Red Light District
Chapter 11: Limited Time Only
Limited Time Only, Part 1: Heat Week
Gaster had drilled it into Sans from a very young age, so the first and last time Papyrus checked him, Sans’ response was the automatic script of a protective parent.
“Papyrus! You never check another monster unless you’re prepared to fight them!”
Sans immediately regretted it. He’d been too harsh. But for his part, Papyrus should have said something back like ‘even you?’ or ‘you’d really fight me?’
Instead, he said:
“But I could just kill you.”
Sans never once checked his brother.
Muffet casually checked Sans as she touched him. Sans had gotten so used to being treated like he wasn’t a threat that getting checked didn’t make him so much as flinch anymore. It had been a long while since being checked meant he would have to engage in a fight. Muffet seemed to be satisfied with whatever she’d gleaned from him.
“I have a few rules for you to follow this week, dear.”
Sans let out a breathy noise to indicate he was listening. Muffet had him in her lap and was massaging his shoulders, reaching under his clothes to knead at his scapulae. This wasn’t exactly what he’d expected when she’d entered his room and perched on his bed. Since she was already doing him a favor, he’d thought his first day assisting her on her new project would be unpleasant right off the bat. But along with learning to accept her punishments, he’d also learned to look forward to her better moods.
Things could be good with her when she wanted them to be. Of course, that always threw into question why she wanted them to be.
“After taking the first dose, I’ll need you to tell me how you feel in the morning. It should start working gradually, so don’t expect anything big on the first day. And remember: no masturbating, no clients, no sex. Starting on day three at least, I’ll be keeping a closer eye on you.”
“No clients,” Sans repeated quietly. He could hardly believe it.
It seemed that things had gotten bad enough that even Muffet had to bend to Sans’ inflexible problems.
Sans hadn’t been able to sleep in his room. He’d gotten in trouble the first couple times Muffet caught him sleeping in the hallway, but after punishment failed to change his behavior, Muffet started tucking him in against the floor corner instead.
Sans wasn’t able to stay in places where he heard someone close the door—he’d ran and scratched at the door out the rec room until someone opened it for him, only to break down once he realized how small and constricting the outside halls still were. Muffet had even come to Sans’ rescue once when it wasn’t strictly necessary. A client had insisted on tying Sans down, and once restrained, without any further threat or provocation, Sans was immediately set off—crying and screaming, pleading for the client not to kill him.
Muffet had looked truly exasperated with Sans, but hadn’t punished him.
Instead, she’d promised him that she would give him the week off from clients. In exchange, he was going to help her with something she’d been working on with Madjick.
That was another monster Sans had heard of, but never met, and he wasn’t alone in that. Madjick spent most of his life sequestered away in his family’s tower, safely studying magic and selling his mixed creations through second parties. The slogan for his products was ‘you can buy happiness.’
Apparently, Sans had him to thank for the pudding, and now the little wizard had concocted something new that Muffet was eager to show off.
It just needed to be tested more first.
Sans tried hard not to think about the fact that this made him an experiment again. Tried not to think about examination tables and straps and stirrups and expressionless monsters hovering over him. It was possible Muffet’s soft attitude toward him was an effort to preemptively ease his panics about what this week was going to do to him.
“What, uh. What makes this different from the pudding?”
“The pudding lasts for a few hours—”
“—or more, on a large dose. This one is meant to simulate part of a hormonal cycle. Madjick said it’s called ‘estrus.’”
She looked at Sans with sudden curiosity.
“…do you have those? As a skeleton, I mean?”
“No, we…don’t really have any kind of cycles.”
Skeletons didn’t need to eat or sleep or breathe to live. They only needed the magic and energy in order to move around (which was, admittedly, usually an asset if you wanted to live). Like most monsters, they could reproduce using their souls, but unlike most other monsters, they didn’t have the option of reproducing with their physical bodies.
Sans was wary of going into too much detail about those things with Muffet. He didn’t want to find out what would happen if she got it in her head to starve him, or put him on a semen only diet, or whatever sadistic idea she might dream up for his clients.
“Well, in any case, this should work on you just the same.” Muffet unlatched a small briefcase she’d taken in with her. “It rides off magic like the pudding, but it’s too potent to be digested like food.”
“So how are you going to—”
Muffet took a needle out from the briefcase. Sans went rigid, his pupils contracted to slits. Muffet stroked up and down his back soothingly.
“Shh, I know you’re scared honey. Be brave, and this will be over before you know it. Just today, and the next four days. You’ll hardly notice it next time.”
Sans shut his eyes. Muffet wasn’t holding him down, but he felt like he was being gripped in place, escape impossible.
“Open your mouth and lift your tongue for me. That’s it. That’s it. Just a little prick.”
Sans felt sharp pressure under his tongue. She’d injected into a vein of magic on the underside.
“There we go. Not so bad?”
Sans nodded obediently but didn’t open his eyes until he heard the briefcase snapping shut again.
“As I was saying…unlike the pudding, the synthetic hormones will have a staggered effect. The buildup is gradual, so it makes for a more potent result at the peak of the cycle. You may also find yourself acting a little differently once it kicks in.”
Sans gripped her tighter at that.
“You gave me something that…that changes how I think?”
She rubbed his back again.
“It’s only for a limited time. It wears off after you stop taking it.”
Sans counted his breaths. His grip loosened a little. He could do this. Muffet was giving him the week off. He could prove to her it was worth it.
“Anything, uh…anything else I should know…might happen?”
Muffet was thoughtful.
“Well, Madjick said you won’t be able to dispel your pussy after the second day.”
She took a measured look at Sans’ expression.
“That’s not permanent either, dear. Just for the week.”
She went back to massaging Sans, which seemed pretty generous of her considering how inquisitive he was being.
“And of course, at the end of the week we’ll have our little performance, and you’ll have just one client after that.”
Muffet really was being freer with information than usual. Sans supposed that in this case, she was relying on him to give her feedback, and he had to know at least a little in order to do that. But even though she’d mentioned it before, she hadn’t gone into detail about what was expected of him at the end of their experiment.
“So, performance as in…like juggling, or ‘performance’ with euphemistic quotes around it?”
“The second one, dearie, but you knew that.”
“I can always hope somebody has a fetish for good, clean entertainment.”
By the morning of the second day, it was already clear that nothing was going to be good and clean about this. He’d managed to sleep through the night in his own bed for the first time in who knew how long, but his clothes and sheets were soaked with sweat. Sweat, and some other excretion that smelled strongly of sex. His shorts were at his ankles and his shirt was hiked up under his arms, like he’d wildly tried to cool off in the night. He still felt warm.
Muffet took one look at him that day and smiled. A slow smile that started almost cute and spread to show all her teeth. The predatory look sent a thrill up Sans’ spine.
The third day, Muffet woke Sans up before daybreak.
“Sans! Stop that!”
“Whu—wha?? I didn’t do it, I was asleep!”
Muffet pointed down. In his sleep, Sans had stuffed his pillow between his legs, and had ridden it so hard that it was soaked down to the stuffing. Even as she pointed it out, Sans’ hips kept moving under her watch. Muffet snatched the pillow away from him.
“I suppose you won’t be sleeping with that this week. Did you cum?”
“I…I don’t think so?”
His cunt felt too frustrated for that. In spite of how wet the pillow had gotten, the eager gooeyness still dripping from his pussy told him it wasn’t cum. Just an overabundance of…excitement. Muffet sighed.
“I’ll send Woshua before you go to breakfast.”
She turned on her heel before leaving.
“And no hose for you!”
Sans put his hands up in surrender.
“No sex, I got it, I got it! Don’t worry, not doing things comes way easier to me than doing them.”
Muffet didn’t look reassured.
By lunchtime, Sans was too antsy to sit down. He was agitated enough that Shyren and Cecil had stopped eating to watch him, looking very confused.
“Sans, are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, I’m uh…I’m fine, twerp. I feel better than usual? Lotsa energy.”
“Kay, because, I mean, I don’t think there’s a polite way to ask this, but are you humping that chair?”
Sans suddenly realized that the shaking of the table was being caused by his hips furiously rutting against the chair he normally sat in.
Shyren came over to his side of the table and offered a glass bottled soda.
“To cool down? You’re looking rather hot.”
Sans wiped his forehead and gratefully took a swig. He took a long look at the bottle and began chugging the rest down. Cecil and Shyren were still eyeing him with concern.
“I guess that was the trick?”
“Are you coming down with a fever, Sans?”
Sans didn’t answer either of them. He was fixated by the shape of the now empty bottle, the hard feel of it in his hand.
“Uh, Sans, you’re not—”
But Sans had already shoved the lips of the bottle to his crotch, riding it with his hips and whining like a dog. Shyren and Cecil shouted in shocked unison.
His pussy was making a large wet spot through his pants that was dripping down his thighs. Some part of him was disgusted by his behavior, didn’t want to be doing this and especially not here, but most of him was heavily focused on making himself cum. If his friends had to see, that was going to have to be the sacrifice here.
“Should we…stop him?”
“But he looks so happy.”
Sans barely noticed the hand on his shoulder, but he definitely noticed the bottle being ripped away from him.
“Come along with me now, dear.”
Muffet tugged Sans’ arms behind him and pulled his back close to her chest, ready to guide him away. Cecil got up from their seat.
“Muffet, what did you do to him?”
“We’re just testing a little something. Don’t you worry, I won’t hurt him.”
She began to lead Sans to the door. Sans heard the little mouse patter after them.
“I can…I’ll come help.”
“Oh? I don’t think you want to.”
“Just to oversee. Sans wants me there. Right Sans?”
Sans was a little frightened in Muffet’s grip like this. He might be in trouble. Would Cecil’s presence make her hold back, even a little?
Something dipped into his pants from behind. One of Muffet’s many hands was secreting itself under his clothes from an angle Cecil wouldn’t be able to see. Fingers stroked his clit, and two pushed in and out of him in a few delicious thrusts. Sans’ eyes crossed.
“Haa-how about you stay here. And finish. Uh. Lunch.”
Cecil remained still, their expression uncertain.
“It’s okay. I’m totally ffAH!” His attempt to regain composure failed, if Cecil’s face said anything. “Fine.”
Muffet was backing him out of the room. Cecil stepped forward again.
“NOPE. Nope. Ha…ha ha…thanks twerp, I’m good, I’ll…see you later!”
The cafeteria doors closed on Cecil’s flustered expression.
When Muffet let go of Sans and let him walk for himself, he hurried down the hall so fast he came out ahead of her, and had to hold back just so he could tell where she was going to take him.
She’d changed her mind. She was going to do him. The process must be working faster than she expected, and she needed to work off some of his excess energy. It was going to be just like his other training sessions with Muffet, minus one significant detail.
Finally, finally Sans was going to enjoy his time with her and there wouldn’t be anything for her to get mad at him for. He could do anything she asked right now, use any toys, he didn’t care. He just needed to come a few times and he’d be okay. He never thought he would feel so intensely grateful for her touch as he did from even that one small preview in the cafeteria.
They got into a private room, and she went to work right away securing Sans’ arms with her webbing. He was practically giggling with excitement. He found himself actually looking forward to that bullshit she’d spouted the first time she did this, about how being restrained could make sex feel better. He was definitely ready for her to take control.
Still, as she stuck his wrists together, he wrenched his head forward to nibble at her neck. He could feel her throat vibrate as she chuckled. He hadn’t noticed before that she had such an enticing smell to her—like she’d always just finished baking something fresh.
She really was a handsome woman: spindly arms, flaring hips, and those two long fangs that hung over her lip in a sharp overbite. Everything about her screamed deadly to a fine point. Maybe she’d let Sans experience a little more of her this time?
He had the feeling that some things with her were always going to be off limits, but the heated pulsing of his soul made him bold. He moved his nipping up her chin and closer to her mouth, but predictably she tugged his face away before he reached it.
She used the webbing to stick him comfortably on the bed, unable to get up. His legs were spread and tied down like that, which was making him pant in anticipation, right about until he started to realize that he wouldn’t be able to touch himself from this position at all, wouldn’t be able to so much as rub his cunt mindlessly on anything. And Muffet wasn’t touching him anymore.
Muffet crossed her arms.
“I saw how you were acting in the cafeteria. I told you that you’re not allowed to masturbate.”
“I wasn’t—I didn’t!”
“Shh, shh. I’m not mad, Sans. You’re not exactly yourself now. But I can’t have you rubbing yourself on everything in the building.” She winked. “Woshua’s angry enough with me.”
Muffet brushed a hand over Sans’ cheek, and he replied with a high whine. Muffet looked his prone form up and down.
“Besides, if you cum, you’ll be working off some of the effects too early. We need you nice and heated by the end of the week.”
“Ha…you’re…joking, right? You never…I always have to be ready to fuck, except now? Now you won’t touch me? There’s no way I can do this for a week.”
“It’s a good thing it’s only a business week then, hm? I’ll bring some food for you a bit later, dear.”
She walked toward the door.
“Muffet, Muffet please, can’t you—just one time? Just three? Okay, two? Just two good—come on, I’ll make it look good on stage, I’ll act however you want, you’re not really gonna make me wait until—”
She closed the door.
Day three was starting to feel very long. Sans felt feverish and groggy, his thoughts clouded and his cunt glowing with heat. For a while when he was alone, he tried to make himself cum by forcing hard contractions, but it wasn’t enough. He slipped in and out of dreams of monsters doing him one after another while he was tied down like this, making him sticky and full, but the illusion was shattered by the disappointing clenching, empty feeling he woke up to.
