#pyronica

˗ˏˋ▽△𓆩👁𓆪△▽ˎˊ˗

𓊈 11XX|1980 𓊉

"Hiya Sixer!" 

Stanford Pines jumped when Bill announced his presence. The young human male spun around, wide-eyed, to identify the source of the voice. He sighed with relief when he spotted Bill. 

"Oh, Bill, it's just you." As if some other cosmic entity were casually calling him up at 3 p.m. on a Tuesday.

This guy was a riot. 

Bill laughed. "That's my name, don't wear it out." He propped his hands on his hips and glanced around. 

Ford was hidden just out of sight at the edge of a dense cluster of trees and bushes. He stood there, with his coat closed tight, staring at the parking lot that sprawled out in front of them just past the tree line. 

"Soooo, what are we up to, bud? We tracking down one of those car robot aliens, or what?"

"Grocery shopping," Sixer answered with grave seriousness. His eyes were locked on the generic chain store in front of them. 

Bill blinked for a second, then stared back down at his newest human. He could see synapses firing through the mess of unkempt brown curls. He looked so focused. His brain was spinning that little hamster wheel he existed in fast enough to power a small nation. 

All this over organic waste to stuff in his maw? 

"Ok..." Bill summoned his cane to his side and rested his weightlessness on it, leaning into Ford's ear. "I may not be super hip with the kids these days, but I'm pretty sure you're supposed to go in the building." 

Ford grumbled irritably and tugged at his trench coat. "I know how to buy groceries, Bill." 

"So then, what are you doing out here?" 

Fordsy scrunched his face up into the most adorable little pout. His cheeks puffed up like a fat, stupid hatchling. 

It took all of Bill's willpower not to laugh. 

Bill picked up the source of his human's distress before Sixer said anything. It wasn't hard to skim flashes of some moody-looking juvenile off the top of his thoughts. It was just a fat, greasy kid with shaggy brown hair, zits, and a trashy metal band on his oversized T-shirt.

"You mean the teenager?" 

Ford's face changed color. His shoulders scrunched up to his ears as he took on a nice rosy hue.

Bill grinned gleefully and prodded Ford with his cane. "Don't tell me some kid has you hiding in the bushes with your tail between your legs."

"I'm not hiding," Ford fussed indignantly. "I'm just waiting till their shift is over." 

"Right, so that they don't see you hiding in the bushes." 

Fordsy turned even redder. Boy, was it fun to tease him. That said, Bill couldn't let his little human project get too demotivated. He placed a hand on Ford's head and ruffled his hair. "Relax, Sixer. I'm just pulling your leg. I'm sure you've got a good reason." 

Bill already knew the reason. He drew unguarded memories to his palm like a magnet and them up through the cables of meat. That kid had some killer one-liners. Bill would give him that much. 

Sixer relaxed when Bill touched him. He sure loved his head pats. "I just don't want to deal with this kid." He waved irritably at the grocery store. "I just want to get in and get out without being made a spectacle. Is that too much to ask?" 

"Oh no, I get it. Teenagers can be vicious creatures." Bill leaned back, holding his cane across his base in both hands. He lifted a pinky as he spoke to point in Ford's direction. "You know, I heard they can smell fear." 

Sixer turned pale for a split second. "Is that true?" 

Wow, Bill really could tell this guy anything. 

Bill smiled coyly back. "What do you think, smart guy?" 

Ford frowned flatly, his shoulders slumped as he registered that he was being teased. "You know, for a muse, you talk a lot of nonsense." 

Bill knocked on IQ's thick skull. "Hey, creativity is part of the package, dummy! What's a lie but a bit of creative license?" 

Ford chuckled and swatted Bill's hand away. "Ok, ok, fair point." He stared back at the grocery store. "They should have left by now. Their shift ended half an hour ago."

Bill shrugged. "Maybe they went out the back."

"Don't you know?" 

Bill grinned. "Where would be the fun in inspiring you if I gave you all the answers?" 

The anxious ball of overactive neurons sighed. "I'll just come back tomorrow." 

