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Curses flew out under your breath as you hurried down the Labs, not wanting to stay in one place for long.
Your body ached and burned with the fall from earlier, given almost no time to breathe with the threat of the Prototype nearby — even if he had stated to have pursued Poppy above.
Your hand, no longer glued to the trigger of your now missing grabpack courtesy of Huggy, clutched at the shoulder that had taken the brunt of your fall.
You weren't sure where you were headed now — when did you ever in a maze like this? You couldn't remember Playtime ever being this confusing — but you kept moving. You couldn't stop now. The more distance created between you and wherever he was, the better.
You just hoped Kissy was okay, having only been left with her arm nearby after your fall. Maybe she, too, went to find Poppy, endangering herself in the process.
And that only added to your stress.
You couldn't worry about that now, however; you needed to focus on yourself. You weren't helpful dead.
All the exertion and bruises of your endeavors hit you as hard as you did the floor earlier, slowing your pace and distracting you from your attention to your surroundings — you snapped yourself out of it. You couldn't let your guard down even for a single second.
If you weren't able to even stay aware of what was around you, you had no business being here. No business being alive.
Behind the buzz and rumble of the factory and your footsteps, you heard a deep clunking that echoed down the halls. A sound that emanated only once every couple seconds with a sharpness that both commanded silence and pierced through it.
You froze.
With wide eyes staring down the dark corridors, your ears strained against the white noise for a sound you instinctually knew you should heed. It held the weight of something large and heavy with an imposing threat of danger behind it.
No, as you heard it better, you realized you'd heard that sound before.
Your stomach dropped.
He… he couldn't be…? You feared for Poppy's well-being, even if she had run off from you earlier. Self preservation was one helluva bitch and you could imagine the fear she felt when targeted by the very enemy of the factory. To hear he was coming for her — but now he was near you. What did this mean for her? How could he be down here already?
You flinched back into moving when a particular step of his bounced off the walls a little less than before, telling you he was getting far too close to your location. You needed to keep that distance between the two of you.
There was a distinct lack of a grabpack clacking and rattling against itself with each purposeful step you'd take. You knew it'd sound deafening in the hallway of silence you walked down, potentially even broadcasting your location to him, but the familiar sound of it missing from your gait was beyond disconcerting. It made you feel far more vulnerable as well — despite how endangering the idle sound of it would be.
Earlier, through the shadows casted on the walls near Safe Haven, you had seen the size of him — or rather, the size of half of him, with only his unhuman legs visible in the height of the crevice you, Poppy and Kissy hid in. At least, you assumed that was his bottom half and not just the start of his sheer height.
You shuddered at the thought. You did not want to find out more about what he looked like.
With all the drawings and graffiti of the factory, you were surprised to see no visual record of the Prototype past crude art of his needle-like hands and CatNap's shrine — which you dearly hoped was not accurate to the real deal like Ollie— the Prototype had implied.
How horrifying of a concept it was that he pretended to be a young guide for Poppy for what appeared to have been a long time. And to be immediately sought out by the dangerous beast, to add salt to the wound? Terrifying.
You swallowed the thoughts down and focused on navigating this decrepit section of the Labs.
Anxiety simmered deep in your gut as you found yourself down a long stretch of hallway with broken doors lining the walls. You were so far unfamiliar with this area; you shouldn't risk entering any rooms that might not have secondary exits. You couldn't know if they did.
You weren't sure what dangers lied inside either.
You stumbled through an aborted step — when had you stopped hearing the Prototype's footsteps behind you?
Despite the urgency of your situation, you paused at an intersection to listen to the silence for any signs of him in case you were missing it. Your heartbeat rushed in your ears, making you paranoid that it was drowning out important sounds.
You took a couple hesitant steps down the dark hall, opting to continue keeping distance from where you heard him last. He couldn't be anywhere else so quickly, right?
Your body knowing something you didn't, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, prickling your nerves as you stared wide-eyed down the void of the corridor where your attention felt drawn to.
