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Glitches, errors, wild shit going wrong does indeed happen sometimes, despite the Narrator’s insistence that he has “patched everything up!” There’s always something just a bit off.
The skip button was one of those, having been smashed to pieces by the Narrator after the fourth use of it. (They don’t talk about it anymore.)
Stanley doesn’t mind the occasional mishap needing to be fixed. It gives him a break from the dreadful repetition of his existence, as well as a break from having to come up with new quips or shenanigans to toss back at the Narrator.
While the Narrator goes about fixing whatever happened to create the buzzing noise that had seemingly been following Stanley around, he takes a moment to himself in the broom closet. He’s made it more cozy over time, and while the Narrator is undoubtedly annoyed at his ‘hiding away,’ he doesn’t reset whatever Stanley leaves in there.
He’s got a couple of pillows in there, and whatever was left over from the blanket he had nailed to the ceiling to dim the brightness of the lights a bit. Oh, and the bucket. It’s a nice little room all to himself, a place to relax where the Narrator has given up trying to bully him out of.
But. There’s that weird buzzing noise. The Narrator had gone quiet a while ago, off to go fix it, but the sound remains, and honestly it sounds louder than a few minutes ago. Then the lights flicker and go dark, and the world is quiet.
Except for Stanley’s beating heart, because sorry what the fuck just happened ? He squeezes the bucket closer to him, nervously looking up at the ceiling. The lights come back online, but there’s no voice coming back to “ apologize for the inconvenience ” or anything like that.
“Narrator? Is everything okay up there?” Stanley signs, but nothing responds. Frowning, he gently lifts the bucket to hit it against the metal shelf beside him.
A loud banging erupts in his mind and Stanley instinctively covers his ears, jumping at the sudden noise.
“-uck, sorry Stanley! I knocked the microphone over in my haste to see you.” Narrator apologizes, but his voice is scratchy and rough sounding. Breathlessly, he murmurs, “Oh, and what a sight you are.”
Stanley tilts his head at the ceiling, confusion written all over his face. “Are you okay? What happened to your voice?”
“My sweet boy, I’m perfectly fine, thank you for asking.” The Narrator says smoothly, and Stanley feels his face get a bit hotter. Does he always have to call him ‘my boy’? The other man laughs. “Well, you are a good boy, aren’t you? And you’re undeniably all mine .”
Stanley sucks in a shuddering breath at the low and dark tone on the last few words. No, no, something’s not right. Did the Narrator hit his head or something?
“No, love, I didn’t hit my head. I’m a bit parched though, I will admit. Stanley, why don’t you come join me for a drink?” The Narrator invites and probably sees how Stanley hesitates to respond. “When’s the last time you had some proper alcohol? Come and relax with me.”
Well, he can’t resist that offer. “But… how am I meant to get to you?”
“Exit that silly little closet and find out.”
Stanley (disgruntled, it’s not silly ) obeys, only to open the door and find it opens into an elevator. He blinks once, twice, before stepping in.
“Since when could you do that?”
“Since always, love. I have complete control over this world, after all. Except you, sweet thing.” Yeah, that’s true, but… Stanley looks around at the fancy, dark wood and gold-gilded elevator, which starts moving without any input. He never thought about the full extent of Narry’s powers, apparently. “My love, you’ve no idea what I can do.”
The doors open, and Stanley is faced with the Narrator’s lair as he’s dubbed it the few times he’s been here. Screens line an entire wall of the massive room, actively and invisibly streaming the live feed of Stanley’s every move throughout the parable.
There’s no cameras on him right now, though. No, there’s no need for cameras when the watcher of his every action is right in front of him, gazing down at him hungrily.
In addition to only seeing the lair a few times, the Narrator has only made himself visible to Stanley a select handful of times. Stanley knows it’s inherently messed up, but those few and far between encounters are enough to keep his fantasies more than thriving.
The Narrator chuckles lowly, and Stanley abruptly snaps himself out of his (presumably being read) thoughts. The Narrator leans down to eye level, smirking. “Such high praise from my little treasure.”
“I reject this nickname.” Stanley signs immediately despite his weak knees. Pouting, he questions the obvious, “Why are you pink instead of yellow?”
“It fits the mood better,” Narrator replies as if that’s an acceptable answer, pushing Stanley closer to him with some invisible force. The smaller man flings his hands up to push against the Narrator’s chest, inches from his lips. With the Narrator’s warm breath brushing across his lips, he whispers, “And speaking of that mood, I’m afraid that after seeing you, I’m going to have to put a rain check on those drinks. I’ve got something far more intoxicating in front me.”
Stanley is frozen as the Narrator smashes their lips together. The Narrator invades his mouth with a tongue that feels just slightly too big, not that Stanley can do anything to stop it as a hand buries itself in his hair and keeps him trapped. All he can do is moan and whine, unable to do anything but take it, drooling slipping from the corners of his mouth.
