Chapter 4

Red Light District

Chapter 4: Something’s crawling

The next day at breakfast, Sans avoided Cecil entirely. It would be better for both of them if they didn’t get too friendly. Sans would have to be dead not to appreciate that the mouse had helped him, but the thought of another weak monster suffering in his place made his soul churn. Sans wasn’t worthy of that kind of sacrifice.

To prolong the time before he would have to decide where he would eat his food, Sans stared down the pudding cups at the end of the line.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Muffet was behind him.

“Do you want to try it, Sans?”


He wasn’t sure if he had a choice. He definitely couldn’t make it through if he was going to react like he did last night every time. Maybe living out this life in a drugged up haze wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he could come to enjoy it.

But even when he’d overdosed so bad on the drug that the walls were spewing psychedelic fish at him, he’d been aware enough to not want to touch himself. Maybe there wasn’t a magic solution, so to speak, for everything that was wrong with him.

Muffet gave Sans a considering look. She took a pudding cup and placed it on Sans’ tray with an air of finality, showing Sans an encouraging smile.

“This one’s for you today.”

Sans had never felt so wary of pudding before.


Before letting Sans eat any of the pudding, Muffet took it and him to a private room. She’d allowed him to change into some of his old clothes, to put him more at ease, she said. She directed Sans to a comfortable chair and waited for him to sit down.

Immediately after sitting down, Sans wanted to get back up. He didn’t want to get fucked again already, which was where this looked like it was going. Or maybe Muffet was just going to watch him lose himself to a torturous arousal that he couldn’t and wouldn’t want to do anything about. He wasn’t sure which would be worse. He fidgeted in the chair.

Muffet got down on her many knees and put her hands on the arms of the chair.

“Now Sans. I know you didn’t choose to be here, but it’s really nothing to make such a fuss about. This is just a regular job. A lot of monsters do it. They do work that’s much more difficult than what you’ll have to do, and they do it without complaint.”

Was this supposed to make him feel better, or make him feel more like garbage? He was too pitiful to do what the lowliest whore could do easily. Muffet put a hand on Sans’ knee.

“Don’t fret, dear. You’re going to be fine. This won’t be hard at all.”

Sans had a ridiculous notion of trying to explain to Muffet how scared he was. How fear smothered him in every waking moment, and in sleeping ones, too. How it felt like a physical weight that made it impossible to move quickly or interact with anyone normally.

But those weren’t things you talked about, not even outside of Red City. Who would take you seriously if you let yourself fall this far without feeling real pain even once in your life? Just the fact that Sans was still alive, that his 1 HP remained untouched, was proof that all of this was something any other monster could have handled.

“I’m a little concerned about your reaction the first time you took this on accident, so I’m going to test the dosage on you. I think your low tolerance might have something to do with your 1 HP…anyway, I’ll be monitoring you carefully. You’re not going to see any clients today, so go ahead and relax.”

Despite himself, Sans did relax at that just a bit. Muffet stood up and pulled on six pairs of pink latex gloves with fancy latex frills in lace-like patterns. Sans wondered where you got accessories like that in the Underground.

“You’re a little shy of sex, aren’t you?”

Sans was no longer relaxed.

“Before we try the drug, I want to see your normal reaction. I’m going to put a hand on you over your clothes. Just breathe deeply, dear.”

Muffet touched one hand to Sans’ crotch over his pants. Sans went rigid. The hand didn’t rub or stroke, and it barely stayed there for ten seconds.

“Are you okay?”

Was she joking? Did she think he was that weak? Sans spoke through gritted teeth.

“I’m fine.”

“Now I’m going to touch your magic. Make a pussy, please.”

Sans gathered his magic at his groin. Muffet reached into his pants and slid a gloved finger delicately up the lips of the pussy. Sans didn’t want to think he was this fucked up, but just the light touch was enough to stir the itching, wormy feeling. Sans shook and drew his knees inward. Muffet drew the hand out of his pants.

“That’s enough of that.” She used another hand to rub Sans’ back. “Deep breaths, take deep breaths honey. Go ahead and dispel if you want to.”

