Red Light District
Chapter 6: I wonder how dirty you really are?
Lesser Dog pushed Sans into the room. Sans fell onto his hands and knees. He heard the tray being kicked out of the way on the floor behind him.
“Looks like you need to be house-trained. You have these accidents a lot, pup?”
Sans stayed silent. He tried to decide whether he should get up from the floor or not. Whether it would make a difference to how this night would go.
“You’re gonna need to go get me some more.”
Sans scrambled up, grateful for the chance to spend some of the session out of the room. How much trouble would he get in if he took his time getting back with the drinks?
As he hurried toward the door, Lesser Dog grabbed his tie. Sans nearly choked on his own momentum. He stood still.
“Hang on there. You don’t think you’re going alone?” He pulled on the tie, and Sans turned to face him. “A naughty pup like you needs supervision.”
Lesser Dog took his coat off. He reached into an inside pocket and took out a collar and leash. Sans went stiff.
“I was planning to take you for a walk if you were good, but now I’m thinking our little trip is gonna have to be educational.”
He wrapped the collar around Sans’ neck and fixed it on, then attached the leash.
He didn’t give Sans enough time to recover from his shock before he was yanking on his neck with the leash. Sans gripped the tight leash.
“Y-you’re not really gonna…in the halls?”
“That’s right, Sansy. Maybe you should be more careful next time.”
“You were…you were already p-planning this, asshole!”
Lesser Dog gave a harsh tug, and Sans lost his footing. The dog pulled him up so that his feet didn’t touch the ground. Sans kicked his legs, choking.
“Watch it. You really like making things worse for yourself, huh?”
He dangled Sans closer to his face. Sans gasped and gripped the collar.
“I bet you’re enjoying all this. You must love attention.”
He reached a hand into Sans’ pants and rubbed him between the legs.
“You were probably getting off thinking about tonight, ever since I told you I would visit. You were touching yourself, thinking about my cock pounding into you. You get in trouble on purpose just for the punishment. Isn’t that right?”
He rubbed Sans harder, pushing his back against the wall. The paw holding the leash pinned him to the wall by his chest. The release of pressure on his neck and the quick return of oxygen made Sans’ head spin in an unexpected rush of euphoria.
“Look, you’re getting wet already!”
Sans was pretty sure that was sweat, but whatever.
“Make a cunt. We’re gonna get you ready to go out first.”
Lesser Dog was still rubbing him between the legs.
“It’s…I can’t if your…hand is there.”
“Sure you can.”
The dog increased the pressure on his chest and hooked fingers into his pelvis like he was entering a pussy. He breathed on Sans’ face.
Lesser Dog shook him.
“You don’t know ’til you try, do you?”
He licked up Sans’ face.
“Unless you want me to tell Muffet what a bad boy you are. I’m sure she can dream up something worse than this for you.”
Sans tried to form a pussy. As the magic started to coalesce and fill in the area where the fingers invaded, it trembled and warped. The sound that came out of Sans’ throat was half yell and half screech. His body convulsed, and he gripped tightly on the arm holding him up.
“…you did it wrong.”
Lesser Dog removed his fingers. Sans let the magic dissipate.
“Did I say you could do that? Finish it.”
Sans’ arms fell to his sides, making him look even more like a rag doll. He concentrated again, his pussy forming with a weak glow as though the magic itself were reluctant.
“There we are.”
Lesser Dog’s fingers entered him, working him up roughly. Sans felt betrayed by his body’s response. The rough treatment quickly got him slick and dripping. His best guess was that his magic was attempting to save him pain, because he didn’t feel the usual accompanying twinges of arousal. His magic throbbed in protest of the pain it had already endured.
“Nice and wet. Now we’re ready to go.”
He pulled his hand out of Sans’ pants, then let Sans down from the wall and tugged on his leash. Sans took only one hesitant step to follow him through the door. Lesser Dog looked back at him, annoyed.
“Hurry up, pooch.”
Sans squeezed his legs together. There was a faint glow through his pants, and an obvious wet spot at his crotch. One look at the dog’s impatient face told him that was the idea. He wanted him to walk around like this. On a leash.
As the dog walked into the hall, Sans slowly followed after him, picking up the pace after some increasingly violent tugs at his collar.
Sans could feel eyes on him. He kept his eyes trained on the ground and saw the feet of other monsters passing by them. No one talked to him. He thought he saw the bottom half of Shyren pause and turn as they passed, but he hid his face as soon as he could.
They turned before Sans expected.
“The kitchen’s…uh, it’s down that—”
“I know where the fucking kitchen is. We’re not going there.”
Then Sans recognized their path. They reached the entrance to Lounge B. Sans had never gone in when it wasn’t Lounge Night, and so he’d never seen it like this. There were still workers and clients, but they were cozier together than he was used to seeing them in the booths. It didn’t look like anyone was full on doing it, but it filled Sans with unease all the same. There was probably a different pricing for using the lounge tonight.
“Get in here.”
Sans had been standing frozen in the entrance for a full ten seconds. Lesser Dog pulled hard on the leash, and Sans did his best not to fall on the floor again. He followed to the bar.
He reached for drinks stored under the counter, but Lesser Dog tightened his leash. They weren’t doing this the practical way, then. Sans turned around to see the dog seated on a chair, pointing at the floor in front of him. Sans went up to him and got on his knees before him.
“You’re not so cocky without your brother protecting you, are you?”
Lesser Dog pushed on Sans’ shoulder with a foot.
“I think that’s what pissed me off the most about you. Always ready with a lame joke, sniping out insults, then hiding behind your big tough boss. I wish he could see you now.”
He yanked Sans up by the neck and lowered him onto his thighs. He spread a hand between Sans’ legs again and held him tight, forcing him to feel his long erection against his tailbone.
“You’re gonna give a whole new meaning to ‘lapdog.’ I’m your boss tonight, Sansy.”
Other monsters were looking over. They were looking at him. A shadow at the entrance paused there, and Sans could feel their eyes too, could feel everyone’s eyes as though they were spotlights shining on him.
Maybe they weren’t looking, maybe it was his imagination, maybe nobody gave a shit. They were all busy with their own little private parties. But Sans couldn’t help but feel that he was the only one in the room being treated like this, the only one with a fucking collar for sure, and it was drawing attention.
He couldn’t make himself look up long enough to confirm it. He struggled. Lesser Dog gripped his groin painfully tight and growled in his ear.
“Today was not a good day on patrol. Do you get what I’m saying? Your brother is pissing. Me. Off. And your ass is gonna feel it.”
He grabbed Sans’ face and licked the rim of his eye socket. Sans shuddered.
“I wanna fuck you in front of him so bad. Just let him see what every fucking quirk of his does to you. Every time I have to hear his annoying voice, I’m gonna come give you a nice, raw pounding. Every time he makes some stupid quip about dogs, you’re gonna be slurping spooge for dinner. Who knows—your bro seems like a twisted guy. Maybe he’d get off on it.”
Oh good. Sans almost thought he’d lost the capacity for anger, but it looked like he still had access to that emotion.
Lesser Dog’s tongue lapped deep inside Sans’ eye socket, then quickly pulled out. Sans’ eye was glowing like melted metal.
