Work Text:
Paperwork. Piles after piles of paperwork, decorating his desk like a monochrome mountainscape.
Spamton occasionally raised his gaze up from the word vomit to look at the city through the vast window in his office. The outside did nothing to tell about the passage of time– encased in an unending lit up night that made every passing moment feel like a Friday evening–, and so the duty relied on the clock on the wall.
Ticking, ticking. The salesman had thought twice to smash it, driven crazy by the sound. He had been there for what felt like an eternity. Don’t get him wrong, having this much work meant things were going great! But…he really should start posting job vacancies for secretaries and assistants at this rate, with the amount of legal papers from customers he had to look over and sign.
The phone rang, breaking the monotonous silence. Spamton groaned, putting out his 4th cigarette in the ashtray and taking a big breath before picking up the phone. A synthetic smile was plastered on his face out of habit, despite being alone.
“Hello, this is Spamton G. Spamton speaking! What might I help you with?”
“Hey Spam, don’t worry, it’s just me.”
The puppet immediately relaxed upon hearing the voice on the other end of the line. The forced grin lowered into a genuine smile, he allowed himself to untense his shoulders and sank down into the big plush office chair.
“Hey Tenna,” he replied, far more casual after confirming it wasn’t a potential customer. “Everything okay? Bored [[Out of This World!]] over there?”
“Stop stealing my lines! I was going to ask you the same thing,” the game show host chuckled. “But to answer your question: A little bit. Filming finished wrapping up just about now.”
“Long episode?”
“We kept running into technical difficulties…” Tenna vented with frustration. “One of the contestants somehow kept getting lost on the board. Multiple times.”
“Something tells me they weren’t the [[WIN THE $10K JACKPOT!]], huh?”
His heart skipped a beat upon hearing Tenna’s laugh. He had grown to be the only person he felt comfortable around to not forcefully block out his ads.
“No jackpot! No commemorative gift! No participation prize!” Tenna played along. Spamton could imagine him in his executive office, with his feet up on the table and a finger curling the phone’s wire as they spoke. “Phew, I’m glad that guy is banned from appearing again after that… such a stressful time. Anything interesting on your end?”
“If you count passing the last five hours looking through paperwork, then sure.” He replied sarcastically. “[[FUN IS INFINITE]] over at Big Shot Autos.”
“Then… you’re not terribly excited about getting back to work?”
“Are you aching for me to return, Ant?”
The TV made a sound that activated all of his neurons in unison. A breathy sort of hum.
“I’m…” he hesitated for a moment. “Yeah. I’m a little pent up. I know, it’s barely been two days since you left, but… my mind keeps wandering back to you.”
Spamton pressed his legs together. Was he misinterpreting the situation, or was the TV executive really hiding the fact that he was…?
How outrageous. He gave the paper piles one last look before deciding that taking a little break never hurt anyone. Whatever was about to transpire was far more interesting.
“Yeah? Don’t just keep it at that, the curiosity is going to eat me alive.”
“Y’know, I just… I’d love to be able to wind down and have a drink with you right now,” Tenna elaborated. “The new sofa got delivered yesterday. The red one I showed you on the catalogue, do you remember?”
“[[Hoen Series Home Office Sofa With Faux Leather Upholstery]]?”
“... You really are something else,” Tenna replied, dumbfounded at the textual quotation of the furniture description. “But yes, that one. It’s bigger than I expected, and it gives us somewhere to hang out that’s more private than the green room.”
“Any reason why you’d want more [[Privacy Settings]], Tenna?” Spamton asked smugly. He liked where this conversation was going.
“C-C’mon, you know why.”
“I don’t. Use your words, big guy.”
Another sound straight out of heaven came out of the receiver. A pleasant shock went down the salesman’s spine, who softly gripped his thigh at the feeling.
“So we… whenever we have the time, of course, we can… have some fun together?”
“It sounds like you’re perfectly having fun all by yourself.”
Caught red handed. If he’s not mistaken, it sounded like his screen momentarily went to color bars from the shock of the accusation.