Muffet came by a few times to feed him and bathe him with an ice cold wet washcloth. The bath was a huge relief up until he unconsciously bucked into the cloth cleaning between his legs. Muffet took the opportunity to tease him more, slipping the cloth into him and rubbing him through it. It was a nice friction, but too cold to get him going. Muffet laughed appreciatively at the broken, needy noises she coaxed out of him.
She came by again a couple hours before bedtime.
“You’re still going to need at least a bit of daily stimulation.”
Sans’ eyes lit up.
“So I’m letting your friends in to play cards with you for a while.”
Sans’ sockets went dark.
“You said ‘stimulation’ on purpose.”
“Yes I did, dear.”
The set up was a little embarrassing—Sans was strapped down in a sitting position, with his wrists strapped to each other (making for a difficult card game) and a plastic dog cone around his waist, flaring upward to prevent him from reaching his pussy. He was leaking pretty much constantly now, so a towel had been secured between his legs to soak up the excess juices, and his hips tied in such a way that he couldn’t rub on it effectively enough to get off.
It didn’t stop him from fidgeting on it throughout the game. The rough texture was so horribly tantalizing, like a giant tongue.
Sans was grateful that Cecil and Shyren didn’t try pretending this wasn’t happening. That might have been something someone on the outside would try. But in true Red City fashion, they were open to the point of crudeness.
“Sans, let me hold your hand for you, or you’ll get it wet.”
“You’re just trying to cheat.”
“Seriously, I finally found this deck and it’s probably the only full deck in the Underground.”
“And now everyone will know it belongs to Red City. Anti-theft sweat, you’re welcome.”
“Sans your discard pile smells like a threesome.”
“Just like how I’m hankering for a ‘foursome’ of Kings?”
Muffet came back later to show the others out and get Sans settled for sleep. She tied him back to the bed, testing the webbing to see that it was comfortable, but tight enough to be effective. Sans blearily tried rolling over, and it worked about as well as expected. He mumbled.
“Muffet, could you say ‘stimulation’ again?”
“Could you say ‘cum’?”
“’Thrusting’ maybe? Hot, sticky, pumping, wet, cock, cunt, fucking—”
Muffet giggled and pet Sans’ head.
“You forgot ‘hard’ and ‘pounding’.”
“Did you…did you really cum from that?”
“oh god I wish”
On day four, Muffet came in with breakfast on a cute little tray. She rearranged Sans so he was sitting upright under the tray. The tray was vibrating over him. He’d slept well enough, but his hips had been quivering since he’d woken up. Had maybe been at it all night. It was a wonder the joints weren’t too exhausted to move yet.
Sans acquiesced to being fed, maybe partly because Muffet made unconscious licking and chewing motions with each spoonful of oatmeal she gave him, and the motions of her mouth helped to fuel his fantasies. In between foods, though, Sans looked down at the tray.
“Muffet, you’re…not really going to keep me tied to a bed for three whole days?”
“Of course not, dear. I have to take you for some nice, healthy walks after all.”
This translated to Muffet fitting Sans with the collar and leash, his hands still tied together. Walking through the halls, Muffet had to keep paying attention to him, or else he drifted close to other monsters and rubbed his chin on them like a cat.
At one point, Muffet stopped to talk to a guard, allowing Sans to catch up with Loox in the hall. Loox was curious about the drug, but Sans did his best to get Loox to talk about more distracting topics instead—unsexy things like who’d caught magic sores lately, which clients were temporarily banned from the premises, who really badly needed to invest in the miracle of toothpaste.
Loox didn’t seem to have personal space issues, as Sans had gradually closed the distance between them until any kind of personal bubble had popped and they were touching.
Loox did, however, touch Sans’ head in gentle discouragement as Sans had started leaning further down and breathing deeply.
“Sans, there’s no easy way to say this, but as a friend I have to ask if you’re trying to smell my genitals right now.”
When Muffet took Sans back to the private room and tied him down again, she took a vibrating egg out of a pocket. Sans nearly cried. Muffet looked down at him.
“Why Sans, it’s almost as if you want me to use this on you.”
“Yes please…yes please!”
She turned the egg on. Sans could swear he felt the air vibrations coming off the shaking toy before it was anywhere near him. A jolt went through him from his cunt and traveled up his spine. As Muffet lowered the toy toward him, his body rolled in eager waves.
She brushed the toy over his clit only once, then pulled it away quickly to leave him bucking wildly against empty air. Then she slid it over the lips of his pussy, and it popped inside with the lightest push. Sans spasmed, panting heavily as the toy slipped further in him, not quite at a hard enough setting to get him there.
Muffet gave Sans’ ribs an affectionate stroke, then pulled the egg out of him. She put it back in her pocket.
“No no, Muffet, I want it so bad, it’s so hot, it’s driving me crazy”
“Not yet, dear.”
“I…I changed my mind, Muffet, you…d-don’t need to give me the week off, I can handle some clients, I can d-do it!”
She smiled fondly and bent to kiss Sans’ forehead.
“You’re a good boy.”
She turned away from the bed.
“N-no! I’m a bad boy! Muffet, punish me, please…!”
She closed the door on him.
On the fifth morning, Sans was a trembling, sweaty mess, and a cold bath barely made a dent in the heat before he was exuding sex from every pore again. When Muffet unpacked a needle for the last dose, Sans groaned.
“Ugh, not more.”
The needle wasn’t so bad anymore. It was really just the rest of it that was the problem.
“I’m pretty sure one more dose of that will make me combust. I swear. Poof! Experiment ruined.”
Muffet pet him as she finished the injection.
“Hush now. There we go. That’s all of them. You did a very good job.”
From her position stretched over him, she reached between his legs and started up a lovely rhythm there.
“No, come on, please don’t work me up again. I was just starting to get used to a new level of hell.”
“That’s why I have to do it, dear.” She whispered close to him. “Just think of how nice tonight will be.”
Sans’ body betrayed him, getting into it despite knowing how this would turn out. He squirmed under her, begging with tight breaths, with the language of his body. When Muffet took her hand away, it was like his cunt didn’t get the memo. He’d tried to prepare himself, but he felt a distinct physical disappointment.
Sans muttered breathlessly.
“I just wanna cum please I wanna cum so bad, please let me…”
“Shhh. Tonight, Sans. Very soon.”
It was hard to feel too upset about this treatment when even without climax, every sensation felt heightened. Muffet was straddling him, teasing at his bones, and the heat radiating off her skin was like a soft kiss wherever she touched. He felt her curves on him, felt the grip of her inner thighs on his waist.
And as much as he whined, the anticipation and denial had crossed a line to become almost pleasurable in and of itself. Muffet’s teasing read much more as playful than cruel, a reminder of the gratification that was in store around the corner.
Muffet bent down to kiss Sans on the cheek, and he felt the broad side of her fangs tickle and graze him. With that, any other complaints washed out of him.
Seeing that big crowd suddenly made it a lot easier for Sans to clam up and stop being so wild. He shook with the effort to control himself.
How could he possibly be getting stage fright now? The urges were definitely swinging back around to unbearable, he needed this to end, he needed to be fucked in any way he could get it. But up on stage in front of what appeared to be every monster in the Underground? Enough of him was still himself that the sight made him hug his coat sleeves. He knew he’d be forced to part with them soon.
Muffet was at the forefront of the stage brandishing a mic and introducing the show. The lights from the stage made the audience too dark to make out, so maybe Sans’ mind was exaggerating the size. The echoes of the room weren’t helping the audience sound any smaller.
Sans’ trembling may have been half desire and half nerves at this point. Muffet’s speech drifted in and out of his hearing as he gazed blank-faced at the crowd.
“—offering a new service next month. If you’re looking for something spicier in your weekend dalliance, all you’ll need to do is order the menu item of your choice—and request it be served ‘with Heat.’”
Muffet did a half turn to Sans and gestured for him to stand beside her. He inched forward, and she continued speaking, some of her hands grabbing his shoulders and pushing him forward the rest of the way.
“We’ll be demonstrating the effects for you this evening as a special preview.”
Muffet slid behind Sans, holding up his arms like a scarecrow on a pole.
“Poor Sans here has been in heat for a week with no relief. Just look at how wet his clothes have gotten!”
She shrugged his coat off his shoulders and whipped it out, spraying some moisture across the stage. Her other hands were unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt, but left it on him. The buttons of his pants were next.
“That’s nothing, though, compared to here.”
She tugged his pants down and pulled his legs apart so the audience got a clearer view of the strings of wetness clinging stickily from his cunt to the crotch of his pants. Sans’ pupils went out in his sockets. He stupidly yanked the hem of his shirt in front of his pussy to guard it from view, but of course Muffet neatly pulled his hand away.
She held out his pants with two other hands.
“Of course, if you choose this service, you’ll have to be prepared for things to get messy.”
She rung out the pants for emphasis. They made a small, clear puddle on the stage.
Sans heard snickering from the crowd.
Why did this have to happen first? At least if someone were just fucking him up here, he could be distracted enough not to think about all the eyes on him, all the monsters that were going to remember this performance later.
Sans tilted his head up at Muffet and whispered out the corner of his mouth.
“Muffet…please…I’m losing it here…”
Muffet smiled down at him, then looked back to the crowd.
“Messiness is hardly the main attraction of heat,” she winked, “though I hear it’s a bonus.”
She lifted Sans up, hooking her arms into his and spreading his legs in a straddle facing the audience. She used another hand to spread the lips of his cunt.
“Thanks to being in heat, this little pussy is very eager for some action right now. How much?”
She dipped a finger into Sans and drew it out long and slow, bringing a high keening noise out of him. He breathed hard and bucked, but the finger wasn’t in him anymore. Muffet rested her chin on his shoulder, giving the crowd a sultry look and dragging the next word out.
She lowered Sans to the stage. He huddled up in a humiliated puddle, having a hard time making this look as good for an audience as he’d promised Muffet he would. He heard her calling behind them.
“Madjick? If you wouldn’t mind.”
Sans’ head whipped around. The reclusive magician was here, seated in the corner of the stage. He’d managed to blend with the curtain before, but now he glowed with magical energy. There was a flash on either side of Sans, and suddenly he was being approached by two tall golems.
The golems looked like they were made of rock, but they had the translucent, shimmering surface of ghostly anatomy. When they’d closed Sans in, they looked down at him in unison with the same eyeless faces. In spite of his need, Sans was intimidated.
One of the constructs picked Sans up by his underarms. The other bent Sans’ knees and pushed them up to his chest, balancing Sans’ pelvis on its hips. Sans felt the manifestation of a cock settle over his pubic bone.
Sans was slick and ready, heated from the hormones and all the brutal teasing, but—all those eyes were on him. Not one person in the crowd would have a thought to stop this. They were watching him and maybe thinking about dominating him next. And these constructs of Madjick’s were huge, and hard to the touch, and…soulless. Their grip on him, their eyeless gaze—if anything went wrong, they wouldn’t be thinking about what they did to him.
Sans was scared.
He was really, really scared.
He gave a small hiccough of fear, concentrating all his power on controlling his expression. He couldn’t have a breakdown. Not now. Muffet would be angry with him, all these people were watching…
The texture of the golems suddenly turned softer. Sans’ head sunk a little into the softening chest behind him. He looked up into the golem’s face, saw the flash of an eye on its forehead, and then he heard Madjick’s voice inside his head.
Easy. They won’t hurt you. I have complete control.
The golem holding Sans’ arms grew another arm out of its stomach and stroked his back. The soothing motion only served to bring Sans closer to tears.
Fuck no stop, I’m gonna cry
The hand stilled.
Your emotions are a little volatile at the moment, right? It’s okay, that’s to be expected.
Sans felt like he could hear the crowd muttering, could feel their impatience like a smog settling in the air, thick and ugly. The golems were still just holding him between them. It probably didn’t look very exciting. Sans gave a panicked bounce of his hips against the golem’s cock.
You’ve g-got to start, they’ll get mad—
Relax. We have all the time in the world.
The whole room dimmed. The audience voices muffled to a buzz of pleasant white noise.
Not exactly. I’ve hypnotized you. To be frank with you…we’ve already gotten started, but I’m giving you a moment to catch up.
Sans could feel a muted pressure below, like he was feeling something through a dream. It was a distant pleasure, a non-sentient massaging caress like a jet of water, or the touch of warm pebbles heated by the sun. It didn’t mean him any purposeful harm, but the incidental pleasure was reassuring.
Why are you…bothering to do this?
I take my product seriously, Sans. I want it to be used for its purpose, not for torture. If I can make this feel good for you, I will.
Madjick’s visage drifted into view like a ghost over him, shifting his hands like he was pulling invisible strings.
My business is pleasure.
Sans felt more tugging below, a heated rocking that he was sure was still no where near the intensity of what he would be feeling if awake.
Ha…you…came to the wrong place for that.
Oh really? A brothel, the wrong place for pleasure?
Well sure, someone’s having a good time. But clients don’t pay to make the whore feel good.
Hm…I’ll keep that in mind.
Sans felt a pulse sweep through him, a tingle up his spine like someone was tickling up his back with a feather. Madjick looked to the side as though he were seeing the waking world on a screen somewhere.
You’ve come once already. Your body’s very relaxed now. Are you ready to wake up?
Could I have just…one more second, please?
Sans floated on nothing, like he was made of nothing. Maybe just a passing thought in someone’s consciousness.
Hey, do you think this is what death is like?
Sans couldn’t see Madjick’s eyes under the shadow of his hat, but he appeared to recoil slightly.
