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“And circling back on that earlier slide, I'd like to go more in depth about how crucial it is to focus on our fear mongering segments instead of the propaganda…”
Tenna had been in this industry for an excruciating twenty years. Twenty years to turn TV Time into an apex predator among entertainment outlets. His viewer retention had been cut in half ten years ago, yes, but in the time since he had been learning the tricks of the trade, aggressively pursuing every opportunity that opened up to him, and keeping his claws hooked on the Lightners that remained glued to his screen.
“... given the shift in our audience, we need to change our approach. Darkners like to mimic Lightners, but what they find appealing is still completely different to…”
And what an audience Kris had brought him to! Albeit, Tenna found most of them annoying, petulant, and otherwise unworthy of his time, but if they were good for one thing it would be consuming his finely curated content. Queen could go eat her algorithmic, drama-infested, slop loving heart out.
“... but we can't get complacent. Local surveys show that one-third of the population doesn't even know what TV is…”
It was going well so far. Well enough, at least. It was a bit of a learning curve in trying to find some equal, if unsteady, footing with his employees, and the rivalry with Queen was slowly evolving from “friendly” to “blood-feud” with them having to share an audience, but everything was moving smoothly. Everything, that is, except-
“Any questions? Elnina, speak.”
Elnina cocked her head, eyes drifting over to the door to the meeting room. “Shouldn't that… mailman… be here?”
The room hushed up quickly. Tenna's lips twitched. “He was occupied. Apparently he had better things to do than his own job.”
“Oooh,” someone muttered.
“He's probably dick deep behind a dumpster again,” a Pippins conspiratorily whispered. Tenna's fists clenched. “You know how he is.”
“I heard he was sick? Like, all week?”
“Please, he gets sick every month. I bet he's using that to-”
Tenna slammed his hands into the desk, having grown several inches over the course of their none-too-discrete conversation. “And I believe that wraps everything up. Any questions?”
Someone hesitantly lifted their hand.
“If you keep me here for any longer I will beat you to death.” He kept a perfectly neutral face. “Any questions?”
There were none. The room was quickly vacated and Tenna nearly fell back into his chair, but the leather creaked and the plastic squeaked under his greater weight. He ran a hand down his screen and held two fingers up to his head. Although he loathed to call that rat, he had to… have a conversation with him.
“[Ten Out Of Ten]!” Spamton's voice crackled on the line, sounding strained and tired. “YOU [Rang]! I- I'M KINDA IN THE [[middle of something]], C4N I-”
“My office. Ten minutes. Be there.” He hung up.
God. Damn it.
Only a day into his work week, and the insect had gone from “barely tolerable” to “rage inducing” entirely because the little man was an insatiable deviant.
Tenna was not a patient man by any means. He had a high standard for the Darkners that he employed, and an even higher standard for workplace conduct. HR was the god of professional spaces, and he intended to put the fear of it in every one of his lowly- fuck, affirmating language- hard working… uh… peons.
Unfortunately, someone didn't get the memo.
He made a mistake when he brought that miserable animal back into his fold. He’d have thought it would have the decency to behave itself, to come to heel, and yet old habits won out over his cold discipline. It was disrespectful. Even if its actions were done out of the public eye, enough rumors and gossip were present in the studio that it had his subordinates eyeing him differently.
All because Spamton G. Spamton couldn’t keep it in his fucking pants.
Tenna barely kept his fury contained as he stormed into his office. The sight of flowers waiting for him on his desk had him seeing red, and instead of throwing them away like usual he grabbed the bouquet and began to meticulously shred it into pieces. He was left panting with exertion, the front of his suit covered in blue petals, but calmer nonetheless.
Spamton had been fucking every employee in his studio.
And no, not fucking with. Maybe if he had just been a scummy nuisance, Tenna would’ve tolerated him a little more. It was just in his nature. But Spamton had been fucking, just fucking, every Darkner working under Tenna.
Well, he conceded, not every one. Not yet. But he had been working through them like his studio was a buffet and his subordinates were the meals. And Tenna knew. He knew from the coy smiles and the whispered rumors and the not-so-discrete plans and the smell of sex that permeated Spamton’s tiny little storage closet-turned-dressing room even under layers of cologne and cigarette smoke.
And even then, the degenerate had the audacity- had the gall- to keep trying to woo him. On the same day Tenna would catch him being drilled against the wall, Spamton would send him a box of almond pudding and a golden watch chain. When he had seen him on his knees in an unused corridor, he had been given several sets of color-coded cufflinks. And when he stayed up late one night and heard the nymphomaniac be shared between several others, Spamton had completed his paperwork for him earlier in the day and left him with nothing to distract himself with.
He had the nerve to keep trying to win him over. And perhaps the worst part was, to Tenna’s overinflated ego, that Spamton rejected his propositions, rare as they were. Spamton was willing to fuck everyone else in the studio except for the one man he owed his goddamn life to.
It made no sense. Tenna buried his face in his hands, his leg bouncing irritably under the desk. Spamton would rather pursue the disposable nobodies that worked for the studio instead of him? Of all people, anybody but him?
