love loses

the look on wilbur's face as he processes the doll is undeniably worth the effort, especially considering how little he knows about it yet—wiggly smirks at the wary bafflement in his minion's eyes, which are focused almost exclusively on the toy bearing his image, triple denim and all. technically, neither of them are really standing, and therefore wilbur isn’t walking towards wiggly, but it's the easiest way to describe the movement and no one is that pedantic anyway.

wilbur throws out his arms to the side in an unspoken what the fuck, and then gives a spoken, "what the fuck?" for good measure. well, wiggly didn’t brainwash him for his subtlety.

"hm?" wiggly smiles as innocently as an eldritch god of despair ever could, doll held aloft in his tentacles just out of reach.

"is this a sex thing?" wilbur crosses his arms, which is a fairly nice phrase wiggly thinks—the sort of thing blinky would find particularly entertaining. "'cause- i wouldn't mind if it was a sex thing." a beat. "i think it's weirder if it's not a sex thing."

wiggly gives a put-upon sigh, lowering himself slightly so he’s closer to eye level with wilbur. "you humans are all the same. no, wiley, it's not a sex thing." he curls his lip as he speaks, then bounces back into a smile that stretches just wide enough to be uncanny. "it's a gift! to my best friendy-wend."

wilbur narrows his eyes, glancing between the doll version of himself and wiggly. it's very well made, and admittedly fairly cute in a creepy kind of way. wiggly had to wrestle it off nibbly before he gave the game away by eating it, and begrudgingly promised tinky that he'd get his own of ted at some unspecified point in the future. however, wilbur has spent enough time in the eternal nothingness of the black to know that any gift should be treated with suspicion at best, and downright terror at worst, so this caution is hardly offensive. besides- he’s right to be nervous.

"right." wilbur says after a long moment, seemingly unsure on where this is going (after all, if he knew, he'd be much more afraid). "to what do i owe the.. honour?"

the toy is dropped into wiggly's hands, and he stretches his smile even wider at the sight. "well, i can't be the only one with a doll! we can’t leave you out on the fun."

as he speaks, he squeezes the midriff of the plush, watching in malicious amusement as wilbur jerks in response. his eyes widen, finally figuring it out, and wiggly grins at the fear written across his face.

wilbur raises his hands, and wiggly brushes a finger down the doll's cheek. he grimaces at the phantom sensation mirrored on his own body. "look- we don’t have to do this."

"i don’t have to do anything." wiggly directs his attention to the toy, cradling it in his arms. "but i think it's your turn to show that smile."

there isn’t much of another chance for wilbur to protest, because wiggly has begun dragging his clawed nails up and down the side of the faux wiley, and the real one has begun biting his lip so hard, it wouldn’t be surprising if blood was drawn soon. wilbur is clearly trying to remain upright for as long as possible, but every stroke brings another shudder that wracks his body and he's soon beginning to hunch over, arms jerking in an aborted and fruitless attempt to protect himself from the onslaught.

"aw, wilbur. does it tickle?" wiggly coos, holding the doll in a tentacle and scratching down the opposite side. wilbur grunts and grabs at his waist, as if that could somehow make it easier to cope with.

wiggly brushes over a spot just above his hips that makes him jolt, and grins. "did you like that? i might have to explore this."

he’s thorough. tentacles hold the toy as wiggly begins the torturous process of dragging the points of his nails around the area, pinching and squeezing once he finds the place that seems to drive wilbur the most wild, and eventually scribbling over the cloth as wilbur crumbles to the ground in front of him, eyes squeezed shut and face buried in his arm in what could only be an attempt to retain some ounce of dignity as an insane smile takes over his lips.

well, they can't have that.

a tentacle begins to circle in the small of toy-wilbur's back, drawing out an amusingly panicked noise from his servant in the process. wiggly feels something akin to a gambler's high and swaps his dragging nails for scribbling, finally pulling some real laughter from wilbur, however quiet it may be.

wiggly moves towards the trembling body of cross in front of him, if only to hear the giggles better. "i’m not sure i understand what's so funny, wilbur." he crouches down and flicks away a strand of loose hair with a tentacle. "perhaps you could tell me?"

"fuhuhuck yohou." wilbur manages, words muffled by his jacket sleeve.