Something was there.
As you stared on, it didn't reveal itself. It didn't announce itself. You weren't even sure if it really was there, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched by a presence in the dark.
Hoping whatever it was did not follow you or was even focused on you despite your instincts, you quietly took the only other turn at the hallway's intersection, down a corridor that likewise lacked functional lights, multiple bulbs flickering occasionally. At the very least, though, you were able to see more than the other way.
Your body tensed as you turned your back to whatever was down that dark path.
There was an almost inaudible slide of metal behind you. You did not stop for it. You did not look back. You did not walk slowly away from it, opting for a quicker speed and ready to sprint at any given moment.
You could feel the gaze of what was watching you still burned on the back of your head, your hair standing on end and hands quivering with anticipation.
A flash of yellow was your only warning of the monster in the shadows beginning its hunt.
Quick footsteps followed you — far too many and far too fast for the sedate pace the Prototype would take and sounding more akin to a determined predator after its prey.
You had no time to look as you broke out into a run.
Disorienting sounds of alarms played from him as he chased you down, almost masking how close he was to you, but the vibrations under your feet, almost knocking you off them at times, told you everything. Your ears strained from the volume as he grew closer to you—
You hastily turned down another hallway, hoping a sharp corner would at the very least slow his large frame down.
Hope was all you had at this point.
You couldn't think about where this hallway led either, unsure if it held danger or became a deadend, but you were out of options and needed to create space between you and him again.
But perhaps this particular hallway was a bad choice.
You slid to a quick stop, noticing toys ahead that were undoubtedly hostile — because what else did this place harbor than resentful creatures in every corner?
Small Critters littered the floor — no. No, these were different. You furrowed your brow as you looked closer. These ones weren't plush like their predecessors; they had several stitches running along the seams of their bodies, connecting the interface of fabric together with tufts of fur to line the edges. Their eyes… You knew how toys worked for them to look like that.
They were turned wrong side out.
Your heart skipped a beat as they likewise focused on you with small whispers and hisses of threat. A few took a couple steps towards you, breathing promises of harm.
You backtracked without thinking first and bumped into something cold and hard that wasn't there previously, having no give to your body knocking into it. You held the breath that was taken from you when you remembered just what was behind you. And what you had just touched — who you had touched.
Taking a couple careful steps away, you slowly, hesitantly, scaredly turned around. Metal stood just a foot away from you, the tile below its point chipped from its impact. More of these metal claws were dug into the tile around a wide, intricate frame that…
You gasped.
He was truly, in all his essence, in front of you.
The Prototype.
His mouth, taking up a disturbingly significant portion of his porcelain face, was set in a jagged, toothy smile that made you more uneasy than any other uncannily smiling creature down here.
His ominous yellow eye was trained right on you with a quiet intensity that spoke of its dangers.
You flinched when his body clicked with movement, accounting for the readjusted balance as he leaned forward. His face rotated as he regarded the toys just past you.
"Oh no! That's scary—… It's okay; I'm here now," he said cheerfully in a familiar voice, face clicking left and right.
You jumped back in fear, tripping over your feet and debris and falling onto your back. You yelped as your sore body made heavy contact with the ground.
What the fuck is that.
You couldn't tear your gaze away from the horror that was his appearance — a single eye bore down on you with no apparent emotion. Almost like he was simply regarding you with no sense of urgency or hatred that he might have harbored previously; his tone was rather hard to gauge on the phone anyway.
"What's wrong, little Angel?" He tilted his head. "Frozen with fear?"
You shook your head — not in response to him, but in complete disbelief of seeing him — pushing yourself back from the looming creature that just didn't seem to get any further as you did.
But where could you go?
Maybe you could try your chances with the toys ahead — though, at a quick glance at your exit, you noticed the hall had been mysteriously vacated.
You supposed you weren't the only one terrified of the Prototype.