Ford turned to leave. Bill blocked him with his cane. He spun his disciple around to face the store and held his shoulders. "Oh no, you're going in there." 

"What? Bill, I'm not letting a teenager publicly humiliate me!" Ford struggled in Bill's grip. Not that Bill was tangible. He was effectively a figment of the man's imagination at the moment.

"Of course you're not. That's why you're going in there, and you're not going to let some snot-nosed punk make you hide out in the bushes like a creep giving out free candy." 

"But Bill-" 

"No buts!" Bill pressed a finger to his pet's lips. The touch temporarily stunned him. Big brown doe locked on Bill. 

Man, this kid knew how to make a triangle feel special. 

Bill mimicked a human throat-clearing sound and straightened his bowtie. "As your muse, I command you to go in there and show that kid who's boss." 

Ford raised a brow at him. "Can muses do that?" 

"It's a quest, Brainiac." Bill swatted the top of Ford's head with his cane. "You don't want to disappoint your muse, do you?" 

Ford rubbed the top of his head with his hands. "No, of course not. I'm sorry." 

"I'm sorry...?"

Ford furrowed his brow and looked up in confusion. Bill watched the gears turn in his head before it clicked. "I'm sorry... Sir?" 

Bill flashed red and gave a game show 'wrong answer' buzz.

"I'm sorry... My Muse," Sixer corrected. 

"Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!" Bill flashed enthusiastically.

Ford gave a small smile.

"Good boy!" Bill ruffled his human's curls again. He gave him a light pat on the shoulder to spur him forward. "Now go get 'em, champ!"

Ford stumbled forward, but his smile widened. He puffed up his chest excitedly. "Yeah, yeah, you're right! I can do this!"

˗ˏˋ▽△𓆩👁𓆪△▽ˎˊ˗

"I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this."

It hadn't been more than twenty minutes since Bill had checked on his latest project. He knew he needed to pay closer attention to his human in the early stages. One had to establish a rapport, build trust, all that. It was a balancing act. Too much attention, and he played his hand too early. Too little attention, and Ford wouldn't put his faith in him when it mattered.

Bill thought he'd already done his job as a good muse today by bolstering the loser's shut-in's confidence.

Apparently not.

For convenience, Bill had linked a small mammal in his room to Sixer's amygdala. It screamed every time there was a sudden surge of cortisol or adrenaline. Of course, Ford also had his number if he wanted to summon him again, but it didn't hurt to have the option to swoop in on occasion when it was narratively convenient. 

Bill was halfway into a cosmic margarita when the creature started shrieking. He hovered over to its cage and slammed his fist down on its head with a groan. The shrill sound was cut off with a pained squeak. 

"Ok, I get, I get it, I'm going."

Bill downed the rest of his drink and looked around his room at the many floating eyes. He waved one over with a hand. He flipped through the channels with his fingers till he found a window with a decent view of his human. He was at the grocery store, still. He hunched over his basket at the back of the checkout line. 

˗ˏˋI can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this.ˎˊ˗

Bill sighed. He floated through the eye of a cereal mascot and pressed against the fabric of reality, popping out the other side in 08'\. The pressure of the dimensional barrier suffocating him like cling wrap was eased slightly when he connected to Ford's psychic wavelength. He projected his consciousness into the human's audiovisual receptors and teleported over. 

Bill perched on Ford's shoulder. 

˗ˏˋ"You know, if people hear you whispering to yourself like that, they really will think you're crazy."ˎˊ˗

Ford jumped and hurriedly shot a glance in Bill's direction before realizing he was staring at something no one else could see and locked his eyes firmly on his cart.

"Bill, not in public!"

The pregnant woman in line in front of Ford, with a sticky toddler in her cart, turned to raise an eyebrow at him.

Ford forced the most uncomfortable and unconvincing smile possible and offered her a little wave. "Oh, I uh, j-just thinking out loud."

The woman scooted her cart forward as close to the next person in line as she could. Ford stayed put and allowed her to place an extra foot of distance between them.