"that's not very nice of you." wiggly pouts, directing yet another tentacle up to tease around the doll's neck. wilbur shrieks, writhing on the not-technically-ground like a dying fish, and wiggly can’t help but laugh in delight. "since i’m so benevolent-" (wilbur's snort of laughter here may not just have been from the tickling, but wiggly is willing to overlook this.) "-if you tell me why you’re laughing, i'll let you give me one spot you want me to leave alone."

wilbur is slightly too preoccupied with gasping for breath, and wiggly graciously lets up a little—just enough for his subject to talk. "gehehet ohohohoff!"

he was hoping for that kind of reply. "well, you mustn't be that bothered if you won't tell me." wiggly says, lowering a tentacle slowly over the doll's stomach. wilbur looks on with a kind of wild panic in his eyes, but he doesn't even say anything to try and stop him, and wiggly smirks. "but perhaps it's more than that. i think you might like it."

"i'll fuhuhuhucking kihihill yohohou- NOHOHO!" wilbur's laughter is punctuated by a very amusing screech as the hovering tentacle begins to wiggle over the doll's tummy—the real wilbur squirming on the not-ground adorably.

"feel like telling me what's tickling your funny bone yet?" wiggly teases, dragging the nails from wilbur's hip slowly down to his thigh and watching as his laughter turns impossibly shriller. "you and i both know i will never tire of this, wiley."

"fuhuhuhuck OHOHOFF." wilbur does his best to swipe at wiggly's ankles, missing by at least a metre in the wrong direction. when he fails, he resorts instead to curling up as tight as he can against the relentless onslaught wiggly is pleased to inflict. "fuckfuckfuck- plehehehease."

wiggly smirks; there's a certain amount of pride you get from making your most jaded follower beg, and it never gets old. "you know what you have to do if you want some respite, wiley." he says, mockingly sing-song.

there's a flatteringly desperate, "oh god," from the floor when wiggly begins to test the doll's thighs, squeezing at the muscle and scribbling over the insides. he circles back to the top, scratching delicate nails over the fabric, and wilbur gasps for breath, shaking his head frantically but silently. wiggly gives one last squeeze before tracking his way down, and wilbur jolts at a single swipe down the back of one thigh.

"NO- please, i cahahan't." wilbur shoots his head up, and wiggly finally gets to see that glorious smile—wide and desperate, face flushed in exertion and something wiggly is kind enough not to name just for now. "fuck- nohohohot thehehere."

"oh?" wiggly's face lights up. the rest of his appendages still, giving wilbur an opportunity to gasp for air he doesn’t even need and push himself into a seated position with wobbly limbs. "have i found somewhere even worse than your adorable little human ears?" he flutters his fingers behind the dolls' own, and wilbur shrieks beautifully. "i didn’t think that was possible."

"you’ve- you’ve had your fun." wilbur tries to reason, breathless and flustered. he stands shakily, taking cautious steps towards the god, like you would approach an aggressive animal. "you fucking- you got me, okay?"

wiggly tilts his head playfully, knowing full well he’s not backing down any time soon and knowing wilbur is counting on this. he looks slowly between the doll and his subject, wondering how best to draw this out- oh.

well, now that's an idea.

he sighs pointedly. "i definitely didn't." wiggly says, faux disappointment in his voice. "but i suppose you humans can't take all that much." wiggly drops the doll, catching it with a firm tentacle around its midriff.

wilbur pauses, blinks, and frowns. "what?"

wiggly shrugs, turning as if to walk in the other direction. "well, i shouldn’t risk torturing my most devoted follower into leaving me, should i?" he checks his nails, very intentionally growing them a few centimetres longer. "besides, you’re far too sensitive for me to keep playing with you like that. you told me to stop, so i suppose i should listen."

there's a very long silence as wiggly begins to move slowly away, tentacles writhing behind him a little more teasingly than usual. wilbur makes a choking noise. "wh- just like that?"

wiggly looks over his shoulder. wilbur is considerably more disheveled than he'd noticed the first time, and the disappointment in his eyes cannot be missed even at a distance. he swallows a laugh. "is there a problem?"

several emotions pass over wilbur's face, and wiggly adjusts his grip on the toy with a delicate precision that has his servant stifling a gasp. it must be then that wilbur catches onto this new game, because a look of horror overtakes the confused disappointment from a moment before, and wiggly's smile sharpens at it. "fuck you."

