Chapter Text
There wasn’t a lot of hope in Hell. Prayer was a human habit, and Heaven always sounded like a joke that was too cruel for even his tastes. Fizz had never had the stomach to give it more than a passing thought.
The strongest of Hellborn might find some source of hope within them despite the abject cruelty inherent in their lives, but that wasn’t a type of strength Cash had trained into him like he had the others.
The best he could offer was helping the unequally miserable denizens of Hell laugh about it.
Despite all his efforts, Fizz was weak in so many ways. He had always needed an idol to look up to. A hero to hold his hand and lead him forward.
His custom made hands gripped against the floor, and he took a deep breath, eyes closing.
Mammon used to touch him.
There was a time it seemed like there was a curiosity there. An exciting thrill of wondering how far things would go under the claws of his savior.
He didn’t anymore.
He liked to watch. To direct. To boss around.
“You call that a fucking root? I can’t even hear the bloody bells!”
It was for the best really. Becauae in touching you had to be touched in return. Wanting… when you were Greed, was a type of vulnerability that equalized too much between them. And equality wasn’t what they were. What they worked for.
It was better this way, Fizz thought to himself, skin deadened to the familiar silicon hands gripping his skin, because he needed a God, not a partner.
The bots looked to Mammon, then back to Fizz. With silent agreement, they shifted the posture, the one with the soft chest and softer hips in front easing down while the one behind gripped his hips tighter.
But it hesitated, as if unsure.
Fizz opened his eyes again, tail swishing in the air between them, and he arched his back, groaning long and low for the benefit of their lone audience member.
“You heard the boss.” Fizz reached back with a flirty smile, gripping his own asscheek, shaking it before giving it a light smack. “Go on, give me the punchline.”
The cock slid in, nice and smooth, thighs slapping against his own as Fizz took his hand forward again and pushed it into the ground to brace against the thrusting.
“Fuck yes!” he groaned, voice low and rough as the bot behind pounded his ass. Beneath him, the one below kept pinching at his tits and clit, drawing those sharp hisses that always seemed to make Mammon squirm in his big throne seat.
“Too hard!” he cried out, “That hurts!” all theatrics as a vibrating palm replaced the pinch in apology. “Oh… oh fuck-.”
“Can somebody shut him up?”
Fizz knew it was coming, and honestly, he didn’t hate this part. The third bot, kitted out with a deep green tentacle of a strap, joined them, kneeling more or less over the second’s head, and pulled Fizz’s unresisting jaw forward until the tip forced its way between his lips, and pushed in until it filled his mouth and teased down his
throat, tempting both fate and his gag reflex with every rough thrust from behind.
There wasn’t much talking after that.
Just muffled groans, the slap of rubber against skin, and the ever present jingle of the bells from his hat, the only item of clothing Mammon had let him keep this time.
Mammon liked making that kind of decision.
Mammon liked that kind of control.
It probably would have looked bad out of context. He could imagine how quickly Barbie would stop listening and just reach for the bat. Blitzo… He wouldn’t even have tried to explain to Blitzo. He could imagine that face, always younger in his mind than in reality, and how he would have looked. Confused? Disappointed?
“Sorry Fizzie,” said a voice that obviously wasn’t. Back on his throne Mammon shifted to one elbow, gesturing carelessly with a half eaten drumstick. “Kinda seems like your head isn’t in the game, yeah?”
Fizz pulled back off the tentacle, “Sorry,Sir-“ but only until that FizzBot grabbed his head and sank it back in, cutting him off.
“You got some other pressing issue that’s more fucking important?”
“Mm Mmm!”
“Cause I could fuking go, you know. A Sin has lots of fucking options how to spend their fuckin time.”
“Mmm! MmMmm!” Shaking his head wasn’t possible, but he tried to make his expression as entreating as he could.
Mammon grinned around a femur maybe half the size of the one Fizz used to have, as he sucked the drumstick clean. “Okay, okay. Don’t get all needy about it, ya pansy. I’ll stay, but put your fuckin back into it this time!”
So yeah, it didn’t look great.
But if he could be honest…
It was hot as fuck.
