Work Text:
Stanford Pines sat on his couch, the soft light from the greenish-yellow lamp casting a warm glow in the room. His heart pounded in his chest as he clutched the small, inconspicuous box tightly against him. The quiet hum of the cabin enveloped him, a comforting reminder that he was alone for the first time in a long while. Fiddleford had gone to visit his family, something that pushed back the progress of their portal project. Stanford was annoyed by the delay, of course, but there was little he could do about it.
“I just need a quick visit, Stanford,” Fiddleford had said a few days earlier, standing in the lab with a worried look etched across his face. “I’m really missing home. Haven’t seen my family in months, and... well, it’s starting to get to me.”
Stanford had waved him off, already feeling the agitation rise. “We’re so close, Fiddleford. Can’t it wait until we’ve made more progress? You know how important this project is.”
Fiddleford had sighed, pushing his glasses up and looking away, his voice soft but firm. “I get that, I do, but I’m no use to you if my head’s all over the place. A few days won’t hurt the project. Besides, you could use the break too. Maybe... try relaxing while I’m gone, Stanford. Don’t let this thing eat you alive.”
Stanford had reluctantly agreed, knowing deep down that Fiddleford was right. And now, the man was gone, leaving Stanford with an uncomfortable amount of free time. He was already beginning to regret giving in.
But at least it left him time to focus on formulas. And time to try and clean up his cabin. And time for… this.
He looked down at the box again, his fingers twitching slightly as they ran over its smooth surface. There was an odd thrill creeping up his spine, one that he hadn’t felt in years.
His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, and he absently pushed them back up, gaze locked on the box. He swallowed hard, feeling an odd flush creep up his neck. He’d never made this kind of purchase before. It was something entirely foreign to him. But with the amount of work he’d been doing, the isolation—he figured he’d earned it. He deserved something for himself, didn’t he?
Still, his cheeks burned with embarrassment as he looked around the room, just to be sure. He knew no one was there, but the irrational part of his brain insisted on checking. His gaze flicked to every corner, as though expecting Fiddleford to pop out and catch him red-handed. He couldn’t bear the thought. But worse than Fiddleford… Stanford’s stomach tightened at the thought of Bill seeing him now.
Bill Cipher, his friend and muse, was someone he deeply respected. Bill was sharp, insightful, and always pushed him to greater heights. The idea of Bill catching him with this—something so filthy—wasn't just embarrassing; it would be humiliating. The thought almost made him decide to not go through with this. It wouldn't hurt to check.
Stanford closed his eyes, concentrating for a moment. There was no sign of Bill’s presence, no trace of that otherworldly pressure. Thank god. Bill was nowhere near, at least for now. And besides, Bill was a gentleman—he’d always give a proper warning before dropping in uninvited.
His heart rate slowed a little as he turned his attention back to the box in his lap. This item was still classified, not yet released to the public. Normally, he wouldn't know that this object exists—especially since it won't release for another 2 something decades. But over the years, through his work on various government projects, Stanford had learned more than a few secrets—and this was one of them.
Thanks to his help in developing more than a few prototypes for different projects, he’d earned certain privileges. This allowed him access to things like this. He’d asked for it, awkwardly, with more than a little hesitation. His contact had smirked but agreed, and now… here it was.
He gulped softly, fingers tracing the edges of the box. It was time to open it.
With a hesitant breath, he lifted the lid to reveal a smaller, yet still relatively good-sized blue box encased inside. Made of metal, it caught the light in a way that felt almost inviting, but confusion flickered across his face as he pulled it from the cardboard box.
Stanford took a moment to stare at it, unsure of how to open it. He glanced back down at the cardboard box and noticed a card tucked inside. Picking it up, he saw it was made of fancy paper, the golden letters written in cursive forming an elegant message:
"Thank you.
From us to you.
For your pleasure."
His stomach dropped. Jesus, what had he been thinking? He shouldn’t have gotten this.