Bill reclined back on Ford's shoulder and draped one leg over the other, resting on his hands. ˗ˏˋ"Take a picture, lady. It'll last longer."ˎˊ˗

The woman kept staring for a few seconds longer before looking away with a shudder.

Ford finally dropped the smile once she turned away. He looked utterly miserable, followed by infuriated. "What are you doing here?" He whispered sharply. He was trying to repress the urge to look at Bill and draw more attention to himself but kept glancing out of the corner of his eye regardless.

˗ˏˋ"I noticed my protégé was stressed, so I dropped by to see what all the hubbub was about."ˎˊ˗

"Of course, I'm stressed," Sixer hissed. He rattled the cart slightly with his death grip on the handle. "I told you this was a bad time. I should have come on a different day." Of course, he couldn't. Bill could overhear Ford mentally lamenting the narrow window of opportunity he had to catch a bugbear and the time-sensitive need for rope, a new shovel, garbage bags, and a specific brand of cologne. Groceries too, of course. He'd eaten nothing but peanut butter sandwiches for the last week.

Bill looked up past the line to the cashier's greasy, limp brown hair and a trashy metal band on his shirt. ˗ˏˋ"That the kid who's been giving you trouble? I told you to show 'em who's boss, Sixer."ˎˊ˗

"I know, I know, and I came in, and I tried-"

Bill propped his hands up on his angles. ˗ˏˋ"Correction, you took one look at the kid and started panicking."ˎˊ˗

"I'm not panicking."  Bill raised his brow at his human.

Sixer turned red and looked away. "I'm just going to look like an idiot." 

News flash: You already look like an idiot!

No, no, Bill was going to be nice. 

˗ˏˋ"If he says anything, just punch him. Grab the stuff and run. That kid sweats Crisco. You can take him."ˎˊ˗ 

"I can't just punch a child, Bill." 

The line moved on ahead.

˗ˏˋ"Why not? Their faces are so soft. They cave so easily."ˎˊ˗ 

"Because that is highly inappropriate, Bill."

Bill raised his hands in surrender. ˗ˏˋ"Ok, ok, fine, so you don't wanna go the easy route, that's alright. There are other ways to deal with him. Just keep your back straight, chin up, and repeat after me, alright?"ˎˊ˗ 

"O-ok..." Fordsy still seemed skeptical of Bill's advice. No problem, Bill could prove his mettle.

A throat was cleared, and Ford looked up to see the teenager staring back at them. The rest of the line had moved ahead. Ford was still hanging behind. It was his turn to go up. 

˗ˏˋ"Just trust me, Sixer."ˎˊ˗

Ford gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Bill stroked his fingers through his curls and soothed his lizard brain. Sixer straightened up as his body relaxed and pushed his cart up to the belt. He managed to keep his composure as he started unloading his cart. He was trying not to make eye contact with the cashier. Bill narrowed his eye at the kid and watched him like a hawk. 

Pudgy glanced around to make sure the soccer mom who had just finished checking out was out of earshot before he said anything. "You need a downer, man?"

"I, uhm-" Ford glanced up at the kid. "Excuse me?"

"For the trip, man," the kid mumbled. "You're kinda over-amped." His face twisted as he caught a whiff of Fordsy's natural musk. 

Kids these days, no taste.

Ford furrowed his brow and pulled back slightly as he set the shovel for his trap on the belt. "Pardon?" The question was directed as much at Bill as it was at the brat.

˗ˏˋ"He thinks you're high, Brainiac."ˎˊ˗

Ford scoffed and half-snapped at Bill. "I'm obviously not on drugs."

˗ˏˋ"Yeah, and talking to your shoulder looks real sober."ˎˊ˗

Ford huffed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Just hurry, please. I have places to be."

"Rrrrrrright." 

And there it was, that smug shit expression Fordsy was so worried about.

"Places to be with your shovel." Beep. "Clothesline." Beep. "And cologne that you never use." He held up the can and waved in their faces.