“Ooh, putting on your tough-guy face. Did I hit the nail on the head? Don’t worry, if that uptight prick gets lonely, he still has those videos of you to spank it to—”
Sans snapped his teeth at the dog’s muzzle. When the dog laughed at him, Sans went for him with his hands.
“You really do wanna get punished!”
Lesser Dog threw Sans to the floor. Sans landed hard on his back, the wind knocked out of him. He groaned and curled on his side, quaking from the effort to take in air again.
Sans felt himself get checked. He wheezed.
“I’m not…d-dead yet, you…asshole…”
Lesser Dog bent over Sans and pulled his collar so their faces nearly touched.
“You’re not putting on a very good show for these nice people. I’m not gonna play this your way…” He looked Sans up and down. Sans could do little but squirm under his weight. “Hm. Yeah, I could do that.”
He tied Sans’ wrists together with the end of the leash. Sans’ violent wriggling only lengthened the process, but the knot was finished and tightened.
“Time to show everyone what a freak you are.”
He picked Sans up and slid him onto the counter, pushing over cups and glasses. Sans tried to bend forward, but a paw slammed him down on his back. Lesser Dog got up on the counter and straddled him, then started unbuttoning Sans’ shirt. He spread it open, revealing the burning light of Sans’ soul.
“Shoulda thought of that, eh Sansy? Enjoy cumming in front of everyone.”
The dog gave his soul a rough lick. Sans kicked out, and he got kneed in the thigh. Fingers went back into his pants, stroking him fast and hard. Lesser Dog’s tongue licked his soul again, working up from long, slow licks to quick ones. Then the tongue rolled over the soul, vibrating it as the dog hummed, the vibrations echoing through Sans’ magic. He could feel his face heating up, everything getting hot.
Lesser Dog slipped the tip of his tongue in the soul, and Sans was repulsed to feel hot pleasure seeping through him. His hips bucked.
Sans growled in frustration. How could he be responding to this? He was disgusting. But the stimulation was too much. His body couldn’t resist.
The fingers entered him at the same time that the tongue slid deeper into his soul.
“Ha…ah! Get. Get off me. G-get off—ah! Get off me!”
“You love this. Probably love everyone watching you, too. You can’t lie to me when you’re this fucking soaked.”
The dog jabbed his fingers in at a curve, hitting a spot over and over that made Sans’ whole body rock with an electric tingle. His legs were almost lifted off the counter with each jab of the fingers, and each time forced a ridiculous squeaking noise from his throat. His face was so hot with humiliation he thought it might burn off entirely.
The tongue went back inside his soul and curled and circled. He had a horrifying realization that a climax was building up in both places at once.
“No no no…stop…stop…no!”
The fingers inside him pounded him mercilessly, the tongue lapping at him like it was drinking him up. His pussy came first, squeezing the fingers even as they continued to stab into him. Then a pulse from his soul gripped the magic at his groin, and one ripple of pleasure after another tore through him. He was so sensitive that just a finger brushing hard over his clit made him come again. He lost track of how many times that made.
There wasn’t going to be any mistaking what was happening to him. Even if his soul weren’t pulsing and wavering with light as he came, he couldn’t quiet himself, didn’t have the energy to hold it in. Even though the rest of the room was so quiet now. Even though he thought he heard someone else say his name, like they were talking about him right in front of him.
The hand pulled out of his pants, but his swollen soul was left exposed.
“That didn’t take you long. I told you you needed to loosen up.” He laughed as he shook wetness from his hand. “Jesus, it’s everywhere. Where were you even keeping that much juice?”
Sans stayed totally motionless. Any fight he had was gone. Maybe it had been finger banged out of him. Lesser Dog looked down at him.
“Oh my god, are you crying? This is too fucking good. You’re really a piece of work.”
The dog leaned down and licked his face.
“So good it’s making you emotional, huh? Wanna ask real nice for me to take this back to a private place?”
Sans breathed hard, trying not to look the dog in the eye. His collar was tugged.
“Unless you wanna suck me off out here too.”
“Sorry, can’t hear you unless you’re polite.”
“Please what, Sansy?”
“Please. Take me back…to the room.”
Lesser Dog sniffed, then snorted.
“Not good enough.”
He got off the counter and dragged Sans with him. He sat himself on the chair and made Sans kneel between his legs. Sans’ hands were still bound in front of him at the wrist. Lesser Dog pulled on the leash so that Sans’ face was forced close enough to his crotch to smell his erection.
“You wanna do this here? You wanna finish everything out where anyone can walk in?”
A hand on the back of his head crushed his face against the crotch. He could feel heat through the pants.
“What, is that it? Maybe you like this a little too much. Lick it!” He grabbed Sans’ head so his mouth was pressed to the bulge. Sans gave a small lick. The hand pressed him harder.
“You want this? Wanna show everyone how good you are at sucking cock?”
“No, I…take us back to the room. Please…take us back inside.”
“Not very convincing.”
He unzipped his pants.
“Please. N-not here.”
“Too bad. You need to learn how to do this right.”
Sans didn’t know why he was shocked that the dog took his cock out of his pants. Maybe he’d thought the dog had a shred of dignity and didn’t actually want to expose himself in public. But as Lesser Dog gripped Sans’ head with both hands and pulled his mouth up to the tip of the cock, Sans realized that the dog hadn’t just been baiting him. He would really make him do this.
Unfortunately, Sans had the exact wrong response first.
“No! No! No! Let go of me! You fucking—LET GO!”
He braced his legs against the chair and pushed his head as far away as possible. The dog was just startled enough by his struggle to tolerate that much of it. Then he held Sans up high enough that his feet couldn’t brace on anything, and before Sans could get a foothold back, he shoved Sans’ head down so his cheek rubbed against the cock.
“What a bad dog! Time to rub your nose in it.”
Lesser Dog pumped his cock, precum dribbling out the end. He wiped it on Sans’ cheek and against his teeth. Sans turned his face to the side.
“P-p-please please, not in front of—take us back, please take us back, d-don’t make me do this out…out here.”
“Too late, pup. At this point maybe you can suck me well enough to convince me not to bend you over out here, too.”
He pushed the cock into Sans’ mouth. The taste was vile. Sans moved his head over the tip, taking it in. It had a strange shape, and the stench all around it came with a heady musk that made Sans’ head spin. He thought he was moving, but apparently he’d spaced out. Lesser Dog gripped his head and insistently moved it up and down himself. Sans gagged.
“You like that? Come on, take more.”
Lesser Dog repositioned Sans so he could shove more of the cock down his throat. Sans choked on precum; it was pumping out heavily, almost like the dog were already cumming.
“I wanna feel you swallow, Sansy.”
Sans gulped once, then started coughing. The dog pulled him away, letting him cough out some of the liquid and gasp for air. The precum was still gushing out on him, wetting his chest and drizzling into his soul. When the first few drops hit his soul and dripped inside, Sans made himself swallow the tip of the cock again, if for nothing else to plug it up. He gulped more down.
“Getting into it, huh? Make it good.”
Maybe he could make this end faster. Sans sucked harder. The quiet of the room was broken when another patron shouted lewd encouragement at him. They said his name. They were watching. Sans nearly puked. He stopped moving, shuddering hard.
“Fucking—don’t stop now, you dirty runt!”