It sounded conceited. Tenna could admit that he had a high opinion of himself, but it was an objective fact that he was a good-looking CRT. Sure, he wasn’t as streamlined and thin as a flat-screen, but the classics were far superior anyway. That little rat should be so fucking lucky that he deemed him worthy of his time.
“[[Sweet, Sadistic]] [Cathode], I'M [Hot Singles In Your Area]!” Speak of the Devil. With tail, wings, and horns to match, the scumbag entered without knocking. “Y0U [Ring-A-Ding-Ding Baby!] ME?”
Tenna did not answer. Not yet. He knew if he did anything at that moment, it would probably lead to him bludgeoning Spamton to death with one of the many awards on his shelf, and he couldn't afford to get rid of him or a body. Yet.
Spamton took that as an invitation to approach. His expression was hard to discern with his nutcracker jaw, but from the raised corners of his mouth Tenna could tell he was grinning. He brought along the scent of that thick cologne he wore with him.
“S0 IS THIS [For Business] OR [For Your Pleasure]?” He purred, leaning against the desk. “BEC4USE [[Baby!]] I'VE BEEN [Waiting And Waiting And_] FOR YOU TO-”
Tenna lashed out and wrapped his hand around Spamton's throat, cutting him off before he finished signing his death sentence. The puppet squirmed and moaned, perverted thing he was, under Tenna's vice-like grip.
“You've been waiting, have you?” He asked, a scoff escaping him. “You're more delusional than I thought if you actually believed I brought you here for anything more than business. You missed our monthly meeting. Again.”
Spamton wheezed. “C'M0N, [[Babe-a-tron]], YOU CAN'T [blame a guy for trying]!”
“I can blame you for spreading your diseases all over my workforce.”
He looked confused. “HUH?”
Tenna's lips twitched, curling into a gnarled scowl. He hated it when Spamton played dumb.
“You think I haven't noticed? Do you really think I'm so naive I couldn't see what you were doing under my nose, you two-timing bastard?” A trickle of hurt entered his voice. “Coming up to me and flirting with me when you've been having sex with anything that so much as breathed in your direction?”
Spamton's already pale face turned ashen.
Tenna composed himself. He swallowed down the pain and betrayal- such weak emotions were a liability, and he knew how well Spamton had once been able to exploit them- and replaced it with the same cold anger he's used to carry him this whole time.
“As the official head of the HR Department of TV Time Studios- and the only representative of said HR- I have an obligation to… intervene when there are employee-employee relations happening in my studio, especially sexual ones.” It was difficult keeping his tone steady. “Especially when it is you who keeps flagrantly... whoring yourself out to everyone here.”
“TEN-”
“How many times have I told you that that is not my fucking name?”
Spamton swallowed. He squeezed his thighs together, and Tenna nearly recoiled in disgust. Even now, he was only getting off to the verbal berating.
“... S IR,” he conceded, “I- I [Apolocheese] IF YOU'RE [grrrr.wav] ABOUT-”
“You're sorry that I'm upset?” Tenna asked, incredulous. “Or are you sorry you got caught?”
“SIR-”
“Because what you really should be sorry for,” his voice raised as he stood, “is for deceiving me! Leading me on- was it funny for you, to pretend you wanted me while fucking my staff behind my back? Did you speak about me to them?”
“SIR, I NEV ER-”
“Tell me, was it so funny to make a fool of me?” Tenna threw him down, and Spamton let out a grunt as he slammed against the desk's surface. Tenna caged him in with all four of his arms, the secondary set tearing free of his suit with a violent rip. “TELL ME!”
“I D1D IT BECAUSE I [half] NO [[Other Choice]]1!” Spamton yelled back. He bit his tongue, looking anywhere but at his boss.
Tenna drew away only slightly. “What the hell are you on about?”
Color rose to Spamton's face. He swallowed. “I DIDN'T [Tell-All] U BE[cos] I WAS. [[[Embarrassed]]]. BUT MY [[Hot Bod]] WASN'T THE ONLY TH_ING THAT [uee hee hee! metamorphosis!].”
Tenna laughed in disbelief. “So you hid something else from me. Why should I be surprised? You just can't help yourself when it comes to lying.”
“IT'S [You're disgusting!],” he bit out. “I DIDN'T [[Fool Around]] JUST FOR [#@$%s and giggles], I HAD TO. HAD TO. HAD TO.”
“Had to… what, you have to have sex?”
“YES!” Spamton blew up. He looked overwhelmingly embarrassed. “I CAN'T [eat, drink, and sleep] ANYM0RE! I HAVE TO- HAVE TO-” he tugged on his horns in annoyance. “STUPID THINGS- HAVE TO [Get Freak-ay] TO SURV1VE!”
Tenna stared. He stared for a good, long moment before, mouth dry, asking, “You're telling me sex keeps you alive?”
Spamton flushed. He tugged at the collar of his turtleneck. “IT'S [[A Deadly Sin]], NOT [the Devil's Tango]! I FEED OFF 0F IT.”