Why do you ask that?
It just seems like it would be kind of nice.
As they moved, Madjick’s hands made patterns in the air that left visible echoes.
Hm…that’s more morbid than I prefer my navel gazing to ever get.
We’re all gonna die eventually. I like to think I’m being an optimist.
Madjick looked down and reached into his sleeve.
Well, I don’t know about that…
He pulled a ribbon out of his sleeve and whipped it at the air, erasing the blurry echoes of his movements.
…but I can show you what living feels like.
Madjick stepped back and faded away into the darkness. The landscape was so black that Sans couldn’t tell if it was infinite or ended just beyond his touch. He heard Madjick again as though he weren’t speaking, like his words were more feeling than sound.
You’re getting sleepy.
For real, you’re doing this? When has that ever, in history—
You’re feeling very, very good.
Sans’ breath hitched. It was like he was being dipped in a warm bath.
I’m going to take care of you. You don’t need to worry about a thing.
Hands and tongues were soothing him all over, he was falling through the floor, sinking into a warm embrace
When you wake up, you’ll find your needs are being taken care of.
He landed on the couch in the room after his session with Doggo; he recognized the smell, the cum stain next to him—but this time when Sans impulsively drew his fingers through the sticky leftovers, a dark figure was over him, enveloping him with more warmth, guiding his hand with theirs over it, dipping between his legs with the cum, their fingers over his, murmuring to him that this was incredibly hot
He slipped down further into sheets and sex smells and a voice still encouraging him to push the cum further in, begging to be allowed to fuck him after, a mouth against his but he could no longer see anyone or anything through the impenetrable darkness
You’ll need more badly.
The darkness was somehow warm, it coated everything, he still felt a mouth on him and he was shot through with longing so hard that his spine went rigid.
It’s okay to beg. I’ll treat you well.
He felt the tongue draw out of his mouth, saliva trailing between them and the wet heated breath still palpable, though the only thing visible above was one glowing eye.
Sans had already swallowed. He was face to face with the golem’s dick as it twitched the last of its release onto Sans’ chin. An unfeeling, unthinking automaton, but Sans had roused it to climax. He’d made it shiver like that, spent and dazed.
Behind him, Sans felt the other golem holding his hips up and teasing its cock along the underside of his cunt.
The coiling heat in Sans’ gut came back full force.
He lunged forward and suckled at the cock like he could coax more out of it. The creature over him bucked once into his mouth, like a plea. Sans reached out and pumped his hand on the shaft, rolling his tongue and then bobbing his head smoothly over the cock, taking it to the back of his throat.
He needed to taste it for himself. He’d missed too much already. This was his reward—he was finally being allowed to take this all the way, finally allowed to cum as much as he wanted.
The golem behind him slid into him and went to work. The pounding inside him was already easing something, uncoiling him into a demolished mess of bliss and gratification.
Suddenly Sans’ head was grabbed, and the creature came in his mouth again, riding against his tongue and petting his head almost gratefully. Sans gulped, determined to take everything into him.
When the golem in front released him, the one behind changed his position. It pulled him into its lap faced away from it as it sat down, bringing Sans’ face and his arousal in full view of the audience. It stopped bucking into him.
But he needed this, he needed it so bad, and his hips were already moving, bouncing on the cock and riding it wildly as his hands scrambled for purchase, finding it on the creature’s knees. Then as though it couldn’t take its own restraint anymore, the golem rut up into him with a few hard thrusts, culminating in a flood of warmth.
Sans stopped almost rapturously, mouth hanging open. His whole body stilled, his face pulling an expression of ecstasy and his hands shaking hard where they gripped the giant knees.
The gushing inside him had triggered a feeling of completion, of success. He’d gotten what he needed. He moaned in relief, his eyelids fluttering.
The golem dispelled, and Sans’ hips landed on the floor of the stage. The satisfied feeling passed quickly, making way for an even hungrier need than before. It seemed the performance had done little more than whet his appetite. He panted with his tongue hanging out, speaking in a hoarse whisper that nonetheless traveled the acoustics of the cavernous room.
Muffet stepped up beside him, twirling the mic in her hand.
“You hear that? Tonight, one client will get to be the first to test this out. Well? Which of you would like a private turn?”
She did a showy look around the room with a hand to her temple, like she was sighting land from a crow’s nest.
“…how about it, your Majesty?”
Sans’ head snapped up in surprise to spy Asgore’s unmistakable giant silhouette in the crowd. The king’s answer drifted up in the deadly silence that followed Muffet’s invitation.
Muffet shrugged good-naturedly.
“Suit yourself, sire.”
She gave a small bow.
“For those of you who are tempted by the display…we’ll be having an auction for the privilege. Remember, we won’t be offering this service as part of our regular menu for another month.”
She wagged a finger.
“So don’t miss your chance.”
Muffet led Sans through the crowd. There was something different about the way monsters looked at him as he passed. He’d been publicly degraded before, made to look at the reactions, but this time he didn’t see the usual sneering looks, the laughing mockery, the muted pity. Monsters were turning to look at him and sniffing the air, and their eyes shone over with a hungry desire.
Sans had never felt so wanted before, and it was gripping him with impulsive urges that bordered on ridiculous. He wanted to stop where the crowd was thickest and simply let them get at him, do what they wanted. He felt uncharacteristically little reserve about his safety, much less his dignity. Only Muffet’s continued pull on him kept him grounded.
He saw that Muffet was leading him to the tallest figure in the audience. Sans raised himself on his toes and whispered to her.
“Has the king ever actually uh…visited Red City to…?”
Muffet leaned in and muttered.
“Not even once, the big prude.”
Once they reached Asgore, they stopped before him and Muffet bowed respectfully. Sans clumsily followed suit.
Muffet’s tone didn’t match her polite manner.
“If you’re not here for the show, your Highness, may I ask what brings you?”
“I just wanted to see first hand that things are going smoothly.”
Sans was in another world entirely. His eyes raked hungrily over Asgore’s physique, and a thrum at his groin told him this was exactly what he should be after. Go big or go home.
As if in a trance, Sans was stepping closer to the king. His whole body shook with the effort to hold back from rubbing up against him.
Asgore noticed his hunched approach and looked down at him with disdain.
“Can I help you?”
“please your highness, please do me, I’ll do anything you want, I can make it good for you—”
The next events happened very rapidly. Asgore’s foot pulled back, and a second later Shyren was rolling onto the floor, clutching her stomach.
She’d jumped between Sans and the king.
She raised herself shakily, coughing a little before speaking.
“Please, sire: he barely knows what he’s saying, and that could have killed him.”
In response, Asgore only made a noncommittal hum through his closed mouth.
But he did look actually perturbed that he’d hurt Shyren. He bent on one knee to help her the rest of the way up.
“I’m truly sorry. On your next free night, I would like to invite you for tea in apology.”
Shyren accepted his hand to steady her, but when she was standing again, she didn’t look up at him.
“Thank you, your highness. I’m afraid I’ll be too busy to join you.”
A whore too busy for the king. Sans wished he had Shyren’s chutzpah.
Asgore made a disgruntled expression, evidently trying to hide shock. Then, as though he hadn’t made the invitation at all, he let an awkward silence send him off, whipping around with his robes flapping behind him.
Sans turned to Shyren, feeling at her stomach. The other workers’ lack of personal space had started to rub off on him.
“Shyren, I’m such a piece of shit, I’m sorry—”
Shyren touched his hand, stilling him from searching for injury.
“I’m okay, Sans. And you’re drugged—he’s the one who tried to kick you. It’s not your fault.”
Sans stopped fussing over her, but stayed close.
Shyren laid a hand on his arm with a smile, then just as quickly looked down in surprise, holding her hands up.
“…Sans, are you humping me?”
Sans leapt backwards.
“oh god I’m sorry!”
He put his face in his hands and squeezed his legs tight together, unwilling to move himself until he felt Muffet putting hands on his shoulders to guide him again.
“Muffet please, please get someone to fuck me already, I can’t stand it—”
“There now, dear. Let’s go.”
Sitting alone in the private room was agonizing. It could have been minutes or hours. Sans knew he would get in trouble, he knew there were cameras, but he could tell himself it was Muffet’s fault for leaving him to his own devices as he grabbed a pillow and curled over it, pumping his hips into it.
It was hardly enough, anyway. It barely scratched an itch. That chair leg looked promising—maybe if he turned it on its side and rode it—
The door opened, Lesser Dog standing behind it. Sans startled and tumbled off the bed, the pillow and some sheets coming with him. He scrambled up in the mess and got to his feet, hurrying to stand closer to his client.
He’d been disobedient, but he couldn’t feel even a tinge of fear. He stared up at the dog with clouded eyes, taking in the muscle and breadth of his body.
This was perfect. Lesser Dog had powerful stamina, and no one was rough quite like he was. And the dogs ejaculated more than probably any other monster Sans had done, their knots making sure everything they poured into him would stay in there. There was no way Sans wouldn’t be sated after this.
Sans couldn’t at all disguise how happy he was to be given to the dog for this. The crotch of his pants became newly soaked with a fresh flush of arousal just at the sight of him.
The dog didn’t seem to miss a thing. He took in Sans’ desperate squirming with a slow leer up and down Sans’ body, lingering between his legs. From then on it was as though he purposefully moved like every motion was through an inhibitive layer of jello. It felt like he took a full ten minutes to hang his coat at the door.
Sans’ body closed the space between them, unable to hold back any longer. The dog picked Sans up fully, holding him away.
“And just what do you think you’re doing? I was interrupting you.”
Lesser Dog laughed and tossed Sans onto the bed, then picked up the pillow and shoved it at Sans.
“You want the pillow so bad, you can have at it.”
“No, no please—”
Lesser Dog leaned close, speaking low and breathing directly on Sans’ face.
“The faster you do as I say, the sooner my cock will be sinking into you.”
Sans stilled entirely, an anticipatory shudder running through him. His eyes half-closed and he breathed out shakily. Lesser Dog kept his face close and his tone low.
“You gonna be good?”
Sans unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down, tossing them on the floor. They landed with a wet slap. Then Sans bent himself over the pillow and rubbed his cunt against it. He felt it getting slick and sticky under him. The dog was still standing up by the bed, looking down at him.
“Look at me when you’re being punished, puppy.” As Sans raised his eyes, the dog reached down and cupped his chin, tilting his head up. “That’s it, right in the eye. Now tell me why I’m punishing you.”
“’Cause I…cause I didn’t wait.”
Sans thrust his hips up and down on the pillow. This should have been awful, but the dog taking charge of him like this gave him the same illicit thrill he got from being spanked. The dog’s words felt like sex washing over him, the humiliation felt like sex.
“You’re a naughty puppy, aren’t you?”
“Come on, say all of it.”
“I’m…I’m a naughty puppy…’c-cause I didn’t wait…”
The dog snorted.
“Now don’t make being bad sound so good, pup. Say it again. Why am I punishing you?”
Sans’ thrusting halted with a hard jerk of his hips, and he hugged the pillow tight to himself, panting unevenly.
“I’m naughty, you’re punishing me ’cause I was b-bad, please—”
The dog obligingly reached a hand between his legs. Sans was so close that it barely took a rub on his clit for his pussy to tremble in climax. Sans gave a happy whine that broke in the middle.
“Oh my god, you liked that. You liked that a lot. Just needed someone to put you in your place once and for all, huh?”
“Y-yeah, I…I did…I did!” Sans rolled onto his back, spreading his pussy open with his fingers. “Please, come on, I c-can’t wait any more…”
This time when the dog moved away, Sans nearly started to cry. Before Sans could leap off the bed to hump the dog’s leg, Lesser Dog was approaching him again with ropes in his hands. Sans still had his fingers stuck spreading his pussy out hopefully until the dog pulled at his arms and started tying Sans up at the wrists. Then the dog picked Sans up and pressed his back to the wall so his feet weren’t touching the floor, and got to work strapping the ropes from Sans’ wrists to hooks on the wall.
“No no no don’t do this to me, don’t tie me down please, please just fuck me, just fuck me!”
Lesser Dog pet Sans’ face. Sans almost bit him out of frustration.
Sans had never felt so exposed and so denied. The whole process was taking far too long. He kept trying to rub his hips on the dog’s abdomen, physically pleading for relief, but Lesser Dog only pushed him flat against the wall each time to continue tying the ropes.
When the dog finished, he made the cruel choice to step back and admire the work rather than making use of it. Sans yanked at the ropes, crawling halfway up the wall with his untethered legs. He moaned.
“Please fuck me. Please please please.”
The sound of a zipper unzipping made Sans’ whole body freeze and triggered a dribble of juice to squirt from between his legs. The dog leaned in close.
“So make me want to.”
Desperation made Sans’ words come out crystal clear. He didn’t stutter once.
“Stick it in me, take me, fucking rape me, please oh god I need it, I need you to treat me like a bitch, I deserve it—”
The dog teased the head of his dick on Sans’ pussy. It made a squelching sound, already slick and dripping.
“Little more, pup.”
“You got what you wanted, you fucking dick!”
Lesser Dog’s eyes met Sans’ and he pulled his cock away. Sans wailed.
“You—you wanted me to beg for your cock, so I’m begging, I’ll keep begging, I’ll do whatever you want, please just start fucking me. You were right about me—I can’t stop thinking about you fucking me, I touch myself thinking about it, if I weren’t stuck here I’d still be begging you to fuck me, you make me feel so good, please…”
Lesser Dog slipped his dick inside and buried himself to the hilt. When Sans felt the dog’s hips pressing against him, he sighed.