When the Narrator finally pulls away, a thin line of spit connecting their lips, Stanley is out-of-breath and staring up at the Narrator with a combination of fear and desire. He tries to find the words to express something , not that he remembers what after being touched and kissed breathless, but only ends up uselessly flailing his hands about as something wraps around his waist.
“My good, obedient boy.” The Narrator purrs, eyes alight with unrestrained lust. A pink, suspiciously adventure line-like thing lifts him up by his waist and brings him up to the Narrator’s full height, feet swinging a few feet off the ground. It wraps around each of his thighs to pull them apart and restrains his arms behind his back. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this, to have you fully at my mercy to worship and to fuck into oblivion.”
I don’t, I don’t understand, Stanley thinks, barely able to piece together a coherent thought. You’ve never been interested in me like this before! I think, I don’t know, please kiss me more please please please.
“Oh, I’ll be giving you plenty of love in just a moment, lovely. But I have to correct you first.” Narrator steps in between his parted legs, one hand going to slide a few fingers into Stanley’s mouth. He presses down on Stanley’s tongue before starting to remove his fingers, only to push them back in between his lips, slowly and messily fucking his mouth with his fingers. “Such a good boy. No, dearest, this isn’t as sudden as you might think. Indeed, I’ve been thinking about fucking you stupid since you first put the thought into my head.”
Stanley whines as the other hand begins to pop off the buttons on his shirt, the Narrator dragging his fingers down every new inch of skin revealed. His restraints keep him from being able to resist or lean in, or get any kind of relief on his throbbing dick. His brain is very quickly becoming mush, and he’s so sensitive because he hasn’t been touched by another person in so long .
“Let’s see if I can jog the memory in that dumb little brain of yours. A while ago, when I went off to fix a minor issue within the parable. It didn’t take me very long, but when I came back you were on your knees, fucking yourself with your fingers all while fantasizing about me.”
Stanley doesn’t know if he can get any redder, and he genuinely can’t place when this happened because well, it’s not an uncommon occurrence. Almost anytime he gets a private few minutes, in fact.
“Yes, my cute little slut, that was only the first of many times I saw it. I tried to ignore it at first, since I wanted to give you privacy, but you couldn’t keep those thoughts of yours controlled. No, I forced myself to stay quiet as you would flood my head with dirty fantasies, thinking about choking you with my cock or fucking you over your desk. You are dirty-minded, Stanley.”
And he can’t deny it. How could he, when every word is true? He can’t help but suck on the fingers in his mouth, beyond turned on about the idea of gagging on them. Or about how close the Narrator is to his dripping cock, in between his legs and unable to fight back if the Narrator wanted to fuck him right here.
“See? Every day, I was bombarded with your lust for me. Eventually, I came to have my own fantasies as well, until it all came to a head.” Narrator finishes ripping off the buttons of his shirt, finally moving to unbutton his pants and Stanley bucks his hips as much as he can at the teasingly light contact he makes over his dick. Narrator chuckles darkly. “I don’t think I’m meant to fantasize, really, or meant to love or lust. It’s a bug. And I intend to fix it.”
The Narrator roughly palms his clothed dick, and Stanley practically wails as an orgasm is ripped from him unexpectedly, wheezing and shaking as his mind is filled with white static. He can hear the Narrator speaking but it is muffled in his ears, head falling onto the other’s shoulder as his body goes fully limp against his restraints.
“Look at the mess you made, darling. You need someone to take care of you, to control and love you.” The Narrator lifts his face and holds his cheeks in both hands (spit smeared across his cheeks from the soaked fingers), kissing all over his face. He smiles at the gentle affection, and earns a final kiss on the lips. “My brainless little boy, you need me.”
I love you, Narry.
The Narrator’s eyes go wide and his face goes red for once, before he bursts into a grin. “Oh Stanley, I love more than anything I could ever create. Let me show you exactly how much I adore you, my dear.”
Please .
The Narrator removes the wet boxers and Stanley shivers and reddens as he’s exposed, blush darkening as the Narrator coos over his nude body. His nails drag over his chest and leave red lines in their wake, all the way down to his spent cock that he lightly drags a finger over. Stanley whines loudly, body twitching uncontrollably as overstimulation rocks him.
The fingers that were fucking his mouth reappear behind him and Stanley jolts, hiding his face into Narry’s neck and moaning loudly as they press into him.
“Mm, a bit tight on the first two, love. Are your own fingers not stretching you out enough? Or are you just always this tight?” Narrator questions, not really expecting an answer from the already fucked-out human beneath him. “How many could I put in you, I wonder? I’m infinitely patient, I bet I could work you loose enough to take my whole hand…”
No, mmm, that’s too much you kinky bastard!
The Narrator clicks his tongue. “Still got enough sass left to talk back, hm? Let’s see how long that lasts.”
W-wait, hnngh! Stanley moans as a third finger presses inside of him, curling and pressing right on his prostate, like the fucker knew where it would be. Moans and sobs meld together as he starts crying from the overwhelming pleasure, hips rolling back as much as possible to try to chase the feeling.