Why else would his pussy be dripping if he didn’t like it? Didn’t like being watched, being told how to move, didn’t like being Mammon’s perfect little muse? He fucking loved it, if the mess sliding down his inner thighs was anything to go by.
He’d be absolutely lying if he denied having the fantasies of earning Mammon’s favor in more ways than one, way back when he had a canvas roof and a hammock bed. Back when the privacy to rub one out was more of a question of when, not where.
Of course he’d wondered what it might be like. Mammon was his idol. And he’d had so many dumb teenage hormones to work through.
He hadn’t ended up that far off, honestly.
But the FizzBots had been a surprise.
It had all started with them, though.
At a promotional photoshoot, for the bots. He’d been pressed into larger than life packaging, boxes with his name all over them, like he was a pretty little doll, wearing the same skimpy number that his copies did. So he looked just like another one of his robotic clones, displayed like they would be on the shelves, for once feeling almost normal amidst a sea of bodies that looked just like his.
If these sold… if demons still wanted them, scars and all… maybe there was hope for him too.
Fizz breathed into the clear plastic that contained him, surrounded by bots in every position, even dangling from the ceiling with shibari rope. ‘Fizzarolli’ branded of course. A red and sky blue pair of strands twisted together and sold at an eye watering mark up.
He was sweating, holding his pose, sucking his tummy in and running on three iced coffees and no food.
And Mammon had happily taken the director’s chair, urging his assistant to powder Fizz’s nose. “Can ya fix ‘im up, for fucks sake? He’s almost as shiny as the damn bots!”
Always quick with a jab, Mammon knew how to pick at Fizz’s insecurities. Calling them out, and making him aware of them so he could fix them. So he could be perfect.
“Let’s get Fizzie out of the box, yeah? I want those otha bots closer, press em up against each otha!”
“Sir?” Fizz tried to keep some semblance of control as assistants tugged him around, as carelessly as they did any of the other dolls as he was powdered, reset, and sandwiched between two more-than-perfect copies while still more crowded closer.
“Fizzie, get ya hands unda that bikini! Sluttier! I'm sellin’ sex!”
“Sir!” Fizz lifted a hand, then froze, there was more than one bikini to pick from and he wasn’t totally sure which one was meant. “Are you sure this is what you want? I thought we talked about a more subtle-“
“Why don't ya let the grown ups call the shots, yeh? The camera man ain't got all day! Time is money, luv!”
Fizz gaped at him for a moment. This hadn’t been the plan. But when did Mammon ever turn down a better deal? “Yes, sir.”
He had to trust the process. He’d learned over and over by now that it always came out better in the end if he just went with the flow.
He hadn’t been on board with the bots at all in the beginning, convinced no one would want him without the bells and whistles, but look at them now, right?
“Like this?” he asked, cheek settling against the back of the head of the doll in front of him as he hugged close to it, his lithe little hand running down its tummy and hips until fingers slipped under the string of the bikini panty over its hipbone, pulling it down its hip and holding it stretched out an inch, so very almost the exact same position he would have been in had be been undressing himself.
Mammon found himself with his mouth hanging open, a little confused at his current state as he imagined all the pretty bits under the bikini. The soft skin suddenly felt like something appealing.
Very appealing.
Fizz watched him, disbelief, and an unprecedented sense of power washing over him as he toyed his hand in slow sensual caresses around the bot's hips, watching as Mammon followed every move like a hawk.
Confidence building in a precious place in his chest, he hugged the bot around the waist with one arm, and brought the other hand to hold a small silicon breast through the triangle of the string bikini top instead, the bot quietly relaxing into a sigh for him as he worked the little handful. “That feel nice?” he asked it sweetly.
With a twinge of annoyance Mammon waved his hand up, attempting to stop all the lewd movements that had everyone wide eyed on set, and the brief attempts at communicating with the bots.
“Sir?” he asked softly, like they were the only two demons in the room through sheer force of suspension of disbelief. He nuzzled his cheek against the FizzBot, purring to it softly and getting the automatic response in return. He blinked big, pink eyes as he moved his hand lower again, fingertips just disappearing under that low-riding waist line. “Don’t you like this?”