"hm?" wiggly turns again to face wilbur, mock innocent. "what was that?"

"i’m not- do you get off on this?" wilbur snaps, visibly embarrassed by the knowledge they both possess but won't speak aloud. "d'you have to be so fucking difficult?"

"i don't know what you’re talking about, wilbur." wiggly says, lifting himself into the air with his tentacles and crossing his legs. "you told me to stop, and i did. i’ve heard that verbal consent is very important in these matters." he smirks.

wilbur's face turns a delightful shade of pink. "i’m not gonna fucking say it." he insists, and they both know that's a lie. "you can stick that stupid doll up your ass for all i care."

"this is what i'm talking about!" wiggly says cheerfully. "now, what else would you like me to do with this little sweetie?" he drops the doll in his own lap, wiggling a finger teasingly above it.

"kill yourself." wilbur says as deadpan as he can—which isn’t very, since he’s visibly trying not to crumble into pieces at wiggly's teasing. "i want you to shut the fuck up, that's what i want."

"well, that's not very nice." wiggly pouts, looking down at the toy as if it might offer some comfort. he strokes a finger across its cheek, light enough to tease, and wilbur shivers. "you’d think that my most honoured subject wouldn’t be so rude to me, when i’m giving him such a lovely opportunity."

wilbur clenches and unclenches his fists, visibly debating whether it's worth sacrificing his dignity for something he so clearly wants. wiggly gives the doll another fleeting touch, and wilbur grunts in frustration. "fuck you- fuck you." he takes a step forward, dragging a hand through his hair. "you’re going to make me fucking say it, aren't you?"

"how would i know what you want if you don’t?" wiggly flicks a tentacle in wilbur's direction, grinning as he flinches and averts his gaze. "and i’m not sure you need to worry about being embarrassed, wiley." he smirks. "i think that ship sailed long ago."

"jesus fucking- fine." wilbur snaps, staring resolutely at wiggly's shoulder, as if a lack of eye contact could make this moment any less sweet. "tickle me." he grinds out, like the words are painful.

wiggly gasps like this is news, grabbing wilbur with his tentacles and scooping him up. "aw, you want tickles?" he coos, delighting in how wilbur tries to fight his way free to no avail. "is little wilbur ticklish? do you like it?"

"let go of me!" wilbur yells, face burning as he tries to bite at a teasing tentacle. "fuck you- why did i ever devote anything to- i should have put more of your fucking essence in those dolls-"

"oh, yes, the dolls!" wiggly drops wilbur unceremoniously, ignoring his cursing in favour of focusing on the toy version of him. "this little guy can't squirm away when i do this." and he digs his fingers into its stomach, squeezing and scribbling.

wilbur makes a strangled noise between a yelp and a laugh, falling to the ground from where he'd been halfway through pushing himself back up. wiggly laughs at him. "you like that? does it tickle?"

"fuhuck yohou." wilbur chokes out, seemingly more sensitive after the anticipation. how cute.

"i’m going to need you to answer that, wilbur." wiggly coos, lightening his touch. he did mean for it to be easier to manage, but apparently it does the opposite, and wilbur starts squirming a little frantically. "otherwise this is all you get."

when wilbur doesn't answer right away, wiggly swirls a nail around where the doll's navel would be, and he yelps. "okay- fuhuhuck. it fuhuhucking tihihickles."

"oh?" wiggly smirks, tentacles beginning to tease the doll's sides, the small of its back, the insides of its knees. wilbur shrieks satisfyingly, curling up as tight as he can get. "now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

wilbur is too busy swearing and giggling madly to answer properly, but that seems considerably more intentional than he’s trying to make it seem. wiggly drags his nails down, over the top of the toy's thighs, and wilbur practically concusses himself with how violently he jolts. "NO! nohohoho, i cahahahan't!"

"i think you can." wiggly says, mock encouragingly. "besides, i didn't get a chance to see what this does to you. you wouldn’t deny me that, would you?" he crouches down next to wilbur, scratching at the man's thigh and grinning as he whines. "oh, it's a good spot."

"NOHOHO." wilbur begs, snorting when wiggly doesn’t stop. "it's so- oh gohohod."

"i don't think any of the gods around here are going to help you out, wiley." wiggly sits down, legs crossed like a child as he turns the doll over onto its back. "but i'll keep it as a fair test." the tentacles detract from their tickling, leaving wilbur to pant.