“Ohhh that’s good. Oh god it’s so good.”
The dog gave a few slow, rolling thrusts.
“Hhhaa…harder…please harder…fuck me harder…”
The dog’s rutting only sped a little. His pumping motions were so gentle it felt loving. Sans was sobbing with need.
“Plea-se this isn’t fair I need it so bad!”
“All right, all right, I’ll give it to you.”
Lesser Dog shushed in his ear, pulling Sans’ face close and giving one more slow pump inside of Sans’ pussy. Then he pounded his hips against him rapidly. Sans howled.
“This good for you, Sansy? You like this?”
“I love it, I love it, more…please more!”
Lesser Dog raised an eyebrow.
He humped Sans harder, fluids dripping from between them each time he slammed in. Sans groaned.
“Untie me, please…please untie me…I want more…I need it…”
Lesser Dog laughed, but he started untying the binds while he kept moving his hips in and out.
“Jesus, if we go any faster your pussy’s gonna be mincemeat, little doggy.”
As soon as Sans was free, he launched himself at Lesser Dog, toppling them both over so Lesser Dog landed on his back.
Sans grounded himself with his palms on Lesser Dog’s chest and humped his cock. His whole body was slick with sweat—he’d probably never worked so hard in his life.
“Hey! Get off!”
Sans pushed himself off and fell back in a sprawled sit, tongue still panting and hips still humping helplessly at the air. He whimpered long and pitifully.
“Why…? Why? Please don’t stop now please come inside me, please put your cock back in me please—”
Lesser Dog rubbed his behind, laughing.
“I fell on my ass, you little cunt! That fucking hurt!”
He boxed Sans in with his arms. Sans was rigid with the effort of holding still until Lesser Dog’s knee went between his legs, and Sans immediately rubbed himself on the dog’s thigh. The dog licked his neck.
“I could’ve broken something. You’ll be lucky if I don’t break something of yours.”
Sans whined, juice from his pussy wetting all up and down the dog’s leg.
“Break me, hurt me, punish me…punish me with your cock…”
Lesser Dog laughed again, sliding back into Sans and hitting the back of his cunt with the head of his dick.
“How could I possibly say no to that?”
The promised punishing pace had them both moaning into each other, and for a moment there was no talking, no teasing, just hard rutting.
“You come yet, pup?”
“I…n-not…yet, I haven’t…yet…”
Lesser Dog slowed down, apparently reluctant to come before Sans. Sans responded with a pitiful pleading whimper.
“Please, please, please, cum inside me, it feels so good when you—I c-can’t cum until you do, please, please I need you to cum, please cum, please cum in me—”
That seemed to convince him. Sans repeated it like a mantra, encouraging the dog as he worked up again. Finally, the knot started to grow and Lesser Dog went absolutely still. The wait couldn’t have even been a full second, but the anticipation was unbearable. Sans was teetering so precariously, he almost came just from hearing the dog’s satisfied groan of release.
Then cum started to flow into him, hot and fast, and Sans wrapped his legs hard around the dog’s hips as though he could get them any more closely tied than they already were. Sans gave a few stuttered breaths that became something like words.
“ohhh my god…oh my god oh my god”
Sans’ eyes rolled up and he let out a sound that was a laugh or a sob. He wasn’t used to an orgasm lasting this long—maybe this was closer to what the dog felt, with its continuous pulse of cum. He felt like he needed to communicate in some way how the gushing was keeping him perched in this state of orgasmic relief for longer than anyone reasonably deserved.
“I still feel you cumming in me, it’s so amazing, I don’t want it to ever stop…it’s so good when you fuck me, it’s so, so good…”
The dog was laughing, and Sans had a vague idea that it was at his expense. How he must have looked, drooling and writhing, so overcome with pleasure it had triggered something primally amorous. He needed the dog to know how good he’d made him feel. It didn’t matter how much he debased himself so long as Lesser Dog knew just how thoroughly he’d taken him.
The dog started settling down to wait out the rest of his release. Pressing more of his weight down coaxed a ridiculous bleating noise out of Sans, so of course the dog kept squeezing his body down on him until the only reactions Sans had left were some moans and twitches of surrender.
Sans closed his eyes and let his head fall back, letting the still crashing waves of ecstasy roll through him. The feeling was so pure it was almost meditative.
Other than some continued sighs and hums, he must have been quiet for longer than the dog liked.
“We’re gonna need a whole ‘nother session just to punish you for knocking me down.”
The euphoria blocked any fear Sans might have felt at that statement. He kept his eyes closed.
“You’re sure spending a lot of money on me lately.”
“Watch it, or I’ll take my cock away.”
Sans smirked, opening one eye.
“…you’re stuck to me.”
The dog gave a harsh downward jerk of its hips, but the added pressure only made Sans’ eyes roll up as he let out a gratified cry. There were still some reactions left in him after all.
“…I guess I can’t punish you like this.”
“Not until we come unstuck.”
Sans looked Lesser Dog in the eye, eyelids lowered and gaze dim and glassy.
“You’re not gonna punish me.” He raised his head up as much as he could from his prostrate position, his voice going so low it was almost inaudible. “You like me being a good doggy.”
The dog blinked down at him.
“…or maybe you like me being a bad doggy…?”
Sans reached up to push under Lesser Dog’s abdomen and force his cock to give a strong twitch inside him. The dog spasmed.
He lurched forward to aggressively lick inside Sans’ mouth.
Muffet stood over Sans. He was still on his back, Lesser Dog long gone from the room. Cum had been dripping steadily out of his cunt for the past who knew how long, but he was reluctant to move. He didn’t want to clean up and let go of feeling dirty and used and…good.
“Can you stand up, dear?”
“D-don’t think so.”
Sans looked up at Muffet blearily. He was pretty sure he still had a stupid smile on his face. His jaws were sore.
“Muffet, one more? I can do one more. Maybe a couple, I can keep going, you can make some more tonight—”
“Ohhh no you can’t, dearie.”
Muffet made an attempt to cradle him in her arms, but it seemed he’d gotten heavier. She scratched at her head, then crouched down and took out a towel to start on him as he was.
“Believe me, you’ll thank me later for not letting you do more. You’re going to be feeling this as it is.”
She pinched his cheek.
“You’re a good boy for suggesting it, though.”
As she brushed the towel over his cunt, starting to clean the excess, Sans surprised even himself by closing his legs and growling at her to stop. He hardly knew what he was saying, only felt instinctually possessive.
“That’s mine…that’s mine…I earned it…”
Muffet swiped the towel away and blinked once. Then she burst into inelegant laughter and fell back on her behind. She kept laughing for a full minute, until finally she calmed a little and wiped at her many eyes. Sans noted distantly that it was the first time he’d seen tears on her face.
She crawled over Sans’ body, lining her face up above his.
“It’s not going to do anything in there, you know. If you let me clean you up, I’ll make you come one more time tonight.”
Sans gazed up at her.
“You can’t…play with me with it still in there…?”
Muffet’s cheeks puffed up with a snort. She looked close to losing it again. She wiped the sweat off his face with a handkerchief and kissed the corner of his mouth.
“I’m beginning to think we misclassified you, dear.”
Sans was about to ask which food pin covered this particular eccentricity when Muffet’s slowly stroking fingers flushed any questions out of his mind. Gloved fingers were sliding in and out of him, teasing him with the cum already inside him.
He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, unable to move an inch. He didn’t urge her to increase the pace. This time the slow, gentle buildup to climax was exactly what he needed.
Limited Time Only, Part 2: The Crash
Sans didn’t like to complain about minor things, but if Madjick was serious about wanting the drug to be an overall pleasant experience, then Sans should probably tell Muffet about the aftereffects. The next morning, after breakfast, he felt weak all over, and only part of it seemed to be because of the expected soreness of his hips and legs. It was an airy dizziness, like he was always one wrong step away from taking a tumble.
He was on his way down a hall when a guard intercepted him.
The guard had a wide, toad-like face, but the coloring of an orca and a fin sticking out the back of its guard uniform. Sans hadn’t seen it in B Section before, but he thought he might have seen it when the big crowd was gathered for the show. Muffet had probably needed the extra hands.
“Muffet wants to see you.”
Sans looked up at the guard groggily and swayed where he stood.
“Oh…she psychic or something? I was just—” he stifled a yawn. “I was just…going there.”
The guard stayed in front of him. At first Sans thought he’d been insulted by the yawn, and wanted to tell Sans off, but after a moment he gathered that the guard intended to lead him to Muffet.
Not like Sans didn’t know the way, not as if he would ever try to blow her off. But as Sans took a wobbly step forward, it seemed that the guard might actually be necessary for Sans to make it there.
Sans stopped paying attention to the way as the guard led him on, but at some point Sans became aware again that they weren’t going a way he knew. It was possible that Muffet wanted him to meet her somewhere outside her office, but that idea was struck down when they exited B Section and went into D Section. At that point something was getting weird.
Muffet didn’t make workers come to her if she was off in another section. She tended to deal with the workers she was close by, and let things wait in other sections until she made it back around. Sans was starting to get an idea of what was actually happening now, but he didn’t have it in him to do anything about it.
His hunch was just about confirmed when the guard opened a hidden door in the wall and motioned Sans ahead of him into the monitoring room. The monitor on duty passed Sans on their way out, giving him an apprehensive glance but remaining silent and pointedly not looking at the guard.
So for once Sans wasn’t out of his depth when the guard shut the door behind them and unzipped his pants, pulling his cock out.
“You know what to do.”
Sans didn’t bother arguing or going for the door. Either Muffet would come stop them or she wouldn’t. So Sans went up to the guard and got on his knees, placing his hands on the other monster’s hips.
The guard’s cock was one to add to the list of weirder ones Sans had seen. It was growing, worm-like, out of a fleshy slit on the guard’s lower abdomen—it looked like a pink tentacle. It curled around in the air like it was seeking Sans out on its own. Sans repressed a shudder. He tried calling back to the nearly suffocating levels of arousal from the past week, but he was so tired. After a second when the feelings weren’t coming, Sans forced himself forward and took the organ into his mouth.
He could feel the guard shiver.
“Ohhh yes that’s good…”
A hand rested gently on the back of Sans’ head. It didn’t seem to be there to force Sans to work faster. When Sans swirled his tongue around the tip and swallowed back more of the dick, the hand on his head gave him a stroke of praise.
There it was. Sans felt some heat between his legs, and another pet on his head made it hard to deny where it was coming from. He gave a hard suck, pumping a hand on the shaft, and the guard bent over him with a moan, clutching Sans’ head with both of his hands.
A smooth graze of his tongue up the underside of the dick was rewarded with circular strokes of the guard’s thumbs on Sans’ temples. The crotch of Sans’ pants were starting to feel damp.
But the guard was taking a while to cum, and Sans’ drowsiness was getting worse. It didn’t help that Sans’ head was being cradled so securely in the large, gentle hands, or that when he slowed or lost pace, the prehensile member worked inside his mouth on its own.
It took Sans opening his eyes for him to realize he’d blacked out. He automatically yanked his head back.
“Oh shit—! S-sorry…!”
The guard was still holding Sans’ head. He made a chortling noise.
When it was clear Sans wasn’t going to make any more sudden moves, the guard eased his cock back into Sans’ mouth and pumped his hips. The warmth and the rhythmic motion was, incredibly, lulling Sans back into a drowsy haze.
“You’re fine,” the guard repeated. “Mm, it’s good…”
He was? It was? Well, so long as the monster had nothing to complain about…
Sans slipped back into sleep. When he woke up, he’d been moved to a closet, his pants were around his ankles, and semen was sticking between his legs.
Sans could have sworn he was scheduled for a session tonight, but a guard never showed up to take him there, and Muffet wasn’t around to ask. It was Lounge Night for the other workers, so he shook off the confusion and headed to Lounge B.
The other workers that spotted him looked confused to see him, too. When he went to the bar, the cricket worker shrugged at him.
“I don’t think we have a table for you? It looks like all the trays are taken…”
He trailed off, looking right behind Sans. Sans felt a paw on his wrist.
“Hey pup, don’t bother, we already got our drinks. Come on.”
Sans followed Lesser Dog with such automatic obedience that not even the suspicious smirk on the dog’s face could make Sans hesitate. Still, Sans kept his eyes on his shoes, unable to look the dog in the eye as hot shame flooded his body. He didn’t think he could ever look at him again without turning bright red, his head trying to work out whether he wanted more to hide or be fucked senseless.
“Sans, oh my god!”
Hiding would be good.
Packed into the booth right next to Dogamy and Dogaressa, in full royal guardsman regalia, was Papyrus. Sans turned to stone, immovable and non-breathing.
“I can explain!”
Wait…why was Papyrus saying that? Wasn’t that what Sans should be saying right now?
But Papyrus looked almost as mortified as Sans to be seen here.
“They kept insisting I visit this place; I did so under protest! This is not how I usually spend weekends in fact this is my very first time inside this establishment and I didn’t even know it was here to begin with!”
It would have been perfect fodder for Sans to mercilessly tease his little brother later if it weren’t for some pertinent details.
“Wait, why the hell am I so embarrassed about you seeing me here when you’re already here?”
“You’re dressed too nicely to muck it up in a place like this, brother. I would chew your ear off more over it, but again, I suppose I am here too.”
Papyrus had gotten up and approached Sans, smoothing out the shoulders of Sans’ suit.
“…oh my god, you’re dressed so nice. Is this typical for you now? Are you really walking around the city dressed like a real, responsible adult? Who are you and where’s my brother?”