But then his gaze fell back to the blue box, and he spotted a small button. With a deep breath, he clicked it. The box unscrewed itself quietly, and he thought, Very discreet.
With a sense of trepidation, he popped it open. Inside, he saw it: the silicone… toy. A rush of adrenaline coursed through him; he knew this was wrong, but he was too far into it to stop now.
He carefully took it out of the box, examining it closely. It was long and cylindrical in shape, clear enough that he could see the ridges on the inside. Both ends had a hole, and he let it rest in his hand, feeling its texture—soft, but firm enough to retain its shape.
Then he flipped it over, and there it was: the realistic depiction of… the female reproductive genitalia on the other side.
He gulped again, a mix of embarrassment and curiosity swirling inside him. But Stanford couldn't help but feel intrigued. He had never seen a woman's genitals up close before. It was... woah. Even if it was manufactured and clear, it was strangely realistic. His breathing grew slightly heavier, and he shifted in his seat.
He knew that many rich and wealthy people used these for their own needs, and he had always thought they were ridiculous. The idea of spending exorbitant amounts of money on… sex? He’d scoffed at the concept, convinced that he would never succumb to such indulgence. But now, here he was, holding a toy in his hands.
Desperate for a distraction, he glanced back at the cardboard box, hoping to find something to help him figure out what to do next. He checked to see if it had anything else, and his eyes landed on a small booklet of instructions. Curiosity piqued, he took it out and began to read.
It took him no more than a moment to go through the contents. Apparently, to activate it, he had to… play with it?
Hmm.
He looked at the toy again, taking in the realistic details. Get it together, Stanford. And With a cautious hand, he gingerly tapped it.
…
Nothing. Did he do it wrong? He looked back at the instructions. No, he was sure this is what he's supposed to do.. Maybe it needs more stimulation?
He reached out and slowly began to feel around the surface of the toy, lightly dragging his finger against the vulva. It was surprisingly soft, and he marveled at how manufacturers could create something so realistic. At the same time, it felt absolutely revolting knowing someone had made this. He nudged his finger against the nub, exploring its texture, and soon noticed the toy starting to feel slightly moist. Fascinating.
As he rubbed the clit gently, uncertainty washed over him. He wasn’t sure if he was doing this right, but he recalled that the clit was similar to a penis in that it was the most erogenous zone on a woman's body. So he assumed it was a good place to start.
Before long, the slight moisture transformed into a slick. It made his mind feel dazed, and he could sense the tent that had been growing in his pants tightening even more.
It didn't help that his brain kept racing with strange thoughts. He kept thinking that it was so soft and cute, and the fact that it was becoming increasingly wet against his fingers was driving him crazy. He could swear it was twitching slightly every few seconds or so. His Fingers were covered in its slick—He couldn't take it anymore.
In a surge of animalistic urges, he licked the toy. It didn’t taste like anything, but the action sent his mind reeling. The ridges and bumps made it feel intoxicating, and he found himself drawn to it, unable to resist exploring further. He continued to taste the toy until, a few seconds later, he snapped out of it.
What the hell was he doing? He needed to Focus. Looking Back at the toy he felt like he prepared it enough.
He groaned before quickly unbuckling his belt and freeing his cock from the confines of his pants. It was hard and red from the neglect he’d put it through, a painful reminder of his pent-up desire. Using the toy in one hand, he softly rubbed his tip against the entrance, the sensation sending shivers down his spine as he moved back and forth, teasing himself with every flick and glide.
He whimpered slightly, his voice barely above a whisper, his voice coming out before he could stop it.
“Do you want it?”
No answer came, and he felt his cheeks flush with heat, a mixture of embarrassment and excitement washing over him. Yup, He definitely feels like he's gone off the deep end.
But then he remembered he was alone, and he couldn't help himself. He let himself dive deeper into his own fantasy. He wasn’t sure how to do “dirty talk”, but in this moment, the words spilled from his lips before he could think.