“You're telling me you feed off of lust? Off of-” he faltered. He swore his mind wasn't working right, and he blamed the cologne Spamton insisted on wearing. “You're feeding off of my employees like a fucking sex vampire?”
“N0! NO! NO! IT'S [not what you think]!”
“What I'm thinking is you've been feeding off of the people on my payroll like a little parasite!” Tenna spat out. He was ignoring the heat rising to his screen.
“N-N0, I- WELL, YES, BUT- [[It's complicated]]!” Spamton pleaded. He gave Tenna those wide, watery eyes that might've worked ten years ago, but now looked out of place on his angular and sunken face.
Tenna scowled. “I don't see how. Already your behavior was enough for an HR write-up, but if this means you've been impacting their job performance…”
“[[Low-cost]], I SW3AR!”
“Your promises mean very little to me.”
“... [[Pinky swear]]?”
Tenna deadpanned.
Spamton deflated. “[IDK] WHAT TO TELL Y0U. I_V'E G0T [Terms and Conditions]. THIS IS MY L1FE. IT'S [been] MY [lief] FOR 10- 10- 10 [[años]].”
Tenna considered this. He was still beyond upset, beyond enraged, that Spamton had been using his employees as… well, at first he was upset that he was using them as notches in his belt, but now he was upset that they were nothing more than juice packs to him. He may be a callous man, but that didn't mean he couldn't be indignant on their behalf.
… and yes, a month ago he treated their lives as exchangeable as blades of grass, but he owned them. Under his payroll, what could be done to them could only be done by him.
Spamton interfered with that balance with his floozy ways.
“So you've been fucking around like this for ten years?” He asked. “I'm guessing that must've paid the bills. Not that I'm surprised you of all people became a professional whore.”
Spamton turned red. “H0W I M4DE MY KROMER ISN'T ANY OF YOUR-”
“And why did you have to go through my entire staff? Hm? I've heard word, and I know you could've kept it to just one,” Tenna said. “Instead you've been breaking hearts. How characteristically cruel of you, Casanova.”
He flinched at the nickname. “D0N'T.”
“I think I have more than enough right to call you out under my own roof,” Tenna hissed. He leaned down until they were nose to nose. “I demand an explanation.”
There was some more fruitless struggling, until Spamton gave up and slumped in his grasp. He let out a low moan of exhaustion. It was disgusting how far the little man had fallen. This pathetic little thing would lick Tenna's boots for the mere chance of getting paid, and it made the TV host sick to see it.
It was nothing more than karma, Tenna reminded himself. He felt dizzy. He blamed that stupid cologne. That pit in his stomach was revulsion and nothing more.
“U…” Spamton swallowed. “U D0N'T KNOW THE [[full-length novel]]. T- SIR… I CAN'T [commit] 2 [monogamy]. WH3N I TRIED IN [[blast to the past]], IT N3ARLY [[Game Over!]] THEM.”
Tenna bristled in alarm. “So you've been endangering my-”
“NO! NO! [Negative]!” He protested. “I- IF I K33P IT TO [Round One], THEY'RE [[fit as a fiddle]].”
Tenna relaxed a bit. “Well, I've always figured death would be the preferable alternative to sleeping with you… but continue.”
“... BUT I CAN'T [stick] TO [Round One]. ESPECIALLY DURING MY-” he flushed, “-M-MY-”
“Spit it out.”
“MY [[hot and ready out the oven]].”
Tenna frowned. “What?”
“MY HEAT. I NEED [multipliticalitality] P4RTNERS IN A DAY TO [[quality of life]].”
And Tenna completely blanked at that. Heat? Like- like the animal kind? Like, the feverish, nonstop-fucking, sweaty and primal and uncontrollable-
“H-HEAT?” The bubble letters flew out of his mouth without his consent, and he slapped them out of the air so violently that they flew across the room and embedded themselves into the far wall.
Spamton flinched. “I USUALLY JUST GET [[such sensational sensations]] ONCE A WEEK, B_UT R1GHT N0W I NEED IT [[over and over again]] EVERY [day].”
“Right… now?” Tenna's brain, still rebooting, finally caught up to what Spamton was saying. “That… smell…”
“M-MY-” Spamton seemed to grow even more embarrassed, and then angry at his embarrassment, literal steam wafting from his head.
Tenna was unsurprised. He had always liked to be in control, a characteristic they both shared. Something as debasing as this must be humiliating for him to go through.
To have to rely on another person in your most vulnerable moment to survive… It must've been an excruciating ten years. For a moment, Tenna felt satisfied.
He wrapped one of his lower sets of hands around Spamton's middle, trapping his wings between his fingers as he drew him up to his nose. The little man squirmed in discomfort as Tenna pulled his shirt up, exposing his bloated stomach, and brought him in for a deep inhale.
Something sugary assaulted his senses. Tenna had never had a reason to hate his sweet tooth until now. He could feel his own body reacting in response, his pants tightening immediately at the dizzying scent.
Spamton kept his hands to himself and didn't dare touch him, even as little, satisfied sighs escaped him without his consent.