Something caught Papyrus’ eye. He put a finger to Sans’ lapel.
The way Papyrus jerked backwards, eyes wide with shock, told Sans that the Boss knew what the food pins meant.
Sans wondered if it was possible to dust his own dust into even finer remains and disappear completely from the world.
The dogs burst into uproarious, barking laughter.
Dogamy slapped the table.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know, buddy. Your bro’s such an exhibitionist I figured everyone had gotten an eyeful by now whether they wanted or not.”
“Last week sure was a show.”
“—so wet he left puddles in the hall—”
“He’s got a mouth on him, you know what I mean?”
In a split second, Sans made a decision about how he was going to spin this, so he planted a wry grin on his face and forced words out before he could lose nerve.
“Come on, TMI much? No one wants to hear that shit, so why don’t you let him be?”
Papyrus stared dumbfounded, and even the dogs stopped, apparently very amused by Sans’ change in attitude.
Papyrus grabbed Sans by the arm and yanked him away from the table, walking them to a quieter part of the lounge. They were followed by the dogs’ cacophonous laughter until they reached the other side of the room entirely.
Papyrus rounded on Sans.
“Sans, what is going on? What are they—”
“I work here.”
Papyrus went stock still.
“This was…this was the actual job the king offered me. He wanted to, uh, he wanted to help us, but he didn’t think you would…like this, so he told you the science thing to save face. I kinda…ran with it…’cause it was easier to tell you…’m sorry, Boss…”
Sans shuffled his feet. He didn’t have to manufacture any shame, at least. He almost had himself convinced with the lie—after all, it was only missing a few pieces of the truth. And things had been better lately. Things hadn’t been that bad.
But Papyrus’ gloved hands were curled into shaking fists.
“You mean to tell me that this is the job the king offered you right after—?”
Sans waved his hands.
“Look, it really was a coincidence, Asgore knew it sounded bad, I knew it sounded bad—this is what he had, okay? Alphys has enough to deal with without me wandering around the lab with nothing to do, and…and this was available, and we both figured that, well…” don’t say anything about getting out of Boss’ way, he doesn’t need me laying this on him. “…I needed to stop being a sentry.”
Papyrus looked stricken all the same.
“You needed to stop being a sentry.”
“Well yeah, I mean, it’s too dangerous a job for a guy that just wants to sleep all day. But here, that’s kinda the whole job, isn’t it?”
He forced out a laugh, but Papyrus’ expression didn’t change. His voice was flat.
“Being a sentry is too dangerous.”
“…uh…yeah, that’s…what I said. Don’t look so broken up about it, Boss, you’d miss morning patrols way more than I do.”
Papyrus eyed Sans for a long, tense moment, but eventually gave a weighty sigh, and the awkward sag of his shoulders seemed to indicate that he was finally accepting this as reality. He looked around the room.
“Well, this is…it’s certainly…”
He gestured a hand as though for emphasis, but he didn’t make it there.
“…this is a job.”
A factual statement.
“I…do have some news of my own, brother.”
Sans perked up. Good. Anything but talking about him.
“The king has been impressed with our peacekeeping efforts. It seems that, since I’ve taken my post as a royal guardsman, the number of violent deaths in the Underground has decreased dramatically. Which is to say, actually, that for the past few months…so far as we’ve been able to record, at least…not a single monster has died.”
Sans blanched. That was good news, but it bordered on eerie. There was no way the royal guard alone could be responsible for that kind of change, was there? Sans knew the Boss was amazing, but this was almost foreboding.
“So, I’m being considered for promotion in the ranks. I’m going for some intensive training with Undyne in Waterfall for the next few weeks.”
Sans lit up.
“Boss, that’s great!”
Everything Sans had done was worth it. Not that he could take credit for this—but things were going well. They were going extremely well. Papyrus was flourishing, just like he was meant to.
But the Boss didn’t look nearly as excited about the assignment as he should have.
Papyrus looked to the side, then glanced at Sans without facing him directly.
“Sans…I’ll visit again before I leave the city.”
Sans put his hands up.
“Y-you don’t have to do that, Boss, I know you don’t like it here—”
“I want to be able to talk to you in private.”
There was no arguing with that tone. Sans looked at the floor.
Sans held his pillow to his chest, staring up at the ceiling of his room. The Boss knew…Papyrus knew now, and the world hadn’t ended. It had determinedly kept chugging along, in spite of nearly the worst thing happening.
Well, Papyrus sort of knew. He knew part of it. Was that what he was going to talk to Sans about later? Call him out for his lies, then leave him? But in the end, he hadn’t even looked that mad…
Sans slept uneasily, tossing and turning with nerves and loose ends.
Sleep paralysis had often felt vivid, especially after Sans had the experience to simulate…certain sensations in his mind. Since he’d come to Red City, he’d found himself trapped paralyzed in the night several times, with only the feeling of penetration, of invasion to keep him company until he woke up fully and could move again.
This time, though, he felt the whole package, so to speak—a moist spurt of ejaculate inside him, accompanied by a relieved groan in his ear. But when Sans tested out moving his fingers, they immediately and easily obeyed his command to grip the sheets.
This was real. Someone was on top of him.
A spike of panic was abruptly quashed by a soothing voice.
“Just me…not gonna hurtcha…”
It was the whale-looking guard. He was whispering reassurances, already buried dick deep in Sans and evidently finished with at least one round of use. How he’d gotten that far without waking Sans up was a mystery Sans wasn’t eager to explore.
“Didn’t mean to wake you. You have some pretty good reactions in your sleep. I wouldn’t mind a little more…”
The guard’s hips pushed down. Sans felt a pinch inside him.
“Oh…hold on…is this better?”
The guard shifted himself so his dick wasn’t pushed quite so far in, and the pain vanished. Then he spat on one hand and massaged Sans’ clit. Sans’ face heated up and his eyes drooped.
The guard’s voice was a gravelly, soporific purr.
“You can go back to sleep…I won’t hurt you…I got it all taken care of…”
What a convenient coincidence that the monster seemed to like Sans best when Sans was doing his favorite thing.
“Taking the uh…the ‘tuna’ thing a little far…aren’t you…?”
The dick pulled out, writhing around on its own, and the wet tip played with Sans’ clit. The sensation pulled a low, stuttered moan from Sans’ throat and made his hips rise of their own accord. Sans’ eyes drifted shut. The strange feeling was novel enough to make for a powerful arousal, but slow enough to ease him back into his half-awakened state.
“Go on and sleep. Let this happen. Just let me do this.”
This time when Sans woke up, he could feel the relaxed wetness of his own release from some point in the night, and he tasted cum in his mouth.
“You missed a session.”
Sans experienced a moment of pure, soul-clenching terror in the second it took for Muffet to look up from her clipboard as she addressed him. He’d gotten too used to her being nice to him. He wasn’t ready for her to punish him, to hurt him or find some new way to make sex a devastatingly helpless experience.
But when she saw the way he was shivering and biting his tongue to hold back noises of distress, her expression melted from neutral into a smile, and she reached out to pet his head.
“I’m not blaming you for this, Sans. The schedules got mixed up somehow. Going to the lounge was a reasonable choice, although I do wish you would have found a way to ask someone.”
Sans’ knees almost gave way from relief. He wobbled a bit on his feet. Muffet looked back at her clipboard, but kept petting him.
“But we do have to make it up to the client. You’re just lucky Madjick was so understanding.”
“Madjick…? It was a session with him?”
“Yes, and I’m setting up for you to go to him to have a make-up session and apologize, with a gift basket and everything. You’ll do everything he wants you to do. No complaints.”
Sans looked at the floor. Even if this wasn’t a punishment, Muffet had a funny way of making it sound like one.
Then Sans had a thought.
“…Muffet, did you say…’go’ to apologize to him?”
After scribbling something else down, Muffet looked up again, ruffling her hand against Sans’ head as though she were mussing up hair.
“Yes, dearie. I don’t want to make him come out for our fault, it doesn’t look courteous. And he’s a valued vendor. You’re going with an escort to his tower.”
Sans couldn’t stop the outpouring of tears.
“I’m…going outside? I’m going outside…”
“Oh honey, come here…”
Muffet opened her arms and took Sans into her hold. She stroked his back.
“There, you’ve been good. You’re good.”
Sans had long lived with claustrophobia as the background radiation of every day. Perhaps more so than most monsters of the Underground because he was of the privileged few who knew that time had been stuck in a reset loop for years, making the idea of surface living not even a glimmer in a fantasy.
But he gained a new appreciation for what the Underground had to offer as he stepped out a back door of Red City and looked up at the artificial skyline of New Home. The caverns that housed the monster capital were so enormous, you couldn’t see the rocky ceiling above.
Sans’ escort, a guard with antlers and a furry goatee, put his hands in his pockets and patiently waited for Sans to stop gawking. Sans wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he blinked and lowered his eyes back to street level.
The guard shrugged and nodded down the street. He led Sans along through busy thoroughfare and street vendors. It took Sans a half hour into the walk to realize the outside looked wrong to him because it wasn’t lit by red lights.
Madjicks’ tower was a lighthouse on the outskirts of the capital, built on a cliff overhanging the vast underground lake that separated New Home from the distant Waterfall. When the guard knocked on the door, a magic golem answered. The golem took a moment to look the visitors over with its eyeless face, then gave a nod at them and transformed into an impression of a neon sign, spelling out ‘Welcome’ and flashing an arrow in alternating blinks of magic bulbs. The arrow pointed up the curved stone stairs inside. Sans muttered to himself as he stepped through.
The guard stayed at the door, leaning against the tower and crossing his arms. That left Sans to ascend the stairs alone.
Near the top of the lighthouse, a door opened before Sans could pass it, and another golem was motioning him in. The room was some kind of study, with books lining every wall and a desk at the far end. As Madjick stood up from his chair behind the desk, Sans heard the door being shut behind him. Sans stepped forward nervously, holding Muffet’s gift basket in front of him like a ward for protection.
It wasn’t that Madjick had done anything to earn distrust, not exactly, but his powers were undeniably frightening, regardless of how mercifully he’d implemented them in their first meeting. There was that, and the fact that Muffet had ominously told Sans to do anything the magician wanted. And Clarence’s first warning came back to Sans now, about cameras, about how being in sight of them meant relative safety. Not even Muffet’s guard was up here with him. Madjick really could do anything he wanted.
The wizard took the gift basket from Sans, waking him from his spiraling thoughts.
“How very kind.”
“Oh…uh, yeah. Muffet um. Sends her love, she says.”
Sans said it quickly, feeling awkward. Muffet had been insistent about relaying her message properly, but it felt itchily unsettling for her manner of speech to come out of his mouth.
Madjick placed the basket up on a shelf and showed Sans to a chair. Madjick floated his own chair over the desk and nearer to Sans’. When Madjick sat down, Sans could appreciate what he’d done—now he wasn’t staring over the fancy desk at Sans like he was some unscrupulous CEO interviewing an intern on their blowjob techniques.
“Muffet really didn’t have to make you go this far. I was starting to think I’d been too hasty in making an appointment with you.”
Sans clenched the arms of his chair. What the hell did that mean?
“So, you, you uh…you don’t want me to be here?”
Madjick waved a hand.
“That’s not what I meant. I did want to talk to you, and it’s just as well it’s here, where we have more privacy. The more important question is, do you want to be here?”
Here it was. Madjick wanted his ego stroked.
“Y-yeah. Yeah, I wanna be here.”
“Would you be interested in having sex with me?”
Repeating what was basically the same question immediately made Sans feel tired.
Madjick tilted his head, giving Sans a calculated look.
“If the answer’s yes, I’d prefer a more enthusiastic answer.”
Sans jolted. He hadn’t seen Madjick get angry yet, and he had no idea what he could expect from him if he did. Anything that was an unknown in this business was bad news.
“Yes, please, I want it!”
Madjick frowned. He steepled his fingers, his reaction harder to read as the shadow of his hat spread lower.
“That’s not quite what I meant.”
What? What did he mean? What could Sans possibly do that was the right answer?
“Tell me honestly. It’s okay to say no if that’s what you mean.”
And that was definitely a trap, if Sans had ever heard one.
“I want to. I really do.”
Madjick looked up, and the whites of his eyes shone in a bright contrast to the shadow over his face. His expression wasn’t angry. Probably. Sans used to pride himself on his ability to judge what was going on behind a monster’s eyes. Why couldn’t he figure out what was going on here?
Madjick drummed fingers on his knee.
“I was interested in you after we worked together, and I heard there was a wait, so I immediately talked to Muffet about seeing you…it seems she moved me up the list regardless. A bit of favoritism.”
He put a hand to his chin, giving the impression that he was reading Sans, despite his still mostly hidden eyes.
“I don’t mean that I’ve changed my mind; I would still be interested. It’s only that…when I look at you, when I talk to you…I get the distinct feeling I shouldn’t.”
Sans went rigid, his pupils going blank. This was Pyrope all over again. Madjick spoke in a coaxing voice.
“Did you want to change your answer?”
Sans had a sudden fear that Madjick could read minds somehow. He had hypnotizing magic, that wasn’t much of a stretch, was it? Would he punish Sans if he kept lying about what he wanted, and Madjick could see it in his head?
Sans cringed back into the chair, certain he was about to meet a dead end no matter what he chose.
“I…don’t feel like having sex right now. I’m really tired.”
“There now. It’s better to know these things, don’t you think? How about we talk a little instead.”
Madjick waved both hands in a placating gesture.