Sans fell back. Lesser Dog was shooting up from the chair, crouching over him and rutting into his mouth. He gave a harsh bark as a fluids flooded Sans’ mouth. The dog was practically cradling Sans to his crotch as he emptied into him. It felt endless. It started to seem as though drinking this down would be the rest of Sans’ life. Finally Lesser Dog dropped Sans’ whole body to the floor.
Sans didn’t get up as the dog stepped over him, zipping his pants up on the way. Sans heard the rattle of bottles and glasses.
“Let’s take a break, huh? If you do a good job, I may even finish this up in the room, like you want.” He lifted Sans’ neck from the floor by the collar. “You want that, don’t you?”
Looking up, Sans saw the dog had already filled two glasses with alcohol. He’d set one on the counter and held the other. He sat himself down in the chair again with a satisfied groan.
Sans got himself back up on his knees. He didn’t bother standing up.
“This one’s for you, Sansy. Come get it.”
Sans started to get up from the floor, but Lesser Dog put his hand up. Sans scooted himself forward on his knees instead to kneel at the dog’s legs again.
“Good boy. Drink up.”
He tipped the glass and spilled it onto the floor. Sans looked at him miserably.
“Good puppies lick up their dinner. Bad puppies get their pussies hammered up on the table where everyone can get a good, long look.”
“Not up here. I just cleaned this.”
Sans’ head snapped up. Woshua was on the counter, wiping it down and sweeping glass into a dust pan.
Sans didn’t know why the words came out. Licking the floor was hardly the worst thing the dog had told him to do so far, but looking from the spill, to the dog’s smirking face, to Woshua cleaning away while all this was happening made something snap. Sans shivered and looked up at the janitor.
“woshua, help me”
The janitor only glanced at him briefly in a subdued double take, startled by his words but too uncomfortable with eye contact to give a stronger reaction. Woshua kept cleaning, ignoring him.
The top of Sans’ head was grabbed and made to look into the dog’s face.
“What was that, pup?”
“You want some more punishment?”
“No please. I’m sorry. I’ll—I’ll do it, I’m sorry, I. I’ll do it I’ll do it.”
Sans’ obvious fear seemed to please the dog enough to let go of him.
“That’s more like it. Better make it good.”
How exactly did he make licking the floor look good? He bent over and pressed his tongue to the floor, cleaning up what he could. He wasn’t sure if he should be thankful or not that it wasn’t enough to give him a buzz. Losing more control wasn’t appealing, but maybe it would have been easier to get through the night. He half-considered asking the dog if he could get him drunk for real. The request might even please him.
Sans heard moaning. He looked up. The dog was stroking himself. For the first time, Sans saw what it looked like for its dick to get erect—if he’d seen it under different circumstances, he probably would have laughed his ass off, would never stop making jokes about it afterward. As it was, knowing the dog was going to put it inside him soon, it was terrifying.
A wet, bright red tip started poking out of a fleshy mound of fur, like lipstick sliding up from its tube. It pulsed and inflated like a tick gorged on blood. It didn’t look like it should be able to stand up under its own weight, but it jutted straight up in the air from the dog’s stroking attentions. Not to mention it didn’t seem to follow the laws of conservation of mass. How was that thing kept in that little mound of fur?
Sans had stopped licking the floor, paralyzed by the anticipation.
“Please don’t. Please don’t.”
Lesser Dog paused his stroking. His eyes woke from their blissful daze and fixed sharply on Sans. Sans regretted speaking.
“Don’t what, Sansy? I wanna hear you say it.”
“P-please don’t…f…fuck me here.”
“Please. Please don’t do this here. D-don’t…do this to me.”
His voice broke on the last word. Lesser Dog looked like his day had been made. Maybe he would keep his word after all. He leaned forward and pulled on the loop of the leash.
“I’m thinking about it, Sansy. But you were really bad, putting up a fight like that. You need to show me more of your good side.”
He let go of the leash, and Sans fell back. Sans almost pleaded more, but Lesser Dog spoke first.
“Beg like a dog. Go on, put your hands up and give us a yip.”
Sans brought his bound hands up. He opened his mouth, his teeth chattering. His bark was overtaken by a sob.
“Ooh, didn’t quite catch that. One more time.”
Sans barked a few more times for good measure. Tears were streaming down his face. Lesser Dog’s face split in a toothy grin.
“Mm, there’s a good puppy. Let’s go, bring my drink.”
Sans scrambled up as quickly as he could. He had a great deal of difficulty reaching for the drink with his hands tied. Lesser Dog picked up the drink and handed it to him. Sans knew better than to mistake the action for kindness; he remembered all too well how it felt to sport an erection for too long without relief. Lesser Dog was probably too impatient to use Sans’ trouble with the drink to torment him further at the moment.
In fact, after Sans took only a couple careful steps with the drink, the dog pulled him up by the middle and carried him horizontally under one arm, Sans holding the drink out in front of his face as the dog walked them quickly back to the room.
For once Sans was relieved to hear the door click behind them. No one else would have to see this. Except Muffet. And whoever else might be watching the monitor in one of those secret rooms.
Sans was tossed onto the couch, landing at one end. Lesser Dog threw back his whole drink in one gulp, then got on the couch and lined himself up behind Sans. He yanked on Sans’ collar, pulling Sans’ head down and forcing him to hunch over the arm of the couch. He heard Lesser Dog give a gratified sigh.
“Ohhh, Sansy, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to treat you like this. Since way back when you skeleton assholes came into town and started ordering us around like you owned the place. I just wanted to bend you over and shoot a load into you like the bitch you are.”
Sans’ breath was shallow.
“What’s wrong? I thought you liked puns.”
The dog brought Sans’ hips up from behind and ran his hands up and down Sans’ legs.
“We fucking ran Snowdin before you pricks came around. And now your brother thinks he’s already Captain of the Guard.”
He yanked Sans’ pants down. Sans felt fingers hook around his pelvis, getting ready to prepare him. Sans pushed his face into the couch arm.
“And ugh, the way he brags about you and your fancy ‘new job’…really hard not to laugh in his face. Still grating as hell, though.”
Fingers entered Sans and gave him a few quick jabs, then started stretching him. Sans would feel grateful if he were more certain whether he’d prefer this to be painless or not. If it weren’t painful, there was the risk he’d start to enjoy it, and he’d never hear the end of that. The fingers pulled out of him, and Lesser Dog hunched over so his face was next to Sans’. He turned Sans’ head to look at him.
“Here’s how you’re going to start to make it up to me: I’m going to fuck your brains out, and you’re going to beg me to come inside you.”
Sans didn’t have anything to say to that, but saw by the dog’s face that he wanted affirmation. Sans’ voice cracked.
He knew it was coming, but the cock entering him still took Sans by surprise. It felt like he’d been stung by a bee. Even with the wetness and preparation, the friction was too much. It was too big, and it was still entering him, pushing all the way until Sans felt the dog’s hips press against him.
“Ohhh yeah. You crying again already, Sansy? Come on, save a little for when I finish.”
“It hurts it hurts please, i-it hurts”
The cock pulled back and slammed back in. Sans cried out.
“That’s it. I’m gonna make you scream all right.”