Sans immediately let his pussy disappear into nothing, relieved by its absence. Muffet moved away from him and picked up the pudding cup and a measuring spoon she’d laid out.

“This should help sort you out a bit. I need you to be direct with me about how this makes you feel so I can change the mixture if it doesn’t work right on you. And tell me if it makes you nauseous.”

Muffet measured out a very exact amount of pudding on a teaspoon, scraping excess off the top. Despite the circumstances, Sans couldn’t help feeling the tiniest bit insulted. He knew a full cup of the stuff had been too much, but he was sure he wasn’t that much of a light-weight.

She fed him the teaspoonful, then started fishing around her pockets.

“Feel anything yet, honey?”

“Uh…I think the dosage was too low.”

Muffet finally seemed to find the right pocket and took out a small tube from it.

“I don’t think so, dear, you’re very small. Give me just a moment, and let me know if you start to feel something. And no need to be embarrassed, I’ve seen it all.”

She squeezed the tube’s contents onto her gloved hands, spreading lubricant thickly over all her fingers. Watching the deliberate movements of the long fingers sliding over each other, the clear goop slipping around with audible squelching, made Sans feel heat and magic gather in his groin. There was no way a teaspoon was enough to do anything, but to feel slick fingers inside him, spreading him, rubbing against his clit—

“Dear, you’re blushing. Please be honest with me. I’m not trying to shame you.”

Sans pressed his legs together and hid his face in his hands, groaning. “Nooo, no, no, nope. Nothing happening. Nothing at all.” He hadn’t even formed his cunt again on purpose, why was it there already? Why did it already have to be dripping wet?

Muffet walked up to him and touched his wrist with a wet glove, but made no move to pry his hands from his face. Sans heard her voice near him. Her tone was gentle.

“You realize if you try to lie to me about the dosage, you’d just end up with an overdose later? Lucky for you I’ve been around the block once or twice. Just don’t be so silly, all right sweetie?”

“….it’s working.”

“Yes it is, dear. Now I’m going to start touching you again, all right? I won’t hurt you.”

Muffet pulled Sans’ shorts down, and Sans complied. She grabbed one of his thigh bones in one hand, pushing it up against his torso. Another hand stroked the folds of his cunt, then spread the lips slightly open, and a third hand touched a finger to the opening. Sans shuddered in anticipation. An unoccupied hand rubbed his cheek.

One finger entered him almost unnecessarily slowly. Even without the lube, he was too wet for it to hurt. Sans felt himself being checked.

“Need a little more?”

A thought occurred to Sans—was the reason Onion always seemed to know certain things about Sans’ mood, his physical state, because he had been using checking in some unusual way? Sans had never thought to use it to find out more than a monster’s HP.

Sans tried covertly checking Muffet.

*Muffet. More hands than anyone needs, but always finds a use for all of them. Has leaned so far into the curve, she’s long since forgotten that what she does for a living is awful.

That explained some things.

Muffet squeaked. “Ooh! Don’t be fresh, dearie.” She tapped one palm lightly on the side of Sans’ face.

The finger in Sans dipped in and out of him, hooking around to push at a sensitive spot inside. Sans found himself relaxing and spreading his legs wider without any prompting. Another finger entered him, followed by a third, all of them playing him like a piano.

Sans leaned back into the chair and let out a breathy sigh.

“That’s it, sweetie. Just enjoy yourself.”

It was pretty nice. Maybe this was close to how normal monsters felt like when they did it, and all it had taken was coercion and a sex drug to loosen Sans up.

Some of Muffet’s hands reached under Sans’ clothes and brushed his ribs, his spine, his hips. He wanted so badly to ask for more. He didn’t know what on earth was stopping him. He was already literally a whore, officially now with his first client under his belt. There was no way his mysteriously stubborn reserves of pride mattered anymore, but it seemed that asking to be pet was still just beyond the pale.

Muffet pulled her hand out. Sans made a noise of protest.

“There now, dear, be patient.”

She used two hands to spread him open, one to thumb his clit, and yet another hand thrust into him with two fingers. At the rougher handling, Sans felt a climax building up.

“Do you feel all right, Sans? Not nervous anymore? Everything working right?”