Mammon squinted his eyes, a silent judgment passing through them, “Enough playing with the toys, Fizzie. I wanna see these toys playing with you.”
“But, Sir-“
“Nobody buys the toy cause they wanna fuck a fake Fizzie. They buy the toy cause they wanna fuck you .”
Fizz’s gut clenched. Then what did it say about the Sin who commissioned them in the first place?
He moved slowly, like any sharp movements might spook the Sin out of this strange and sudden fascination with him. With his hips and waist, if he was judging that pupilless line of sight correctly.
“Do you like… this?” he asked, grabbing the nearest toy guiding its hand over the curve of a bare cheek, turning to give the camera a tasteful view.
“Course I do.” Mammon murmured, a tinge of awe in his voice, leaning forward in his seat like Fizz would disappear in a cloud of smoke if he blinked too fast. His curious gaze trailed over Fizz's soft curves with unabashed want, the aura of Greed permeating off his body. “Let's see some more of that!” He barked, making the director jump in his seat at the command.
Fizz could feel the dozens of eyes burning into him, but didn’t dare look away from the only pair he really cared about as he smoothly pivoted a little, facing his body three-quarters away from the camera, taking his toy partner with him, guiding its other hand to join on his ass, and helping it grip and knead at the muscle.
Still watching his boss carefully, he whispered in the bot’s ear, then jumped when its hand landed across his flank obediently, the sound ringing through the room.
“Ahh-!” Fizz cried out softly, tail extending straight out, eager to see what reaction that would earn.
“You rolling? Tell me yer getting all this!” Mam breathed, elbowing the demon next to him and pointing over to his little star. The sin was spreading throughout the room, not a single eye could possibly move from the sight before them.
“Now yer gettin it Fizzie!!” Mammon shouted over the stage lights, his voice gaining some of its usual cocksure tone back.
Fizz felt his pulse beginning to pound. This wasn’t- Mammon didn’t- But here they were and there was no mistaking this particular flavor of enthusiasm.
“Sir…” he groaned, a smile playing at the corner of his beak. He leaned back, tail up, curling, just short of an obscene little mating presentation. “I think I need… more.” The tail swung to the side, wrapping around and curling around the first robotic waist he found, tugging it closer as he rolled with the motion, gasping lightly at the pressure of being squeezed between two bodies. “Don’t you?”
“Take it, then! Give it up for the camera, don't be shy!”
“These are fun ,” Fizz purred, tugging the bot down by the hat tail and shoving it to the floor before perching on its back as it tried to kneel to get back up. It stopped as the weight settled, curious for another command that didn’t come, stuck in its hands and knees position. The others seemed to get the idea and crowd around as Fizz pulled more and more sets of hands to rub and grip at his skin. “Worth every penny, right Mammon, Sir?”
“With interest,” He agreed with a chuckle, an eyebrow raised, his sharp teeth kneading at his lip as Fizz whored himself out for the blinking red lights.
“Give us a spread, Fizzarolli?” The director called out, small enough that it didn't seem to break the connection he and Mamm were sharing.
Mammon glared at the demon by his side, lip curling in distaste but eyes zeroing back in on Fizz as he captured everyone in his own little web of delightful appeal.
But he hesitated, even with his smile plastered across his face. Because there was seduction.
And then there was… obscenity.
But Mammon was still staring down at him, and it made something low in his gut burn .
He shifted a little, up on the pretty tippy toes of his hooves as he gulped and spread his thighs wide for the camera.
“Like this?” Fizz wrapped his tail around a bot’s hand, drawing it slowly up his thigh. His heart beat in his chest and his clit throbbed in sympathy, expecting any moment for Mammon to call it off and lose this game of chicken.
Hands still behind his back, he sucked in his stomach, arching nice and pretty with his tits almost falling out of the little bikini top, nipples hard through the too thin fabric and only getting harder. He turned to stare down the camera from an angle, knowing exactly how to flex to get that tendon to stand out down his neck.
