Chapter Text
Spamton hates the way cravings have taken his mental faculties. Every inch of code in the ex Addison's body begs him for a smoke, something to take the edge off . Out of everything he's given up so far in life, this has to be the most miserable, and he's been through cocaine withdrawals before! Of course, he did have more pertinent things to worry about, such as people stealing his furniture, being homeless, and not eating for days. But at least then he could go anywhere! Here? He's trapped in Tenna's office/dressing room, the [criminal] locked him in for today's shooting. Just because Spamton has failed to quit smoking for the 10th time in a row doesn't mean this should have this consequence! But Ant just had to ‘help’ him in the worst way fucking possible. He should've never fell for his [puppy dog stchick].
His stomach growls and Spamton curls in on himself while laying on the red couch. First the craving, then the headaches, now this. He grumbles as he looks at the in-office vending machine, his eyes drift to the unlimited points card left on the table. He's tried everything except the intended purpose of the card. He's tried to force the lock open, tried to use it as a [bribe] on passing by workers, he's even scratched the wall with it in a pitiful attempt at digging a way out. A nagging sense of defeat creeps into him as he makes his way to the [master platinum credit card] then to the vending machine. It's been modified for [little tykes meal deals] like him, a new selection panel with an accompanying card reader has been wired at his height. He stares at the selection realizing how much of a [branding master] Tenna is. Everything had his stupid TV face on it, from the [deluxe dinners] to [tvslop] hell even the [carbonated beverages] carried the TV Time font.
“!?$&#@ IS A NO GOOD [BRANDING MASTER CLASS 49.99]! HOPE THE [DETACHABLE ANTENNAS] ARE A CHOKING HAZARD!” He punches in the code for a Deluxe giving the machine a good kick along with it. This back fires immediately as a loud crack comes from his ball jointed feet. His body freaks out, glitching through a series of garbled ads and pure static before it passes and his code settles left with a terrible stinging. His little stunt has caused double deluxe dinners to fall along with 3 sodas. This is enough for four people to eat, let alone for Spamton. He thinks about trying to use it as another bribe before his stomach growls again. It takes his attention, intensifying his headache, reminding him of his first days [exploring the great outdoors]. Well, the [first of the month sale] days within reality. It disgusts him, that his body is [out of control with these savings] moving through processes with [no end in sight, only suffering]. £%¥€ tenna and making him eat 3 meals a day.
Spamton tosses the two dinners in the microwave, and nukes them while he sips on a soda. The dark cola bubbles in his mouth, taking his mind off of cigarettes long enough to let the dinners heat up. The meaty smell of gravy drenched roast fills his nose causing his stomach to yearn. In the past he would've turned up his nose to this food, [big shots] didn't eat [garbage] afterall. Now? Spamton peels the plastic off the top to let it cool a little before getting [buy bulk cutlery today]. The taste is alright. All it does is [market towards nostalgia]. How he used to eat gourmet meals on rooftop lounges, sipping [sweet sweet battery acid] while playing with Tenna. $@#& it! Why did he have to [self reflection]? Did cigarettes have this much pull over him?
He works through the roast beef, picking out any strings of meat with his fingers before moving on to the bread. It's easy to soak up the excess gravy and eat it. It's hard to think about how this is now [best case scenario] for him. A [charity case] that's hunched on the floor eating, he could've sat on the couch! He skips the vegetables and moves to the chocolate cake, the only good thing about this meal. It's moist with a hot liquidy chocolate filling in the middle, not the best to have with [Refreshing soda] but he isn't exactly in the position to complain. When he finishes he moves on to the second meal. [Intense mental agony] about his lot in life is better than withdrawals and cravings. And as he eats past his limit, he is rewarded with an old [thrilling rides]. Pushing himself past limits always excited him. How much could he drink? How much blow could he snort? How many times could he fuck [flat screened babes near you] before his cock got numb? He sighs as his belly starts to push out, belly accommodating the excess. He finishes the cake and decides to chug down the last two sodas. By the time he's finished he feels [Big]. The headache, and the cravings fade to the background of his mind as the heaviness pervades his being. He shifts slowly standing up. Spamton realizes with a thrill he has to take slow waddly steps to get to the couch. His cunt slickens the more he thinks about ramifications of his little decision.
