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“If you don’t like it… you can tell me.” Bill says sweetly. Too sweetly. Too sweetly by far for what he is doing.
Ford writhes against Bill’s touch, but not in pleasure. Never again in pleasure, for now that he knows what Bill is… what he is coming to do….
Usually Ford is terrified to sleep because Bill could possess his body at any moment and finish the project he, Ford, had put into motion. But Bill hadn’t taken over his body to work on his portal this time. Instead he had decided to meet with Ford here.
His arms shouldn’t be this strong. Bill doesn’t look formidable. Ford should be able to push this tiny triangle off of him and snap those little twig arms in two. But he can’t. Bill might not look powerful but he is- he’s impossibly strong and there’s no way for Ford to combat the iron grip on his wrists. Two wrists in one hand. Two! But Bill is still too strong for him.
He’s fighting, of course. He’s struggling, but Bill is holding him fast. His tiny form floating over Ford, his arm pinning Ford while his other traces one finger over Ford’s taut muscle- Chest, stomach, lower…. the threat of dipping below the waist line, but never quite there. The finger feels wet.
Ford isn’t fooled into thinking Bill simply won’t touch him against his will. He knows Bill is just busy savouring Ford’s fear and outrage. Enjoying the taunting, teasing, “what if.”
What if I… touched you?
What if I… molested you?
What if I …. raped you?
“I promise I’ll stop, Fordsie… all you gotta do is say you don’t want it. Just say ‘no.’” Bill coos in his still too sweet voice.
Ford decides to play along- just for a second. If he says no, and Bill doesn’t stop, he’ll know at least that Bill isn’t going to do what he promises, and there will be no more games between them. Ford will attempt to shut out what’s happening, focus on his intellect, and endure. But telling him to say no is such a small request, he has to take the chance. Just jump through this one hoop- see where Bill is going with this.
Chains are on his feet. He can’t see them, but he can feel them, and he hears the clink as he shifts position, trying to struggle away from Bill. He woke up like this, a few minutes ago, with Bill over him and chained down in his own mindscape, his own mind, Bill squeezing his peck in what could only be considered an entirely sexual way.
Ford tries for his voice, but can’t find it. There’s a moment of mental struggle where he thinks of the word- no- and it’s on the tip of his tongue. In that moment, his mouth purses and his tongue readies to proclaim it, but the sound won’t complete. What’s going on? He thinks frantically on the third try, but he still can’t form the word.
Bill slips one finger into his pants and crooks it, pulling his hips up. Ford tenses and pulls down, but again Bill is too strong. “Wow, IQ! I had NO IDEA how much you WANTED me… you must really like this kind of play!”
Ford abandons the word no and moves to ‘stop!’ ‘don’t!’ and ‘Please, Bill, not this!’ The third one comes out, but not at all as he intended.
“Please, Bill! This!” He shouts. Then he snaps his mouth shut and blushes up to his ears, shaking his head.
What has Bill done to him? Fear flows through him like a dam has erupted somewhere inside of him, but Ford doesn’t have time to think it over before Bill is talking again.
“SHEESH… we should have a safe word. CLEARLY you want to have a little PLAY time- RAPE KINK, huh? WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL… I’m a GOOD DOM, see?”
Ford wishes he didn’t understand what Bill is saying, but he does.
“We should have some way for you to STOP ME if you WANT IT. How.. about…” Bill pretends to think, then says, “How about !”
There’s a confused pause, then Bill says. “YEAH, !” Ford can hear the silence this time, a little buzz of nothing when Bill says the word he is saying, “ is the safe word! GOT IT, Sixer?” His little eye curves into a teasing smile- cruel and joyful- and Ford feels another spike of fear. “.” Bill is speaking. He knows he’s speaking, despite the lack of a mouth, but as much as he knows Bill is speaking Ford is also aware he can’t hear what’s been said.
Bill floats back a few spaces and then says, “Let’s get started!”
Of course. Of course! Bill has been in his mind. He could change any little thing he wanted all this time, and Ford never thought to stop him! Bill has erased his ability to voice protests, and he’d taken whole words from him, as well. Whatever Bill was saying wasn’t silence, but he’d deleted the word from Ford’s memory entirely. No way to fight, no way to protest, no way to say the safe word that he couldn’t even hear.
Bill’s put him in an entirely vulnerable position and then asked for the impossible.
Bill’s thin fingers make quick work of his belt without even touching it. Next is the lab coat, torn to shreds by Bill’s mere will. Then the shirt is hiking up even higher, exposing Ford’s nipples. Bill pinches one and Ford makes an embarrassing noise. He tries to focus his mind, but then he feels Bill’s fingers ghosting over his erection.
No, no. Not there! He tries to say it, but the words are once again caught in his throat until he reaches the last one. “There!” Is all that comes out.
“Eager, aren’t we?” Bill teasingly chides.
Ford feels the sting of tears join the unwelcome flood of fear and rage and embarrassment, and he pulls them back. He needs to control his emotions. This is just like a security bot.
A little voice in the back of his head goes: A security droid wouldn’t violate you. …Probably. He pushes it away to focus on the task at hand. Finally he manages to control his pulse, which isn’t easy, considering that Bill has slipped his hand into Ford’s pants and is stroking him deliciously.