“You're so pretty and soft... and you’re so very wet,” he murmured, as he imagined someone else was there with him, sharing in the moment.
Closing his eyes, he circled the entrance slightly, the anticipation building within him as he pushed down just enough to insert himself at the tip. A strained groan escaped him, a mix of pleasure and frustration; he wanted to thrust but fought the urge, pulling back as he gasped for air.
He imagined the figure whimpering slightly in response to his teasing, and he chuckled softly, “Don’t be like that. Patience is a virtue.”
Then, slowly, he sank it further down onto his cock, the pressure building deliciously with every inch. He let out a small hiss of air, the sensation overwhelming, before finally stopping to catch his breath. “You’re doing great…” he murmured, trying to keep his thoughts focused as the intensity grew.
He let out a small whimper, feeling himself start to slip from his own control. The tantalizing grip of the toy was intoxicating, and he craved more. He wanted to feel it fully, so with a determined thrust, he sank it all the way down and let out a loud moan, jolting in his seat from the sheer ecstasy of the moment.
Fuck.
He whimpered again, trying to steady himself, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to regain some semblance of composure. He felt his glasses slip down his nose once more and pushed them back up. He needed to calm down or else he’d finish way too quickly; he wanted to savor this moment.
“H-hold on. It’s gonna take me a second to move,” he panted, feeling the tension coil tighter within him, still playing into his fantasy.
After a few moments of preparation, he finally started thrusting, the sensation heavenly. Using his hand to guide himself, he could control the amount of pressure on his cock, and it felt absolutely incredible. The walls gripped him tightly, every ridge and bump sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body, and he couldn’t believe how soft it felt against him.
He opened his eyes and was momentarily captivated by the sight before him. He had forgotten the toy was clear, and he could see himself going up and down, up and down, an intoxicating visual that sent a fresh wave of heat through him. He whimpered out, mesmerized by the graphic scene. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. It felt so good.
“F-fuck, you're so tight. A-and you feel so good.” he gasped, his voice trembling with desperation. He wasn't one for crude language, but his mind wasn't all the way there.
The soft thing didn’t respond, only continuing to engulf him as he went up and down, lost in the rhythm. His other hand instinctively sought something to grip onto, but it landed on the smooth leather seat of the sofa, grounding him amidst the chaos of his sensations.
He felt like he was losing his mind, strained whimpers escaping his lips as he succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure. This felt way better than his hand, and he was overwhelmed by the intensity of his feelings.
“So–ngh—so good.” He couldn’t think or do anything but thrust into this toy, his body taking control as his mind began to unravel.
The pressure continued to build up in his core, and he let out a loud groan, each thrust taking him closer to the edge. “Almost. Almost. Ngh—Yes. You're doing so fucking good. Please,” he whimpered, his gaze fixated on the mesmerizing sight of himself as he approached his climax.
“Fuck”
Finally, He felt himself break. Ropes of cum spilled into the toy, wave after wave, each pulse washing over him like a tidal wave of ecstasy. His brain emptied of thoughts, but his body kept him moving, driven by pure instinct, prolonging the feeling that consumed him.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of bliss, he settled down, panting heavily as the waves of pleasure receded, leaving him breathless.
…
He couldn't stop himself after that. For the next few days, while Fiddleford was away, he lost himself in exploring his different fantasies.
Again. And again. And again.
It was embarrassing to indulge in such thoughts, but he felt he deserved the release. Each moment of escapism helped clear his head, allowing him to focus on what really mattered. It was a welcome distraction, especially since Bill had been gone for longer than usual, which slightly worried him. Still, he was thankful for the absence; he didn't want Bill to see him like this, vulnerable and caught up in his own desires.
But now, with his thoughts finally unclouded, he felt more determined than ever to finish his project. The time away from distractions had provided him with the clarity he needed, and he was ready to dive back into his work with newfound enthusiasm.