Before you could think of taking advantage of your escape, the Prototype had already moved in on you, keeping you frozen with fear. His long, sharp hand delicately hovered over you with the threat of pinning you down.
The stolen Huggy arm attached to his… abdomen? His second, lower abdomen? Under his second, lower ribcage? You couldn't begin to understand the intricacies of his anatomy. The arm's synthetic fur was prickly yet soft against your leg as it coiled itself around your ankle and lazily worked its way up.
As soon as it made it past your knee and touched your inner thigh, you knocked your legs together tight with horrified suggestion. He… he wouldn't, right…?
You turned your head away from the sight, and the actions were not lost on the Prototype.
"Oh? You think those are my intentions?" A deep laugh bubbled up from his throat as he mocked you. "Something so sinister you'd think I'm capable of?"
The arm tightened around your leg as he loomed over you, your body surrounded by his metal claws. His body was awfully close to you.
"Do you want to know if I am?"
Your heartrate skyrocketed and eyes widened with fear and dread.
"No, you're right. We already know the answer to that."
You did not like the implication. You did not want to know or even imagine how it was possible on a body like his. You did not want to humor the idea.
He leaned in, your vision becoming nothing but that horrifying face. A sharp finger came up to your chest and dragged itself down your shirt, smoothing over the fabric without catching on any creases. "But shall we put it to the test?"
Your heart skipped a beat.
No…
His hold on your leg had become noncommittal, leaving just enough wiggle room for you to twist out of his grip in a panic and scramble back up onto your feet. You took off from the monster without looking back.
"Run, little mouse…" he cooed from down the hall after you, voice echoing ominously around you. "I do love a good chase."
A harsh laugh bounced off the walls, following you quickly as you sprinted into the dark without a care, eyes blown wide to account for the shadows you couldn't see through — or maybe it was the fear coursing through you.
Your arms burned as you ran for more than just your life, pain emanating from your shoulder with each swing to propel you faster, but it couldn't be fast enough. It would never feel fast enough.
You heard him behind you again.
With the hallway previously unsuccessful for you, you scanned the doors along the wall for any that would unmistakably give you a better escape. Most seemed to lead into lab rooms and offices, which would certainly be used to corner you in.
A familiar sign hung broken on the ceiling and as you approached the coinciding door, you saw the dark wall sign beside it with a white jagged symbol.
Stairs.
An escape.
You turned and pushed your body heavily against the metal door. It swung open with a creak and you wasted no time to sprint up the stairs that greeted you. Your brain worked in overdrive as you skipped steps, sprinting higher up the staircase and turning around each landing.
Quick impacts of his claws resounded behind you, and you heard the scrape of his body swiftly sliding through the doorway.
You couldn't begin to think of how horrifying it was that a being of his size could fit through a human door.
Your hand burned on the old railing as you swung yourself around the landing and up more stairs. Your legs complained with each leap and push against gravity. Your heart constricted harshly.
You could hear him pull himself up past every staircase segment with very few steps needed to do so.
Every two staircases he ran over, you had gone up just one, and very quickly had he caught up to you. You spared a single fearful glance towards him through the railing as he worked his way up to be just behind you.
You immediately regretted going for the stairs, massively slowing you down and tiring you out. He was large — of course he'd be able to scale them easily, regardless of how slim the path was. With a quick turn around the landing just below you, a sharp hand grabbed your ankle and yanked, sending you forward onto the staircase.
A cry left you as your face made contact with the hard edge of a stair, your lip stinging with the impact. You quickly lifted yourself onto your hands and knees, and screwed your eyes shut from the dizzying pain for a moment.
Blood fell from your mouth as you defeatedly slumped on the stairs, watching as it steadily dripped and splattered below. Your lip must have split.
The Prototype creaked above you.
You panted as you collected yourself, all too aware of the monster that loomed just behind you. All too aware that you were alone and trapped with him with no means of defense.
No one's coming to save you. Get up.