Tenna finds him languidly masturbating on the couch. His fingers sliding in and out of his hole, stretching it slightly with each insertion. Spamton does not notice him enter, much less inch closer to him, until his big hand is pressing on his midsection, forcing a burp out. Spamton looks up at Tenna and squirms, the pressure only adding to the pleasure. Being pinned underneath the [hunk of junk] teases his brain, reminding him of [nostalgia bait] days where Tenna has him held against a wall. Despite this, Spamton is still angry at him.
“[CATHODE] YOURE TERRIBLE! DONT TOUCH ME!” He cries out sliding out of the TVs grip. He notices a bunch of roses tucked in his arm, and a warm burgundy box in his other hand. Spamton's nose twitches as he smells the [gourmet] chocolate. “YOU KEPT ME LOCKED UP IN HERE FOR HOURS! IM BEING [DRIVE AROUND TOWN] UP A WALL! WHILE YOU GET TO [SHOWBOAT] AND EARN [ADORATION AND COMPENSATION]!” Spamton scoots as far as he can from Tenna, his eyes catching the wet spot he's left behind on the couch.
“Oh Spammy I'm sorry.” Tenna says as his body shrinks. “You've been trying so hard,and I want to be there for you. I just thought-”
“THAT YOU COULD KEEP ME AS A [TROPHY WIFE] ALL DAY WHILE YOU GOT THE [FREEDOM] TO MOVE AROUND? TREATING ME LIKE A [CRIMINAL ON DEATH ROW]!” Spamton turns his head and crosses his arms. He can see Tenna's shadow get smaller. It's a small satisfaction for him, to see his ass squirm under the pressure. He keeps his gaze averted as Tenna starts undressing, the only thing on his mind is [How to score easy in 5 steps].
“Spammy… how can I make it up to you?” Tenna asks after a few moments. He's kneeling down in front of the puppet. He's the size of shadowguy now. His frown is painful to look at, so [ten easy steps to practice sincerity], Tenna did not deserve [frowns].
“YOU CAN START [WITH LUXURY GOODS].” He nods to the box on the vanity table. Like an eager dog Tenna fetches it, pausing before suddenly growing. He strolls back over effortlessly scooping Spamton up, much to his dismay.
“You just wanted this didn't you?” Spamton keeps his [ice cold drinks]. Tenna's smirk grows into a grin as he takes him to the vanity sitting him in front of the star-shaped mirror. Spamton sees his swollen belly, sticking out like it's meant to be there. “I know that quitting can give you cravings, but nothing like this. You're just a piggy craving for more.” Tenna says, his hands wrapping around his middle. “I like this little development.” He purrs, popping off the lid revealing the delectable chocolates. “These are thousands of calories, you know that? Each one of these is packed to the brim with sugar, coca, and whatever else they add. Terrible for the figure. I bet all you're thinking about is eating them, pushing yourself just a little further. Testing your limits, pushing the bounds. You haven't changed at all.” Tenna says deciding to play a memory of Spamton during his prime. He's doing a few lines of coke, with Tenna obviously fretting over him for going so far.
Spamton is suddenly struck with disgust with his current form. A side by side comparison brings his mind careening to a glitching episode. The old him was just so perfect, with his flawless skin, groomed hair, puppet-less features. Was his mouth really that small? Did he not always have to deal with a clacking mouth like some oversized [nutcracker]? His gaze starts to cast down, noting all the damage his body has taken over the years. The plastic is scratched, rough and dented in spots. There's also a warping effect from getting acid thrown on him a few times by the Swatchlings in an attempt to ‘clean’ him out. His vision starts to blur, static creeping in as he thinks about how confident he used to be. He wouldn't play [fun games to play with your kids] just to get some chocolate. He'd just take it from the [trash heap], or score it from some horny fan. His past self didn't have to give up excess, didn't have to worry about triggering a psychotic episode that left him and Tenna miserable and drained. Tears start to fall, and the screen suddenly cuts to black.