“I’m not going to stiff you. Er…so to speak.” When Madjick scratched his chin at the turn of phrase, Sans found himself able to let out an honest laugh. “I’ve paid up front. Muffet doesn’t have to know how we spend the session, if that would get you in trouble.”
Against his better judgment, against everything he’d been trained to expect so far in this dirty career, Sans felt his body relaxing into the chair at the reassurances, finally feeling some ease.
“Did you uh…have something you wanted to talk about?”
“Ah. Yes. You see…”
Madjick reached over to his desk and pulled a thick volume into his lap, opening it up. The pages appeared to be hand-scripted in intensely careful calligraphy. By the color of the paper, the look of the texture, the book was just on the brink of dusting like a fallen monster. The writing was some old language, but Madjick seemed to understand it well enough.
“I couldn’t make sense of what you told me before, about how the clients aren’t interested in making the workers feel good.”
“I’ve been studying the magic involved with monsters’ sexual relationships for a long time. It’s all heavily based on reciprocal pleasure. Since monsters are made up more of magic than of physical matter, the exchange of good feelings is integral for sex to work. Even putting soul melding aside. And it’s misleading to say that some monsters have sex organs made from their magic and some don’t. All of them are basically made of magic.”
The wizard carefully flipped a few pages of the tome, showing a colorful spread of inks, presumably depicting some kind of magical exchange.
“So how could monsters possibly gain pleasure without pleasuring their partner too? Even if their partner is a sex worker. That’s just not how magic works.”
“Ha, look, Madjick.” Sans paused, suddenly worrying about his tone. “Uh…sir.” When Madjick didn’t appear incited by Sans’ address, Sans went on. “I don’t have to have studied that kind of magic for years to take one step outside and be able to call bullshit on that. I don’t know the how or the why behind it, but I know what I’ve seen. You’ve been to Red City. You think every worker that made those stains on the walls was asked if they’d enjoy it? That’s their job.”
Madjick closed the book and let out a quiet hum of consideration.
When a moment too long passed in silent contemplation, Sans fidgeted. He hadn’t intended to have anything of his own to add in conversation, but the earnest inquiries only gave him more questions.
Sans mumbled, looking down at his knees.
“…how did you know…?”
Madjick looked at him with interest, but waited for him to elaborate.
“Plenty of whores don’t feel like it 24/7. But they do it anyway because it’s their job, and no one asks them…no one asks them if they want to. But I’m…”
Sans flinched, but didn’t look up.
“The way you panicked during the show…at first I guessed it was stage fright, that you’d never done something like that in front of such a crowd. But that kind of hypnotism, you see…”
Madjick shifted on his chair, setting the book beside him.
“I use previous memories of sex to put together a comforting kind of patchwork memory. But there weren’t really….pleasant memories to choose from. I had to create my own, fixing things together differently, adding things…I didn’t…what I saw wasn’t…I don’t know the history behind you working at Red City, but it doesn’t seem like a good fit for you. Given what you’ve been through.”
Sans trembled, feeling sick. Just telling Sans how much he knew, how much digging he’d done, Madjick had somehow managed to make him feel more violated than all his sadistic clients put together. On top of it all, despite what Madjick had seen…according to his personal philosophy of monster sexual relations, rape wasn’t even something that was possible. What was it that Madjick made of what had happened to Sans?
Sans squeaked out in a small voice.
“…can I go now…?”
Madjick’s shaded expressions were beginning to be discernible to Sans, and this one looked like disappointment. But Madjick stood and raised a hand with an open palm to the door, which a golem was opening.
Sans was halfway across the room when Madjick spoke up again.
“Sans, wait. Please.”
Now things were going to start making sense again. Sans would turn around, and Madjick would be ready to chain him to a wall, or hypnotize him, or have his pants down for Sans to come service him. Sans turned to see Madjick standing just as he was.
“Sans, I’m concerned about what you said. About death.”
He folded his arms behind his back.
“Do you need someone to talk to?”
Sans was too shocked by the question to be anything other than defensive.
“H-hah. I think you need someone to talk to.”
Madjick’s shoulders went stiff for a moment, then relaxed.
“You’re not wrong. I spend a lot of time alone here. I know it’s difficult out there, but sometimes inside it’s also…”
He turned to a shelf and eyed the titles, apparently awkward about facing Sans head on.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. But if you’re interested, I wanted to offer you a job assisting me, if you’re quitting Red City.”
That made Sans laugh out loud, bitter and dry. Madjick looked shy.
“I…seem to be doing nothing but riling you. You can go…”
Sans managed to wheedle his escort guard into loitering in town for longer than necessary. If he could convince the guard not to say anything to Muffet about it, it would make the slightly early end of the session less suspicious, too. Sans spent perhaps more time than he should have just smelling the greasy food of street vendors. The food in Red City was fine, but donuts were the only fried thing Sans had eaten in months. When a vendor noticed Sans passing her cart for a third time, she handed Sans a basket of hush puppies free of charge. Sans’ taciturn escort paid for it anyway, apparently to save Sans the embarrassment.
In spite of himself, Sans felt some shame about how he’d treated Madjick. It was the wizard’s own fault he was so naïve, but something inside Sans told him that kind of sheltered innocence deserved better than cold scorn. It was something Sans had never really dealt with, even in children. Despite their age gap, Sans had never had to explain the cruelties of the world to Papyrus. His brother seemed to have picked up on it on his own with unsettling perceptiveness.
“Sans, I think it would be nice to have some…brotherly advice from you.”
Of all the scenarios Sans had been imagining for his upcoming conversation with Papyrus, this was somewhere at the bottom of the list between ‘Papyrus confesses he’s married to a dog’ and ‘he wanted to congratulate Sans for most hours slept.’
The two of them had been given permission to meet up in part of Red City’s security quarters for the guards, where there weren’t cameras. Muffet had agreed easily to Papyrus’ requests for privacy and space. Sans had the impression from her interactions with Papyrus that she was determined to be on his good side; probably hoped, after his first visit to the lounge, that he was a potential returning customer. Sans doubted it was coincidence that she hadn’t said anything to Sans about his run in with his brother. Her bigger plans probably had something to do with why she hadn’t punished Sans for walking in at the wrong moment.
Hell, she might’ve even been impressed with how Sans had managed to save the situation.
Now, Sans and Papyrus were set up with comfortable chairs and even a complimentary tray of snacks, but Papyrus had remained standing after entering the room, so Sans did, too. After his initial statement, Papyrus was silent for a moment, almost as though he was giving Sans time to adjust to the outlandish request. When Sans hadn’t exploded in confusion, he continued.
“I’ve made it a ways into the inner circle of the royal guard.”
Sans nodded. Of course the Boss had. Sans had doubt in a lot of areas, but his brother’s potential was never one of them.
“And with that comes more close scrutiny…more tests…”
Sans nodded again. Papyrus seemed to think Sans should know where this was going, but he couldn’t guess. Papyrus huffed and spread his hands out in a helpless gesture.
“Brother…the king checked me. He knows my LV.”
Sans apparently did not have the desired or expected reaction.
Papyrus looked his brother up and down a moment, studying his face.
“You…didn’t know? Ugh! That’s so like you. All right…” He straightened up and stood back, putting one hand on a hip and swiping a finger under his nasal ridge. “…check me.”
For a second Sans physically forgot how to check. It wasn’t as though Papyrus were baring his soul, but being outright told to size him up felt more vulnerable and personal than Sans was prepared to act with him. Sans had a split second flash of fear, as though checking his brother would trigger a battle to the death—a fight that, if it came to it, Sans had known in some detached part of his mind, had a foregone conclusion since Papyrus was born.
Papyrus tapped a foot, and Sans hurried to check him before his mind could do more somersaults.
The first thing that Sans noticed was that Papyrus’ attack and defense stats were about what he might have guessed—Gaster told Sans once that Papyrus’ base stats were unusually high. Papyrus had also mentioned to Sans before that he didn’t measure up to other guards in terms of LV, but made up for it in other ways. That would explain why Papyrus’ other stats weren’t higher. Enough that the average monster wouldn’t fuck with him, but not high enough to paint a picture of a past of wild, murderous rampages.
Sans shifted his focus back to look Papyrus in the eye, and Papyrus waved a hand impatiently in a ‘get on with it’ gesture.
Checking LV took a bit more concentration and searching than checking secondary stats; most monsters didn’t even bother with it once they knew attack and defense. That was usually as much as you needed anyway. What could you hope to gain by knowing—
Papyrus – Still can’t quite believe you’ve never done this before, you unmethodical slob.
LV 1 EXP: 0
For one moment, Sans felt only giddy elation, because how amazing was his brother? How had he gotten this far? The tricks he must have pulled.
But then reality crashed in. As amazing as the Boss was, how much of his survival had been dumb luck up to this point? And now…the king knew. Any luck he’d had had just run out.
Papyrus coughed, and Sans continued to stare at him, at a loss for what to say.
“I believe that, in addition to how things are going on the ground…this may be the real reason that I’m being sent to train. I think the king is…concerned.”
Sans twitched. Asgore’s concern was never altruistic.
“Sans, I…think he may try to test me in more…practical ways soon. I think he…”
Papyrus looked to the side.
“I think he may be expecting me to try to kill Captain Undyne. To take her rank.”
Klingon Promotion, wasn’t that what Alphys had called it once? Sans had always meant to watch that historical drama she’d recommended, but it had a lot of science in it and Sans had never gotten Papyrus on board for it on their movie nights.
“…I don’t want to kill Undyne. I don’t even think I should. The king hasn’t outright ordered me to, but…”
He shifted awkwardly.
“It’s more than that. I…we’re friends. We’ve gotten close. Losing her…it would be like losing you.”
Sans tried not to let the skipping of his soul slow down his response.
“Look, bro, I don’t really know what you, uh, hoped to get from me with this. I think you already know what you’re gonna do. I mean, you’re the smartest monster I know.”
For once, the way Papyrus looked back at Sans as he said it didn’t have the absolute certainty it always had. That only spurred Sans onward.
“If you don’t think you should kill Undyne, then you shouldn’t do it. You’ve gotta trust you know what you’re doing. It’s gotten you this far, right?”
Sans grabbed Papyrus’ arms.
“The king isn’t smarter than you, Boss. I mean, don’t do anything crazy—and I would tell you not to be an idiot, but you wouldn’t be alive if you were.”
Papyrus gave an appreciative snort.
“So your advice is for me not to listen to anyone else.”
“I could get used to that sort of advice.”
San kept gripping Papyrus’ arms for just a moment too long, unsure how to transition. He clapped his brother on the elbow with one hand, since he couldn’t reach his shoulder, then let go. Papyrus crossed his arms.
“There was something else I wanted to talk with you about. About…what happened…before. The cell. Waterfall…”
No. No no no. No way could he talk to the Boss about that again. Sans put his hands up in front of him.
“Listen, I d-don’t wanna—” Sans swallowed. Why did he have to be getting emotional already. “I…can’t we…pretend that never happened? I wanna act like that never happened.” His voice quit on him. “…please.”
Papyrus looked like the offer seriously tempted him. Sans couldn’t imagine why he didn’t take it.
“You don’t have to talk about anything. But will you just. Let me say something? Just listen.”
Sans put his hands down and looked at the floor.
Papyrus shuffled his feet. It was an oddly juvenile look for him.
“…those things didn’t happen to you because you were a sentry, Sans. They didn’t happen because it’s a dangerous job.”
Papyrus was studiously avoiding Sans’ gaze.
“Do you realize…did you ever think about what the difference was in our lives from before this started happening, to after you kept getting taken away?”
Papyrus forced himself to look at Sans, and Sans found he couldn’t look away.
“I became a royal guard.”
Papyrus stepped forward, apparently attempting to override every screaming alarm not to make this more intimate than it had to be. This close, Papyrus allowed his voice to drop, but to Sans it was clear as a bell.
“It was my fault.”
Sans took one step back as though Papyrus had struck him. This time it was Papyrus who gripped Sans’ arms, just under his shoulders.
“Even when I tried to get a rise out of you, when I berated you for getting caught—when, let’s be honest, you would have snapped at any other monster for being an asshole, you just…apologized to me. You apologized to me. Do you…have any idea how that felt?”
Sans was utterly speechless. Papyrus barreled on.
“When I first got you back, I know I said some things to you that were…stupid.”
Papyrus’ fingers closed tighter around Sans’ arms, an absurdly gentle squeeze for how powerful Sans knew his brother’s grip could be.
“I’m a coward, Sans. I said those things because I was afraid. Sitting on our couch with you, waiting for you to wake up, was like torture. And the very first thing you said to me—”
Papyrus’ composure seemed to break just a little.
“Sans, I’ve always been worried…that you’re very much like our father. That you would end up like him.”
That came out of nowhere. In an attempt to hide his shaking, Sans took on a joking tone that failed entirely.
“I uh…I’m not really in danger of uh, lab mishaps here, Boss. Maybe it’s good I didn’t get that science job, huh?”
Papyrus gave Sans a sideways look, but didn’t comment further. He let go of Sans.
“Well, that’s…what I wanted to say.”
Sans let out a breath. What a relief that Papyrus said he didn’t have to say anything back, because Sans couldn’t begin to know how to take a single word of this. But Papyrus wasn’t quite finished after all.
“After everything that happened…is this…are you really all right…with this job?”
“Come on, B-boss, don’t make me talk about gross shit like that with you. I’m d-doing a lot better since…stuff, let’s leave it at that, okay?”
The Boss looked like he was trying to choose his words.