“Much better. Fuck , I’m going to record your lovely noises and put them on a loop in my office.” Narrator muses, slowly thrusting the three fingers against his human’s most sensitive spot. His other hand comes up to brush the sweaty hair away from Stanley’s forehead, pushing his head up to take a look at the cute face he’s making. “Maybe I’ll start a collage of all the faces you make when you moan. Just precious.”
Stanley whines desperately as the fingers leave him, only to be swallowed up as the Narrator kisses him. The kisses trail to the corner of his lips, down to his chin and up his jawline. He tries to follow the lips, but is left gasping as two hands guide his thighs to wrap around the Narrator’s hips, something far too big pressing against his ass.
Ah, w-wait up! That’s not—
“Going to fit? Beg to differ, love. Your body was made for me.”
But, oh fuck me, can you untie my arms first? And the restraints are immediately gone, and Stanley wraps his arms tightly around the Narrator’s shoulders. Go slow, please Narry?
“Anything for you.”
Slowly, Stanley feels himself being pierced, and oh fuck . He’s not sure what the Narrator has done to him but every inch feels like electricity coursing through his veins. The Narrator nibbles along his jaw as he pushes in, groaning loudly into his ear as he bottoms out inside of him.
Stanley squeezes the Narrator tightly, breathing in short gasps of air as he lies on the brink of another orgasm after so soon. He’s going to lose his mind if he cums like this, he knows it, he knows it .
“G-good boy,” The Narrator groans, pulling out slowly to drag his cock deliciously along his inner walls. Stanley sobs and his nails dig into the Narrator’s back, barely keeping himself off the precipice. “ Mine .”
The Narrator bites down into his neck and slams back inside. Stanley screams soundlessly, as lightning erupts through him, body tensing and arching as it is finally claimed . His eyes roll back as another orgasm is pulled from him, and Stanley distantly knows that he wholeheartedly belongs to the Narrator now.
“Fuck, you’re so good, Stanley!” The Narrator groans, throbbing cock being squeezed uncontrollably as Stanley shakes violently. He allows his precious darling a brief moment of rest before he can’t control himself any longer. He pulls out before ramming back inside, chasing the pleasure that only his perfect soulmate can give him. “Please let me use you forever .”
Yours, yours, is on a repeat through Stanley’s head, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Nothing matters much anymore other than his Narrator’s cock, body nothing more than a toy to be used. And it feels so good .
The Narrator releases all the restraints so that Stanley is held up by just the Narrator as he pins him to the wall and pounds him relentlessly. He’s all but a melted mess of a person, raspily wailing and sobbing as his body is milked of pleasure. He messily fumbles to lift his head and kiss the Narrator, just trying to get that extra bit closer.
The Narrator kisses him deeply, unrelenting in his thrusts. Stanley thinks that they could stay like this forever. Maybe they should. The Narrator moans loudly, and Stanley can see in his eyes that he agrees.
As Stanley feels the pleasure start to blur and fuzz over, the Narrator thrusts as deep as possible and kisses all the air from his lungs, releasing inside of him. Stanley giggles giddily, dumbly happy about satisfying his love as his vision blacks out.
Stanley awakes from the most deep and comfortable sleep he’s had in a long time, and it seems a waste to wake up. He pushes his cheek into the pillow, cozy and warm.
“Ah, Stanley? Are you waking up?” A lovely, soothing voice asks. Oh, it’s his Narrator.
“Mhm.” He hums, throat scratchy from overuse. Why—? Oh.
Oh .
“Yes, indeed.” The Narrator agrees, and Stanley can hear the nervousness in his voice. “Stanley, my dear, um. There was a bug that got into my system, and well…”
“It made you horny.” Stanley signs, finishing the rest of the sentence that he knows the Narrator doesn’t want to complete.
“A-ahah, if you have to put it so bluntly, yes.” Narry coughs, and if Stanley had the willpower to open his eyes to look he’d imagine that the older man would be flushed red. “I’m… sorry, Stanley.”
“It was pretty sudden.”
“…Among other things, yes. Perhaps it’s just the sleepiness, but you don’t seem very upset.”
“Hey, Narry.”
“Yes?”
He opens his eyes, looking up at his personal pillow, Narry, who couldn’t help but cuddle him. He smiles groggily. “I love you.”
The Narrator is, indeed, very red, and his mouth agape. “I…”
Stanley raises an eyebrow. If he remembers correctly, there’s a number of hickeys up and down his throat and a soreness in his rear that is likely going to prevent him from walking normally for a long while. The Narrator stammers.
“O-of course, Stanley. I love you, very, very much. I’m sorry it came out like… this.”
“In me. Roughly.”
“Shut up, Stanley. Go back to bed.” The Narrator huffs, pushing his head back into his chest where he was resting. After a moment’s hesitation, Narry reaches down and plants a kiss on his forehead. “…I owe you a proper drink. And an upgrade, I suppose. I can’t have my lover continue to sleep in an unfinished broom closet.”
Stanley laughs, leaning up for another kiss, which the Narrator gives without hesitation.
“Rest, my love. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”