“Spamton, I–” Tenna stuttered, failing to come up with excuses. “I-I’m sorry, this is so inappropriate, I shouldn’t even be doing this… am I making you uncomfortable? If I’m bothering you, I can–”
“[[Do NOT Touch that Dial!]]”
The puppet cringed at himself. That came out more desperate than he’d like to admit. Whatever, at least it did its job judging by Tenna’s reaction.
“Haha, I told you to stop stealing my lines. But, uh, I’m guessing you’re not against it? If you’re fine with me doing this…”
“More than [[Fine Dining at The Ritz]] with it,” Spamton reassured him. “... I find it cute that you miss me that much.”
“Oh, Spammy…” The way he said his name made his heart flutter, threatening to come out of his chest like a cuckoo clock. “It’s a pleasure to hear your voice. I’d prefer you were right here, but this works too.”
Spamton briefly considered calling it a day and driving back to Tenna’s studio, but bitterly discarded the idea. He couldn’t leave this work for tomorrow, not after he had already delayed it enough.
“I’m surprised you didn’t tell me you were jerking off to my voice until now,” The sole notion made Spamton tug at the collar of his shirt. “That’s awfully [[Naughty boys near you want to meet!]] of you. Have you done this before?”
“Oh, goodness, no– I swear I’m not usually like this! I-It’s just that I woke up today with this… craving. I’ve felt so weird all day.”
“You crave me, [Handsome]?” A hand wandered down, softly kneading his clothed crotch. “Couldn’t handle missing the best part of your executive buffet?”
“I could certainly eat you up… though I can’t decide if I’d like that or the other way around.”
Spamton gave his hardening cock a squeeze. He bit his lower lip to prevent outing himself.
“Would you… bother to describe the menu? That way I can paint a pretty picture of what I can put in my mouth.”
In comparison, Tenna wasn’t very good at masquerading his noises. It was endearing to Spamton how he could reduce him to quiet whines with just a couple of words.
“I’m not wearing my suit…” the TV began to describe. “My shirt’s undone, I’m sitting with my legs spread apart, and I’m… I’m playing with myself.”
Spamton waited for him to continue, but that was it.
“You gotta be more specific than that, [[Cathode]].”
“Y-You know I’m meant for family friendly entertainment, this isn’t easy for me!” Tenna complained. “It’s embarrassing, and it feels wrong to talk about this out loud, but…”
At this point his fans were going off so loudly that the phone was picking up on them.
“... It’s thrilling, knowing someone could walk by and hear me saying how I’m pleasuring myself to you…” he whispered into the speaker. “Coming inside to ask me something, only to find me moaning your name while pulling on my wires… h-hah, just thinking about it makes my body shiver.”
“Wires?” Spamton inquired. “You’ve got nothing to work with downstairs, [[Doll]]?”
“Ehe, no, I do, but… mph. It wasn’t enough, and my insides are more sensitive…”
The salesman unzipped his pants and lowered them enough to release his erection. He closed his eyes as he wrapped his fingers around it, imagining how the game show host looked like right now.
Splayed out over his seat, with his head thrown back as one hand grips the phone and the other penetrates whatever opening he’s toying with. Tie undone and lazily lying over his shoulder, the space between his legs strained by his neglected cock…
Fuck. Spamton would do anything to be between those long legs right now.
“I don’t think I’m familiar with your [[CTR Instructions Manual]]... but I’d love to learn it firsthand. [[Click Here to Learn More]]?”
“I’d like that too…” Tenna mumbled, more to himself than as an actual reply. “Um, what do you want me to tell you?”
“What’s your dick like? Since I’m sure we aren’t packing the same guns.”
Spamton could easily imagine his screen going hot pink at the blunt question.
“It’s, uh, it’s… how do I explain this?” The TV sounded genuinely lost. “... Are you familiar with telescopic tubes? It’s similar to that.”
The puppet irked an eyebrow. The mental image had suddenly gone blurry.
“Elaborate?”