You couldn't be deterred so easily. With a desperate grip on the stairs, you pulled yourself up just one more, just enough for your hands to plant on the next landing of the staircase. His fingers warningly curled into your leg, piercing through the skin.
You're stronger than this. Get up.
A groan of pained, desperate determination left you as you used your free leg for leverage, pushing yourself further up until a knee could be placed on the landing as well.
He pulled you back down a step, your knee sliding off from its progress. Your hip bones fell uncomfortably against the edge, your top half flat on the landing.
Finding yourself in a more compromising position, his words from earlier came flooding back to your mind with great panic.
There are fates worse than death. Get up—
Two legs crawled over your body, digging into the staircase landing just beside your head.
It's not over. Get up—
His hand was delicately replaced with a coiling fuzzy arm, your body making no effort to take this opportunity and lift itself from your position.
You couldn't get up.
Blood collected under your face, staining your skin as you laid your head down in resolute, exhausted defeat. You closed your eyes, hoping to blink away the tears that threatened to fall.
This was it. And he wasn't even killing you.
You masked a sob with a cough.
All the horrible things he could have become — could have been — and this was what he chose?
It felt unfair. It felt targeted. It felt like it was meant for you.
Exp. 1006. Isn't he wonderful?
You just focused on your breathing as you anticipated his next move that couldn't come fast enough. You just wanted things to be over already.
Get up.
You weakly outstretched a hand, reaching for nothing on the flat plane of the landing.
His metal hand settled itself beside yours in warning, leaning on it to place himself further over you. You heard the sickeningly delicate jingle of his bells move closer to the sides of your head as he did.
There was no getting out of this.
The other arm attached to him, previously Mommy's, slithered around your other leg and slowly pulled it to the side, opening your legs up for himself. You lowered your forehead back onto the floor in great humiliation. Your lip stung as it curled unpleasantly with emotion, the heat of blood rushing to the surface again.
"Given up already?" he patronized. "How unlike you."
A small whimper left you without your permission as you breathed onto the floor. You didn't need him to verbalize it. You didn't need him to tell you how much he'd been watching you since you stepped foot in this accursed place. You didn't need him to rub it in.
"You must feel so helpless…" Again, a sharp finger found itself on your shirt, tracing down the dip of your spine. "It'll be alright. You can take it."
You dearly, dearly still hoped he really wasn't implying what you thought, but it was so quickly proven to be true.
That finger running down your back met the waistband of your pants and crooked until it slid underneath enough to drag it down. Slowly. Agonizingly. Teasingly.
A little mocking laugh left him as you squirmed, only serving to assist him in his efforts as he pulled your pants down to your knees to remove them.
When you'd arrived at Playtime after a decade of being away with no explanation, no word, no severance pay, you hadn't expected this to be what you'd gotten out of coming back. Maybe bruises, the sight of corpses, maybe even death for yourself, but this was beyond what you had imagined.
Why couldn't he have found Poppy instead?
Though, vaguely, in the back of your mind, you wondered what he would have done to her.
And maybe some twisted part of you — one protective in nature and shrouded in guilt — was thankful it was you.
You tensed when you heard his metal frame clicking behind you, somewhere low on his body. Dread fell to your stomach like a sandbag as there was a sound of something shifting out of its home with a quiet, wet shlink.
You didn't want to accept the thought of what it was, even if deep down you instinctually knew it. You just couldn't believe this was happening — and all because you feared what anyone of your sex would.
What twisted logic.
You tried turning your head the best you could, regarding whatever it was in your periphery.
It was large.
Large enough that you could make out enough of it without seeing it directly — the concept disturbed you. The… appendage was unlike anything else on his body; it looked slimy, squishy, and was a weird translucent color that you were sure was as rosy of a color as your face.
Despite no visible nerves or muscles seen through its length, it squirmed of its own accord at the tip like a tentacle, wriggling its way towards you. Towards the crux of your legs. It was cold from wetness as it brushed against your inner thigh, leaving a small film of its slick behind.