Sans wished she wouldn’t ask questions with such complicated answers when he was so close. He just wanted her to make him come, to feel release, for the fingers to keep moving like this and not stop. He moaned, and Muffet appeared to take that as his response. She concentrated on moving her fingers over him, inside him.

Hands pet his spine and legs in heavy strokes, and that did it.

Sans jolted on the hand still thrusting into him, and the hand slowed down, giving a few more hard jabs. Sans squeezed his thighs together, as though holding onto the feeling.

“Good, that’s a good job. This is very encouraging, Sans. Now let’s see…I want to test your endurance, too.”

Sans gave a start. The fingers were still in him. Why were they still in him.

“What do you…mean by that?”

Muffet looked him in the eye. Her expression was bright and warm.

“This is a very powerful magic drug, dear, and we shouldn’t waste. I want to see how much I can make you come when you’re on it.”

That sounded nice enough. Who didn’t like to come? But Sans felt done, and the prospect of more couldn’t become appealing to him.

The fingers worked up a fast rhythm inside him again. Sans submitted, spreading his legs back out, letting the heat build back up and the tightness come back. He was already going to come again. A thumb rubbed his clit in circles, and Sans felt the very edge of sweetness return, tingling collecting at his inner thighs. Just one more hard press on his clit was enough to relieve him. Everything uncoiled and pleasure flushed through his body.

But something else came back too. As the fingers worked into him, worms wriggled out to meet them, and the flush of pleasure came with a slithering in the very deepest parts of him. He itched. Sans came with a cry then immediately curled into a ball. Muffet’s fingers remained buried in him as his head tucked into the crook of her arm.

Muffet sounded concerned.

“You know, you can ask me to stop if this is hurting you.”

What? Since when?

“It doesn’t hurt. It’s…it feels…gross.”

Muffet’s head drew back in surprise. “….gross? Gross how?”

“Uh…like it’s…slimy. Like something’s crawling.”

“Does it feel that way all the time?”

“No, just. Just when it’s t-touched.” Or when I get scared.

“Hmm. Lie back. I’m going to take a look.”

Muffet crouched and used the hand still in him to feel around. She pulled the hand out and held him open. Another hand took a miniature flashlight out of a pocket and shined it inside. She peered in.

“Onion already rechecked you for problems…it doesn’t look like there’s anything.”

Onion had checked him? So he had touched Sans, just not while he was awake. He really was a heavy sleeper.

Muffet reached a third hand down somewhere behind her, and when it came back up, the fingers were coated in a sticky webbing.

“It’s sterile, dear, don’t worry.”

She took her other finger out of Sans and inserted the web-coated one. The itchy feeling came back as the web pressed inside him, sticking and unsticking from the walls.


“What? What’s ‘oh’?”

Muffet looked up at Sans with a cheery smile. “How would you like Woshua to clean you up again, dear? That would feel nice, wouldn’t it?”

“Fucking hell, Muffet, don’t treat me like a baby. What’s going on?”

Muffet frowned. “It’s completely fixable. There’s nothing permanent. Just a good wash with cleaning magic and it’s gone, I promise.”

“What, did the scarecrow guy give me sores? You told me you screened clients before—”

Muffet drew her finger out, and a bit of discolored magic was stuck to the webbing. It was writhing around like a worm, dripping out little bits of itself.

“Parasites. From the slug melding with you, I think. They weren’t in your soul, but they must have reformed whenever you made—Sans? Are you okay?”

“That wasn’t…in my head? Those things were really—”

The world went black.


Who was moaning like that? They needed to keep it down, or turn off the porn or something, because all Sans wanted to do right now was sleep and keep dreami—

Oh shit. That was him.

Something was gushing hard into his cunt, and it felt amazing. A couple fingers were in his soul, stimulating it so his cunt had formed while he was unconscious. When he showed signs of having woken up, though, the fingers were taken out and the gushing stopped. Woshua drew the hose out of him. Sans tried to get up, but he was being held in place by a thick webbing.

“What the fuck is—!”

“Oh, I’m sorry dearie. I was afraid you might struggle and hurt yourself when you woke up. You’ve been known to panic just a little.”