“I see.” Tenna's voice was thick. He didn't sound like himself. He didn't even feel like himself. “So this is why your job performance has been… subpar so far. You've been coasting by on scraps.”
“I CAN'T-”
“That's fine. I understand why you've been…” Tenna trailed off. He did not want to recount the humiliating experience of being rejected. He swallowed the words and continued, “... So reluctant. But I'm not just any weakling, and I'm offended that you, the vermin that you are, had the gall to assume as such.”
Spamton flailed, distress painted across his face. “I- I DIDN'T- [unintentional mishap]-”
“I'm the Boss of my own world. Or, I was.” He quelled the bitterness rising in his chest. “I have more than enough energy to spare.”
“I-” Spamton sputtered. “Y 0U'RE NOT SAYING- YOU ARE NOT!!! NOT!!!!”
“I'm a forgiving man.” At that, even Spamton gave him a scrutinizing look. Tenna squeezed until the porcelain under his fingers threatened to crack. “I am a forgiving man, understand? I'll look past your discretion. I'll even…” drool pooled in his mouth, “... help you with your ailment. Isn't that just so kind of me?”
Spamton looked helplessly confused. “Y-YOU- ME? H_ERE?”
“Yes.”
“... THAT'S THE [pervert] I KNOW AND [Hyperlink Blocked].”
Tenna ignored that. “I'm not a pervert,” he said, and then like a pervert he smelled Spamton's hair. He let out a low groan at the aphrodisiac wafting off of the little man, claws digging deeply into the desk. Sweat was already causing the black curls to fall out of their slicked-back position. “Take your pants off.”
“ARE YOU [[shore]]-”
“Are you questioning me?” He challenged.
At that, Spamton raised his head in surrender. From there, movement came in pulses, in frames. Tenna didn't care about going slow. The molten feeling in his stomach made him impatient, and the pheromones- because what else could they be?- replaced his anger with sheer, possessive want.
It's been ten years since he's had Spamton. He deserved this, even if it felt like a relapse.
When Spamton took too long fumbling with his fly, Tenna dug his claws into the seams of his pants and ripped them apart from crotch to ass. There was a protest he didn't quite register as he parted the torn fabric, getting an eyeful of-
“What the fuck is that?” He asked, appalled.
Spamton squirmed. The small tentacle exiting his cunt squirmed too. “I T0LD YOU I [[changed for the ]].”
“I didn't think a horrific body modification would include bottom surgery.”
“I D0 N'T KNOW IF THI_S C-”
“Spread your legs.”
Tilting his hips up, Tenna got a better look at the dark flesh that interrupted the smooth porcelain down there. With a sick fascination, he spread Spamton's fat cunt lips apart with two thumbs.
By all intents and purposes, it looked about the same as… before. Except where there was once a separation of parts, a vulva and a t-dick and a urethra and a vagina, now it had all been merged into one whole. Between his labial lips a tentacle emerged, growing thicker and longer as it freed itself from its confines, and at the very underside of its base, between muscle and alien-like ribbing, was what was unmistakably a hole.
At its full length it had to be nearly four feet long. It acted with a mind of its own, wrapping securely around one of Tenna's wrists up to his forearm. His mind blanked once again.
“S IR,” Spamton begged, but couldn't vocalize what he wanted. He crooned again, and when Tenna looked up at him his teeth were sharper, drool dribbling down his chin. “SI R, SIR, S1R, SIR…”
A low moan escaped Tenna in response, and he grinded against the desk in hope to release some of the heat trapped inside of him. His cock throbbed, and he reached down to palm himself through his pants, resting his head against Spamton's stomach and just inhaling his intoxicating scent as he did so.
The tentacle probed along Tenna's head curiously, testing his vents for an opening. The sensation made his knees buckle, made his humping a little more feverish. It could only slip a few inches inside before it gave up and drifted down to his face, where he eagerly took it inside of his mouth.
Spamton arched up with a glitching scream at the sudden sensation, limbs thrashing as his tentacle buried itself deeper, and deeper, and deeper still down Tenna's throat. Three out of four hands pinned him down, the fourth working itself raw against Tenna's clothed boner.
“OH [baby] PLEASE, WOA H [[bab]ee], P L[ease] PL3ASE-”
Tenna swallowed him down, choking and tearing up at the sheer size of him. It was enough to make him strain even at his full height. He whined, muffled as it was, when the tentacle took initiative and began to fuck his throat in slow, meaningful thrusts.
It was dizzying. A thick fog suffused his mind, his own tail twitching and wagging from where it was tied and pinned securely into his belt. His antennae had gone limp, flopping over his chassis and screen and partially obscuring his vision.
The cock in his mouth gave no heed to the needy moans, neither from its owner or from Tenna. It quickened its pace, bulging through his flexible throat, before stilling and in one, smooth pulse, released directly into Tenna's belly. There was something wrong with Spamton's body- cum shouldn't have such an ambrosial taste.
“[Baby], [babe], PLEASE, S IR, PLEASE-” Spamton continued to mindlessly beg. His cock retreated from Tenna's mouth, leaving him coughing and gagging. “PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE-”
“Cease your incessant rambling,” Tenna snapped, voice hoarse. He held the tentacle back and prodded at Spamton's entrance curiously. “I wonder if you'd still be able to fit my fist in you.”