What the fuck kind of engineering went into that.
Regardless, he wasn't going to fit.
He was not going to fit.
Your widened eyes seemed to have communicated that as it drew closer to you and the arms around you tightened in anticipation of struggle. You knew you were unable to do anything to retaliate, but your body did jolt sharply upon feeling a delicate touch along your folds.
A light, exploratory press parted them, inviting itself to wriggle in between and unite itself with your own slick. It dragged itself downwards, hitting your most hidden crevices and sending sharp jolts of feedback through your body.
Your head lifted from the floor in shock, sore jaw falling slack with a harsher flushing of your face.
It was… gentle.
The warm tip of it circled around your clit, able to apply just enough pressure to make your legs twitch heavily against their living binds — why was it so dextrous? How was it so flexible?
You weren't given much longer to ponder on it as it slid upward again with intent, leaving a trail of slick behind.
The small tip curiously but purposefully dug at your entrance, swirling around and pushing you apart, as if gauging your tightness. Upon a deeper push, almost already hitting your max at an unprepared state, you made a noise of complaint, your hands curling into fists on the dusty floor.
He held a smile in his voice as he spoke like he was offering sweet little nothings to you. "Don't worry. I'll make you fit."
He gave a hard push into you, squishing against the resistance of your entrance until it had no option but to submit and give in, accepting the increasing girth with great, painful reluctance. The finer tip of the tentacle slithered in you, mapping out every inch of the way as it worked in deeper. At any resistance, it retreated slightly just to push back in, forcing your walls apart.
A scream lodged itself in your throat, never quite able to make it out as you locked up from the stretch that just didn't seem to stop. You didn't care if tensing up made it worse for you; it wasn't like it could be any easier. So instead, an ugly noise left you.
Your entrance stung and abdomen deeply ached with the hasty intrusion — you were sure to be incredibly sore, if you survived this encounter; you couldn't know his other plans in the haze of sex — and the edge of the stairs were sharp against your front as you were pushed against it, sure to bruise with each firmer press from behind.
You coughed out a mix of spit and blood that had been collecting in your mouth as pain echoed through you and the stress of the situation overwhelmed your senses.
You felt like your legs couldn't be spread enough to account for his size, and, as if sensing this, the arms that held you pulled your knees apart just a little more as he pressed deeper — as he brought your lower half down onto him with your spread knees.
His claws buried in the landing scraped with an awful sound from the effort. Your jaw fell slack from the continuous stretch and your eyes — when they could remain open amidst his torment — glued themselves onto where the claw connected with the floor, watching as cracks drew themselves in the cement.
You gasped as the pliant muscles of the tentacle flexed against your walls with each agonizing crawl deeper into you. He made space where there wasn't any originally, creating a path moulded to his likeness with what required the brutish strength of his ungodly frame.
And you had no option but to take what he gave.
You felt that wriggling little tip dig around the deepest parts of you, pressing against a secondary entrance he should have no access to — and surely he wouldn't try. Fortunately for you, it seemed that would be his limit as he kept cramming more of himself in, curling that tip against your farthest end.
Before you knew it, lost in the sensations that consumed you, he stopped. And it was only when he readjusted his hold on you that you realized he had managed to bottom out completely. His lower ribcage was cold against your bare skin. You were full. Packed to the brim.
It felt so hot inside of you.
"No…" you managed to get out finally, your voice hoarse with major disuse and pain — pain?
"Ha—! A bit late for that, darling!" he said with a cheeky, feminine voice, sounding all too cheerful for the morbid situation he put you in. The metal of his body creaked as he curled over you.
You held back any other noises that threatened to leave you. You wouldn't give in — at least, not any more than you already have.
Slowly, languidly, he pulled himself back. You felt the pliable length of the tentacle stretch and uncurl as he dragged it out, having been far too long and far too big to fit properly.