Sans stayed still. Not that he had many options. Woshua wiped the nozzle of his hose. He looked at Sans.

“It’s not done. Did you want to finish cleaning now?”

Was he really being given a choice? Sans glanced up at Muffet. She smiled at him, but didn’t give him instruction. Okay, this was really up to him.

He wanted to say no just to test how it felt. But then again…


“Woshua can clean you later, it’s not a problem. Miss Muffet said you might be upset if I tried it while you were awake.”


“It is also acceptable if you want Woshua’s services now. I like to clean.”

“Uh, well, kind of, it’s just, uh…”

“Oh. It is fine if it makes you climax. Woshua is used to it.”


“I am very skilled at inducing orgasms. Also, you are still being stimulated by aphrodisiacs.”

“Okay, okay, fine, do it, just stop talking! Just…stop talking, Woshua.”

“You are sure?”

“For fuck’s sake, just do it. Just get this stuff out of me.”

The hose went back in and the spray turned back on. Sans shuddered at the intensity of the spray, the webbing only barely keeping his back from arching an embarrassing amount. Something unpleasant was breaking down inside him, flushing out, leaving only a tight, building heat in its place. And that heat was humiliating, was making his eyes roll up in his head and was coaxing deep, throaty moans from him.

But holy hell this felt good. A potent mixture of relief and pleasure washed over him.


Woshua glanced at him briefly. He looked annoyed. Sans was past caring. His hips came up to meet the hose, and it obligingly pushed deeper into him. Sans felt the spray hit all the way in the back, felt the last of something clingy disappear and his cunt fill up with nothing but pure, clean water. That final sense of expulsion, of being cleansed, pushed him over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—!”

Even though the work was done, the hose benevolently ground into him, carrying him through the flood of orgasm. Sans’ legs jolted with satisfied tremors.

Then the hose was taken out, and Sans lay back, panting. He was sprayed in the face. Startled, he gave Woshua a perplexed look.

“Your mouth…so dirty.”

And with that, Woshua waddled out of the room, apparently offended.


Sans hadn’t come out of his room since Muffet left him there. Just as he expected, she stopped by again after he’d failed to show up to the cafeteria for lunch, and dinner was approaching. She let herself in and then knocked on his open door. That was the wrong order, but whatever.

“How long are you going to mope like this, Sans?”

“As long as I fucking want.”

“Don’t be disobedient, Sans, I’m not in the mood to discipline you. I’m feeling very accomplished today.”

Muffet closed the door behind her and went up to Sans’ curled form on the bed. Sans looked at her miserably.

“Those things were…they were in me for…weeks. For weeks.”

“Yes, and we healed you of them.” Muffet waved four of her hands and gave a small ‘yayyy.’

Right, he’d been healed of them. With literal magical healing sex, no less.

And it really had worked. Sans no longer felt the crawling sensation at the merest hint that he’d have to engage in sex. Muffet had made sure—she’d pawed at him after the parasites were cleaned, and other than Sans going a little stiff, there was no reaction. But that was part of the problem.

Sans had a realization after his afternoon nap was cut short by a nightmare. It was a familiar one by now—he’d had variations of it ever since the slug. But before, it always came with a very realistic recall of certain feelings. He’d thought that was a part of his trauma, but this time, the feelings had been more dull, less substantial. Which meant that before, when he’d felt things like…the itchiness of the slug’s magic melding with him, the worms gushing into him like an ejaculation…excited wriggling…those feelings had all actually been—

Sans didn’t think it was possible to feel even more completely violated. And the problem had already been dealt with. As cruel as it was, Sans could see Muffet’s point. Moping about it now was not only too late, it was utterly pointless. But telling himself that didn’t make him want to get up from bed any more than he did before.

“Well, I’m not going to allow you to wallow in here.”

“Why not? What do you care if I miss dinner. When’s the next time I have to see a client?”

“Right now, if I want you to.”

At that, Sans bolted upright.

“You do realize I’ve been very easy on you? Your client list has been backed up since before you were officially here. If you remember, there were monsters asking for you; that’s why I took you in in the first place. Isn’t that flattering?”