“Ah yeah, Fizzie, that’s real nice…”
Mammon was rarely caught off guard, and even more rarely by his little protegee.
The surge of excitement had Fizz sucking in a gasp, just to moan it out again as the vibrating fingers, almost identical to his own, rubbed against him through the tiny scrap of fabric between his legs.
“You like this, Mammon, Sir?”
“You horny little slag,” Mammon said lowly, eyes locked onto his body. “Getting high on your own supply, luv?”
“You just made them feel so good.” Fizz pressed a little weight back into his palms, giving himself the leverage to lift his hips and give them a graceful roll against the pressure. “How am I not supposed to get... greedy ?”
A groan from the makeup artist drew Mammon’s attention, and Fizz could have killed them for it.
He felt Mammon’s attention leave him like a tooth not quite ready to go.
There was a vulnerability to wanting someone. One that even Fizz had only seen the tiniest peeks of when Mammon thought he was too high or anxious or distracted to notice. It was such a precious thing to witness and this idiot with the setting powder had just ruined Fizz’s newest taste.
“Everyone out,” Mammon said suddenly.
“What?!” “Sir, we have a schedule to-“ “But the lighting-“
“OUT NOW, YA FUCKS!” His voice dripping and vibrating the set, flicks of lightning filling the air and the brimstone smell taking over.
But even as the crew grumbled and shuffled their way out, Mammon was already staring Fizz down again.
“Sir?”
“Did I tell you to stop?”
Fizz tried to search his face for some clue how to play this. All he could read was… intensity. “No, Sir!” He pressed into the vibrating fingers again, the bot watching him curiously with its own neon green eyes.
There was that cash register noise and Fizz turned back to Mammon just in time to see the smoke clearing as he slipped into his
true form, body serpentine as he moved closer on eight legs.
A huge claw of a hand picked up the camera, a machine so big and intimidating a few moments ago, and held it in his palm almost like a toy as he came closer, keeping it trained on Fizz.
“You think you’re so fuckin clever, don’t ya?”
“Y-Yes?” Fizz gasped into the camera, eyes squeezing shut like that would help the throbbing in his tight little costume, like Mammon’s hard eyes on him didn’t feel completely disarming.
“ No .” What felt like too many sharp legs skittered closer, bracketing around the set, boxing in any escape. “No, I think you leave the thinking to me.”
He was hard to read in this form. There was so much there, but to put a name to it… There was anger but there was surprise and fascination too.
“You’re not exactly the world's most subtle slut.” A claw reached out, then pulled back again, hesitating.
“Should I… be sluttier?” Fizz asked, gulping down the knot in his throat as the soft silicone hands of his artificial counterpart ran over his breasts teasingly, leaning back into the touch until that giant claw beckoned him closer.
“Any sluttier, Fizzie…” The voice was low and entreating, right up until three fingers caught around his jaw. Huge hands that narrowed down to three almost pinprick points of hard pressure. “And people are going to start mistaking me for some cheapskate pimp. You don’t want that do you, Fizzie? To make me look bad?”
“No! Of course not, Sir!” Fizz flinched, cheeks squeezed between pinchers, until at last the pressure eased. But the touch didn’t leave him. Those claws turned, lightly dragging the back down his neck and chest. They all left his skin except for the first, which drug over the cord of the bikini top between his breasts, then moved back up to catch it in the curve of a single giant claw, and pulled forward.
Fizz leaned with the tug of his top, the fabric stretching until the skin underneath was exposed, the soft curves of his breasts, red and splotchy white peeking through. His eyes went wide as he watched Mammon staring him down with those slits, straight at his chest.
“Touch ‘em,” Mammon, said lowly, not even entertaining the possibility that he might not be obeyed.
Fizz looked down at his predicament, then back into the camera lense with a blush dusting his round little face. With shaky hands he ran his new fingers up against his thighs, dragging them up his torso and cupping his small little tits in his palms, pressing them together and looking back up to Mammon for approval.
“Oh you dumb little bitch,” but Mammon’s voice was nicer than it normally was. “I didn’t mean you.”