"That's not clothesline, it's-"

Bill cut his human off. Fordsy could wear a man into an early grave with his pedantry, but that approach wasn't going to help them here. ˗ˏˋ"Sixer, Sixer."ˎˊ˗ He patted Fordsy's cheek. ˗ˏˋ"The rope doesn't matter, just repeat after me."ˎˊ˗

Bill could sense Ford's hesitation. With another little stroke of his grey matter, he settled and repeated Bill's words obediently.

"L-like you smell any better... P-pizza face. It's honestly impressive you can work up such a sweat doing nothing all day."

The execution was... Eh? Ford clearly had no real confidence behind the barbs.

˗ˏˋThis is ridiculous. I sound like a child.ˎˊ˗ 

˗ˏˋ"Just trust the process, Sixer."ˎˊ˗ 

The kid smirked at Ford's efforts and kept scanning. "It's not like I need to impress whatever chick you've got tied to the mattress in your murder shack."

Sixer tensed. 

˗ˏˋ"Relax, Fordsy, just smile."ˎˊ˗ Bill gave him a little dopamine boost to make it easy for him.

Ford lit up with an adorable, manic little hum. He rocked back on his heels and grinned. This time, he recited Bill's words with far more vibrato. "You'd be surprised how easy it is to impress your mom. Her ex-husband set the bar real low."

˗ˏˋHis parents are divorced?ˎˊ˗

˗ˏˋ"You'd be surprised what I know."ˎˊ˗ Intuition could carry a muse far. Bill only needed to guess just right enough to make relevant personal details float to the surface of a person's mind, where he could reach them.

The teen's face stiffened, proving Bill's speculation. "What? You saying that because yours thinks you're too gross to hug goodnight?"

Bill scanned the kid's thoughts while his mind was on family. He got names, a few small details, nothing much, but more than enough to work with.

Bill hooked his fingers in the corners of Ford's mouth and tugged his smile wider. "I'm saying that because it isn't hard to outdo the guy who beats his own offspring." 

Ford's face flattened a little after the words left his mouth. He felt guilty. Bill did not.

The teen was suddenly very focused on scanning Sixer's hoard of canned rabbit food. "Oh, because whatever piece of shit alcoholic fucked your mom is so proud of you for surviving the coat hanger." He couldn't even get the words out without shaking. 

Bill laughed. ˗ˏˋ"Nice try, kid."ˎˊ˗

Bill looked to his human, expecting confidence. Ford was stunned silent. Bill rolled his eye. Something Sixer's pops said an eternity ago crossed his mind. 

Uhg, so what if his sperm donor never wanted him? It was ancient history.

Bill knocked on Ford's skull. ˗ˏˋ"Earth to Sixer."ˎˊ˗

Ford was tense and unsure.

˗ˏˋ"Just repeat after me, and you'll never have to put up with this kid again."ˎˊ˗

Sixer gripped the lining of his pockets.

"D-did I strike a nerve... Joss?"

The kid stopped moving.

˗ˏˋThis... feels excessive.ˎˊ˗

"Meth head losers like you should drink Drano." Aw, scary eyes. The kid was white-knuckling the counter.

˗ˏˋHe's just a teenager.ˎˊ˗

"T-too bad I'm out..." Ford swallowed as he struggled to force the words out.

Bill blinked curiously when Sixer's brain prickled at the line he whispered in his ear.

"I'm sure June would love a glass."

The kid blanked for a second before giving Bill exactly what he was looking for. A can came flying straight for Ford's jaw in an impressive left hook.

˗ˏˋ"Duck!"ˎˊ˗ Bill quacked and flapped his arms for emphasis as he jumped off Sixer's shoulder. Not that he needed to warn him. 

Ford was fast when he wanted to be. This particular human's motor skills could be pretty hit or miss. Thankfully, he had a lot of practice specifically avoiding being hit in the face. 

Sixer ducked just in time for the swing to whiff completely. Not that it was any chip off Bill's bricks. The store's security cameras would have caught it. Sixer had witnesses. 

Bill turned to smile in the direction of the mother who had lingered a little ways away with her bags. She watched the whole exchange in bewildered horror. She couldn't see Bill, but the baby in her cart could. Bill waved his fingers at the fleshy creature. The little gremlin started sobbing. The mother redirected her focus to them.

