Discord
11-20-2021, 12:28 PM
Loose Seam- 2021
Ringor Mortis, Unnamed Toy Worldbuild
CW: Sexual + physical assault implications, sexual content (unpleasant at that), toy gore, dysphoria
Devo tries to hold it together.
It hurts, it hurts, why did you-
This is what you wanted, right? To be good at this?
Devo wakes up with a start, clutching the shitty motel sheets tight in his featureless paws.
It’s just a dream. I’m here. I’m…
He couldn’t say he was safe, but that moment had definitely passed. It’s been months now. That’s a long time-
Long enough that I should be over it already.
The beanbag slides out of bed as soon as he gets his composure back together, the overly fluffy carpet feeling more spongy than anything. He’d been staying at this motel for a while now- long enough that he’d have to go run some errands for randos soon, see who was willing to give a stranger some cash in order to get some tedious chores done. Everything had a price if you looked hard enough.
Worst comes to worst, he’d sell some more stuffing. He could spare...a bit more.
As he makes his way over to the table to dig into some of the food he’d been hoarding, he feels a familiar and entirely unwelcome twinge around his hips.
Goddamnit. I thought it was holding up okay…
He ignores it for now, sitting down and picking up some of the plastic bread he’d found just laying around in the park. Simply raising it to his face is enough to get a decent taste- it’s not bad quality, but not as tasty as proper miniatures. He hadn’t been able to get anything that good in weeks. Still, may as well enjoy it while it lasts.
The bread doesn’t disappear once Devo’s had his fill, something that fills him with relief. You never knew when food was going to just pop in or out of existence, and it never seemed to come to the right people. Toys with money always seemed to get the good stuff, the finely crafted miniatures with actual glass bottles for soda and intricately detailed pastries...but he’d settle for whatever bargain bin food he could get. Whatever kept him going.
He feels a pellet threaten to tumble down his pant leg, and starts swearing. He left his sewing kit in the bathroom, fuck this-
He manages to hold it together long enough to fix it. No pellets lost, crisis averted.
For now.
The ads Devo put up are working, not to his surprise at all. He knows that he could probably be making money off of this instead of just errands, and there’d be no shame to it- people found good work in the sex industry, and he couldn’t help but feel tempted now and again.
But...it didn’t feel right for the reasons he was actually doing this for.
The vinyl toy in front of him isn’t his type, but then again, he hardly knows what his type even is at this point. He’s one of those “designer toys”, and from the look of it, either anything but broke or at the very least, very good at faking it.
Also, kind of an asshole vibe.
But...it didn’t feel right for the reasons he was actually doing this for.
The vinyl toy in front of him isn’t his type, but then again, he hardly knows what his type even is at this point. He’s one of those “designer toys”, and from the look of it, either anything but broke or at the very least, very good at faking it.
Also, kind of an asshole vibe.
????: So...this is free?
DEVO: Yeah.
????: I get to screw around with you, free of charge?
DEVO: Yep.
????: You’re not gonna like, stab me, right?
Devo tries very, very hard not to think about that any more than he has to.
DEVO: Nope, I’m just looking for a good time...and to give someone else a good time too.
He winks, and the other toy falls right into his charms.
????: I’ve never been with a beanbag before...is it true you guys are easy to push around?
Hate this.
DEVO: We’re understuffed, so…
????: That’s kind of hot.
DEVO: Oh, so you’re the dominant type?
Hate this, hate this, hate this.
But the other toy hangs onto every tease, and it doesn’t take long before Devo has him eating out of the palm of his hand, clearly enjoying himself, doing exactly what every other fucking person’s done since he’d put his ads up in this new neighborhood. Useless, mindless grinding, and he’s good at faking any interest in it- so good that the vinyl toy has a stupid grin on his face by the time he’s done, clearly pleased with himself.
DEVO: Did you have a good time?
????: Well worth the price, haha.
He slaps Devo on the back, sending him crumpling forward.
????: You gotta put that you’re a beanbag on the ad, dude.
????: You’re like...vintage. That’s marketable.
DEVO: Oh, I’m...I’m not really looking for “marketing”.
He keeps his tone light, doing everything he can to keep the disgust out of his voice and simply choosing to repeat himself from earlier.
DEVO: I’m just looking for a good time.
The vinyl toy turns to leave, but hesitates for a moment.
????: Oh, uh, one other thing-
????: You got some kinda hole opening up down there...mod that up a bit and you’ll really bring people in.
????: Just saying-
DEVO: Get out.
Devo’s tone makes the other toy flinch, reaching for the doorknob without hesitation.
????: Dude, it’s just a tip-
DEVO: Leave, now, before I chase you out myself.
????: Okay, okay, sheesh-
DEVO: OUT
As soon as the door slams, Devo looks down and wants to scream. He thought he fixed it up earlier, it looked perfectly stitched up-
You’re prettier like this, don’t you think?
He feels sick.
The sewing kit feels impossibly far away now, and not even using the starchy blanket as a covering keeps pellets from falling out on his way over to the bathroom.
The loose seam’s opened up again- not entirely, but enough to let his plastic innards spill out, bit by bit. Just looking at it is enough to make Devo feel queasy, the toy’s comments from earlier mixing in with words he’d been desperately trying to forget for months.
You’re the one who asked for this. You came to me.
Stitching himself up had become a ritual at this point, every few days demanding new attention, especially after nights like this. He knew the physical activity was just going to end up loosening his shitty stitchwork, but he just-
I want to find a way for this to feel good.
I want to find someone who won’t make it hurt.
When it’s done, he takes the sewing kit back with him to his bed, not willing to risk another morning like today’s. Everything stings from what’s essentially self surgery, but he was getting used to it, as much as he can be.
The static-y haze that settles over him as he flops onto the bed is equally familiar, slowly taking away his senses as he pulls the blanket all the way over himself. Easier than turning off the light.
It swallows him up, and this time, Devo falls into a dreamless sleep.
You’re prettier like this, don’t you think?
He feels sick.
The sewing kit feels impossibly far away now, and not even using the starchy blanket as a covering keeps pellets from falling out on his way over to the bathroom.
The loose seam’s opened up again- not entirely, but enough to let his plastic innards spill out, bit by bit. Just looking at it is enough to make Devo feel queasy, the toy’s comments from earlier mixing in with words he’d been desperately trying to forget for months.
You’re the one who asked for this. You came to me.
Stitching himself up had become a ritual at this point, every few days demanding new attention, especially after nights like this. He knew the physical activity was just going to end up loosening his shitty stitchwork, but he just-
I want to find a way for this to feel good.
I want to find someone who won’t make it hurt.
When it’s done, he takes the sewing kit back with him to his bed, not willing to risk another morning like today’s. Everything stings from what’s essentially self surgery, but he was getting used to it, as much as he can be.
The static-y haze that settles over him as he flops onto the bed is equally familiar, slowly taking away his senses as he pulls the blanket all the way over himself. Easier than turning off the light.
It swallows him up, and this time, Devo falls into a dreamless sleep.
![[Image: TCP%20customs.png]](https://pile.randimg.net/3/13/190751/TCP%20customs.png)