Spamton's squealing turned up a pitch. Tenna scoffed.
“Of course you would. My little whore, you'd love that, wouldn't you? You wouldn't even need prep. But not now, pet.” Maybe later. The idea intrigued him, especially with how much smaller Spamton was now. He was so much easier to manhandle. That had been doing it for Tenna since they reunited, and unfortunately still did it for him.
Two fingers stroked Spamton's slit from top to bottom. Another broken moan escaped the little man, more desperate now, and something within Tenna crooned in satisfaction.
“Even now, I still own this,” he softly said, almost sweet even as he cupped Spamton’s cunt in his hand. “Even if it looks different, it's still mine, isn't it? Isn't it?”
“YE S, Y3S, Y[[agreement confirmed]]-”
Tenna slapped it. Spamton flinched and yelped.
“Quiet down,” he hissed. “I can't hear myself think over your barking, mutt.”
“HMMNNNNNN….”
He rubbed Spamton's cunt again before rearing back and spitting on it, then feverishly stroked it again. His fingers traced a vein up that inky cock, then back down to where it opened into a cunt. Spamton jumped and weakly moaned in surprise.
“It feels good, doesn't it? I could do whatever I want to you, and your tiny, sex-drunk brain will take it and will like it, all because it's me doing it to you,” he hissed out. He wished he had the sense to have lit a cigar beforehand. He wanted to put it out on Spamton's shiny, brand new cock. “You'll take me, won't you? You'll take me and you'll fucking love it.”
Two fingers roughly shoved themselves inside. Liquid gushed out, sticky and faintly pink in color. It soaked through his glove almost instantly.
“Just look at how wet you are for me,” he murmured, spreading his fingers apart before roughly spearing them upwards.
Tenna didn't care if the motion hurt the mailman- even this was a waste of effort. He dragged his fingers out, catching his nails against the rough, spongy patch within that tight canal.
“If you want it, you'll have to beg for it,” he hissed, hands flying down to unbuckle his belt.
He wrestled his cock out from his open fly. It was well below average in proportion to his size and a deep, dark indigo in color. It wasn't to everyone's taste from his experience- Hell, he hadn't been a fan of it either when he was younger- but what it lacked in length it more than made up for in sheer girth.
He plopped his cock onto Spamton's stomach, jutting his hips forward to see where the tip would nestle. It reached just under where a belly button would be from their height difference alone.
Spamton moaned out at the sight of it, bringing his thighs up to squeeze it so tightly that Tenna nearly keeled over.
“PL3ASE… STICK Y0UR [[Sexy Sizzling Hot]] [meat rod] IN M-”
Tenna covered his mouth. “Don't kill the mood.”
Spamton kicked out a leg in frustration. “F0R THE- FILL ME [Up! Up! Up!] WITH YOUR [savory baby batter]! PUMP ME FULL OF [[Whipped Cream]], GIVE ME YOUR [sexual secretions], MAKE ME YOUR [[Hot Bitches Within One Foot Of You]]!” He begged, voice cracking. “I. WANT YO UR. C UM.”
The pathetic begging was punctuated by another flood of pheromones that sent a rush of heat right to Tenna's cock. He bit down on his tongue harshly, struggling to keep an expression of apathy on his face even as his vents kept puffing out steam to prevent overheating.
“You want it?” His voice was low but delighted. “You're really begging for it? You fucking slut.”
Spamton whined in response, legs spreading as wide as he could manage with his old and stiff joints. Tenna ran his hands up the length of them, over the chips and cracks in the porcelain, and up to the little puppet's neck, where he grabbed it tightly and shoved him down.
“Don't say a word,” he panted more than spoke, grinding his cock against Spamton's.
That undulating tentacle slapped against his stomach, leaving rosy stains in his dress shirt. Tenna could not find it in himself to give a shit about the cleaners, not when the head of his cock was kissing the wet lips underneath.
“Ffffuuuuckk…” he murmured, leaning back just to watch the way it dipped in and out of Spamton's entrance.
The smaller man cursed and begged beneath him, swearing at the teasing. He breathlessly laughed, something like fire, like molten lava, running through his circuits at the sight.
To think that the high and mighty salesman he knew from ten years ago would be brought so low like this… the sight alone would've been intoxicating even without the aphrodisiac-like pheromones.
He eased his way inside and bit back an awful whine, shutting off his monitor and voice box to hide his reaction.
“Fffuuuccck…” Tenna growled out. The intoxicating substance was inside of Spamton. It must be in every part of Spamton, in anything Tenna could taste and smell. His sweat, his cum, his saliva… it was no wonder so many of his employees were lining up to take a piece.
The line of thought reignited the jealous rage he had tempered earlier, and he roughly bucked his hips. A moan was punched out of Spamton, strained between gritted teeth.
“LET ME-” Spamton begged, “LET ME [[Railings Installation]] YO U.”
“No.”
“P LEASE. PLEASE. LET ME. LET. PLEASE.”