You didn't get to bask in the relaxed emptiness before he harshly thrust himself back in, your entrance giving sharp complaints as it was too quickly brought to its max once again. Pain broke out along your lip's fresh wound as you bit down on it, stifling the sounds you wanted to express for your lower region.
Retracting himself was a far easier task, and a puff of hot air blew against the back of your head as he sent his lower body forward again. The sharp hand beside your head likewise dug into the floor, leaving white scores along the surface as he felt through your tightness.
You could hear the minor hitches in his breath and small mechanical grunts and glitches of his voicebox as he brought himself deeper with each methodical push into you. Somehow deeper — you weren't even sure how he was achieving that, or if he even was and it just felt that way to you; you genuinely couldn't tell through the fullness.
And from there, he built a rhythm you were not prepared for so soon — or ever, really. It wasn't particularly fast by any means, the tightness of you preventing either of you from moving too quickly, even with how slick he naturally was.
Either of you moving… You squeezed your eyes shut and curled your hands into fists as you felt your bottom meet his ribcage sooner than his pace allowed. It seemed your body decided how it would like to proceed in this situation against your control, seeking out more.
He noticed this too, giving you a small, pleased hum that your ears hungrily accepted. A gasp slipped past your lips at an encouraging press into you, the anterior muscles of his tentacle rippling against a particularly sensitive spot along your walls.
A small noise left you as his thrusts worked in tandem with his flexing muscle, your hands unsure if they wanted to remain in tight fists or stretch out on the cold floor, your body entirely too hot against it.
You could feel his breath along your nape as he spoke. "See, it's not so bad."
You did not dignify that with a response.
It was not lost on you that your body had stopped complaining about the stretch, simply feeling full without that sharp pain of too much as his movements worked your entrance apart. Despite hating the prospect that your body was welcoming it, you would rather it than being unable to take him at all.
As he continued with his newfound pace, you settled your head back on the floor and sighed against it. Best to just let him get it over with. Get it out of his system.
But it was difficult to let yourself be the sleeve he was treating you as when he squirmed a certain way inside you, sending your body ablaze with crashing warmth. Your sigh quickly turned into small pants as he worked his way through you with abandon.
After a small, audible crack in the floor, his claw swiftly removed itself from its compromised spot and repositioned itself a couple inches away.
It didn't particularly change the angle of his thrusts, but it provided more security for him to pull himself forward with greater strength, scoring deep hits within you that had you arching your back in surprise.
It took everything in you not to make noise at that.
The arms holding your legs tightened further, feeling the pull of your knees against them as you lost more control of your body and its reflexes from the sensations that ravaged it.
Hot fluid lazily rolled down your leg and left a quickly cooling trail behind as he pummeled into you, drops spurting out every time he withdrew and keeping his motions smooth in your tight heat.
One particular thrust had you throwing your head back with a gasp and a broken voice. "Prototype—!"
"There it is," he crooned.
A finger, despite his motions, gently traced along your jaw until it stopped by your chin, prompting it to tilt further up towards his face above. You could see the bell tips of his hat dangling and swaying in your periphery, gradually lowering towards you.
"How would the resistance feel if they knew you were so compliant under my touch? That I have you moaning my name?" His cheek brushed against yours, sliding slightly with his strong thrusts. "How would Poppy feel about her angel having fallen?"
Tears sprang in your eyes and you grit your teeth as you helplessly took it.
And he watched.
Squelches resounded through the stairwell as he pushed and pulled from you repeatedly, the tentacle buried within you writhing and squishing impossibly with each thrust.
At every little sound you made, he would reward you with a smoother, rolling thrust that slid by your sensitive walls just right, encouraging more from you in a vicious cycle that kept you pent up and increasingly breathless.
All the while a cold hand came around your hip and worked its way under your shirt, pushing it up as his fingers grazed your side. Reaching by your chest, he ran them firmly over your ribs and scored the skin between each bone. "What if I never let you go?"