The dog took up a merciless pace from the start. The couch felt like it was scooting along the floor with the violent motions. Sans’ screams of pain gradually changed to something else. In spite of the pain, the relentless pounding was working him up. His pussy gripped at the cock, at first as though his body wanted to expel the invasion, and eventually like it didn’t want to let go.
Sans tried so hard not to. Tried to pull everything in. But after one particularly stimulating slam into his hips, coupled with the dog rubbing the lips of his pussy with one hand, moans were spilling out of Sans’ mouth and there was no stopping it.
As soon as he started moaning, he felt the cock give a strong reactionary pulse. Then he heard a huffing noise. The dog was laughing.
“I told you. You love this. You probably wanted it before I did.”
Now would be a good time to stop reacting, but the more the dog humped him, the more heat and tightness built up in him, the more noise he made.
“Admit it. If you didn’t end up here, you’d have come around begging for a fuck eventually. Just admit you wanted it.”
The cock rut him so hard, his hips lifted.
“You forget how we play this game already? Say. You. Want it!”
He punctuated each word with a thrust. Sans screamed in pleasure.
“Use your words, Sansy.”
“Scream it. Do it!”
Sans didn’t want to confuse things. This was starting to feel too good. He hadn’t expected it to feel this good. He didn’t want to yell that and mean it.
Instead of admonishing him, the dog pulled on Sans’ hips and pushed him back over and over so that Sans was rutting along with him. As Sans’ body was reaching climax, tingling everywhere down to his fingertips, he felt himself getting checked over and over. Then the movement stopped.
Sans was lost enough to try banging his hips back against the dog’s dick, but a hand stilled him. Lesser Dog laughed again.
He’d been checking how close Sans was to orgasm. He was going to keep him there. An uncharacteristically light jerk of the dog’s hips confirmed it. Earlier it would have been a mercy—now it was torture. He needed it hard. Just once more, maybe twice. Just two good thrusts. Sans mumbled.
“What’s that, Sansy?”
“Scream for me.”
“I w-want it!”
It was just once, a strong, deep thrust that pushed him over the edge and gave him release. Sans’ whole body went rigid as his cunt contracted tight around the cock, then he collapsed.
Sans breathed hard for a few seconds before he felt the cock start moving again. He was confused for a moment before he remembered that the dog hadn’t come yet, and the thought overwhelmed his pleasure with a flood of dread. He wanted to ask the dog to stop, but he couldn’t imagine how much trouble he would get in for asking that when he’d been pleasured and the dog hadn’t finished.
It didn’t help that the continued friction was starting to hurt again. The faster it got, the more pained cries came out of Sans’ throat, the more Sans wondered how long the dog could keep going like this. The thrusts felt like they were getting more powerful rather than less. It lasted long enough that the feeling of pleasure was getting harder to remember. Sans was tempted again to plead for it to stop, or at least not to hurt him so badly, but he was saved by the dog speaking again.
“I’m close. Beg me for it.”
That was the opposite of what he wanted to use energy begging for. Sans stayed silent other than gasps and whines at the discomfort the pulsing member caused as it continued to slap inside him. He had been hoping the dog might have forgotten about his last humiliating condition on top of all the other horrors of this experience. At Sans’ silence, the dog grappled at Sans’ pelvic bones with his sharp front claws, pulling Sans’ hips painfully tighter against him. The dog bent over flush against Sans’ back and barked in his ear.
“BEG ME FOR IT.”
Sans hiccoughed. Fresh tears were running down his face. “P-please come insi…inside me.”
The dog gave one hard thrust of acknowledgment and then sped up to a violent pace. When it reached its peak, the cock twitched and slowed down to uneven pumping. A knot grew at the base, and the rest of the cock engorged to an even more uncomfortable size inside Sans. The dog went eerily still, except for a slight twitching of his hips. There was a terrible pause. Then Sans felt hot fluids spill inside him, so much it should have been leaking down his legs to ease the pressure, but the knot blocked the escape. Sans whimpered.
The dog kicked at the back of Sans’ knees, making him fold down closer to the cushion. He only stopped nudging him when Sans was crouched all the way down, pressed completely against the fabric of the couch. The dog settled himself over him like a heavy blanket. Amidst the rest of the tight pressure it was hard to tell, but Sans thought he felt a continued stream that meant the member still hadn’t stopped ejaculating inside him.
“We’re gonna be here for a bit, so let’s have a talk, little doggy.” The dog shifted and Sans felt the cock bob in the soup of cum inside him. Sans’ leg weakly gave an involuntary kick out behind him. The dog talked softly in his ear. “There’s something I want. And I don’t think you want your brother to know what you’re doing here, do you?”
Sans went cold.
“Do you, Sansy?”
“But…why? What else could you possibly get from me? You…you already got what you wanted, and I can’t do anything to you. There’s nothing else I can give you.”
“Before I tell you that, I want you to tell me what you’d be willing to do to keep me quiet.”
This time Sans didn’t need to lie. “….I’d do anything.”
“Good. Say it again, but make it sound real nice.”
“Please. I’ll do anything you want.”
The dog rocked on top of him, eliciting another pained whine from Sans.
“Mmm, then how about going to Muffet and changing your client hold? Seems she thinks you don’t wanna entertain a group. But we all wanna play with you together.” He licked Sans’ cheek.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll go talk to Muffet.”
The knot had been steadily shrinking, and finally let go of its hold. The dog pulled out and cum poured out after it, dripping on Sans’ legs. Sans could still feel an uncomfortable amount sticking inside him. The dog held Sans’ arms folded tight behind his back and nudged his knee hard into Sans’ lower back. Sans yelped, more cum spurting out from between his legs.
Muffet wasn’t waiting outside the door. Now that Sans wasn’t so new, she probably had other things to look after. Sans did see a different visitor coming down the hall, though. A blue bunny.
When Clarence waved for his attention and approached, Sans considered going back into the empty room and locking himself in. Lesser Dog had left long before Sans had the wherewithal to get himself off the couch.
Sans stood still and accepted fate instead.
“So this is where you were. I’d asked after you, but I’m afraid I got a bit turned around. You’re looking…”
Clarence looked him up and down.
Sans crossed his legs a little. He’d dressed, but his clothes weren’t clean yet, and he didn’t want to look down and see what kind of mess he was.
The bunny’s nose twitched and scrunched up in disgust. “Ugh, you smell like dog.”
Sans stared at him.
The bunny hesitantly pat Sans on the shoulder, but in one smooth motion afterward removed the glove that touched Sans and tossed it on the floor. He took another leather glove out of his coat and put it on.
They stood there awkwardly for a moment that started to feel so long, Sans thought that using the minute to torture him might have been more bearable.
“…well, this has been fun.”
Clarence exited down the hall.
Back in his own room, Sans silently allowed Woshua to clean him up and take the day’s clothes for laundry. Woshua hummed to itself while it scrubbed cum from Sans’ legs. Sans didn’t know if Woshua felt any guilt, if it was trying to fill the awkward quiet with noise, or if it was actually just relieved and happy that it didn’t have to interact with him while cleaning.
After the janitor left, Sans got into bed and thought about his promise to Lesser Dog. Sans could get up now, look for Muffet, and do exactly as the dog said. Offer himself to all of the dogs at once. Protect Papyrus from learning anything about this awful business, that is, if the dogs kept their word.