Two bots pressed against Fizz from behind, hands wrapping to hold him, almost sweetly. A supportive rub at the small of his back. A hand pressing his stomach, fingers gripping in against the hollow of soft skin.
“Don’t you want to try out the new toys I bought for you?”
The hands, almost exactly like his own, started wandering closer to his chest, beaks starting to nuzzle against his neck and the base of his hat in the back.
It was sort of nice, the soft points of contact, after going months untouched, per Mammon’s obvious- if implied- disapproval. His replicas fondled at his waist and his chest, and the touch felt so good, so rewarding, especially since it was what Mammon wanted.
“You gonna say thank you? Or just be entitled and ungrateful again?” Mammon moved the camera, pointing it to his little chest. To the way the bots were teasing his nipples to hardness through the fabric.
“Mmh-Thank you, Sir! I-” Fizz shivered, legs slowly drawing tight as the bots worked his nipples until they were tender, “I love my new toys.”
Mammon stilled, his eyes glowing brighter for a moment. “Course you do,” he said lowly, something about the affect changing. Mammon didn’t deign to perform with him on stage very often. But when they did…
When there was that give and take of improv together…
It was a little like this.
Fizz watched as his Sin brought his claw up to his mouth, green tentacle of a tongue giving it a quick lick before reaching down for him again.
“Get that shit out of the way.” Again, an order not for him. The bot to his left pulled down on the fabric, exposing his little breast to the air, letting it hang unsupported.
And Mammon hesitated, shifting the position of his too big hand until he could rest the heel of his hand against the kneeling bot, while the very tip of his wet thumb claw pushed up along the cleavage until it nudged against the nipple, and he began to circle.
It felt so good, to have Mammon touch him this way, just a small admission of his wanting Fizz left the imp buzzing, following that touch like he was starved for it, because he was. It was almost sweet, the soft wet claw leaving a slick shine on his pert nipple.
“You like this?” Mammon held the camera close, catching every reaction as he started rubbing side to side, a little harder, a little faster, following whatever drew out the most interesting squirms. “You a little slut for getting your tits played with?”
“Yes~” Fizz mewled, lip caught in his teeth as the bots touched over the other parts of his body, keening under the camera and the hot photography lights. “Y-Yes, Sir!”
He knew it, deep down, that Mammon wanted him. He’d known for so long, and now he was finally breaking down the barrier and Fizz couldn’t help but bask under the attention he had been seeking for so long.
“Show me how you do it,” Mammon grinned, pinching the nipple between two claw tips, slowly increasing the pressure until Fizz’s grimace turned from pleasure to pain before letting go with a tug. “I wanna see what sick shit you get up to when no one is looking.” Mammon finally set the camera down to the side, still catching them, but carelessly and at the wrong angle.
Fizz glanced back at the bots, making sure he was actually being referred to, and then quickly moved his hands up to fondle himself, soft silicone fingers he’d learned to use gently massaging the nipple Mamm had carelessly yanked on, pushing his small tits together for Mammon’s sake. “Like this, Mammon, Sir?” He asked, soft and pretty, batting his lashes.
“Ah, fuck yeh, Fizzie.” More than one set of eyes locked on the little tits, as his body curled, a serpentine loop working its way through his posture as he moved, not quite coming closer, but taking up more and more of the space just beyond Fizz’s reach. “This get that little cunt of yours wet?”
The words left Fizz with a dry mouth, breath puffing out as he nodded slowly, his thighs instinctively pulling together to cover himself up from those greedy eyes.
Fizz was tingling where he sat, the nervous excitement leaving a snail trail in his panties.
“Awww… look at you…” Mammon breathed harder as that claw returned, carefully holding Fizz’s skull in four points of contact, tipping him up to catch the light across a pretty little cheek. “Look at what I’ve made you.” He smiled. Never a simple thing from Mammon. There was always a calculation to it. “Get your fucking clothes off, Fizzie.”
He had made him into this. Fizz was grateful. He tried to remember that as he untied the knots behind his neck and back, letting the top fall away. He squeezed his thighs tight, but let his chest be bare to the camera, feeling beyond sexy for a brief moment. He loved being watched, and the fact that it was Greed, gobbling up every little scrap of skin he gave, made Fizz feel powerful.