"don't yohou fucking dare." wilbur manages, obviously not quite sure whether to back away or to try and snatch the toy from wiggly's hands.

wiggly smiles, pushing himself into the air and away from wilbur's grasp. "let's play a game, shall we?" the fear this sentence elicits is quite flattering. "if you can keep your giggles at bay for one tiny little minute, you can have a reward." from the abyss, wiggly plucks a feather, twirling it between his fingers.

it has the desired effect—wilbur takes a breath, staring at the feather for a moment before tearing his eyes away, a flush rising on his face at the implication. "what's my punishment if i can’t?"

the god's smile widens impossibly, vanishing the feather. "i destroy you."

a beat.

"alright." wilbur pushes himself into a seated position, looking as if he’s bracing himself for death. honestly, he very well may be. "deal."

wiggly's hands brush over the fabric of the doll, and wilbur grimaces. oh, this will be a breeze. then again, he'll get to watch wilbur squirm either way. "are you ready?" wilbur nods, brows furrowed. "then your one minute starts."

the timer echoes in both their minds as wiggly begins to drag sharp nails over the backs of the doll's thighs, watching as wilbur squeezes his eyes tight immediately, mouth clamped shut—starting slow is only amusing, and even more embarrassing if it becomes wilbur's downfall before he’s even really begun.

barely seven seconds have passed by the time wilbur begins to bite his fist, twitching at every stroke of wiggly's fingers, a manic grin stretched across his face. wiggly scribbles suddenly, and wilbur practically smacks his forehead against the not-ground in his desperation to stay silent, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. experimenting with the insides of the legs seems to bring relief, but adding tentacles to brush featherlight circles at the top of his thighs sends wilbur's legs trembling uncontrollably, the man himself gripping frantically at his own hair in some attempt to distract from that sensation.

"oh dear." wiggly teases at the twenty second mark, watching wilbur squirm in determined agony. "that looks awfully ticklish."

impressively, wilbur is still in enough control to flip wiggly off before he’s overcome by frantic spasms, his whole body squirming and writhing as wiggly draws figure of eights on the doll. it does look truly torturous, the way wilbur is bucking in response to that light, unrelenting graze of talons, knowing there is no possible way to escape but to endure. admittedly, the idea gives wiggly goosebumps, but wilbur is thankfully too preoccupied to notice.

the hand wilbur is biting has started to bleed, and they’re only halfway through. however, there is some appreciation to wiggly's grin now—he expected this to be over much sooner than thirty two seconds, and whilst wilbur is clearly at his limit, he’s been that way since the ten second mark.

"i mean, goodness." wiggly says again, hoping that the teasing will tip him over the edge. "how do you get anything done when this tickles so badly? do you giggle your way through life when i’m not looking?" he scratches where the leg connects to the hip, and wilbur inhales sharply. "you were in the military and you can’t even handle this? you poor thing."

forty one. forty five. forty eight. wilbur thrashes and pants and slams his fists into any solid surface he can find; wiggly coos and teases, and wilbur truly looks as if he’s about to explode, but he doesn't.

wiggly draws lazy circles at the end of his thigh, where the skin begins to fold into his ass, and wilbur clamps another hand over his mouth, his trembling increasing tenfold. "oh? is that a bad spot?" wilbur shakes his head frantically, which can only mean yes. "you like this spot, don’t you? what if i just.." wiggly smirks, scribbling his nails on both legs mercilessly.

truly, wiggly can’t decide if he'd hate or love to take wilbur's place right now—the man in question is thrashing like a wounded animal, breathing so heavily it could be considered hyperventilation if it weren't so obvious he’s doing everything in his power to keep quiet. technically, wiggly did just say that he couldn't laugh, and the occasional squeak or whine that has begun to slip out isn’t damning enough for it to count as a loss.

fifty five seconds, and wilbur is muttering a constant stream of, "fuckfuckfuckfuck-", which is not only amusing but also fairly cute. "oh god- fuck- fuck." his voice is breathless and considerably higher than normal, but he’s surprisingly yet to actually laugh.

sixty seconds. wiggly doesn't let up, wondering how long wilbur can keep going, but the chime in their minds is unmistakable and he screams. "fuck- PLEHEHEHEASE!"