But maybe Sans didn’t have to do this the dog’s way. What if he just told Muffet he was being blackmailed? Took the power away? Asgore didn’t want Sans to tell Papyrus what was going on, so surely he didn’t want anyone else to either. If Sans told Muffet, she could shut the dogs down, save Sans just this one humiliation, and a very painful evening to boot.
Of course, if Sans were wrong and telling Muffet got back to the dogs, he would likely be in for an even more spiteful revenge.
Sans decided to at least sleep on it.
Before falling asleep, he had one good thought hit him suddenly, as though it had only just registered. The dog had given Sans something he probably hadn’t intended. He’d essentially told him that Papyrus was doing well, and that he was his same, bossy self. A bad day for the dogs was bound to have been a good day for the Boss. So that was good.
Lesser Dog had also let slip, in the midst of his venting, that Papyrus had been bragging…about Sans. Not even the fact that he’d been bragging about a fake job could dampen the feeling Sans got from that notion. The Boss was talking about Sans like he was someone to be proud of. He was gloating to other monsters to the point of annoyance.
He really cared about him. Even after everything that happened. After how much he let him down. The Boss loved him. He choked up a little at the intensity of his emotions, but for once it was a good feeling. Sans couldn’t be doing all bad, couldn’t have made every wrong choice—his brother was okay and…he loved him. That thought swirled around Sans’ head like a mobile lulling him into sleep. He would save it to the last.
Sans had a good night’s sleep for once. No one woke him up in his room. He woke up on time. He was clean. It was almost a pleasant morning, if he could forget that he was being blackmailed to let himself be gang raped by every dog in Snowdin.
Going through the motions of the day, he still couldn’t decide what to do. He let himself get all the way to his next appointment, to Muffet coming to him herself in his room, and he couldn’t get the words out. He wondered how long the dogs would let him procrastinate before they told Papyrus. What if they’d already told him? The thought made Sans’ legs weak.
He started to take off his old jacket, assuming Muffet was here to give him a new outfit.
“No no, wear your regular clothes this time. Here’s your tray, dear, and please be careful with it. Come with me.”
Muffet led him out of his room and down the hall. His old clothes? Was he training with her instead of seeing a client? But then why would he have a tray of drinks?
“It’s not Grillby. It’s a shapeshifter.”
They rounded a corner. Sans fumbled with the tray of drinks, and Muffet carefully took it away from him.
A monster with a flaming head leaned against the wall outside a private room. It wasn’t Grillby. But it sure looked and moved like Grillby. Certainly wore the same sardonic expression. When he looked Sans in the eye, Sans wobbled and nearly had to brace himself against the wall.
“Hey. My number one customer.”
That voice. Sans felt butterflies. Then he wanted to puke those butterflies up.
Muffet looked irritated.
“It costs extra if you want to roleplay outside the room.”
The monster shrugged. It held out a hand for Sans to take. Sans had never felt more mixed feelings about a gesture.
Muffet tried to give the tray back to Sans, but it started rattling as soon as he gripped it. She sighed and took it into the room ahead of them.
The Grillby look-alike put an arm around Sans’ shoulder and gently walked him toward the door.
It couldn’t happen like this. It occurred to Sans that this was the longest he’d gone without seeing Grillby since he’d moved to Snowdin. And now he was here, but he wasn’t, and he was going to make him…
Sans looked helplessly over his shoulder at Muffet exiting as he was guided into the room. She looked annoyed. The protest died in Sans’ throat.
The door locked behind them. Sans stared at it, not ready to look at the other monster again. The room was only dimly lit by a red light that reflected off the door handle.
Sans had purposefully done his best to push thoughts of Snowdin, of home, as far away as he could. He didn’t need another reason to start breaking down in front of these monsters. Now home had followed him in the worst way possible, and he was going to have to decide. Was this finally too much? Would this be the hill he died on?
He couldn’t attack the monster effectively, but if he went through the motions of an attack, maybe he could get himself dusted. Or he’d get sent to Onion, possibly putting off his encounter with this monster—or he’d be subdued and forced to endure the monster’s pleasures and then sent back to Onion.
All of these big decisions today were fatiguing Sans’ brain. He turned around slowly to face the shapeshifter. Unfortunately, doing nothing was also a decision with consequences.
“While we’re in here, I want you to call me Grillby. Or ‘Grillbz,’ if you want. No ‘you’ or ‘sir’ stuff.”
When it looked at him, Grillby’s—the shapeshifter’s expression could be described as kind, if Sans didn’t know better.
“You’re looking at me like I’m doing this to torment you.”
The monster walked slowly toward Sans, not closing the space between them. He perfectly imitated Grillby’s head tilt and assuring half-smile. How the hell did he know Grillby did that?
“I thought this appearance might put you at ease.”
“Anyway, I’m not much to look at in my regular form. Playing pretend is a lot more fun. How about giving it a try?”
“How about knocking it off and seeing how that goes instead?”
The monster turned around and walked to the tray of drinks. It had been set at a small table with a few chairs around it.
“Come have a drink with me.”
Sans couldn’t say he hadn’t tried.
When Sans went to sit at the chair Grillby had slid out for him, Grillby moved the chair away so Sans bounced on his butt before he could seat himself successfully. That was also something Grillby had done to him a few times. If he wasn’t before, Sans was now definitely creeped out by the level of detail this monster had on Grillby’s behavior. It couldn’t really be Grillby, could it?
Sans thought he’d experienced all kinds of fear so far, but this was new. He was afraid for his sanity. He was afraid things weren’t just falling apart on the inside, but all around him in a way they never had before. He was afraid of this monster and its assurances, of what might be behind the mask this time, not sure if he was more afraid to discover a toothy, digging tongue, or a monster who was hoping to make a genuine connection with him by taking some calculated shortcuts.
Sans looked up at Grillby, seated across the table from him and pouring beer into their glasses.
“Wh-what are you going to do with me. What do you want from me?”
Grillby smiled and slid a beer over to Sans. Sans caught it, just like he had a hundred times before when drinks slid across Grillby’s bar to him.
“I want to drink with you. Let’s talk.”
Sans let himself drink too much. Grillby didn’t even let him finish his glass before filling it up for him. That way, Sans lost track of how many glasses he’d had.
How could this monster go this long and not slip up even once? Every laugh was on the mark, he even knew how Grillby wiped his nose briefly and looked to the side when he was trying not to look too amused by a really bad joke. A couple more drinks and Sans would forget he wasn’t in the bar in Snowdin.
The monster got up from his chair and knelt by Sans. He was tall enough that their heads were still on level with each other. At first Sans didn’t know what was going on. He felt awkward. Grillby never put himself in a vulnerable position like this, not even when they’d been alone together. Then a voice came from a part of Sans’ brain that still remembered what he was doing here.
It’s happening now.
A shiver went up Sans’ spine. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it wasn’t.
Grillby’s voice crackled, but the words weren’t something he would ever say.
“You like him, right? You wanted him.”
Sans knew he had to come to a decision about tonight. But this was also a decision. Sans was so lonely. Grillby was his friend, was good to be around. He could decide to enjoy “Grillby’s” company. Decide to enjoy…
The monster reached for Sans, and warm hands brushed over Sans’ face, pulling him gently forward. Not insistently. Only enough so that Sans would have to be responsible for what happened next.