“Show me,” Mammon said again, hand gripping him more this time, fingers wrapping around his back while the thumb worked up and down his stomach, “how you touch your pussy.”
He couldn’t control the whimper falling out of his mouth as he settled back against a nearby bot, fingers teasing against the little bikini bottom he had on. He would have pulled it off, but the hypnotic stare, those glowing eyes kept Fizz on track, spreading his legs slowly and pulling the crotch of the fabric aside. He hoped he was up to snuff, Mammon loved to nitpick and he wouldn’t be able to live it down if he was any less than satisfactory. “Is.. Is this okay, Mammon?” He asked, sliding his hand over his aching clit, middle and index finger rubbing the nub in between them and bucking up into the touch.
He didn’t get a verbal answer. Not at first. But the hand clenched him tightened, squeezing out a little of the air, but stopping just short of hurting him. “Mine.” The voice came out, not as a growl, but nonetheless something dragged over gravel. “Do you understand me, Fizzie?” He lifted Fizz into the air, tight in his grip, and tilted him until they were eye to eye.
Mammon didn't wait for a response, letting his tongue roll over the tiny body he held close to his face, laving thick saliva between Fizz’s legs until the clown was panting. Without much warning, Fizz was pulled away, held in the center of the room feeling smaller than life as Mammon's true form sucked up all the air out of it, left him trembling and wanting.
He really was a fucking God.
And he wanted Fizz. Wasn't that like a dream come true? It was everything Fizz ever wanted.
A FizzBot in Mammon’s other large hand came up to hover next to Fizz, the two of them laid practically bare in his grip, Fizz unable to control his squirming, the bot sitting pretty with its perfect factory paint and its permanent smile.
“Show us a kiss, would ya?” Mammon whispered, bringing his fists together and knocking the robot against Fizz’s head. Fizz grabbed its head before they could bonk against each other, taking a moment to look up at Mammon’s expecting gaze, then back at the bot he held in his hands. Mammon tilted them closer, pressing them close like they were his little dolls to play with, Fizzarolli's lips crushing into the silicone of the robot’s face. Mam pulled them apart and then squished them back together. Fizz did his best, opening his beak to one just as accommodating, and the wet heat felt nice at first. But Mammon kept trying to make them kiss harder, until Fizz’s teeth hurt from the friction and the rough handling.
Fizz’s hands pressed against the robot’s shoulders, keeping it away for a moment so he could take a breath, “P-Please, Mammon, that’s too strong!” He begged, his mouth aching.
“Whats the matter, Fizzie? I want you to kiss! So kiss!”
He rammed him against the other Fizzbot again, this time knocking their heads together instead of their mouths.
“Or I got anotha set of lips for you to rub togetha? How's that?”
“W-What?”
Mammon grinned, opening up his palm and eyeing at the FizzBot, a silent command that Fizz wasn't privy to. It stripped away its skimpy bottoms, and Fizz watched it, seeing himself reflected in it, his breathing becoming heavier and heavier.
This was hot, right?
Mammon thought it was. His legs and the space between them were still sticky and wet with Mammon’s thick saliva, and as he was shifted in Mamm’s palm, almost tossed onto his back, he tried to control his breathing.
Mammon looked at him with the same unspoken command, eyebrow raised as he waited for Fizz to do as he was… well, as he was expected.
So with burning cheeks and a wheeze in his chest, Fizz stripped off what little he had on, legs spread over the swell of Mammon’s hand. The little high cut panties that had felt so skimpy at the beginning of the shoot now seemed like losing a last piece of armor.
He felt warmth seeping through his palm, and Fizz wanted to absorb all of it through his body, the soft touch he craved against his scar tissue.
“That's a good boy, Fizzie.” Mammon purred, and Fizz soaked up the praise, not thinking too much about what was about to happen.
But before long, those pinchers that held him grabbed his torso again, letting his bottom half dangle above the photography set. The other bot was pushed up, its legs spread wide, against Fizz’s front.