"oh, but it's so cute." wiggly coos, lightening his touch and reducing wilbur's shrieking to breathless laughter as he traces gentle nails over the doll. "i must say, i'm impressed. who knew you had it in you?"

"i- i cahahan't fucking stahahahand yohohou." wilbur pants, giggly and exhausted, laying face up on the not-floor. "oh gohohohod."

wiggly lowers himself from his lofty perch, sitting himself down next to wilbur's still shaking body. "i’m a man of my word. i just hope i didn't tucker you out too much." he adds, mockingly babytalk.

it's an amusing sight—the great wilbur cross reduced to a pile of sweat and giggles because he’s just too sensitive for his own good. wiggly tilts his head, the feather back in his hand, and wilbur's breath hitches. he pushes himself half upright, eyeing it warily. "now- what do you plan on doing with that?"

wiggly smirks at how breathless his servant's voice has become. "whatever you like. i did promise a reward, didn't i?"

"you-" wilbur's irises expand ever so slightly, his hand moving apparently unconsciously between his legs. "well, i was- i expected something more.. material."

"what to get the man who has it all?" wiggly picks up the doll gently, and wilbur makes a noise like a stifled gasp as his thumb rubs against its waist. "besides, you seem to be enjoying yourself." he adds, nodding towards wilbur's hand.

wilbur jerks it away immediately, which only succeeds in revealing the building arousal against the fabric of his jeans. "shut the fuck- you’re so fucking pleased with yourself." he snaps.

wiggly cackles. "you don't think i should be? when all i have to do to make you beg is some wittle tickles?" he wiggles his tentacles teasingly and wilbur visibly suppresses a flinch. "and all it takes to make you crumble is this."

wiggly swipes the feather between the doll's legs and wilbur's expression does something truly fascinating as he tries to fight what might either be a laugh or a groan. "ffuck you." he manages.

"i’m not sure that's on the table right now." wiggly says sweetly, and wilbur looks like he’s never wanted to kill a god more. before he can say anything though, wiggly begins to trace the feather up and down the doll's whole body, and wilbur cuts himself off with a shrill gasp. "i do have another plan, if you'll oblige." he focuses again on where the doll's groin would be.

wilbur bites down on his hand to keep from making more noise, but it's clear how affected he is regardless. wiggly coos. "aw, does that feel good? do you like it when i tickle your dick?"

"i- ihihi fucking- hah- hate you." wilbur says around a choked off moan, before going back to biting his fist.

"listen to those giggles!" wiggly continues gleefully, fluttering a tentacle over the doll's stomach just to watch as wilbur starts to squirm. "is it just too tickly for you to bear?" he twirls the feather and wilbur downright squeals, hips bucking uselessly into empty air to chase the sensation even as he slams his other hand against the ground. "oho, i think someone liked that."

"wahahasn't this- oh fuck- s'posed toho be a rewahahard?" wilbur asks frantically, visibly and audibly torn between the instinct to flee and the desire for more.

"isn't it already?" wiggly moves closer to wilbur's trembling body and palms him once through the fabric. he makes a truly devastated sound, and wiggly can feel his own heat beginning to pool at the base of his spine. "you do seem to be getting off quite quickly."

wilbur shakes his head, contrary to the way he presses closer. "i nehehed- need your hands ohohon me."

this is intriguing enough for wiggly to pause his torment on the doll—it isn’t often he can get wilbur to ask for something without being prompted, the arrogant fuck. "oh? and what would that entail?"

"fuck off, you- you fucking know." wilbur pants, flushed with exertion and horniness in the terribly human way he often is. his skin shines with sweat, and wiggly feels the familiar desire to lick it off. "you want it too, it's all over your fucking face."

something twists surprisingly in wiggly's chest at being caught out like that, and he finds his own smirk widening in response. "so you don't want the doll, huh? after all that work i put into it."