“No,” Tenna repeated, drawing his hips back before fucking into Spamton. Again. And again. And again, until there was a blur of movement between their pelvises. “You think I'll let your pathetic dick inside of me? I'm not letting until you, not until you earn it.”
Spamton wailed as Tenna laid into him, unable to retaliate in any way with his arms still pinned down. A slew of disgusting, garbled glitching escaped his mouth, coupled with pants and moans that might've sounded familiar to his old self were they not tainted by years of chain smoking.
“AH! HAH, HAH, AH, FFF… MMM…!” Spamton slurred out, drool traveling down his hinged jaw and onto Tenna's hand. Leather creaked when his grip tightened around Spamton's neck.
“Look at this disgusting thing,” he scoffed, slapping the tentacle back. Spamton jolted. Tenna slapped it again before wrapping a hand around it, barely able to make his fingers meet his thumb as he squeezed. “Who would ever want this inside of them?”
Lots of Darkners, especially the ones that worked for Tenna.
His pace quickened, hand jolting away from Spamton's shaft as if it burned him. What's so good about getting fucked by a giant, writhing tentacle, anyway? He growled and pulled out, then flipped Spamton over to resume his efforts.
Spamton let out a low, dry laugh. “I THOUGHT YOU W ERE [anger] AT [little ol’ me]. WHAT [[Changes, People, Changes!]]?”
“Did I give you permission to speak?” Tenna wrapped a hand around his mouth. His words came out slurred and confused.
He could feel something within him tightening, a coil winding and winding until, suddenly, he hilted himself and came. Those velvety walls clamped down on Tenna’s short length and massaged it.
A pathetic wheeze escaped him. This- this debased fucking creature was milking him for his cum! His hips twitched with each spurt, and with it he could feel something within himself being… eaten away. Lessened, almost. If he were a weaker Darkner it would’ve been hard to feel between the afterglow and the thick aphrodisiacs, but Tenna had detected it: Spamton had fed off of him.
When Spamton rocked his hips back, Tenna let out a strangled moan and held him down firmly. He looked up, and as expected the insatiable little fuck was looking back over his shoulder, gaze pleading.
“Seriously?”
”C C [[Come Inside, It’s Fun Inside]] ME [Part 2, Electric Boogaloo]!”
Tenna scoffed, but he could feel his cock twitching in interest. He didn’t feel nearly as winded as he should be, and he blamed the strange pheromones. There was no earthly reason why a man his age should be getting hard again this quickly. “Fucking whore.”
A truly disgusting laugh escaped Spamton, and he wiggled his hips again. He was cut off when a large hand was brought down on his ass with a resounding crack. He cried out, clawing at the desk in and attempt to escape, but Tenna pinned him down with one hand on his back while another fumbled with his belt. Spamton’s little wings flapped desperately, and Tenna kept them prone with only his pinky and his thumb. Two hands folded his belt over and snapped it.
”Y- YOU WOULDN’T,” Spamton said, warily. His hips bucked despite himself, the red flush that had overtaken his face now traveling down to his collarbone.
Tenna said nothing. Spamton didn’t deserve the comfort of any assurances.
He brought the belt down right below where Spamton’s tail terminated, and it thrashed in tandem with his resounding scream. Tenna snapped it there again, and then on his ass, his thighs and calves, the soft flesh of his cunt, again and again until he couldn’t anymore. His vision blurred, the room spinning as he dragged Spamton back by the tail so that he was seated on his cock.
It was like being hit by a truck. He felt weak, drained. He tried to bring Spamton down onto him, but he couldn’t move his arms. Couldn’t even muster an insult. Those leathery little wings flapped and flapped and he wanted to tear them off. To use those disgusting little horns as handlebars. To plow Spamton, to pour his seed into him, to-
His mind was mush. His stream of thought, pure sex. Pure animal carnality.
Spamton had the audacity to laugh. “[[Connection terminated]] NOW?” He asked, before pulling himself up and then slammed down. Tenna’s legs spasmed, head tossing back listlessly. He had never felt so fuckdrunk in his life. “TH3RE IT IS… YOU CAN GIVE ME [another], C CAN’T YOU?”
Tenna didn't know where Spamton found the strength for it. He didn't know how the little man kept up that delighted expression, that wicked grin, eyes wide and manic behind his glasses. Tenna felt close to collapsing into a million little pieces.
Was he dying?
Oh, God. He hoped so.
Spamton bounced on his cock, staring down at where they were connected. His tongue was clenched between his teeth, drool making a trail down his chin. That writhing tentacle of his, thick and dripping like a broken faucet, squirmed its way into Tenna’s pants, lapped at his balls before the tip kissed his hole. But it didn't penetrate him. Not yet.
Not without permission.
Realizing Spamton was waiting for his word, for him to okay it, would hold himself back even in the throes of a mind numbing mating cycle, nearly had Tenna cum at the thought. As it was, he dug his claws deep, hands wrapped so tightly around Spamton's chest that his ribs audibly creaked.
“Go on,” he mustered, and Spamton wheezed in response.