He really was trash.
Sans’ mouth closed the distance between them, closed them into a hot kiss that crackled over his cheeks.
Grillby picked him up and carried him to the bed, still deep in a kiss as he moved him. He sat Sans down at the edge of the mattress. He knelt between Sans’ legs and hiked his shirt up to expose his ribs.
This thing wasn’t really Grillby. It wasn’t Grillby, Sans reminded himself as the fiery hands glided over him, tickled his ribs and brushed up his spine. A flaming tongue slid over a rib, and Sans’ whole body tensed in reaction to the pleasure.
As the face of his friend looked up at him in concern, for once it wasn’t fear that paralyzed Sans’ body. He spoke quietly.
“Please don’t do this to him. D-don’t do this to Grillby. He d-doesn’t deserve this.”
“I’m not doing anything to Grillby, you funny little weirdo. He’s not even here.”
“I…I know, but. But I’ll be…I’ll be thinking about it, the next time I—”
The next time he what? The next time he saw Grillby? Sans hadn’t allowed himself to think deeply on that either—would he ever see Grillby again? In his entire life? Maybe if he let that thought in now, let it crush him into nothing, he would be just hopeless and pliant enough to let this monster take what it wanted from him and then go. Sans the tuna, just as advertised: lays there and does nothing. Enjoy.
Grillby cupped Sans’ face and looked into his eyes.
“Hmm. A little too bittersweet to get you off, huh? Well, I did have another idea…”
The monster stood in the middle of the room. With a flourish of an outstretched arm, the image of Grillby fell away like a shed skin and faded into thin air. Underneath, a larger form grew, its feet taking up more area and its head nearly brushing the ceiling.
King Asgore filled up a sizable portion of the little room.
At least Sans could be certain this wasn’t the real Grillby.
“Now come on, no need to look like that. I’m still not going to hurt you.”
The voice wasn’t Asgore’s—it was high pitched and playful.
“I get a lot of requests for this one, actually. It’s pretty popular. Not a chance you’ll get every day, right?”
Sans was frozen in place. His shirt was slowly sliding back down on its own to cover his ribs.
“You’re going to call me ‘sire,’ got it? Wouldn’t want you to presume to call the king by name.” The monster abruptly changed its voice to Asgore’s deep, gravelly one. “Now get over here and kneel.”
There was no way Sans could disobey that voice. Not even terror could lock his body from responding. Sans slunk up to the king and got on his knees. At this level, his head only reached Asgore’s shins. The room filled with rumbling laughter.
“That’s not going to work, is it?”
Asgore picked Sans up by his underarms and swung him around, sitting down on the bed with a flurry of his cape. He put Sans down over his lap so that Sans was draped stomach-side down over a huge thigh, his face by the king’s crotch. A large hand cupped the back of his head and ground his face into the groin.
“Get to work, you little slut.”
The voice was really too much like Asgore. The monster had clearly practiced this one. Even after seeing its transformation firsthand, Sans had to remind himself that he wasn’t really in Asgore’s lap, wasn’t really being told by the old goat himself to suck his dick. He shuddered.
“You’re trying my patience, whelp.”
Sans was pulled further forward so his face was pushed into the covers between Asgore’s knees and he was bent at the crotch over the thigh. A hand came down with a sharp slap on his behind. Sans cried out more from shock than pain.
Sans tried to reach his hands up to comply and unzip the monster’s pants, but he was held in place. The monster had barely waited a few seconds in the first place anyway. It had only wanted an excuse to do this, apparently.
“Take your punishment.”
The hand spanked Sans again. Sans hated everything about this. He hated the king, and the humiliation, and the paper thin pretense used to initiate it. And he hated especially that something about the power dynamic, about being dominated by a monster that sounded so convincingly like the king of all monsters, was actually turning him on.
Sans wanted to think that maybe Muffet had snuck a little of the pudding into his meal somehow. That this wasn’t really doing it for him, because it was about the worst way he could imagine to discover he had at least one kink. When the hand came down on him a few more times, he felt the beginning of wetness collecting at the crotch of his pants. His cunt had formed purely out of arousal.
Of course Sans wasn’t lucky enough for that to escape the other monster’s notice. From behind, a thick finger stroked up between the folds of Sans’ pussy through the fabric of his shorts.
“Enjoying your punishment just a bit too much, aren’t you? That’s no good.” The monster pulled Sans’ shorts down. “Bad little sluts are a lot more difficult to punish.” He slipped his finger into Sans and used his other hand to rub hard at the clit. Sans felt heat in his face. Even in the red room, it was probably glowing. He bit a whine into his hand as his clit was tweaked, a jolt of pleasure coursing through him.
The hands were enveloping him so completely. The monster that called him useless, that looked at him with utter disdain—like he was lower than gum on his shoe—was fingering him solely to bring him to orgasm. It wasn’t him. It was just some other monster who looked, and sounded, and probably fucked exactly like him.
This wasn’t even something Sans should want, or something his body should want. He should despise the king for lying to his brother, for holding his power over them both, but how useless and loathsome could Sans really be when the king was thrusting his finger into him, praising him for being such a good slut, for making such good little noises, and this was so fucked up—
“What do you call me, Sans?”
“And what does a dirty little slut like you want?”
“Nn! Ah…to…I-I want…”
“’I want to come, sire.’ Say it.”
“I…ha! I w-want to come, sire.”
“Good. So good.”
The fake Asgore pulled his finger out and grabbed Sans by the ankles. He laid Sans partially on his back on the bed, curling all the way over him so Sans’ knees were on the king’s shoulders, his feet up in the air. The change in position barely took a moment from removing the fingers to the king’s tongue plunging between Sans’ legs. Sans gasped.
The tongue made short work of him before Sans was crying out again, the pleasure building back up to a crescendo. His pussy contracted around the tongue. He leaned his head back and let his tongue loll out. Asgore squeezed San’s thighs, and Sans automatically responded.
“I’m g-gonna…I’m gonna come…I’m gonna come…”
The tongue thrust harder and Sans’ hips jerked involuntarily. The tightness released, ecstasy crashing through him in convulsions.
“I’m com-…ah…ohh…I’m c-coming…”
With the tongue keeping up the beating pace, Sans was overstimulated past a breaking point—the orgasm turned into two, and then three. Sans’ face pulled into a sloppy grin. The tongue came out of him and Asgore moved to suck on his clit, stretching the feeling on and on. Sans pressed his groin into the king’s mouth. The king spoke into his crotch.
“How did I make you feel, Sans?”
“How was it?”
Didn’t he already answer that? He must want something more specific. Sans lay his head back and panted.
“It…y-you made me come really…hard. I came a l-lot.”
Apparently that was a good enough answer. The monster rolled even further forward and kissed Sans right on the mouth. Sans could taste his own magic. The motion intoxicated him, turned him on even more.
Good enough to be the king’s personal little whore, at least. Good enough to be kissed directly on the mouth.
Asgore picked him up again and sat himself in a reclining position, undoing his zipper. He pulled a thick erection out of his pants.
“Now you may.”
Sans crawled over and opened his mouth over the cock, slowly lowering his face over it to lick around the head. He popped it out of his mouth and licked from the base of the shaft up to the tip.