Sans shuddered in response.

“There now, dear…”

Muffet bent close to him, and Sans almost thought she was moving to embrace him. But when she touched him, she took his arms by the wrists and held them above his head.

“Onion spent a lot of time teaching you what to do, but I think what you really need is to get more comfortable being helpless.”

Sans looked at Muffet in disbelief. Muffet wrapped Sans’ wrists up in her sticky webbing.

“W-wait…but. We’re still in my room.”


“We c-can’t do that in here.”

Muffet jumped on the bed and hopped easily up onto the ceiling.

“I don’t see why not, it’s just a room. It doesn’t make a difference.”

It did make a difference, but Sans couldn’t articulate why. Muffet attached her thread to the ceiling and lowered herself above Sans’ head. She grabbed his wrists and tied the threads together, then began pulling in the slack so that Sans was hoisted above the bed, his feet dangling in the air.

Sans took heaving breaths. Muffet crawled down the thread, facing him from her upside-down position.

“I don’t…like this.”

“I know, dearie.”

“I d-d-don’t wanna do this.”

“Oh, honey.”

No one cares what you want. Right.

Muffet climbed down Sans’ body and reached for a leg. She made to tug it upward.

Sans didn’t need the parasites crawling inside him to vividly call back being dragged up by his knees.

“N-no no no no no!

Muffet dropped Sans’ leg in surprise.


“D-d-don’t…put me upside down, p-please. I’m n-not. I’m not ready.”

Muffet climbed up in reverse. The thread jostled more from Sans’ shaking than her movement. She took out a handkerchief and wiped Sans’ eyes.

“That’s the last request you get, all right dear?”

“oh god why is this h-happening when am I d-done…?”

“Shh, there now, look at me.”

Muffet framed Sans’ face with several of her hands.

“Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. It belongs to me.”

Muffet was extremely bad at this comforting business.

She flipped herself down to the floor. Sans’ legs were still within her reach. She took one ankle at a time and wrapped webbing around them, securing threads from them to the floor so that Sans was stuck with his arms over his head and his legs spread, with very little give.

“I don’t want that to frighten you, Sans. I take good care of my little worker bees. From what I understand, I may be taking better care of you than you’ve taken care of yourself.”

Muffet climbed the wall and lowered herself from the ceiling again, this time fashioning a little swinging seat of webbing for herself in far less time than that should have taken. She was face to face with Sans again, him bound immobile and her in a delicately spun swing. With her typical frilly outfit on, and the way she wrapped her arms around the threads of her swing, she looked like a Rococo painting.

“Now, what is it that you think is going to happen to you like this?”

If this were a client, Sans would think they were trying to intimidate him, taunting him with the unknown, but that probably wasn’t Muffet’s intention.

“I-I don’t know.”

“You must be picturing something. What is it you’re afraid of?”

“I’m not that imaginative. I just…don’t like it.”

“Well now. How about we get you liking it a little more?”

Muffet took out a teaspoon with something on it. She brought it close to Sans’ mouth, and he immediately turned away.

“No…no! Don’t make me take that!”

Muffet grabbed Sans by the chin and held his mouth open with another hand. She shoved the teaspoon in, and Sans didn’t bother fighting her off any further. He swallowed.

“That’s it. That’s it. No more of this fussing.”

She pinched his cheek.

While she waited for the drug to take effect, Muffet played with the fur lining the hood of Sans’ snow coat.

“Hm. This really suits you pretty well. I wonder if I can design a suit that matches it better…you’ve got a brand, after all.”

When her fingers brushed closer to his face as she pet the fur, heat rushed through Sans’ cheeks. Reacting to such an innocent touch was somehow more embarrassing than the drug preparing his body for sex. Muffet looked thoughtfully at Sans’ glowing face as he tried to pull it back into the hood.

“You’re really starved for affection, aren’t you? You poor thing.”

Muffet stroked Sans’ face more purposefully, rubbing his temples with the tips of her fingers and dancing her hands down to his cheeks, then his jaw. Sans drew in a breath and tried squeezing his legs together, but they were held tight. She’d already seen everything, but he didn’t want her to look down in that moment.

