldn’t know the difference.
Then he was overtaken, too weak to keep hold of his own identity.
He felt sickness, boredom, and suddenly it was though he was standing over himself, looking down. He felt an absurd drive to put something very heavy and flat on top of the little skeleton, compress his bones into jelly until the sniveling prostitute was utterly destroyed and Gaster spilled out from the ruined mess. There was something of his father in his eyes, in the texture of bones it had managed to brush over casually during a healing session a long time ago, but Dr. Gaster was nowhere else in this thing.
It hated him hated him, may as well use him to sate its curiosity, may as well, if it can’t bring Gaster out, use the pitiful thing as an incubator and ruin him, destroy him, claw him out from the inside and rip him to pieces
Sans hyperventilated, soul going into fluttering panics. The monster had finished filling him with magic, but he needed it to take it all out, too. He tried to plead with it, but his voice was still gone.
Not that it would make a difference. He could vividly feel how much the monster wanted him to suffer, how much it wanted him to be degraded and maimed and fucked into submission, used as a receptacle—not because it would take particular pleasure from it, but because it felt Sans deserved it. Felt it was a fitting punishment for his existence.
There was an ugly burbling, like Sans’ soul was simmering and roiling inside. In spite of all its hatred, the magic seemed to feel that the best way to act inside of Sans’ soul was to consummate. There was a sticking, like the tar black magic was spitting out and clinging to the walls, pulling the soul in to contract like it was forcing an orgasm on a pussy. Sans involuntarily bucked in his restraints and gave a high whine. The first real noise he’d been able to produce since the magic melded with him.
Sans kept mouthing soundlessly at the monster above him. It was looking at him blandly. The magic forced Sans’ soul to cum again, then again—had almost taken on a mind of its own, felt darkly pleased that it had been able to use him too, to make him bend to its will like this.
Sans could do nothing but convulse and gasp until the monster finally unplugged the device from his soul. Slippery dark magic drained out from the puncture, and the doctor collected it in a vial, putting a stopper in the top when it was finished draining.
“I’ll see if I can’t enjoy that piecemeal at a later time.”
The monster looked down at Sans.
“Well? Was it pleasurable? Melding is supposed to be an overwhelming experience. Bordering on sublime, I’ve been told.”
Sans stared at the monster. It was mocking him, even after all that, it hadn’t been enough for it—
Or maybe not.
Melding was a funny thing. It stripped everything down to the most honest and raw form, or so he’d heard. Without a real connection between them, with the monster’s magic slopping inside Sans independently like the corpse of a stringless puppet, perhaps the meld had revealed more than the monster had intended. Maybe, despite its collected appearance, it was not particularly self-aware.
It was possible that Sans now knew the monster better than it knew itself.
When Sans was released from the room, he didn’t say a word to anyone. Muffet greeted him later on with her arms open wide for him to walk into, but he walked right past her like he was a ghost. She made no attempt to follow him. Woshua cleaned him up happily while Sans was still silent, and when Sans didn’t have any more obligations for a time, he snuck off to an abandoned room and got in a cabinet.
Cecil found him eventually and brought him a donut. Sans didn’t speak to them or look at them. They left the donut on his lap with a kind word and left, closing the cabinet back up as they went.
When the cabinet door opened again a while later, the human child was looking in, guilt written on their face.
An uneaten donut still sat in Sans’ lap. Frisk picked it up and put it aside, then crawled into the cabinet with Sans, huddled so close they were almost on top of him.
They looked at Sans, then looked away. They looked at him again, opened their mouth, closed it, then looked away.
Sans didn’t respond. The human didn’t look surprised. They rubbed their nose with the back of their fist and sniffed.
“I messed up—I messed up so bad. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to—I always thought it would be a bad idea, using time revving like that, that’s why it’s a last resort. I know it sucks when I die that many times. I…”
Sans was still unresponsive. Frisk’s voice lowered to a whisper.
“I didn’t want to do that to you, but I got caught off guard, something changed, I didn’t expect you to die y—like that.”
“You saved me.”
Sans’ tone didn’t indicate that he felt one way or another about that.
“I. S-sort of. I rewound the same moment over and over…when I can’t do anything else, sometimes that works…sometimes it makes something change on its own. Monsters don’t always remember things with their heads, but they remember with their hearts. They call it déjà vu.”
They rubbed at a bloodshot eye.
“I do that for things like…making monsters think they remember me, and then I lie to them about how they know me…or sometimes, if I can’t get on someone’s good side, I…let them kill me a few times, and then when they see me again they feel guilty and don’t know why…”
They looked at Sans, but he hadn’t looked up.
“But it doesn’t feel good. I knew that, and I knew I shouldn’t use it like that on you, but…”
They rubbed their eye harder.
“I thought I could leave for a little, I thought you were going to be fine, because you were before—I didn’t save early enough to be able to do anything better. But why weren’t you fine? What was…”
Their pupils shrank, hands out in front of them like they were in the middle of telling Sans ‘it was this big.’
“…I switched your guards.” Frisk put their face in their hands. “I switched your guards. I’d never done that before. How could I forget that…? The guard that let your friend die, I, because of me, he…he got the shift looking after you instead…”
Sans’ voice was still expressionless.
“So, you’re a time traveler.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
Frisk muttered something.
“You’re gonna have to speak up, sweetheart.”
“…I said, you asked me not to tell you.”
Frisk rung their hands.
“You found out and…you got scared. You said that I shouldn’t think it was my job to save you, that you shouldn’t think it was my job to save you. You didn’t want to…you didn’t want to have hope about it. But I said I wasn’t going to stop trying. So you asked me to go back and not tell you.”
They turned their gaze back to him. Their eyes were dimmer than before, but there was still that distinctive burn to them.
“I just want you to know that I…I want to do this. You matter to me. You were my first friend.”
“What about that flower of yours? He’s chopped liver?”
They shook their head.
“I met you before I met him.”
They looked at him with pleading eyes.
“I’m still not going to stop. I’m going to save you.”
“’—you look bone tired,’ yeah, I know, Sans. I’m okay.”
“I was going to say you have a lot more backbone than me.”
“I’ve heard that one too, Sans. And that’s not a time trick. After a while there aren’t a lot of bone puns.”
Sans finally seemed to be coming out of his funk, and he eyed the child with a distinct expression of distress, their words sinking in. Frisk waved their hands out in front of them.
“It’s…i-it’s okay, I’ll make you forget again…I promised…I promised you that. I just…for a little while, I wanted to tell you, because it. It gets really…it gets really lonely…when you don’t know.”
“Kid, you can…you can leave it like this, it’s okay—”
They shook their head.
“I’m gonna erase this, and there’s nothing you can do. It’s okay. I can do it. I just needed a little…little, tiny break.”
Sans sighed and reached out to stroke their hair.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, kid…”
The child flinched.
“That’s….that’s what you said last time, too.”
The door of the cabinet swung open. Frisk looked at him for a moment like they were going to say something, then jumped on his lap and started sobbing into his neck.
And just like that, Sans snapped out of his fugue.
“Hey, shh, c’mere…”
He wrapped his arms around the child’s back and rocked them.
“It’s all right. It’s okay.”
Nothing was all right, but he meant it anyway. He pet the back of their head, and their crying quieted a little.
“I’m so tired Sans, I’m so t-tired, I messed up…I’m bad…”
“Shh, it’s okay sweetheart. It’s all gonna be okay. You’re good. You go on and take a nap, huh? We’ll get you a nice private bed and I’ll stand guard, and you’ll—”
The child fell asleep on top of him. Not long after, the two of them were napping together in the cabinet, curled in a comfortably melded pile.