It slipped in without resistance- when did he get so wet inside?- and Tenna moaned as it pulsed within him. The dextrous appendage kissed and lapped at his internals, the tip reaching far past his canal and into the wires nestled deep within. It tugged on them, made his limbs spasm outside of his control, made shocks of electric bliss run throughout his mainframe.
Oh, fuck. This was disgusting. It was the most revolting, humiliating experience of his life, and, oh, God, he was gonna cum, he was gonnacumsofuckinghard, fuck, fuck, fuck-
”JUST A LITTLE [Pick Me Up],” Spamton assured, and the tendril pulsed again before releasing something thick and hot deep within him, setting Tenna alight from the inside out.
He was gonna die. He was gonna cum. Oh, fuck, let him die, who cared?! He'd be happy so long as he got to cum.
The heat spread through his body, through his aching joints, into his very wires and servos and magic until-
Until everything was numb, every ache and pang and sensation of exhaustion was gone. All that remained was pleasure. All that continued to spur him on was want. A deep, feral want.
He moaned again, low and strained, as he finally had the energy to wrap all four arms around Spamton, plant both his feet into the ground, and brutally fuck up into him. His hips smacked against Spamton's with a wet slap, driving a strained gasp out of him, and he didn't stop, couldn't stop, as Spamton tried his hardest to reciprocate with kicking legs and little groans of protest, something in his mind changing, a switch flicking, a bulb turning on as he found himself, seamlessly, too seamlessly, on the ground, papers around them, shit that didn't matter, clothes torn and hands gripping too hard and claws drawing blood and fucking and fucking and fucking Spamton until-
He came. He knew he did. He pulled out momentarily, Spamton letting out a satisfied, delirious laugh as he did so. His legs trembled as Tenna held his cock aloft, watching cum dribble down from Spamton's entrance, strings stretching taut between sexes and snapping under their own weight. The insatiable little creature pressed down on his stomach where the cum had made an obscene bulge, causing it to gush out of his overtaxed pussy.
Spamton let out another laugh, teeth chattering like a wind up toy's, ghoulish face twisted in a rictus of pleasure-torment. Dazed eyes met Tenna's screen.
”THAT’S IT, THEN?” Spamton mocked. His tongue licked a pink smudge through the blood that had begun trickling from his nose. Tenna couldn't remember when he broke it. “Y0U TALKED SO [BIG!] AND YO U CAN’T EVEN GO FOR ANOTHER [Carnival Ride]?!”
Tenna didn't have the ability to grace him with a retort. He held his monitor, head spinning as he rocked back on his haunches. He should be down for the count by now, shouldn't he? He came two times already, that was one time too many. His cock felt raw, and yet it didn't feel painful. He felt good. He felt better than he had ever been in a long, long time.
He felt so good, in fact, he didn't want to stop. Why should he? He was obligated to enjoy himself once in a while, right?
Something on his screen seemed to reflect that, as Spamton's smug expression cracked just a bit. Tenna didn't care to be angry at him. He didn't have the capacity to even muster up the desire to wipe that look off his face. Only one feeling governed his body, and it had nothing to do with rationality or pride.
Tenna panted softly. Strings of drool dripped from his maw and onto Spamton's chest. His secondary arms crawled up to hug Spamton to his chest, and it felt too tender for such a moment. Beneath him, his prey tensed.
“… TEN[ant]?”
“Quiet,” his voice was raw. Guttural. He leaned in and inhaled Spamton's scent, his head spinning and spinning. His circuits were alight, chest tight with overwhelming need.
He couldn’t control himself. He didn’t want to control himself. Where the fuck was the fun in that? God, he should've done this sooner!
“T-“ Spamton screamed out as Tenna bit down, sharp teeth cracking porcelain, nails digging grooves in his casing. “FFF- [Holy Guacamole], YOU [[dirty dog]]-!”
Tenna shoved Spamton down onto the floor, onto the mess of long-ruined paperwork, and ripped the remnants of his pants off, then his shirt. It tore, Spamton yelled in protest, who cared?
He dragged his tongue over his body, between the grooves and the doll joints, lapping up any of that aphrodisiac-tinged sweat he could manage. For a moment he supped at the dip of Spamton's clavicle, his navel, his armpits, wherever the liquid collected. He was suffocating in the pheromones, drowning in it.
Spamton let out a nervous laugh. “Y-YYYOOOUU… YOU’RE [Disgusting!], [Tender Loving].”
Tenna shut him up with a quick slap across the face, then dragged him forward for a messy kiss. He shoved his tongue down the other’s throat, leaving Spamton’s own tongue hanging from the side of his mouth like a dog’s. Tenna fucked his throat with his tongue as he positioned himself against Spamton’s entrance again and made himself at home.
“Tiiiight….” He snarled. “Still so tight even after whoring yourself out to all of my employees…”
He was met with a jittery laugh in response. There was no chance of denial, not when Tenna was right. Arms looped around his neck, and an uncomfortable itch traveled over Tenna’s spine at the almost passionate position.