She slid her hands down his face and to his shoulders, massaging them, then reached into his collar to brush at his clavicle. Sans’ breath hitched. Muffet looked down, just like he knew she would, because he didn’t get anything private at all. He didn’t get to be turned on by stroking like some kind of sex pet and not have it remarked on. Not even Onion and his insistence on Sans announcing his orgasms had made him feel this exposed.

Muffet looked Sans in the eye, her expression fond, and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“You know, if you opened your mind up a bit more, you might see that this place isn’t so bad for you. It’s certainly the only place you can admit you need to be touched, and get what you want.”

She dipped another pair of hands into his pants and rubbed up and down his thighs. Her kneading fingers made his legs twitch, only to meet the resistance of the spider thread. He wanted those fingers to knead just a little higher, right where the thighs met the pelvis, just a little more…

“Do you want me to finger you, Sans?”

“…no, I…I d-don’t want…I don’t…”

Muffet used another hand to run a finger up the lips of Sans’ pussy through the fabric of his shorts. She drew it slightly away, a dripping thread of juices trailing from the finger to his crotch. Muffet giggled. A sticky wet spot had been steadily collecting at the crotch of his shorts.

“Did you make it already?”

Sans wasn’t sure if she was asking if he’d made his pussy or if he’d come in his pants. He gave another shot at burying his face in the fur of his hood, but Muffet still had a clear enough view of him.

“I didn’t…form it on purpose.”

A hand flew to Muffet’s mouth in genuine surprise.

“You couldn’t even control it? Oh Sans, that’s perfect. If only you could do something that cute and spontaneous on command.”

Sans muttered. “Then it wouldn’t be spontaneous.”

“Don’t be cheeky.” Muffet leaned back in her swing and looked Sans up and down. “Which reminds me, there’s something missing.”

She leaned towards him again.

“We could do without your attitude, couldn’t we?”

Muffet coated one of her hands in webbing and brought it close to Sans’ face. To his mouth. Sans whipped his head away.

“No! I…I mean. I won’t. I won’t say stuff like that, I’m s-sorry. Don’t cover my mouth.”

“Oh Sans, I was just teasing you. This isn’t a punishment.”

How could this not be a punishment? Muffet’s voice buzzed from somewhere far away as Sans took in sharp breaths. She was spouting some bullshit about how being helpless could make you feel free, free of care or responsibility, and maybe that kind of thing worked if this was something you wanted to do. But Sans didn’t know what was going to happen to him once he couldn’t move or speak, couldn’t breathe—not that he needed to, but when he couldn’t it made him panic.

Muffet’s hand came up to cover his mouth again, and Sans felt the same terror he experienced back when Onion first told him he wasn’t allowed to ask him to stop. Sans jerked his head to the side.

“No no Muffet don’t do it, please don’t do it, I can’t handle that, I can’t—”

“Sans, behave yourself! Hold still!”

“No I’m d-done, I’m done, I w-wanna be done—”

Sans’ face was jolted to the side and his cheek stung. It took him a full second to realize that Muffet had slapped him. He kept his face looking away from her, gaze unfocused from shock.

Sans felt Muffet check him.

Well that’s useless. If I’m not dead, that tells you all you need to know.

Sans was just on the edge of dissolving into a self-pitying mess, but that would only get him in more trouble, so he did his best to hold it back. The only way to make this stop was to give in, and then eventually it would be over. He might even have to convince Muffet he was enjoying it if he didn’t want her to surprise him like this again later.

At least the drug made that a little easier. Although he’d kind of thought that along with turning him on, it would make him more relaxed than this. It didn’t dull his other feelings, just made him insatiably needy on top of them, which resulted in a fairly confusing mix to go with his panics.

Sans took a deep breath and tried looking Muffet in the eye. He gave that up, looking down like an admonished child.

“Okay. Okay, I’m…good. I’m holding s-still.”

Muffet cupped his face in one hand.

“No no, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. You’re very tired, aren’t you? It’s been a long day.” She brought her face close to his and spoke softly. “Hush now. It’s going to be all right. Just a little more today.”

She swiped the webbing over his mouth, and his jaw was locked shut.