He was still hazy from the orgasms, and evidently this wasn’t snuffing out his arousal any. If anything, the texture, the heat, the sounds were all just getting to him more. For once he was imagining the member inside him, and the thought filled him with heated anticipation rather than dread.
He bobbed his mouth over the head again, sucking at it, sliding his tongue over the slit, and he gazed up at Asgore’s face with glassy eyes.
“I told you this was a popular one, didn’t I?”
Sans was taken by the shoulders and pushed onto his back. This was it. He spread his legs open for the king to enter him. The monster put his hands on either side of Sans’ head and drew his face close to Sans’, but Sans didn’t feel anything go inside him.
The king was studying his face. It probably looked a mess.
“Wow. I thought for sure the lovey-dovey thing would do it for you, but you’re a lot dirtier than I expected.”
The voice was wrong again. Sans lifted his hips against the king’s chest, trying to get him to keep going. Now that he’d finally found some distracting pleasure in all this, he wasn’t eager to halt things or be teased about it.
“I’ve got one more I want to do.”
The monster got up and slid off the bed. He walked toward the wall.
“Come over here.”
Sans hopped off the bed and started to follow, but got an uneasy feeling he couldn’t explain to himself as the other monster leaned back against the wall. Sans’ arousal was inexplicably dissipating into nothing, being replaced by a quiet anxiety.
The monster put on a show of making a decision. It spoke quietly, barely above a whisper, but Sans heard every word.
“I wonder how dirty you really are?”
And when Sans caught the look in the monster’s eye, somehow he knew.
“How about you call me…”
“No. Don’t. Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare—”
A perfect copy of Papyrus stood in the shadows.
Sans stumbled backwards. The Papyrus copy didn’t follow. It stood regally upright against the wall. Sans fell to the floor and scooted himself further away with rapidly kicking feet.
“Come here, Sans.”
Sans froze. Something about the phrase had been drilled very effectively into him. But Onion’s training lost an internal battle against deep revulsion. Sans stayed where he was, and the Papyrus copy did too. That look it was giving him—it was psyching him out, wanted to break his spirit by getting him to come to him on his own—
Or maybe not. Sans caught the flash of a lens in the corner above the monster. Did it know the camera was there? Was it against the wall on purpose? Did it know it happened to be in the best blind spot in the room? That couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?
But why would it…unless it was doing something it wasn’t supposed to. Muffet had let Sans endure a number of horrors already without stepping in once, but maybe this was finally something she wouldn’t allow. If she knew it was happening.
Sans remembered the monster in the monitoring room, toggling the sound of the different displays. Had they heard the monster use Papyrus’ voice, or had they missed it? Was he speaking too softly? They needed to get the visual.
Sans just had to stay over here in the middle of the room, where nothing could hide from the cameras, and wait. Either the monster would be drawn out and his game would be up, or he would give up and do something less utterly despicable. Sans looked at the door.
“Don’t like this one? Okay, how about this?”
Sans looked back. Gaster was peering out at him from the dark.
“It was my second choice, but by the look on your face, maybe it should have been first.”
He stepped out of the corner, light falling over his dark coat. It wasn’t a very good impression of the voice, but the coat was right, down to the scuffed buttons. Or it was wrong. Very, very wrong. Sans looked over at the door again. Gaster—the fake Gaster was out of the blind spot, and still approaching.
“Waiting for someone? We can pass the time with a game. Doctor? Or maybe ‘don’t tell the babysitter’? How about a nice spanking, since you liked that so much before?”
Screw Muffet. Sans reached under his own rib cage and fumbled at his soul. He had to blast this monster’s face off, had to get the tracker out, even if he had to smash the damn thing open. But no matter how desperately he scratched at it, he couldn’t seem to get in contact with his soul. Something else that had been done to him, probably—a precaution against self harm. Or self-termination, which was looking pretty good right about now.
“Fucking—come on, come on—”
The Gaster impersonation grabbed Sans by the wrists and held him up so his feet no longer touched the floor. Sans kicked his legs out wildly. His eye was burning red, a bright glow against the soft lighting of the room.
“Now now, be a good boy for daddy.”
“fuck you fuck you fuck you”
“Is that any way to speak to your father?”
The monster tossed Sans onto the bed. Sans scrambled up in a tangle of sheets, only to be met with a spoon so close to his face it nearly shoved into his mouth from his forward momentum.
“Say ‘ah,’ Sans.”
The monster reached to grab Sans’ chin, but Sans pedaled backward at lightning speed.
Sans hit the wall. He’d cornered himself on the bed. The Gaster copy loomed over him and held his face in one hand. Sans scrabbled at the hand holding him and tried to yank his head to the side. The spoon came closer.
“No! No! No! You can’t do this to me!”
The spoon was forced into his mouth. Sans gagged on it. When it was taken out, he spat.
“You’re not going to like how I do this now.”
One hand clamped over Sans’ mouth and pegged his head against the wall. Another hand held up a cup of the drug. The monster tipped it into Sans’ eye socket. Sans screamed into the hand and thrashed his limbs. But by the time the monster let him go, he could feel the substance making its sluggish journey inside him.
Sans curled into a ball.
“Oh god. Oh my god. Oh my god.”
The monster pet Sans’ back.
“There’s no need to be so difficult. You’re going to enjoy it, of course.”
“Get off the bed and stand up, please.”
Muffet. Muffet was here. Sans’ head snapped up. She was flanked by two large guards. The client had gotten off the bed and was standing next to it. Muffet looked at Sans.
“Sans, is that your father? Is that Gaster?”
Sans scrambled to the side of the bed and vomited.
“Is that Gaster, Sans?”
At first Sans misunderstood what it was she was asking. The room spun.
“It’s not him. It’s n-not…it’s not really…it’s not really him…”
He took heaving breaths and put his arms over his head, legs scrunching up behind him.
“See? He says I’m not him.”
Someone touched Sans’ back. Sans bolted toward the now open door. One of the guards caught him and held him up, its fists wrapped all the way around each of Sans’ upper arms just under the shoulder. Sans let out a wail of despair.
Muffet spoke again.
“You’re going to have to leave.”
“You only said not to turn into Papyrus. You never mentioned Gaster.”
“Funny, I didn’t think I needed to. This is strike two. You should leave now.”
“You can’t do this to me. You didn’t tell me that. I didn’t even finish! I sure got your little whore off plenty, though.”
Muffet tapped two feet impatiently.
“Fine. Fine! You can come on him, not inside him, and I’m going to stay here. Then you go.”
“That’s more like it.”
Sans made a desperate bid for escape, but the guard held him tight. They lowered him to the floor and forced him onto his knees. He looked fearfully up at the face of Gaster, looking down at him with an expression he’d never seen on his father’s face.
“Change form first.”
The monster changed back into Asgore. He started stroking his cock furiously over Sans’ face. Sans shut his eyes. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be really happening.
The room was uncomfortably quiet except for the slapping of flesh. Sans had to make himself open his eyes and watch so that he could override his imagination with Asgore’s face. It was only a little better.
After an interminable wait filled with deep grunts and moans, Asgore’s eyes rolled up in his head and he hunched over with a relieved growl of pleasure. Cum squirted onto Sans’ face. Sans looked down at the floor, feeling the cum dribbling over his brows and coming disgustingly close to entering his eyes.