"You wanna say that again, you shit-smelling son of a whore!?" The kid was still clutching the can, ready for another swing. 

˗ˏˋ"Get the manager,"ˎˊ˗ Bill instructed. 

Sixer did as he was told and ducked over to the currently unattended register behind him to click on the intercom. 

"Can I get the manager to check out?!"

At this point, Bill didn't need to do much. He coached Ford through explaining how this crazy teenager tried to beat him for no reason. It didn't take long to negotiate Ford's way into a generous discount and consequences for the kid. He was fired, which meant Ford would never have to see him again.

Ford felt a little guilty about this.

That was stupid. 

This kid was the source of so much idiotic distress, and now the problem was solved thanks to Bill. Despite his irrational human emotions, Ford still expressed his gratitude and admitted he wouldn't have thought of any of that on his own.

Bill was properly confident now that he had served his human dutifully and could finally get shit faced in peace.

˗ˏˋ▽△𓆩👁𓆪△▽ˎˊ˗

Well...

Bill had plenty of time to go out drinking with the crew, but something kept nagging at the back of his mind. Drinks didn't settle it. Bill couldn't shake the feeling Ford was going to get himself into some kind of trouble again. He always had a sharp intuition. He left the rat at home. He was supposed to be having fun with friends because Bill actually had those. Instead, he kept thinking about that stupid human and his failed attempts at life. It certainly wasn't his problem that Sixer couldn't manage basic tasks on his own. But...

Bill felt like something was wrong, something bigger than some snot-nosed punk at the grocery store. 

"Hey Billy, you ok?" An overly warm hand landed on Bill's shoulder. 

Bill shook Pyronica off dismissively and took another swig of his drink. The pixie dust he laced it with was making him see colors, so that was nice. "Never better. Why'd ya ask?" 

Pyronica sat down next to him at the bar. Somewhere in the distance, Bill heard someone burning alive and fleeing from Teeth's clacking jaw. On any other day, Bill would be amused; right now, it barely interested him.

"You seem kinda out of it tonight." 

"Psh-" Bill waved a limp wrist. "It's not my fault this place is dead. You guys need to step up your game before I'm forced to get more entertaining friends." 

"Ha-ha, very funny," Pyronica snarked dryly. 

Bill downed the rest of his drink.

"I'm serious, Bill, you've been acting off lately. That new human giving you trouble?" 

Bill laughed, he laughed and laughed, he slammed his fists on the bar in a fit of howling cackles.

Bill snapped up, doubled in size, and towered over the fiery cyclops. 

"Now what could possibly make you think that?"

Pyronica shrank back. She raised her hands in surrender. "Hey, I was just asking. You don't have to get all pissy on me."

Bill snapped back to his usual size with a cute little pop.

"I'm not pissy," he huffed.

"Whatever you say, girly pop."

Bill scowled at Pyronica and propped his elbows up on the bar. He wasn't being weird about his human. Ford was just a loser who couldn't function without him, and Bill's plans relied on him. Bill blinked and flicked his vision back to his room. Divorcing his eyeball from the rest of himself, he glanced around the room for his rat.

Sure enough, the furry little bastard was screaming its head off in its cage.

Bill popped his eye back into his body with a groan. "Ugh, I gotta go take care of something."

"Have fun with that."

Bill would get back at Pyronica for the snark later. Right now, he needed to go check on his pet before another rogue teenager gave him a heart attack. 

˗ˏˋ▽△𓆩👁𓆪△▽ˎˊ˗

⸸

"Never fear, Sixer, your Muse is here~" Bill twirled his cane theatrically when he made his entrance. He hadn't actually checked to see what was going on before popping over. He just found himself a nearby birch tree that gave him a shot of brown curls and went for it. Ford was nested just under the lip of a long-dead creek bed.

When Bill floated over the ledge, he realized that maybe Fordsy was in a bit more trouble than expected.

"B-Bill..." 