"if you’re offering a doll, i’d sure take yours." wilbur shoots back—although this seems less of a quip and more a genuine request. "don’t you wanna know what that's like? that goddamn feather everywhere until you can't even think?" he grins again, snakelike, and wiggly can't even bring himself to hate how wet the idea makes him. "you wanna see if your insides are ticklish?"

with a snap, the atrociously denim-heavy outfit is removed from wilbur's body, leaving him entirely nude and adorably hard. he widens his eyes as wiggly approaches him, mouth falling open like a blushing virgin when wiggly removes his own clothing just as quickly, straddling his thighs. "sounds to me like you’re a lot more curious than i am." wiggly smirks. "where do you suppose i should start?"

wilbur stares at him for a second. "you- you’re an asshole." he says, clearly aiming for deadpan but missing by a mile; the flush on his face has begun to spread to his shoulders. "i fucking hate y- oh god." wilbur cuts himself off with a ragged noise, arching desperately as wiggly drags his nails up his shaft.

"hm?" wiggly says, endlessly amused by the way wilbur tries to glare at him through the fog of arousal. "what were you saying?" to his credit, wilbur tries his hardest to be a little shit, shooting insults until his voice betrays him. wiggly tickles his fingers just above wilbur's cock, restraining his torso with his tentacles when wilbur squirms so aggressively, he almost dislodges the god. "oh dear, that looks torturous. i don’t suppose you could cope with anything more, could you?"

wilbur shakes his head frantically, eyes squeezed shut and lip bitten to bleeding against wiggly's claws. it's a mistake, since he doesn't get the chance to watch as the rest of wiggly's tentacles touch down on every inch of skin they can reach. his eyes shoot open and wilbur shrieks, bucking uselessly against the restraints. wiggly cackles at the sight, at how his servant claims to loathe this treatment yet has never once asked him to stop—undoubtedly he'll rant and rave once this is over, as if wiggly is under the illusion that wilbur could ever get into so many of these situations by accident.

wiggly picks up the feather once again, smirking at the terror it elicits in wilbur's expression, before fluttering it ever so gently over his minion's weeping head. wilbur's moaning laughter crescendos, cracks, and becomes a silent cry as he finishes dramatically over wiggly's lap. the god removes his tentacles from his body, but continues to feather his dick through his orgasm, wondering vaguely what it might be like in wilbur's shoes.

"you- oh- yohohou can’t keep doing thahahat." wilbur says, breathless and hoarse and still laughing.

"can't i?" wiggly banishes the (now damp) feather, and wilbur collapses onto the not-floor. "you’re telling me i can’t pin you down and tickle you until you cum from a teeny little feather?" wilbur's flush deepens, and he stays silent. "i didn’t touch you once, wiley." wiggly continues, tucking his hands beneath wilbur's thighs and tracing up and down with his nails. "i think i might have to get a new lackey. you are much too weak to be my most powerful follower- look at you!" wiggly scribbles his fingers and wilbur giggles weakly. "you’re pathetic."

"you- yohohohou enjoy thihihis." wilbur gasps, visibly trying hard not to squirm and only barely managing it. "ihihi can feel how- how wehehet you ahahare."

"you are in no position to be poking fun after that performance." wiggly curls a tentacle around wilbur's now-limp dick and tugs, smirking as wilbur whines at the overstimulation.

it's enough to make him squirm, arching away from wiggly's relentless tickling. "let- lehet me get yohohou off." wilbur begs. "let mehehe show you whaHAHA- oh gohohod- what it's lihihike." he pleads, even as another tentacle begins teasing behind his ears.

wiggly barks a laugh, despite how intriguing the idea sounds. "you couldn't restrain me if you tried, wiley." wilbur's laughter starts to sound a little too close to actually losing his breath (not that he needs it), and wiggly removes his limbs. "and believe me, i would not take that lying down."

"i- i wouldn't need to." wilbur pants, sitting up and grimacing at the cold cum on his legs, reminding wiggly of the mess on his own lap. he snaps it away and stands up. "you know firsthand how well those dolls work." wilbur grins.

wiggly raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "you expect me to give that up willingly?"

wilbur cackles. "of course! you want it just as bad as i do. you don't think you’re fucking subtle, right?" he wiggles his fingers in the god's direction, which is embarrassingly effective at flustering him. "come on, you said this was my reward."

"you are insufferable." wiggly sighs, summoning his own brand of toy and tossing it in wilbur's direction. it hits him in the face. "don't expect this to be a trend. this is a one t-" he cuts himself off with a sharp inhale as a phantom pressure hits his clit, knees weakening. "fuck."

"i don't suppose i could get a feather?" wilbur asks, a shit-eating grin all over his face as he removes his thumb from in between the doll's legs. "i wanna give you the full experience."