“Hey hey hey hey. I'm sorry Spammy please don't cry.” Tenna says, pressing a kiss to the side of his face. “I just wanted to tease you…. Shoot! I'm sorry.” He picks up a chocolate and holds it up to Spamton's mouth. “Don’t cry, Tenna's got you, and I think you're beautiful. So beautiful and big, perfectly kissable and loveable.”
Spamton had the retort ready to fire off. If he was so beautiful why wasn't he back on stage? Why wasn't he back to being a co-host instead of an off camera [pet]? He knows he's repulsive to look at, bad for ratings. A [Body horror special] that Tenna probably tolerated for [Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap download here]. Instead, he opens his mouth and accepts the chocolate. The rich dark taste explodes into a salty caramel as he bites down. He reaches out and grabs another, mindlessly shoving it in. He doesn't look at Tenna, knowing the CRT TV probably looked worse than him, somehow more wounded than the guy who [10 Blasts From the Past] during foreplay. A mechanical hand slowly starts to wrap around Spamton, easily connecting around him. Once gripped he's carefully moved to Tenna’s lap away from the mirror.
“Spammy wammy jammy,” Tenna says, finding the most annoying nickname possible. “I love you.” His thumb starts to rub at his taught stomach as he fishes a chocolate out. Spamton realizes that he's trying to make him feel, [enraged], different, it certainly didn't help him feel better. “You're such a handsome man, I love looking at you, I can spend all day just on you. In fact, I'll let the others run their segments for Castle town tomorrow and it'll be me and you all day.” Tenna presses down on him, earning a bit-crushed moan from him.
Spamton accepts another chocolate and sighs. [Time to pack it up chump]. He gives him a smile, wanting to show Tenna that he's not upset anymore. A complete lie, and a defiant part of him doesn't want to lie for Tenna's sake. He wrestles with himself, not noticing Tenna's hand moves to his head running it through his hair. The sensation sends a pleasant shiver down his body making him sigh. Looking back up at Tenna he can tell by the TVs screen that he did a shit job at hiding his pain, and that lying wouldn't be an option anymore. Tenna brings another chocolate to his lips, this one is [chewy nougat], the other hand slowly creeping down, easily going down the entirety of his back in one stroke.
“You're so cute, so small.” A heart flickers on his screen. “You fit in my hand so easily, like a little doll, my little doll.” Tenna says, leaning down and pressing a kiss on Spamton’s forehead. “Your belly must be all pressed in those clothes.” Tenna's fingers slide under his shirt, and with a quick pull Spamton is rendered topless. “Looky at what we have here today folks! Genuine porcelain.” He says leaning down and kissing Spamton's chest. It's warped with the breast plates dragging down stuck in a drip and the middle area has waves upon waves of depressions. Spamton thought it looked like [post-modern Picassos cheap!].
Spamton whines as Tenna’s kisses travels to more sensitive parts. He drifts from the chest to his shoulder joints. Pressing a kiss on the scratched up balls. %£#$ that [scrap yard] he knows exactly what [press the button for him to talk]. The pleasure only intensified as Tenna starts pulling at his arm, pulling it slightly revealing the leather lining nearly tucked in the socket.
“Ah, that folks is how we know that he's a well taken care of doll. Look at the leather.” Tenna raises his hand to his mouth doing an aside, a stage quirk that Spamton found annoyingly endearing. “Do they still feel good, no pain at all?” Spamton nods truthfully. It's one of the best things that Tenna's love and care has netted him. Before Spamton would just [suck it up buttercup] and [endure] the noise and pain of his joints rubbing the holes, slowly wearing themselves down. Tenna, having done a puppet segment on his show for the Dreemurrs, knew the trick to stop the [oh God the pain, everything hurts!].
“IF YOURE GONNA @#$-” A coconut filled chocolate is forced in his mouth stopping him from [skirting the censors]. Spamton’s belly whines, he's just so full. It seems with each bite the fullness consumes more of his thoughts, taking up more space. His cunt throbs as heat starts to pool. [Heaven above] he has to be the most [pathetic salesman1997], getting [rearing and roaring to go] while still feeling [low, the lowest low] he's ever been. His brain is in a civil war: desperately [turn it up] versus terribly mopey and depressed versus full. When Tenna presses another kiss as his elbow he gasps as a tingling sensation explodes. Another chocolate presses against his teeth. He bites down, chewing slowly.