Ford was lying at the bottom of the old creek with a broken leg and a massive stinger lodged in his guts. The thing was almost as long as his forearm. Ford had a bloody grip on the slick black rod and a cloudy look in his eyes, pupils blown out to the size of dinner plates.

The way he looked at Bill...

F̷u̵u̷u̶c̸k̶k̷k̷.̷.̸.̶

Red-faced, lidded eyes, struggling to cling to consciousness. Tears streamed down his face from the pain.  

Bill was feeling the liquor now. His eye burned, his whole body... Fuck, it was hot out here.

Bill plucked off his hat and removed a handkerchief from inside to wipe the sweat from his brow. Bill didn't naturally sweat. Around humans, he occasionally engaged in the culture. 

"Wow, Sixer, ya really got yourself into a pickle this time, huh?"

Fordsy sobbed pathetically. "I-I'm s-sorry. I'm sorry, I, I can do this-"

Fuck he's crying. He needed to stop doing that. Or do it more, Bill wasn't sure.

Bill floated around to sit on Fordsy's shoulder and stroked his hair. "Wow, easy kid, you're alright."

Ford grit his teeth and shook his head miserably. His damp hair clung to the sweat on his face. "I-I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to call you. I- I can h-handle this myself." He tightened his grip on the stinger. 

Fordsy called for Bill?

Bill hadn't actually noticed. He only thought to check on him on a hunch. Bill looked around and spotted a trail of blood leading up to the spot where Ford collapsed. Bill rolled back time in his mind's eye and watched visions of struggle flash through the far end of the creek. The bugbear got away. Sixer dragged himself along on one leg as far as he could before collapsing where he lay. 

"Of course, Sixer." Bill brushed some slick curls from Fordsy's face. "You're just takin' a break. I get it. You don't have to justify yourself to me."

Fordsy choked on his tears. His face was soaked in all kinds of disgusting human juices, tears, sweat, snot. 

Bill licked up the side of Ford's face. He wanted to feel the mess on his tongue. He shivered with frustration. He couldn't taste anything like this. He could barely feel. He wanted to taste this man so bad it ached.

Fordsy whined when Bill's tongue stroked his face.

Fuck, fuck, stop making those sounds. 

Ṁ̴̜̈́͜a̶̧̳͗ķ̵̝͋e̴͚̊ ̵̣̔͝m̸̛̫͚̒ọ̵̺̍̔r̷͕̓e̴̙͘ͅ ̶̼͌ö̶̟́f̵̃͜ ̵̡̝̉t̵̢͔̄h̷̍ͅͅe̷̒̑ͅm̵͓̲͐.̵̠̀

"I lost my supplies..." Ford's bag had been flung to god knows where when that two-bit cryptid mauled him. 

"I can see that."

"I j-just need to get home..."

The shack was a good way away. That would be a long walk in his current state. IQ was doing the math in his head, trying to plan the best way to control the bleeding and conserve energy.

Bill looked up over the lip of the creek and kept checking possible future routes. Ford usually had the good sense to leave the stinger in place. He tried shuffling off his coat and tying the sleeves around his stomach to form a makeshift tourniquet to staunch the bleeding. That was easier said than done with his blood pressure spiked higher than a crack mama in labor. All the breathing exercises in the world weren't going to help him here. Eventually he gave up trying to buy himself more time and attempt to focus on beating the clock.

He never got out of that riverbed on the first try.

Too much pressure on his bad leg. The rock gave way under a bad grip. One slip, another tumble.

The stinger raked against the side of the river back on one of his falls and was ripped clumsily from the flesh. Ford let out the most delicious scream as he hit the dirt in a bloody heap. He sobbed and hugged his gaping wound in desperation.

He would sacrifice a sleeve for it.

He tried packing the wound with the dirty fabric. He muffled his screams through grit teeth. His face dripped with pained sweat, snot and tears.

It wouldn't save him.

Even he had managed to stall the blood loss, the infection would have killed him anyway. He was only stalling the inevitable. He begged for his muse on his deathbed. The color drained from his lips, his fingertips. His filthy sobs ran dry as he lay in the dirt for hours watching the earth soak up his life juices like a sponge. It was a slow pathetic death. Out with a whimper, not a bang.