The cock was rubbed against Sans’ teeth, smearing cum around his mouth. Sans shook, trying to recoil but unable to.
“That’s enough. You’re going to be walked out, and you’ll leave in your base form.”
“Aw, don’t spoil the mystery for my other lovers.”
“You won’t be seeing your other ‘lovers’ if you flaunt my rules again. I won’t have you leave looking like that and starting a commotion.”
The monster dropped its disguise. It was a moldbygg.
The monster squirmed out of the room, escorted by the other guard. Muffet turned to Sans.
“You can stop fighting, dear, he’s gone.”
Sans continued to strain at the hold as hard as he could, his eye bursting back into life and lighting up his whole face.
“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? YOU FUCKING ANIMALS!”
Muffet looked taken aback.
“I told him to leave. Weren’t you listening? I came in here, didn’t I?”
“As if that’s it. ‘Strike two’? What the hell is that?”
“No, don’t you—don’t fucking act all sweet to me. As if you’re not gonna throw me at him the next time he waves more money in your face, you bitch!”
He kicked his legs out.
“As if you d-don’t already have monsters…coming into my room, doing anything they w-want, any time you want…” He started to droop in the other monsters’ grip. “And the…n-next time a monster wants to d-do me looking like my dead dad? Who knows, maybe you’ll look the other way if they p-pay you enough…”
Muffet went up to Sans and started wiping the cum from his face with a handkerchief. He felt some drip in his eye, and he lashed out impotently.
“Fuck you, Muffet! Fuck you! F-fuck you…!
“oh god, I’m sorry, I didn’t—please d-don’t tell Asgore.”
At that, Muffet looked surprised.
“Tell…Asgore? About that client impersonating him? I wouldn’t worry about that, Sans, he’s done that before. I think the king knows, honestly, and either he doesn’t care or…maybe he likes the idea of it just a little. Don’t tell him I said that, now…”
Muffet read Sans’ confusion.
“…what is it, dear?”
And then Sans knew.
Muffet didn’t have any intention of using Papyrus against him, of threatening him with harm to keep Sans in line. As far as she was concerned, Sans didn’t need to be blackmailed to be here. And at this point, she was right.
He was already as caught as he was going to get.
She wouldn’t care if the dogs ratted on him, would she? Even if Asgore didn’t want that. Muffet had already gotten what she wanted out of her deal with Asgore, and if the dogs spoiled it for the king, that was no skin off her nose. She wouldn’t be culpable, and if Papyrus stopped being a good soldier because of…whatever reaction he might have, how would that even affect her?
Muffet lifted Sans’ face, waking him from the dizzying spiral of thoughts.
“Don’t you fret, now. That client’s off your list, at least. I won’t make you see him again. And because you’re very stressed, I’m also going to forget about your little outburst at me. But Sans.”
She gripped his chin tight.
“That’s the only time you’ll ever get away with calling me a bitch. Understand?”
Sans gulped. He nodded.
The guard let go of him. Muffet walked to the door and motioned for Sans to follow her. He padded shakily behind her down the hall.
“It wouldn’t normally take me so long to intervene, but I didn’t know what Gaster looked like. I did notice that something seemed odd, though…and I took a guess.” She turned back to look at Sans. “I’ll get you nice and cleaned up, we’ll get you cozy in a blanket, and you’ll have the day off tomorrow. How does that sound?”
Muffet was using some hands she wasn’t looking at to mark something on a clip board. It looked like it said ‘moldbygg’ on it. Muffet caught Sans eyeing it and edged it out of sight, still scribbling.
“You said that client was on strike two. Of three?”
“What was strike one?”
Muffet put a hand to her face in thought.
“…a similar incident, actually. He took the form of one of Cecil’s dead family members. Cecil didn’t do too well after that…I had to change their schedule a lot, cut down their clients and give them other jobs on the side…”
She looked at the clipboard.
“Two doesn’t exactly establish a pattern, but I think it’s safe to guess he’ll do the same thing again. I wonder if I should go ahead and ban him…”
She saw Sans staring at her.
“You can make that face all you like, but there’s a limited client pool in the Underground, after all. I have to be very careful about who I cut off completely.”
Sans mumbled. “…must be so hard for you.”
Muffet wouldn’t care. She wouldn’t care about Papyrus knowing the truth, or being killed; she didn’t give a shit about Sans or any of the other workers under her. She probably wouldn’t even think it was strange if Sans asked her if he could see more clients at once. Hell, maybe she’d be proud. Her eyes would light up with dollar signs, and if she had any conscience to assuage, she’d convince herself that he was asking because he’d gained confidence or something.
He may as well get this taken care of.
“Muffet, I…I have something else to ask you.”
It seemed Sans had puked up the sex drug in time to spare him most of its effects. He had some mutedly sexual dreams that thankfully didn’t use any of the material he’d gathered in the past couple days. The dreams were vague and unsatisfying, unconsummated—but that was hardly something he could complain about.
Sans’ ‘day off’ came with a surprise. A bunny was waiting for him in the hall. Clarence’s greeting was more subdued than usual.
“I thought I might give another shot at visiting you, if you’re in better sorts today.”
Sans stared at the ground. Clarence looked over his face.
Was Sans reading this right, or did the bunny really feel awkward? That made two of them. A normal monster might be self-conscious about the way they’d parted the other day, but Sans had thought he wasn’t dealing with a normal monster. Surprisingly, Sans found he had something to say to break the silence.
“Your advice—about the cameras. It actually got me out of something…something…pretty bad.”
Clarence looked conflicted.
“You wouldn’t have liked it. It was really gross.”
“Oh, well, I’m always happy to prevent something gross.”
They both stood in silence again. Sans wasn’t going to say it. There was no point. Clarence wasn’t a good monster, wasn’t going to respond to something like—but for some reason, the words were already coming out.
“You left me there.”
The bunny didn’t respond, and it probably wasn’t because he was waiting for clarification, even though it felt like it was.
“At the rotten egg street. You left me there all night.”
Sans must have had an overdose of Muffet’s special pudding, because he knew it would take a hallucinogenic nightmare for Clarence to say:
“I am sorry.”
The bunny looked contemplative.
“It was definitely personal. Just not towards you. I realize I may have…misdirected my anger, and for that I apologize.” Clarence looked sideways at Sans. “It really is a shame what’s happened to you. I mean that. And I’m honestly sorry for my part in it.”
No, this wasn’t allowed to happen. They weren’t allowed to talk about things at this level of horror in a way normal monsters might talk about standing up a dinner invitation. The bunny could either be consistently cruel to him, or he could go back in time and not have done all the things he’d done to him. There was no in between for this.
Sans sat down on the floor against the wall and put his head in his hands. Clarence sat down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, holding out his other hand with an open palm.
Sans couldn’t let this happen to himself. Not out of desperation, not out of the terrible, crushing isolation from the outside.
Because there could be no coming back from this. It was too far.
Sans lowered one hand away from his face and, without looking up, gripped the bunny’s offered one.
“Okay, let’s get some things straight. You don’t want to fuck me.”
“I’m sure you’ve gathered by now that sex doesn’t interest me.”
“You still want to torture me, though.”
Clarence looked surprised. “Oh, of course!”
What a good friend.