“S-sir?” It’s not that he didn’t understand. But… But it was such a dream. It didn’t feel real.
“You need a diagram, drongo?”
Fizz just looked down, face a little “o” of shock as he adjusted, using a hand to pull one leg up so their hips could at last slot together.
The bot in Mammon’s other hand didn’t seem to have any issue, arching prettily and looking up at Mammon as it started to roll its hips, hands tracing over it’s own body, and mammon’s claws where they got in the way.
Fizz dumbly began to copy. It was working. Mammon… he glanced over, but the expression was too intense, too hungry, too big and instinct had him turning away to focus on his reflection of a doll instead.
“Does that feel nice, baby?” Fizz asked it.
It was one of the lines he’d had to record over and over and over. With a thousand little inflection changes the sound director had promised him would make a difference.
It came out flat. He blushed, knowing it would have earned him a reprimand back in the booth.
He canted his hips forward as if to cover for it, but Mammon must have been distracted enough. Or just in the mood to let it slide.
It was harder to use misdirection on someone who had helped invent the craft in the first place.
The bot reached down, taking the initiative to get their hips better lined up, and Fizz found a harder edge beneath the silicon to rut his clit into.
“You little slut,” Mammon breathed, hitting each ‘t’ with a crisp enunciation, just out of sight because Fizz refused to look. But his breath was hot, passing along his whole body and leaving goosebumps behind.
“You this greedy Fizz? You want it that bad you'd fuck yerself?”
“Yes, Mammon, sir.” He sighed, tummy working to keep his clit rubbing up to something satisfying as he leaned harder into the claws holding him, seeking any kind of leverage to get this over with.
He froze as Mammon leaned in, breathing him in, then licking up the side of his chest and face. “You’ve got no idea how fuckin good you taste like this.”
“Sir!?” he shivered thinking for a moment that would take him over the edge, but the wave of excitement fell just short.
“You always were a special kind of desperate.”
And then Mammon was opening his maw and playing with teeth that covered his entire shoulder. The other bot continued its assault over his pelvis, rhythmic and mechanical and building into something .
Mammon continued to leave wet trails behind with his long tongue, almost engulfing him with it, and Fizz couldn't stop his body from shakily moaning out, from attempting some back and forth with the bot as Mammon's teeth scraped into the tender skin of his shoulder.
Mammon pressed them together harder, the feeling of the mound under him was slick and rough, and his pussy felt raw from the grinding but his clit being bullied against the silicone made Fizz cry out, head tossed back because he was helpless to it.
Helpless to the way Mammon played with him and used him, pressing him into a slow grind against the toy until it buzzed under him, until his clit couldn't take any more and he was so so close.
“Sir!! Please , can I cum?” Fizz shuttered, his legs kicking around the mimic beneath him and pulsing around the smooth glide of the silicone pussy, those soft lips sparking jolts all the way into his stomach.
“You wanna cum all over yourself Fizzie?”
“Y-Yes! Please?” The imp begged, attempting to push against the thumb that held him down into his warm palm that now felt like it was burning his back, the soft squelch of his cunt providing a backing soundtrack to his whimpering.
“C'mon Fizzie. Be a little fuckin grabby. Take what you want!”
The orgasm ripped him out of his head, the furious pounding against his g spot making Fizz gasp out a moan as he gushed around the smooth silicone.
“What’s that? My little star getting off without tellin me?!”
Fizz was lost at first. Where he was. The position. The orgasm, certainly.
He’d been daydreaming and then suddenly—
It must have been good, he thought slowly. It must have been so good he’d gone out of his mind a little.
“S-Sorry Sir!” Fizz cried, still being violently fucked as the strapon the other Fizzbot wore nudged against his lips, attempting to keep him quiet.
“How about… we do this for anotha hour? Doesn't that sound like fun?”
Fizz couldn't rightly reply, his throat now occupied by the ridged dildo.
“Mmhm! Ah-Glgh!” The thick length running over the back of his throat made Fizz squirm, his pussy clenching tighter as he gagged over the tentical over and over, the Fizzbot behind him grabbed his tail tightly, using it as leverage to fuck itself in deeper. That punishing pace had him trembling against their hold, until he was squirting again without his body’s permission.