On the off-chance Fordsy did make it out of that ravine, he didn't fare much better.

The furthest he managed to get was about three fourths of the way home. He'd lose consciousness from the exertion and collapse on a hiking trail.

This death was at least a little more dignified. He made it far enough to recognize the trees near his home in the distance and passed out before he could fully process the pathetic meaninglessness of his own existence. A hiker found his body on the road and thought he was a drunk at first. She'd been hesitant but rolled him onto his back when she couldn't wake him. The shrill scream scared off all the wildlife for miles.

Unfortunately, the maggots would go hungry this time. Ford's mother would be the one to arrange the funeral. The cause of death was ruled a mystery. 

Bill patted his human's slimy cheek. "Don't worry about it, Sixer. I'll get you some help."

"No!" Ford turned his head to face Bill. Those pleading brown orbs couldn't have looked any wetter or more pathetic if he tried. "Please, I-I can do this myself-" Fordsy was afraid to accept help from a stranger.

Oh, this poor, sad, pathetic little meat sack. Bill grew in size to drape one of his legs over Fordsy's other shoulder. He rested his pet's head against his base and proceeded to comb through the sweaty knots in his hair with his fingers. 

"You don't have to, Sixer. You have ME now."

The human whimpered and leaned into Bill's touch, eyes clamped shut. "I'm sorry I-" Sixer reached up a bloody hand to wipe tears from his face as Bill settled the screaming soup of hormones in his brain. "I d-don't know what came over me. I-I usually handle these things better." He sighed and relaxed in Bill's hands. "You caught me on an abnormally off day."

"Oh, for sure~" Bill cooed. "My big, strong action hero. I'm sure on a good day, you would have crushed that overgrown bumblebee under your boot like a pro."

Sixer laughed through his tears. His bloody hand came to rest over one of Bill's. Bill watched as Sixer's meaty fingers swallowed up his little gloved hand. Colors danced along the edge of Bill's vision. The dark crimson goo glittered like starlight, thick and sticky and hot-

Six fingers, such a big, strong hand. The way it trembled from the blood loss sent a tingling sensation up Bill's arm. 

"I'm sorry if I worried you..." 

"Don't be, Sixer."

Bill closed his hand around Ford's thumb. He projected some part of his consciousness out to go direct another useful lifeform towards the ravine. They needed someone who could help get Sixer out of this ditch in one piece. Help was on the way, but it was pushed far to the back of Bill's mind.

"I'm usually very calm in situations like this."

"Of course you are, buddy."

"I mean it-"

"I believe you." 

Ford let go of Bill's hand to wipe more tears from his face. Bill leaned over his head to watch him smear blood across his eyes and cheeks. His face glittered red. Shades of pink and baby blue caressed the edges of Bill's vision. 

Ford looked up at Bill in turn.

"Bugbear venom messes with your head, you know." 

Ford furrowed his brow. "Is that so?"

Bill could feel it buzzing on his fingertips the deeper he dug into Sixer's mind. Bugbear venom induced intense fear and anxiety in its victims. It was very likely to thank for the beautiful wreck Bill had been treated to. 

Bill nodded. "You're not weak, Sixer, just on something. You'll be back to normal when you sober up." He was doing his best to hold back the effects of the venom for now.

"Oh, ok..."

That seemed to ease Fordsy's wounded ego a bit. He rested back against Bill's base again and took a deep breath. He took a lot of pride in having control over his fear, feeling so deliriously afraid and out of control was... terrifying, humiliating, shameful? It was a soup of blurry emotions that Bill couldn't easily pick apart. 

Bill watched Sixer's other hand clench and relax again around the stinger. He was thinking about removing it. Ripping it out would make the bleeding worse, but he wanted that venom out of his system as fast as possible. He wanted, no, needed, to feel in control again. Pulling the stinger out wouldn't actually help much. The venom was already thoroughly distributed through his bloodstream. Realistically, there weren't many options right now but to ride out the effects.

The thought was delusional and impulsive and deeply tantalizing. 