Muffet took something out of a pocket—a small pink vibrating egg with a controller attached by a cord. The number of sex-related objects in her pockets rivaled Clarence’s pockets full of torture items. It was no wonder he seemed to consider her enemy number one.

She pressed the button at the end of the cord, and the egg began to shake. She rolled it over Sans’ sealed mouth. Sans gave a muffled whine.

Muffet dragged the egg over his body, from his mouth to his chest, to his pelvis. She rubbed it on the wet spot over his shorts. His legs tried to jerk again.

The egg was slipped into his shorts, and Muffet let go of it completely, holding onto the button at the end of the cord. The egg settled in a very unsatisfying position, barely grazing him as it shuddered.

Muffet turned up the vibration speed, and then the teasing was even more unbearable. The drug made everything hot, everything sensitive, yearning for a firm touch. If she wasn’t even going to make the egg touch him, she may as well blow on him and hope for an orgasm. Sans’ whines were more insistent.

“Shh, shh, anticipation just makes it feel better, doesn’t it?”

Muffet pressed a hand against Sans’ crotch, grinding the egg against him. Sans’ whines turned into stifled moans.

“There, I’m sure you’re feeling pretty good now, aren’t you?”

Muffet put a hand down his shorts and grabbed the egg, circling it around his clit, then pushing against it. Sans’ hips shuddered and animalistic noises rumbled in his throat. Muffet tenderly brushed his face.

“I’ll bet you feel awfully silly, putting up that whole fight.”

The egg was slipped down from his clit to the opening of his cunt. It stayed there, tickling the opening. Then it was pulled away.


“Easy, easy. We’re changing positions, that’s all.”

Muffet grabbed both of Sans’ legs and snapped off the webs holding them out. She removed his shorts and pushed his legs up so his knees bent near the level of his shoulders. Then she secured him with more webs so that he was stuck midair in a crouched position, his legs spread open and his pussy fully on display. Muffet looked down at it.

“Maybe I should get you some nice panties, too. It would make things like this a lot more fun.”

She rubbed the egg against him again, and without the webs securing his legs to the floor, his shuddering made him sway. He thought he heard the drip of his fluids onto the floor. Muffet looked up at the web holding his arms up.

“That probably isn’t comfortable.”

She adjusted the height of her own swing and supported Sans in her lap, relieving the strain on his shoulders. Then she slipped the egg inside him and turned the vibration all the way up.


Muffet used all her unoccupied hands to stroke Sans under his clothes as the vibrations brought him closer to climax.

“You make some cute faces like this. Maybe I should send you in to all your clients with your mouth covered.”


have a cute face? Oh, you do go on, you flatterer you.”

Fuck you, Muffet.

Muffet pressed on his clit with a thumb and turned the vibration back and forth from a weaker setting to the strongest. Sans was only grateful for the webbing covering his mouth when it dulled the sounds he made as he came. He felt a puddle collecting underneath where he sat on Muffet’s lap.

Muffet looked pleased.

“You didn’t do too badly. Do you want me to make you come again, wear out some more of the drug’s effects?”

Sans wanted to play this cool, avoid getting more training with Muffet later, but he couldn’t disguise the pitiful tone of the noise he managed to push from his throat.

“All right, all right, we’re done.”

She pet Sans’ head.

“We’re done for today. You get to rest now.”


When Muffet finally let Sans down, undid his bindings, let him off for the evening, he didn’t want to go onto his bed. He didn’t want her to be in his room, he didn’t want to be in his room, he needed a different one, there was something wrong with this one.

Sans still couldn’t vocalize what was bothering him about his room now, and before he thought of anything the least bit substantial, Muffet had bid him goodnight and closed the door.

On his way to his bed, Sans accidentally stepped in a wet spot on the floor and his whole body went stiff. He mumbled to himself.

“this one’s dirty”

He used his jacket as a pillow and slept on the floor on the far side of the room. He dreamt that he yelled at Muffet for covering his room in webs, screamed at her that Woshua would never clean it for him because all the little spiders had moved into the webs. Sans woke up the next morning with frustrated tears still staining his face and an irrational anger at Woshua.