“Oh, Fizzieee! You're bein a bad little bitch, aren't ya? You with the strap, gag ‘im, again wouldja?”
It pressed ever closer, The ridges of each suction cup playing along the back of his throat and tongue, pushed in until his airway was blocked and all he could do was relax into it or panic. The saliva dripped down his chin, difficult to breathe as the bot behind him crammed the silicone deeper every time it thrust into him. He wanted to scream once his lungs started to burn. The attempts to just became desperate gagging sounds, his hands scrambling on the body he was balanced over.
“S'tha matta Fizzie? Can't take the heat?”
His eyes burned too, the tears finally spilling over and following the river of drool until his whole face was wet. When the bot finally let him up for air, he felt like he had just about had enough. He could barely keep his eyes open.
Fizz expected more of the same. There was a flow state to anything this intense. You had to stop looking at the clock and just accept that you weren’t in control anymore.
It was the same when Cash had them doing hours of conditioning.
It was the same when he was screaming his way through those first rounds of limb rehab.
But if you gave in, accepted your fate, and did the fucking work, it was always worth it on the other side.
So Fizz opened his mouth even as he moaned, tongue lolling out in submission.
But the bot with the strap didn’t come closer.
Instead, it got gripped around the waist and carelessly tossed over a shoulder as Mammon moved closer instead.
Fizz’s heart skipped a beat, and his mouth snapped shut, tongue still sticking out.
“Sir?” he croaked hopefully, voice raw.
Mammon did not touch him anymore.
But he did.
Mammon stood back up before him and caught his messy chin with the tip of his boot, lifting it up to face him. Fizz's tail wagged on instinct, despite it still being gripped by another robot hand.
“Got a little messy there, huh Fizz? Betta clean yourself up, ya look like shit mate .”
“Oh,” was all Fizz could manage, feeling suddenly numb to all of this. His tail dropped.
To his body, to the grip in his chest. Even to Mammon. Even to that pointy toed shoe he so desperately wanted to enjoy.
“I mean, don’t cry or whateveah.” Mammon frowned at him.
But Fizz wasn’t crying. He didn’t- he couldn’t muster… anything.
“Uhhhh you alright there Fizz?” Mammon briefly seemed to consider poking him, but thought better of it, backing away a step or two. “Maybe that’s enough for tonight, yeah? I think we tired you out, huh, Fizzie?”
“Yeah,” Fizz nodded quietly. That made sense. It was so good he couldn’t remember… and then he got tired. From how good it must have been. “Sorry, Sir.”
“Take him to bed!” Mamm shouted, the FizzBot still lodged inside of Fizz finally taking the hint and dragging its dick out of him. Fizz lost his footing, his limbs feeling impossibly heavy as he almost hit the floor if not for a matching set of arms holding him up.
The FizzBot from behind dragged him up, wrapping his arm around its shoulder and slowly making its way over to the door, and Fizz couldn’t feel himself walking but suddenly they were in the hallway, and he was still in quite the state of undress, but he was too fucked out to care. No one would be around at this hour anyway.
“Fizz,” that voice came, a little hesitant as Mammon followed to watch him from the doorway.
Fizz looked back, too dazed to do anything but wait.
“You’re still my brand baby, yeah? You and me, right Fizzie?”
Fizz blinked, face finally reacting. He was confused at first, then felt his heart warm a little. “Of course, sir.” He managed a small smile, before the bot continued to walk him down the hall.
Mamm would let himself out. He always did.
The rest of Fizz’s night time routine was forgotten, in exchange for the peaceful surrender to sleep. His full bed called to him, the bot depositing him at the edge of it and letting Fizz plop down until his head reached a pillow.
His eyes fluttered, the bot whirring around his room drawing the blinds and locking his door, and throwing his favorite blanket over him. Once the bot turned off the lights, Fizz reached his hands out like a child, not ready to go so sleep without his companion.
It crawled into bed, a practiced routine, and pulled the blanket over itself as Fizz gripped it close and finally let himself sleep.