“I-It’s normally retracted, but in situations like this where I’m flustered and I start overheating, the hot air accumulates and it… expands.”
“... So in other words, you get [[Hard as a Rock]].”
Tenna hummed affirmatively.
“Why is it less sensitive than your wires?”
“I don’t know, it just is… I guess they’re more sensitive because they’re not covered by anything, unlike my outer casing.”
“Or maybe you just need someone else’s touch.”
Tenna giggled weakly, turning halfway into a strained moan.
“That’d be… oh, that’d be so good. Would that ‘somebody else’ happen to be you? Because I can’t stop thinking about having your hands on me, ever since that night we…”
His voice trailed off for a moment. There was an uptick of his fans before they returned to their normal volume.
“I think about that night often, too.” Spamton confessed. “It felt so surreal to kiss you after fantasizing about it all this time…”
“You fantasized about me?”
“Oh, Tenna. If the censors could read my mind, I would’ve been [[Shot]] on the spot on day one.”
There was so much more he could say, but he left it at that. If he began talking about it, daylight would break through the horizon before he was done.
“Your turn on the confession booth, big shot.” The TV announced.
“Huh?”
“What is yours like?”
He wasn’t expecting the question to be returned to him.
“Nothing [[Specil]] compared to yours,” Spamton replied. “It’s proportionate to me, which to you could be considered [[small]], but nothing some [[Shrink down file size]] can’t fix.”
There was a little detail he was hiding, of course. The pipis thing. He didn’t feel like he was ready to explain the pipis thing just yet, and hopefully he’d never have to.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve thinking I’d shrink down just for your ego.” Tenna said playfully.
“You’d prefer I force you?”
The hitched breath that replied told him everything he needed to know.
“That could… be interesting.”
“Would be a fun [[Physical Challenge]]. Since you like the idea of [[View Count]] so much, maybe I’ll grope you in front of the camera crew to make you shrink out of embarrassment.”
“Do that and you’re forever banned from the studio, Spamton.”
“Don’t act like that didn’t get your fans going.”
Tenna didn’t respond to that, but his internal fans had indeed gotten louder.
“But enough about me, let’s get back to you. Wires, huh? [[Sharing is Caring!]] to tell where I can access them?”
“I’ve never… let anybody else see them,” Tenna replied. “Or touch them, for that matter. It’s too much of a vulnerable spot… the only way to access them is through the hatch in my chest. It’s meant to give easy access to important components that need maintenance once in a while, but I…”
The line went silent for a moment.
“Sorry, I’m chattering off. All this tech talk must be boring for you, haha…”
“Quite the opposite.”
Spamton went on to unbutton his shirt, in desperate need for fresh air. His office felt like it had turned into a sauna. The droning ticking of the clock had been completely drowned out from his mind, the only thing occupying his thoughts being Tenna’s voice and the myriad of tiny noises that came out of his mouth.
“You’re giving me [[Bright Ideas]] for when I come back to the studio.”
“O-Oh, yeah? What do you have in mind?”
Spamton was purposefully taking it slow, but his dick was already weeping precum. He couldn’t help it when the needy voice of his partner was the only thing resonating in the room.
“All of them involve me going inside you one way or another,” he chuckled. “I… [[God in Heaven]], if only phone calls included video feeds… I know for a fact that you look ravishing in there. I’d be [[Happy as a Clam]] just watching you unravel under your own hands. You’re not the king of entertainment for nothing.”
Tenna encouraged him to keep going by whining after a particularly harsh pull.
“I want to experiment with your wires and find out what makes you twitch the hardest,” Spamton stroked himself faster. “I bet you’ve never had someone put your wires in their mouth. How do you think it would feel if I sucked on them? If I dragged my tongue all the way and bit down?”
“T-That would certainly be, a-ah, an electrical hazard…” Tenna replied, breathing hard.
“[[No Insurance? No Problem!]], I’ll gladly get burnt to a crisp if it means getting to hear the absolute filth that’d come out of your mouth.”