“And he eats so well. Loves to indulge in everything to the fullest extent. A hedonist through and through. But sorry folks! This is my private collection!” Tenna's little roleplay concludes, as he finally moves to Spamton's pants. He carefully unbuttons them making an “Ooh!” When Spamton's belly pushes out, the fabric slightly pressed in from the constriction. Relief makes Spamton sigh, earning another happy noise from Tenna.
“ALWAYS WITH THE [LIVE DIRECTORS COMMENTARY], HUH?” Spamton says rolling his eyes.
“I can't help it! You're just so precious!” He says planting a kiss on the crest of his swollen belly. “Soft is a good look for you, Spammy.” Spamton bites back a censored curse. Precious forces a bile to rise at the back of his throat. Precious his ass, he isn't some fucking dog or a baby to coo and fawn over, he’s a grown man for [Heaven's Sakes]! He wants to accuse Tenna of infantilization. That he was so stuck in his mind that he just had to go and use words that [break new ground]. @#$&+¢ probably is projecting some fetish out, some primal urges just [broiler functions included] under his [silicone covering]. Tenna's hand pulls off his pants. He then wraps his hand around massaging Spamton's belly. [Heaven above] Spamton's eyes fixate on the size difference.
Spamton finds himself at cross roads. Would he just let this stay a [hot day under the sun?] Or would he be more pathetic and escalate it [18+]? He grits his teeth, knowing that while he is a [pathetic, addictive personality] man, he's also a [horn dog]. Spamton growls as he reaches out and grabs the tip of Tenna's nose.
“Woah! What's wrong?! Ow! Ow! Ow!” Tenna cries as Spamton starts tugging it toward him.
“I NEED YOU TO DO [TERRIBLE] THINGS TO ME. TONGUE, FINGER, @#$& ANY !” He glitches out unable to finish the sentence. Thankfully Tenna gets the gist. He picks Spamton up and carefully pulls his underwear off. Another noise of fascination erupts from the TVs speakers as he positions Spamton with legs spread as far as they can go on the vanity once more.
The bulky TVs casing slides through, making Spamton's legs tremble. Tenna’s cable tongue slides out, the tip engulfing Spamton's tdick. Sharp pleasure shoots through his lower half making Spamton acutely away from his anatomy. Tenna moves closer, his tongue sliding down and Spamton gasps when he realizes that it easily takes up every inch of his vulva. His heat is delightful; it radiates off of the wires warming Spamton’s [cold shriveled heart]. Tenna drags his tongue up, slowly savouring the taste before darting back down. He continues on like this for a few moments before changing it up. He takes the very tip of his tongue and swirls it around Spamton's tdick. The puppet finds himself letting out terse breaths followed by shallow attempts at words. Tenna continues to play, spurring Spamton to start bucking his hips. Spamton feels his voice box crackle, threatening to gargle up and make garbage noises. He clacks his teeth together, hands reaching out to grasp the antennas on his head. His fingers start massaging the two balls at the end, earning a few sweet moans from Tenna. The tounge continues working its course going [million and one nights] ways forcing Spamton’s lower muscles to tense up.
“[ANT].” He cries out as he starts sounding like a fax machine being called. He pulls at the antennas trying to deliver any energy to Tenna. That's when Tenna plunges his tongue in, eagerly filling him up, pushing all the way up until the CRT TV has most of it in. His tongue twists and moves, pressing up against the gspot. Spamton's eyes go static, the world falling out for him as his body tries to process all the sensations he's experiencing. His stomach hurts, the full ache mixing with the mounting pressure of his cunt leaving a sensory smorgasbord. Pitifully Spamton cums before Tenna can pull his tongue out, the ex-addison flops back on Tenna's vanity. Spamton pants, brain spinning as he slowly comes back down. He needs a cigarette after getting fucked that good.
“[GOD]
£@€¥
IT!”