The hand traveled lower again to settle firmly along your outer hip, dragging down your thigh and leaving more stinging marks in its wake, sending fine rivelets of blood down your leg, until it lifted and returned higher on you.
It settled along your temple and slowly slid down your face, cold against your burning cheeks. You fluttered your eyes against the one contact that remained delicate among a storm of ferocity.
It reached your chin, cupping gently as best it could with fingers as long and pointed as his, keeping your chin tilted up as he bore down on you.
"What if you were mine?" he whispered, the stolen voice laced with venom that you weren't sure belonged to its original owner or him.
At the final syllable, he withdrew his hand. His fingers scraped against your face, leaving harsh red lines along the side. Your eye reflexively closed and teared up at the proximity, feeling the skin quickly swell from the depth of the cuts.
In your realm of pleasure, you couldn't have cared less about how painful it felt. It was hard to focus. Even on the words he spoke to you, you had a hard time processing through the blooming sensations spreading across your body.
"Tell me…" His sharp fingers grazed your shoulder. "Would you want that too?"
Blood, sweat, and tears mixed on the floor below your face as a deep, painful pleasure burned through you and you panted. "H-hah…"
He seemed to accept that as a satisfactory response. The floor crumbled under the force he put into his motions as he picked up the pace, disregarding that your tiny human body might not have been able to handle it.
You didn't think either of you cared.
Your hands fought for purchase on the smooth, cement floor as if to escape from the overstimulation threatening to break through your body at any moment, your walls greedily clenching around his tentacle proving to be unhelpful towards this effort.
You curled over the floor, mouth agape and panting as he pointedly pounded into you just a few more times, and stopped.
Aggravatingly, you teetered just on the edge of your climax, the pressure mounting in your abdomen almost unbearable made worse as you stewed in it without his help. You groaned as you clenched around him, unable to get yourself over that edge.
Much to your chagrin — as hard as that was to admit — he fully slid his length out of you, leaving you empty in a time of great need. A complaining moan left you without your consent, body twitching from his swift denial.
"Patience…" he murmured firmly, a hand curling under your front and lifting the weight of your body carefully.
You were turned onto your back with ease, lower half almost hanging off the landing with the arms that restrained your legs supporting you and keeping you from sliding off. Your knees were kept apart by the arms, but in this position, they strained to widen enough for his body to reinsert itself in between.
No longer on your front, you had full view of him again and the appendage attached low on his body, aimed right for your entrance.
It was so much larger than you had even expected it to look like — that was in you?
Maybe if you had the mental capacity, at the sight of it, you would be snapping back to reality and trying to escape again, but in the midst of still clenching on nothing, it didn't matter; your head fell back and you tilted your hips, needing him back in you already.
The resistance definitely couldn't know of this.
You were sickened by your own desperation and acceptance of what you hadn't wanted, tasting bitter on your tongue as you whispered a small plea for only him to hear.
His eye was intense as he stared straight into your soul, obligingly leaning himself closer.
"Who am I to deny?"
His tentacle sought out your entrance again, finding it with practiced ease, as if he already had your body expertly mapped out for his perusal. It slid in with much less hassle than before, your body hungrily welcoming its writhing length as if it weren't entirely too big for you and hung on tight when he drew back.
With renewed vigor, he brought his body back towards you repeatedly and you were able to see the way he efficiently moved with the effort. His front two legs had done all the work as you assumed, but you could now see the other two braced wide to balance and push himself harder. His hands planted on the floor around you kept him anchored.
His hat ends swung with each thrust, eye trained right on you, and you quickly let your head fall to the side — away from that too attentive gaze.
As he drove himself in, however, you weren't able to keep your head still for long as the throes of pleasure hijacked your control over your body, gasps and moans slipping past your lips. The tentacle within curled a certain way that had your back arch sharply and your head thrown back. With how far he had to lean over you for this position, you were unable to escape his gaze and met it, your mouth falling agape.