“Sans, you know…just because it was the king who offered you this job…”
He fixed Sans with a more deliberate look.
“…you know I would defend you, no matter what you chose to do? No matter who you were pissing off? If you don’t want to do this…I will fight.”
A shudder went up Sans’ spine at the conviction in his brother’s tone. But now, there was something more holding Sans back from accepting Papyrus’ help. Something beyond the threat the king posed. Something…quiet, that shouldn’t be a factor at all, but now struck Sans as being more important than ever.
Sans knew something he hadn’t before. Papyrus had never killed. To put him in a position where he would have to fight, a fight he could have otherwise avoided…
Sans hadn’t thought Papyrus had any innocence left to protect, but now that he knew that he did…it suddenly felt like something more precious than any of Sans’ suffering could justify taking away. There was a hope that Papyrus could make it through a world like this without compromising who he was. Sans would protect that with more than his life.
Sans took a deep breath.
“I-I know you would, Boss. I know. It’s okay. There’s no need to fight anybody.”
He held his hands up placatingly.
“Everything’s good. It’s all fine.”
Papyrus wore a strange expression, like he was pretending at being convinced, but making his own plans inside his head. Sans was sitting on a razor’s edge.
“Listen, Boss, I don’t know how much this’ll mean coming from a lazy asshole like me, but I’m proud of you.”
He punched Papyrus’ arm.
“You’re gonna beat the shit out of Undyne in training, you know that, right?”
The guarded expression was replaced with the puffed up confidence Sans was more familiar with. Finally.
“Of course! But I will hold back for the sake of the Captain’s honor, obviously.”
They parted with reserve. Sans was relieved—he couldn’t imagine being able to handle affection with his brother when they were saying goodbye.
When Papyrus left, Sans was filled from head to toe with the overwhelming dread of a cut lifeline. The feeling passed as quickly as it came, like a mere hiccough of nerves.
Sans had been told he wouldn’t have to have sex with tonight’s client at all. Once they were both settled in the private room together, the client brought out a small can of garbage and set it in front of the couch.
“I wanna watch you eat this.”
The joke was on them. Sans ate garbage all the time. If they thought this would disgust him, then boy did they have another think coming.
Sans pulled out a slimy, blackish banana peel and downed that first. He didn’t chew, getting it all in one mouthful and slurping the end in. He looked the client in the eye the entire time, like a challenge, as if to say: ‘you asked for this, sucker.’
The client only grinned at Sans’ compliance and sat down on the couch, sighing contentedly and spreading his legs out. He leaned back and unzipped his pants, taking his dick out and giving it a lazy stroke.
To each their own. At least this was finally a client that was easy to please.
The more garbage Sans ate, though, the more the client’s groans and wet slapping noises were making him feel queasy. What about this exactly was getting them off? He was pretty sure he didn’t show any signs of being degraded by this. If this were the dogs, Sans could imagine them getting a thrill out of his discomfort.
Sans choked down some used napkins and what appeared to be a bit of soap. He hadn’t looked up at the client in a while. How much of this were they going to have him eat?
Sans had eaten plenty of garbage, sure, but never while someone was watching. Not that he’d hidden it—people had seen incidentally, but not like this. No one had ever stared at him like this. Sans could feel the stare without looking. He dared a glance up.
The client’s eyes were sharp, intense, and he was rapidly muttering something to himself while he jacked his cock. His stare didn’t leave Sans for a second, and he didn’t seem fazed by Sans’ returned stare. Sans hadn’t noticed he’d stopped eating. The client’s pace didn’t even slow as his muttered self-encouragement suddenly changed to address Sans.
“yeahh…ohh yeahh…eat more, y’little fuck…eat it…”
Keeping eye contact was getting harder. The client hadn’t told him that was necessary, but Sans still felt like he was being challenged. That if he got shamed by this, he’d lose. It wasn’t like Sans didn’t already know he was garbage.
Maybe the client had a fetish for cannibalism. Heh.
A bite into a smashed carton surprised Sans with a burst of something the texture of rotten porridge. That finally won a gag out of him. Sans heard a cry of release and a splat, and turned to see the client panting over a spent cock, seed shot over the floor. Sans shuddered, but gratefully put the rest of the carton down on top of the remaining trash pile.
“Hey whore. Didn’t say you could stop.”
Sans froze, his hand still on the carton. He slowly started reaching for a sock instead, wondering how he was going to swallow it.
“Not that one. Finish the other thing first.”
Sans balled his hand into a fist. He quickly picked up the carton and crammed it into his mouth, stuffing the sock in after it. The corner of his eyes were starting to burn, but he managed to swallow after not a little bit of choking.
After a few more pieces of trash, the client was stroking himself again, muttering abuse that Sans was glad was too quiet to understand.
The look in the client’s eyes was starting to become clearer to Sans.
It was like the client was looking at two animals fucking.
It didn’t matter that Sans wasn’t bothered eating garbage. Animals wouldn’t care about voyeurs. The excitement was from catching something base in its natural state, from how much lower it was than you on the hierarchy of life. Sans had a sudden image of himself just a few days ago, rutting against everything and everyone, being played with and shown off on stage like livestock.
A half memory came back too, maybe something Sans unconsciously heard while he was under hypnosis: monsters hollering at him to take more, to show a better angle, to swallow everything. And his body happily obeying like a dog doing tricks, lifting his hips higher so they could see his pussy twitching, opening his mouth to show the cum in it.
Sans slapped a hand over his mouth, unable to eat any more. He gripped the rim of the garbage can with his other hand, his legs wobbling.
The client’s breathing grew ragged.
“C’mere. Come over here. On your knees.”
Sans didn’t trust himself to walk, so he got on his knees and crawled around the trash can to face the client on the couch. The client stood over him, pumping himself hard and aiming his cock at Sans’ face.
“Open your mouth. Take it in your mouth.”
Sans didn’t open his mouth fast enough, and the first shot of cum hit his chin, the next landing on his tongue. The client closed the space between them as he finished himself off, rubbing the head of his dick directly on the tip of Sans’ tongue.
“Keep it like that. Don’t swallow yet.”
The client kept moaning obscenities, rubbing at the head of its dick with a thumb long after it was milked dry. The effort of keeping his mouth open was starting to make Sans tremble all over. The taste of cum hadn’t bothered him in a long while, but now it did, it really did, and he wanted this to be over.
The client spoke in rough whispers, still getting himself off on Sans’ tongue.
“You like that…you like that…you want that…”
Not a question. Just an observation.
Sans turned his head and puked on the floor. Along with the cum, some garbage came back up that his body had deemed completely indigestible, impossible to convert into magic. Sans knew it was a bad sign when he meekly made eye contact with the client again, and it was grinning down at him.
“I told you to eat that, and you’ve gone and wasted it. You’re not going until you keep it down.”
Sans shakily started a crawl back to the trash can. There was still some garbage left. The client grabbed him by the back of his collar like he was holding a puppy by the scruff. He bent Sans over the mess his stomach had given up.
“I said you’re going to keep it down.”
Sans shot the monster a pleading look, but the grip on him only tightened as he was shoved further down, face low enough to be able to lick the floor.
Sans dragged himself into his bed, crawling under the blanket. He took out his phone and called Papyrus’ number. He heard the beep to leave a message. Words poured out of him, wet and staggered.
“I didn’t want to do this, bro, they made me, they made me do this and I don’t, I don’t…they’re m-making me do things that I—” he gasped. “I d-d-don’t want this, please save me, I wanna g-go home, I wanna go ho-o-ome…” The rest of his message was messy sobbing. He didn’t even bother to hit the button to stop the message, he just curled over the phone and kept crying, spittle dribbling from his mouth and snot covering his sheets.
Sans fell asleep like that, hugging his phone and whimpering into the mattress. He didn’t allow himself even a moment’s pause after he woke up—he hurried to find Frisk, for some reason certain that they could help him fix his mistake.
Sans dragged himself into his bed, crawling under the blanket. He felt a hand on his back and gave a start.
The human was standing at his bedside.
Sans didn’t trust himself to speak. He didn’t want anyone to be looking at him. He didn’t want anyone touching him.
He didn’t want comfort, he just wanted to leave, he wanted out of this hellhole.
He especially didn’t want to keep crying in front of people. He hated it. He hated it so much. He even hated them a little for being here right now, at this moment, and forcing him to do it, like they’d known in advance that the time was right to get him alone at his weakest. If they chose to so much as say a kind word, they’d be getting a show, caught on the camera in his room for posterity.
They threw their arms around him, and he cried like a baby.
The orca guard had upgraded the scenario this time. They were in the guard’s quarters, on his bed, and there weren’t any cameras in sight. The setting made their meeting feel strangely like an affair, more so than when the guard came to Sans’ room.
This time, the guard had laid him out, clothes still on, and was stroking him all over, lightly, like he ran the risk of waking him. For once Sans felt wide awake, but he obligingly held still and kept his eyes lidded or closed. He’d caught on early that the other monster didn’t enjoy for him to talk or respond much anyway. It should have made things easier, but at times like these when Sans couldn’t even manage to drift off, it only made time move slower.
The guard straddled Sans’ stomach, finally taking his dick out only to rut above Sans’ hips and stroke himself. Sans thought things were going to move a bit further south, but as the guard got more frenzied and lost in his stroking with no sign of repositioning, Sans started to sit himself up halfway.
“no no no wait don’t—!”
The guard came all over Sans’ stomach. When the guard had soaked in afterglow for a minute, Sans dared to swat him on the side.
“Asshole! You think I can just walk out in the hall like this?”
“You wanted me to finish on you. I could tell by the way you were looking at me.”
The guard reached into Sans’ pants and fingered his cunt. It made a slippery sound.
“See? Your pussy agrees with me.”
“My pussy doesn’t do laundry.”
The guard grabbed Sans’ chin and looked in his eyes.
“Jeez, your pupils are all blown out, too. You really like it messy, don’t you?”
Sans swat at the guard’s hand, ready to snap about how it wasn’t a matter of liking this or that, but apparently he’d let his attitude go too far. The guard grabbed both of Sans’ wrists and pinned them on the bed. He wasn’t grinning anymore, just staring down at Sans and letting him take in who was in charge.
When Sans quit eye contact and let his gaze drift submissively off to the side, the guard broke the silence.
“Let’s get you changed, then.”
After being prompted, Sans sat back up, and the guard began unbuttoning him from the collar down.
“It only got on the shirt, anyway.”
He tossed the shirt in the corner and went up to open his dresser, then came back with a massive button-up of his own. As he draped it around Sans’ shoulders, Sans tried his best to hold back the wave of snarky commentary about how totally innocent it would look for Sans to step out of the guard’s room wearing a tent.
It proved too much as Sans raised his arms up, and his hands were swimming somewhere in the lower sleeves, the cuffs dangling limp and empty like deflated windsocks.
“I look like a munchkin.”
“Roll the sleeves up.”
“Then I’ll look like a munchkin without a tailor.”
There was a knock on the door. Sans nearly jumped out of the oversized shirt.
“Who’s—should I—? Where would I—”
The guard laughed at him and slid off the bed.
“You don’t need to hide. I invited one of the guys to share you today.”
A violent tremor went up Sans’ spine, temporarily locking him in place.
The guard took one step toward the door, and once Sans was able to move, he slipped off the bed after him and made an attempt to block the guard as uninsistently as possible.
“H-hey…” Sans gripped the guard’s arm. “Don’t…do this to me. I don’t. I really don’t do well with…with groups. I…d-don’t…I can’t do this…”
Sans got ignored, just like he always did when he asked the guard not to do something. Don’t rub there, don’t make me swallow in my sleep, don’t cum in my sheets so much because Woshua keeps thinking it’s me and he’s getting pretty pissy about it. And just like always, Sans relented when his pleas went unheard, because that’s what he was supposed to do.
But when the door opened, Sans wished he remembered how to rebel.
The scarecrow monster took a step inside and closed the door behind him.
Sans backed up against the guard, gripping onto him with clawing hands behind him.
“N-not him…please not him…”
Sans looked up to see if there was any reaction at all, but the guard only shrugged and god, why was he still grinning.
Sans knew he shouldn’t feel as betrayed as he did, that getting Sans off once or twice and not torturing him didn’t mean the guard really cared about him, would defend him. But it occurred to Sans that this, whatever it was, was the closest thing he’d had to a relationship in his whole life.
The scarecrow was taking something out from his coat.
“Hold him, will you? I wanna tell him what I’m gonna do to him first.”
“Whatever you say, Scratch.”
The guard grabbed Sans by his upper arms, lifting him so he had to stand on tip toe to reach the floor. Sans yanked his arms and kicked his legs, but the fight he put up was lackluster even for him.
“W-why are you doing this…why—why are you…?”
The guard didn’t answer him. The thing in the scarecrow’s hand was some kind of needle. Sans gave a harder kick at the sight of it.
“No! No, don’t do this—!”
The scarecrow closed the space between them so that Sans’ whole world was the two monsters towering over him on both sides. He lifted Sans’ chin.
“Hush, I haven’t even gotten to what ‘this’ is yet.”
He gripped Sans’ face tighter.
“You know you got me kicked out of Lounge Nights for good? So tit for tat says…do you wanna find out what Muffet does with whores that can’t work anymore?”
“Oh god…oh no…”
Sans squirmed, but the Scarecrow kept his hard grip, evidently set on drawing this out as much as possible.
“So do I.”
“I’m s-sorry! I’m sorry that you—I can do what you want, please wait, you d-don’t have to—!”
The scarecrow ignored him, twirling the needle casually in one hand.