It was getting harder and harder to conceal the fact that he was masturbating along, so he focused on teasing the hell out of the TV to redirect his attention.
“Unless you’d prefer I keep my tongue inside your mouth while I use your wires to stroke my cock? Would you like that, Ant?”
For the first time, Tenna let out an unrestrained moan. Spamton swore he could’ve cummed right there and then if he hadn’t been careful.
“Yes,” came out the whimpery response, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. “Yes, Spamton please, keep talking…”
Holy shit.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” the puppet rambled without a set train of thought. He only knew that he needed to keep talking. “All you’re doing is sitting there, sounding all pretty and desperate, and it has me wishing I was there to fuck you so bad it cancels tomorrow’s program.”
“P-Please do it, I’ll wait if you do–” Tenna pleaded. “I won’t keep touching, I’ll wait for you to get here, I’ll be good. I-I’m good, right? Please tell me I’ve been doing good…”
This was the furthest they had gotten sexually and Spamton was learning a lot of things that would be useful for later. He mentally sent his condolences in advance to everyone working at the studio, because by the time they met up in person again, that room was going to sound like a weirdly erotic murder scene.
“You’ve been such a good boy for me, Ant.”
“A-Ah, fuck… I have, I know I have… S-Spamton, please… come back home to–”
The slip of tongue made Tenna shut up immediately, endlessly ashamed. He was coming off too strongly, too needy for something he was aware was just a fling. However, that brief period of stunned silence just so happened to let him listen as Spamton suddenly moaned and cursed over the phone. A sound he knew too well what it meant.
“Spamton? You were–?”
“... A-Ahah, whoops.” The puppet decided to come out clean. “It was [[Deal or Bust]] and it, uh, it looks like I busted…”
Really? Out of all the things that got him over the edge… it had to be Tenna telling him to “come back home”? Just because it meant he thought he belonged with him?
God. That’s so pathetic of him. This was one of those things he’s going to take to the grave.
“I couldn’t help myself, you sounded like an [[Angel]]... and besides, you started it. Can’t get mad at me for following your lead, can you?”
The TV was awfully quiet. All Spamton could manage to hear was low, tense breaths. Anxiety slowly began to creep up on his back. Had he walked past a boundary? Was it an unspoken rule that he was not supposed to join him in the act?
“Tenna–”
A shock.
Something happened to the line, resulting in glitched noise and a faint electrical current coming off of the phone, zapping the salesman wide alert. It wasn’t strong enough to hurt, but it shocked him regardless.
“... What the [[#$%@]] was that?”
“Huh?” Tenna sounded dazed. “What was what?”
“The phone zapped me. Did you do that?”
“... It did?” he asked back, incredulous. “It reached you through the phone? Hell, I didn’t know that was possible!”
“What reached me?”
It took a couple of seconds to get an explanation out.
“Whenever I reach my peak, I generate a small burst of electricity… it must’ve traveled through the phone line, somehow. You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
Spamton couldn’t help but laugh. “You make [[Sparks]] when you cum?”
“Hey, all the energy has to go somewhere!”
“Will you do it again when I see you in person?”
“I-I can’t do it on command, you know?”
“Oh, don’t worry, I know.”
The implication was loud and clear without further words.
“... Thank you, I really needed this.” He could hear how Tenna sat right back up in the background. “I think that’s why I was feeling so angsty, I just needed to get rid of the extra voltage…”
“Always happy to lend my services, Mr. Tenna.” Spamton replied, beginning to feel the drowsiness kick in. “I hope you’ll [[Leave a Review!]] and make another appointment in the near future.”
The game show host laughed. “Let me check my schedule and I’ll get back to you. For now, I’m leaving you to finish your work, Spamton. I’ll see you soon.”
“See you soon,” the puppet parroted.
There was a click, and he was once again left alone with his thoughts.
Right. Work.
Spamton looked down at his desk and was horrified to see one of the papers had been stained in the crossfire. The exact one with the customer’s signature, no less.
He’ll have to come up with a good excuse to explain why he needs them to come sign the paperwork again.