That mocking, pleased smile was ever-present as he swayed over you with a reestablished rhythm.
It didn't take much for him to work you back up to where you had been previously, feeling your completion fast approaching with an urgency you vocalized. Your body curled forward, dearly wanting to chase it, but his hand settled itself firmly on your chest and kept you on the floor.
Knowing you were sliding down a steep slope towards climax, he kept at a steady pace that had perfectly spaced apart thrusts, brushing against your sensitive spots with enough force to send bursts of pleasure through your groin.
You spat out curses with the mounting pressure that threatened to break and he eagerly soaked it in.
Keeping you in that state, that same cold hand lifted from your chest and nudged its way underneath the hem of your shirt, helping itself to your most delicate bare skin along your front as it traveled upwards. Cold air met your damp skin as the shirt was dragged along with him.
His fingertips settled themselves on your clavicle and worked their way back down, slowly dragging over your chest and down your stomach until they stopped by the curve of your abdomen. They left bright red marks behind, welling up with a minor amount of blood.
You grit your teeth against the sensation, mixing cruelly with the pleasure just below your skin.
His hand carried on to your side and down to your thigh, scoring deeper marks influenced by the motions of his thrusts pushing his entire body forward.
At this point, anywhere someone would look on your body, they would know the Prototype was there.
You couldn't be seen like this.
You watched as his eye flicked from his fingertips on your stomach up to meet your own eyes with trepidation. "Do you want me?"
When you didn't immediately respond, he threatened an answer out of you by ever-so-slightly slowing his thrusts, putting less force behind them that just wasn't enough to affect your overworked nerves, and it worked — you whined in despair.
It burned.
"Yes! Yes!" you wailed, trying to spread your thighs further apart to urge him closer. "Please!"
The hand crooked against your side and dug into your flesh as he braced you against his thrusts, mercifully picking back up where he left off and sending you quickly over the edge.
Pleasure tore through you as the coil snapped, washing over you in torrental release that your body begged for. Your hands grasped at whatever part of him you could access, ultimately landing on his forearm and fingers, and your voice echoed across the empty staircase as you screamed into the air.
Likewise, he was not immune to pleasure as he, too, achieved his own climax; his single eye went dark and he groaned lowly as you pulsed hungrily around him, milking him for what he had — whatever that might have been in a twisted body like his. You didn't want to know, nor did you care in this moment.
You just needed him.
His thrusts faltered with your combined orgasms, overtaken by the same sensations coursing through you. You felt hot fluid rushing out of you with each half-hearted motion, overfilling you and escaping around his length.
You whimpered pathetically when it became too much as he lost himself and rode out the last bouts of his climax without consideraton, spurting more into you with each thrust.
It was a long, grueling period of him using you — your body having no idea how to process the continued stimulation — before he finally stuttered and slowed to a stop, basking in the tightness of you for a moment with heavy breaths you were sure a being like him shouldn't have been capable of.
His hands rested gently on your sides, just beside the scratches he left along your ribs and front, while the arms around your legs softened in their grasp; you were finally able to relax your tense legs and stiff joints with a grimace.
He carefully withdrew from you one final time, leaving you panting on the cold floor painted in various fluids, more dribbling out of you and joining below.
Your chest, shimmering with sweat and lined with blood, rose and fell with exhausted breaths.
He looked over his work.
Perhaps there weren't enough marks on you — it probably wouldn't feel like enough until you were covered in your own blood — but that was a thought he tucked away for later.
You were limp in his grasp as he raised you off the dirty floor. Your eyelids were heavy as you watched the world move, eventually giving in to the weight and blissfully closing them.
Hands delicately deposited you on a familiar pelt scrap along his back smelling vaguely floral, pulling away with an uncharacteristic carefulness so as to not further scratch your soft skin.
"You belong to me now, my Angel."
Your eyes remained closed with exhaustion beckoning you to unconsciousness.
Bow to the Prototype. Isn't he wonderful?