“You know that magic sores are really becoming a problem? No cure yet. They’re working on it, though. And you know, funny thing, to mix up a cure you need a strain of the disease…so long story short, I borrowed a little something from Dr. Alphys’ biohazard vault.”
He took the glass body of the needle in his teeth and lowered to a crouch, yanking Sans’ pants down with both hands. Sans gave a wet hiccough that made him drool a little. The scarecrow grabbed one of Sans’ feet and tugged it up to knee height, exposing Sans’ pussy enough for the monster to aim the needle diagonally into the opening. Sans gave a terrified choke and squeezed his eyes shut.
“no please please please, I hate needles, please don’t…”
The scarecrow startled a little and looked up at Sans suddenly.
“…you’re worried about the needle?”
Sans’ shoulders drew up.
The monster stood up straight and grabbed Sans’ face by the chin again, examining his expression.
Sans looked away, but the monster shook his face hard, and Sans hesitantly looked him in the eye again.
“You were playing along.”
Sans shut his eyes again, muttering out incoherent whimpers.
“How did you know?”
Sans shook his head. The monster shoved two fingers up Sans’ cunt, making Sans cry out.
“I already caught you, so tell me how you knew.”
“B-because there’s…no biohazard vault in the labs, Alphys keeps shit in her…f-fridge, dad always yelled at her about it…”
The guard snickered. The scarecrow’s fabric expression looked like a glare.
“You trying to make me look like a fool?”
“Oh god, I’m not, p-please…”
The scarecrow scrutinized his face for a moment longer before shrugging and removing his fingers, wiping them on his coat. He moved to unzip his pants.
“Well, if that’s that, then there’s still at least one thing I know you’re good for.”
Sans hung trembling limply in the guard’s grip, tears flowing freely down his face now. How did this monster always manage to make him feel this way? Just having sex shouldn’t be a big deal anymore.
Even the guard seemed to think Sans’ reaction was over the top.
“Wow, he wasn’t this scared when I fucked him. You got a knife for a dick or something?”
“No…but it’s magic, so if I wanted to…”
Sans was overwhelmed by the ghost of a sharp pain in his abdomen.
“No! No!” Sans wrenched himself sideways, but the guard held him fast. “No! No! No!” Sans’ screams dissolved into sobs. “Noo…no-o-o…”
“Shh, sweetie, look, it’s normal, see?”
The scarecrow tried to show Sans his cock, bouncing it in a hand. But Sans had his eyes shut tight and he was crying inconsolably, his legs slipping around crazily beneath him in a bid for escape. The scarecrow and the guard worked together to lift him and pin him to the ground on his back. The scarecrow dropped his weight on Sans, nuzzling Sans’ face with his.
“I was only kidding, it was only a joke. Now how about a nice little screw?”
“not inside me p-please not inside me, I d-don’t wanna”
He yanked hopelessly at his arms, held down by two sets of hands. He flashed back to a table, restraints, a stabbing pain over and over that he could never stop. His voice came out thick.
“n-not inside I d-d-don’t want it in me, I d-don’t, I don’t w-wann-a…”
The monster over him had paused. He seemed to eye the large shirt on sans for a moment. He lifted sans’ arm by the wrist and watched how the sleeve flopped past sans’ hand, and smiled. He stroked Sans’ face with the back of his hand, and at the change in tack, Sans did his best to listen and steady his breathing.
“Shh, shh, honey. I’ll be nice to you, okay? Your pussy’s tired? No more cock for you today?”
Sans shivered and nodded. Something about the tone set him on edge.
“There now. We don’t have to do that. You can do me a little favor to apologize to me instead, okay? You’re going to help me make a little home movie.”
Sans closed his eyes. “O-okay.” He swallowed. “Okay. I’ll d-do it.”
As soon as the door closed behind the scarecrow, Sans shucked off the childish striped sweater. It was the only thing left on him, but he would rather be naked than have to wear it anymore. He used an unsoiled portion of it to wipe the cum off his hands and face, then threw it as far across the room as he could. Where had they put that button up? He got on his hands and knees to shakily crawl for it.
Sans felt a jacket being wrapped over his shoulders from behind.
The guard was draping over him just like the jacket, and for a crazy moment it was like he was comforting Sans, despite having held a camera to capture his torment only a minute ago.
“You’re still feeling it, right? How about we finish taking care of you?”
There went that.
The guard picked Sans up and laid him back on the bed. Sans landed listlessly, not bothering to react any more.
The scarecrow hadn’t given Sans enough of the pudding for him to still be ‘feeling it,’ so the guard’s playful touches between Sans’ legs did nothing more than create an uncomfortable friction. When his teasing failed to get a reaction, the guard dispensed with that and simply entered Sans again. Sans barely reacted to that, either.
“You should stay over tonight. Wouldn’t want you wandering around like this.”
He pumped in and out of him. Sans didn’t look at him but didn’t look away—he looked straight ahead, gaze distant.
The guard liked him better this way anyway, right?
Sans didn’t keep track of time, but some ways into the guard’s rutting, the door unlocked. In a guard’s room, that could only mean one thing. The guard practically launched backwards off of Sans. Sans heard Muffet’s tinkling voice from across the room.
“Give us some space, will you?”
“You’re kicking me out of my own room?”
Muffet’s voice was sickly sweet.
“It’s not your room anymore.”
“You can’t fire me for this!”
“I can, dear.” Sans could hear the smirk in her tone. “With extreme prejudice.”
At that, the guard couldn’t hurry out of the room fast enough. Maybe he thought he was being given a head start. Sans didn’t want to think too hard about what would happen to him. He didn’t even know what was about to happen to himself.
Muffet nudged Sans’ arm.
Sans didn’t respond. He breathed in deeply. He was so tired.
Sans’ hands flew to cover his face, and he breathed shakily into them, trembling all over. He couldn’t do more. She was going to make him do more. But he couldn’t plead out of it either. There was nothing at all he could do.
“Sans, sit up, dear.”
When Sans twitched his legs with little success, Muffet hoisted him up into a sitting position.
Now that he was facing her, he saw Muffet wrinkle her nose in distaste.
“Ugh. It stinks in here.”
Sans hadn’t noticed. He suddenly felt even more disgusting. He hugged the guard’s jacket tighter around himself.
“Let’s get you off these filthy sheets.”
She lifted him and got his feet on the floor. Sans surprised himself when he was able to support his own weight.
“You must know the guards aren’t screened like clients are. I’ll have to get you tested all over again…didn’t even use a condom…”
Sans finally spoke.
“But he’s…I mean, he’s flesh and mine’s magic, so I figured it didn’t…”
Muffet only sighed heavily. Was he wrong? His sex ed had been somewhat lacking, and since he’d never really thought he’d have a partner, it was just never something he’d bothered to investigate thoroughly. The sour taste of his own stupidity mixed in with the many flavors of shame he felt now.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone, dear. It’s not like he was very good at covering tracks. I was going to notice eventually.”
Sans didn’t answer. Muffet’s irritation grew.
“Honestly, how could you let a guard keep having sex with you and not think to do a thing?”
Sans snapped. He exaggeratedly pat the jacket’s pockets, then threw his arms out.
“What’s this? Oh! I guess I forgot to bring my ‘get out of fuck free’ card! Stupid me!”
He waved a hand in the air, like he was searching for words.
“And what else? Right, that time you said ‘nothing happens here without me knowing’? I wonder where I could’ve gotten the crazy idea that maybe, just maybe, you were letting this happen on purpose! Nice job vetting your employees, by the way, real winners you’ve got here.”
He raised his hands.
“But no, it’s definitely all my fault. It’s not like you f-f-fuckin trained me to…say yes to sex any time someone w-wanted it from me, not like I was d-doing exactly what you…what you…”
As he lost steam, he hugged his arms in, curling up where he stood. Muffet had made no reaction during his rant, her expression passive.
“Are you done, dear?”
Sans gripped his sleeves and stared down the floor.
Sans’ anger quickly melted down into frustrated resignation, then cold fear.
“Get on your knees.”
Sans did. He shook, his voice much quieter.
“How could you…d-do this to me? You’re r-really going to punish me for…for being helpless?”
“I’m punishing you for mouthing off, Sans, you know that. Don’t be willfully obtuse.”
Muffet called Sans’ soul forward. He looked at the floor.
A harsh jolt zipped through him. He fell forward on all fours. Muffet never shocked him very hard when she punished him, but tears were already starting to burn in his eyes, his vision blurring. He clenched his hands into fists and closed his eyes, some wetness streaking down his face.
“…I said yes…”
“What’s that, dear?”
Sans started to crumple further down. He didn’t know if he was going to be shocked again or not.
“I said yes to him. I let him do it. I let him fuck me.”
He looked up at Muffet, pulling his sleeves in like he was trying to keep himself intact.
“I let him d-d-do whatever he wanted, I…what do you even expect from me? That’s the only thing I can d-do anymo-o-ore…”
Muffet got on her knees in front of him and took Sans into her arms. He grasped at her back.
“I let him…I let him do it…”
The human was looking anxious as they chewed through a muffin down to the paper, accidentally tearing some off with their teeth. When they asked Sans what had happened to him recently, they were most arrested by the news that Papyrus was no longer in the dark.
“It all turned out all right then, didn’t it? You’re glad he knows?”
Sans sat back against the wall.
“Yeah…actually…it does feel kinda nice that he knows where I am, at least.”
“And you wouldn’t be…mad if someone had set it up so you two saw each other?”
“Nah, I hate their fuckin’ guts. But it takes too much energy to be revenge-driven, you know? At least everything’s not totally fucked.”
Sans gave the human an almost sympathetic look.
“Look, I know you have some kinda tragic disease that makes you like everyone, kiddo, but no way am I gonna cover the dogs’ butts if Asgore finds out what they did.”
“’Schedule suddenly changed’ my ass. Muffet probably knows they did it, too. She just never does anything about them for whatever reason. Got a lotta money as royal guardsmen, I guess.”
Frisk decided to change the subject.
“You should get your brother to come when I visit next time.”
“You’re gonna have to wait to get your Snowdin Mystery Serial t-shirt signed, kid. He’s gone to Waterfall for a while.”
Frisk gave a start.
“Why is he all the way in Waterfall? I thought you said he was staying in the city!”
“Well…yeah, he was for a couple days. But now he’s gone for advanced training with the captain of the royal guard.”
Instead of looking impressed, the human only looked more upset.
“But how could he leave you now? Didn’t he want to stay around to look after you?”
Sans cringed at that.
“Look, kid. When you’re an adult you gotta do your job, you can’t just go wherever you want. The Boss has to look after his own shit. He’s not my guardian.”
Frisk sat forward, eyes intense.
“But Papyrus isn’t like that! He would never leave you when you’re—”
A light glanced in their eye like a visible thought passing through.
“…don’t tell me that you…”
Why did Sans feel guilty? He shouldn’t be feeling guilty. Everything about this conversation was weird, and it was definitely the kid’s fault.
“I may have, uh, skipped over some details. I had to save the situation somehow.”
“Sans, you mean he doesn’t know that you’re being hurt?”
Sans blanched. He hated hearing that kind of thing, but especially out of the little child’s mouth it felt wrong.
“Well I mean…I’ve started getting used to stuff here…it’s not…it’s not the worst. It’s not really, it’s…it’s not so bad as I was making it out to be, it feels embarrassing to think back to my first weeks here…”
Frisk was staring at him in disbelief.
“Oh my god. I should have let you leave that message. I should have asked why you didn’t want to…”
Frisk turned to Sans with tears in their eyes.
They grabbed Sans and beat their tiny fists on his chest.
They kept hitting him until they dissolved into hiccoughs and gasps, grasping at him with desperately clawing hands. Sans was too shocked to do anything but reach his arms around them and rub their back, unsure what he was supposed to be reassuring them about. They choked on their words.
Sans paused in his approach to the table. He’d shown up late again, and had dutifully taken the tray for the dog’s table, not bothering to fuss about it when he figured he knew how to handle them by now. But there were only three dogs at the table. Now not only Doggo, but Lesser Dog too was absent. The married couple shot Sans a deadly glare.
Loox smoothly took the tray from Sans.
“Hhhooow about I take that table tonight? No, don’t martyr yourself, jeez, I’ll be fine. Pretty sure they’re only mad at you, anyway.”
They were still far enough away that the dogs couldn’t reasonably be able to eavesdrop, but Sans leaned in and whispered regardless.
“What’s going on?”
Sans expected Loox to say something worrisome, but Loox’s face broke into a grin so broad and smug, Sans was surprised the top of his head didn’t come off.
“Lesser Dog got suspended from the royal guard.”
“What? No way.”
“Yeah way. You know when the king was here for the show? Apparently he was investigating Lesser Dog’s spending habits…and didn’t like how much of his money was pouring in here. The king froze his accounts. He won’t be visiting any time soon with that empty wallet…”
Sans couldn’t quite decide on an emotion, but his body decided on a vindictive laugh from his gut. Then he covered his mouth and couldn’t seem to stop snickering. Loox pat him on the back.
“You’re a homewrecker, my friend. Be proud.”
Loox skipped off with the tray, and Sans went to find what he could do when he was stopped by the cricket worker.
“There’s a client asking for you.”
That usually wasn’t a good sign. Sans glanced around for familiar faces.
“Oh yeah? They have a name?”
The cricket showed him around the bar.
“I don’t really know. Here, they’re on the other side.” He pointed. “That one there.”
Across the room, Sans saw a thick, slimy monster with feelers instead of a face.