Chapter Text
Mechanical tendrils slither like animals across the ground, exploring the rooms that once held toons. Now, they have been stripped of what made them unique. Ichor staining mattresses that are pulled from the bed frames they peacefully rested upon, some of these even ripped open, stuffing left on the ground, with springs barely attached. Bookcases are no different, as their shelves are empty and pulled to the ground, old journals, transcripts, and books taking different places on the ground. The posters of their owners are either ripped to shreds or simply gone.
Glisten's body sweats anxiously as he hears the shuffling of Vee's "arms", snaking around his waist and rubbing up against his body. They dance around his thighs, tightening up to hear his trembling voice whimper. An old monitor shuts on, fluorescent lights glowing onto the pink room. The speakers replicate a coo from Vee, giggles erupting from her throat. Of course, they understand one another, they can discuss, they can argue, they can agree. It's a matter of Vee not wanting to listen to him if it's not moans.
The copper wire that replaces her finger zaps him, earning a distressed yelp. He's had worse from her, of course, but it doesn't make it any less unpleasant to bear.
"Oh, angel," she mewls, feigning worry. "Does that hurt you? Scare you? You know you're prettiest with your makeup running down your glass."
Shame courses through his body, the reaction Vee wants. He hides his face on the pillow, which she reacts to by letting to of his torso in favor of her other plans.
SMACK!
Another yelp leaves his body, the tough wires leaving him red on his backside. He turns, trying to speak, but Vee is quick to shock him again. All of it causes tears to well up in his eyes, unable to coherently think as she continuously taunts him. She never lets him have any words, and when she does, it barely matters. She can't hear him, not from the lack of microphone he has, but from her own complex. She revels in his weakness, in how his confidence shatters so easily, all over facing a machine that replicates the concept of god.
"Do you miss my old body, angel?" She asks, looking for any hint of reaction from him.
"If I did, it'd just remind me of what happened."
"You miss me..."
She laughs at him even louder, almost cackling. He pulls the pillow on his head before he feels her arms moving around him again, gently rubbing against his crotch. Warmth floods his lower half, a well deserved moan muffled by sheets, fluff, and feathers. The cable teases him, caressing the sensitive area, causing him to forget all about the situation at hand.
"Oh, you little slut."