Ford tells himself that sexual reaction is normal- It doesn’t mean he’s enjoying this, just as Bill says, “Oh, wow…. you’re REALLY enjoying this!”
Forgetting that he physically can’t, Ford tries to protest, to say no, but after a second battling his inability, he remembers this and closes his mouth.
“Something to SAY, Sixer?”
Ford closes his eyes and focuses his mind again, but Bill chooses that moment to shred his jeans with his awesome powers. He grabs Ford’s underwear and pulls it up, putting pressure on his cock and giving him a mild wedgie. “You look good like this, Ford.” Bill purrs in a dangerous voice- one Ford associates with getting his ass pounded- “You look fuckable.”
Focus on your intellect, focus on your intellect… breathe. But Bill is letting go of his wrists. Ford surges upward, but is pulled back down by his momentum when chains appear there instead. He makes a pained sound of distress but Bill only says, “Mmmm yes… struggle.” The motion he makes with his eye is so exaggerated it’s clear that he’s winking, like they are both in on this ‘joke.’ Both playing. “You can still say no, Smart Guy!” Bill says cheerfully, then his eye vanishes and he opens a mouth wide, lounge lolling out, and takes Ford’s cock down.
Pleasure, but also disgust and fear. Bill doesn’t need a mouth to run his, so he keeps talking. “Feels GOOD? I’ve never DONE THIS before but you DESERVE it, Brainiac.” Ford feels the tongue wrap around him and pump up and down. It would be heavenly if it wasn’t already hell.
“Just say NO, IQ.” Bill chirps, his tongue slobbering over Ford’s hardened cock. Ford can’t focus his mind, but he refuses to cry in front of Bill.
“Just say NO, Sixer!” Bill says. No… no, he won’t break down for Bill.
This time Bill’s voice goes deep and dark. “JUST SAY NO, STANFORD. I PROMISE I’LL STOP.” Ford cums, a burst of endorphins rushing his system, but there’s no joy there. He feel used and terrified. He doesn’t cry. Bill doesn’t let go, either, overtaxing his system right away and burying the orgasm under layers of sensation and soreness.
Ford doesn’t mind that. The pleasure is more traumatising than the event itself in some ways. He’d rather be feeling physical pain right now, to match the mental exhaustion and heartbreak. The soreness becomes pain soon enough, and that’s easier for him. Bill keeps telling him to say no and keeps trying to force his body into orgasm, but Ford manages to retreat into his mind now- the dull ache of pain easier to control and ignore than the previous blinding pleasure.
After a while, he feels sharper pain, but he manages to stay in his place of zen, on the beach, sitting with Stan, ten years old again, staring at the sea.
Another burst of pleasure wakes him from meditation. He opens his eyes in fear, looking at Bill, who’s not touching him right now, but is definitely concentrating on him. “If THAT’S how you want it… LET’S DO IT.” Bill says. He snaps his fingers and -oh!
Ford comes explosively. No. No, no, no! Bill snaps again and Ford writhes against the chains as another orgasm takes him. How is this possible? What is he doing?
Bill’s eye has gone half-lidded. “So you can IGNORE the pain, huh? IGNORE THIS!”
He snaps again and Ford comes undone. Pleasure is beginning to overload his brain. He can’t be here. He tries to protest again, but all that comes out is “Bill!”
“What is it, IQ? You want to COME again?” Snap.
Ford tries, fails, to force the word through.
“Want me TO MAKE you feel PLEASURE?” Snap.
No, no… not this, not this…
“Want me to TIP that LITTLE HUMAN BRAIN to the side of ORGASM AGAIN” snap “AND AGAIN” snap “AND AGAIN?” snap.
One sob, and then Ford gets ahold of himself.
Bill floats in real close and stays there, hands behind his back, surveying the damage. Ford has never heard him speak in such a quiet voice- not a whisper per se, but lower in volume than anything before. “You want me to stop?”
“YES!” Ford cries, finally able to voice an answer. His voice is hoarse and he realizes he’s been screaming in pleasure. No, no… no tears, Stanford Pines. No tears. Not for Bill. Not here. He chokes them back.
“I’ll stop, Sixer.” Bill says dangerously. “I’ll stop, and you’ll wake up, and you’ll go to the basement, and you’ll FIX that PORTAL up NICE AND EASY for me.”
Never Ford wants to say, but he finds that this is one of the many, many words he simply can’t say anymore. Bill has taken his ability to protest.
“Fall asleep AGAIN, Fordsie, AND IT’S NOT DONE?” Bill shifted into that dangerous overtone, “WE’RE GONNA HAVE A REAL, REAL, GOOD TIME. MAYBE I CAN INVITE A FEW OF THE BOYS.” Snap!
But this time, Ford didn’t orgasm. He woke, and fell backwards out of the chair he had been sitting in. Hitting the ground helped somewhat, but he was still disoriented. He looked down to find that his pants were, indeed, stained through. It wasn’t the first time Bill had done that, but this was the most violent by far. A breech of consent before? Yes. But never this… this…. violence. This rape.
Ford sobbed, then cut himself off again. No. Bill could still be watching. He needed to control his emotions. He wiped away this single tear stinging his eye, then stood.
He would shower. He would change. He would never sleep again. He’d tape his eyes open if he had to. Yes. He must. not. fall. asleep. again.