“Going to need to.. fuck you every day like this,” he shifted, jostling his cock within Spamton. “Need to keep you away from… distracting them…”
”I- I DON’T [Need you! Need you! I need you!] IT-“
”No, no no no,” Tenna crooned. “We can’t risk hurting your job performance. You should just accept my GENEROSITY.”
The splash text came out of his mouth in cursive, flowery, winding letters drifting their way down and weaving a path around Spamton before fading away.
Spamton struggled and moaned. His voice cracked as it raised in pitch, and Tenna silenced him with his tongue again, until it hit cartilage and the little man was gagging on it. Tears had sprung to his eyes, and Tenna dragged himself away from Spamton's insides to lap them up. The flat of his tongue covered half of Spamton's face easily, and with each lick one of his fangs scraped against porcelain.
“You wanna cum? You want to spill your dirty spunk so bad, you fucking degenerate?” Tenna hissed. He wrapped his hand around the large tentacle and jerked it, and Spamton jumped, a joyous little sound escaping his mouth.
“HOLY [[cow]],” Spamton wheezed. “I’M GONNA- I’M GONNA [self-explode]!!!”
”Fucking cum, then. It won’t stop me. You want it, don’t you?” Tenna’s hips stuttered. “You’ve been begging me to fill you up with my cum again and again until you’re bursting, haven’t you?”
Spamton sputtered something. A moan, maybe, or a sob. Maybe even a plea, but it was unintelligible, animal, even. Oh, the poor thing. Tenna's poor, dumb little mutt, who couldn't talk after being fucked so stupid. It made something within him ache, something tender, but he chased it away with each powerful snap of his hips. No, Spamton didn't need that yet. He needed to hurt, and Tenna, Tenna always provided. He always had, and always will.
”This is what you need to survive? Huh?” Tenna fucked him long and deep. “You only need me to survive. Do you understand me? Feeding off of me, draining me, milking me… only me. I can fuck you to completion again and again, as long as you need. Because you need me to live, don't you?”
Tenna found himself breathless and laughing at the dawning idea, at having Spamton's life in his hand so securely, so totally. “Oh, you need me. You need me, or you'll die.”
Spamton mumbled something, words a slur from beginning to end. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, cries weak and overwhelmed as Tenna's pace quickened.
“Shhhh.” Tenna held him close as he fucked into him once, twice, and then-
And then-
He remembered what it was like, having sex with Spamton for the first time. When he was younger and stupider, he had delusions of love- or was it possession? power? Spamton had been… all consuming. At the time, sex wasn't sex, it was a prayer, an act of worship, idolatry, and the climax was always religious, world bending, mind numbing.
It wasn't like that now. There was no sense of relief in appeasing a better, in fulfilling a condition. No false hope, no lingering tension, no what-if-he-didn't-like-it?s or doubt.
His orgasm came slowly and in powerful waves, crashing over him as that tight, wet vice weakly milked him of his cum for the last time. It left him trembling all over, from the tips of his antennae to his toes, which were curled up tightly within his loafers.
Spamton clung to him like a lifeline, fingers digging into his cuffs as though he were bracing for impact. The grease in his hair had long since given up, black curls sweeping over his hairline and over his cheeks in a fashion that caused the pneumatic pump deep within Tenna's chest to stutter. He immediately let go of Spamton and he slipped out of his grip like jello.
Tenna sat back, recalibrated, and tried to recover. Already Spamton was stirring, symbols swimming and warring with each other in his glasses before, finally, he sat upright.
“[[ZOO-WEE-MAMA]]!!” He exclaimed. “YOU'RE A REAL YOU'RE A REAL YOU'RE A REAL [[Dream Boat]] [CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA] [wolfwhistle.sfx]-”
“Shut up,” Tenna bemoaned through gritted teeth. He rubbed the sides of his monitor. “I think… your pheromones gave me a hangover…”
Spamton vibrated in place for a moment, before he launched up to grab Tenna's hand and pressed a kiss on his fingertips, then his palm, then his wrist. Tenna tensed but didn't pull away.
“YOU WERE [magnifique]!” He said. A kiss up his arm and the crook of his elbow, then back to his knuckles, one for every single joint. “YOU REALLY [[Top 10 Ways To Make Your Boyfriend Happy]]! YOU'RE A [killer], [[baby]face]!!!!”
“Okay.” Tenna said, through gritted teeth. Heat rose through his body, and he felt himself begin to shrink. “Stop.”
Spamton gave him that kicked puppy look, and Tenna had to manually turn around so he didn't shrink to a tenth of his size.
The praise and the kisses stopped, at least, and Tenna preserved whatever was left of his dignity with the skin of his teeth. There was no rush to clean up, no more meetings or appointments for the rest of the night, so he allowed the little man to male himself home in his lap. A claw ran over Spamton's spine from his neck down, between his wings, and stopped at his tail. The extra limbs all shivered in tandem.
“How many more days are left until the end of your…” Tenna didn't want to refer to it as a “heat”. “... cycle?”
“UH, FIVE DAYS, [probably]?”
“Hm.” His body still trembled from the aftershocks, but his voice was sure as he spoke. “I'll pencil you in.”