The sight of the thick black rod easing out of his flesh was utterly captivating. It pulled at fat and muscle as Fordsys' body attempted to suck the chitin back in like a greedy whore. Still, he kept pulling. He kicked and squirmed. He gasped breathlessly between pained cries. His body screamed relentlessly for him to stop.

He wouldn't stop.

Blood bubbled up around the wound, spilling out over his hands in a beautiful cascade of crimson. It was so thick and sticky. It clung to his fingers and formed gooey little strands in the webbing of hands.

Bill licked his eye to contain the film of drool that was forming.

Ford was still in one piece. His fingers twitched on the blood slicked surface. He was taking slow deliberate breaths as he restrained the urge to pull.

Bill slowly snaked one arm down Ford's. He coiled his flagella around thick, tense muscles and rested his hand over the bloody fingers gripping the stinger. 

"You want some help yankin' that out?"

Removing the stinger was a needlessly dangerous idea at the moment. Bill could peer through the layers of cloth and meat. It was lodged a few inches deep. It didn't seem to have punctured anything vital, thankfully, but it would still leave him with a sucking wound. 

The thought of slipping his hand into the gaping, wet, fleshy hole made Bill shiver. His vision blurred from saliva. 

"I... I probably shouldn't."

No, but Bill could make him.

Fordsy was such a good boy. He did everything Bill told him to without question. Bill could make him do anything. 

"I know I trick. If you follow my lead, you'll be just fine."

Ford stared anxiously at the wound for a few seconds. He swallowed, then nodded. 

♡

Bill tightened his grip on Ford's hand, then coaxed it back. Ford gasped and choked on the pain as the long, thick black stinger slid from the hole in his lower abdomen. Fresh blood bubbled up around the entrance and shimmered brilliantly in the setting sun. 

Ford's chest was heaving. More tears spilled over. 

"That's it, and now just-" 

Bill shoved Ford's hand back down, thrusting the stinger deeper into his guts. 

Ford screamed and kicked his good leg. 

Bill slapped his other hand over Ford's mouth and pulled his head back to look him in the eye. 

"Easy, Fordsy, I've got you. Just follow my lead." 

Drool dripped past Bill's lashes and beaded on Ford's glasses. He caught pathetic, muffled sobs in his hand as Fordsy wept from pain and fear. 

"Shhhh..." Bill soothed. He fed his pet a nice dopamine hit, but relaxed the reins on the adrenaline and cortisol production the venom had sent into overdrive.

Ford screwed his eyes shut and whimpered into Bill's glove.

Bill pulled the stinger back again slowly. He watched the blood pool down Sixer's pants. He lapped more drool from his eye to clear his vision, desperate to make out as much detail as he could.

He thrust the stinger back in again and held Ford's head in place as he screamed and writhed. 

Another hit, more feel-good chemicals.

"Good boy, you're such a good boy~"

Bill pulled back and pushed back in again and again. Fordsy's body made the most delicious wet squelching sounds. He kicked and screamed and sobbed. With every thrust, his writhing grew weaker. Pained screams gave way to whimpers, then moans. 

Soft delectable moans. His back arched. His legs trembled. Bill barely had to guide his hand anymore. Sixer knew what to do, what Bill wanted. He rewarded every thrust with a chemical treat and no shortage of pets and-

"Good boy~"

Fordsy's face grew pale. His body shook from the blood loss. He was slick with sweat. Hazy eyes stared deliriously up at Bill as he mutilated himself for his muse. 

"That's my good boy~" 

♡

"Holy shit, are you ok?!" 

Bill blinked back to reality. His vision was hazy from salivating, but once he squinted through the blur, he could confirm that Sixer was fine. He was awake and alert. The stinger hadn't moved. 

Bill had gotten lost in thought. He'd followed a vision of one possible future intently. He couldn't act on such impulses. Sixer would die if he did. He needed him alive. 

Ford looked up in the direction of the voice. It was a hiker Bill had lured over by possessing nearby wildlife. They were leaning over the edge of the river bed, trying not to lose their lunch at the sight of Ford's injuries.