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The creature opens its eye wide, wide and Ford wants to cover himself in his shame. He can’t, not with his limbs immobilized by tentacles, forcing himself to stare at his own reflection in that huge eye. As he watches, the pupil opens up, becoming a window.
At first all he sees is another eye within the first, and then as the view zooms out and focuses he recognizes familiar eyelashes, as the rest of Bill Cipher appears.
“Well, well, well,” he says, clearly delighted. Ford can still see the other aliens in his periphery, but the tentacles force his head forward so he can focus on nothing but Bill. He wants to turn away, to cover himself, but he can’t move. He can’t close his eyes either, for that would be admitting defeat, so he’s left staring into Bill’s eye as he gets fucked on a third creature’s cock, the wet noises loud in the momentary silence. He hopes that he looks defiant and not pleading.
“What have you gotten yourself into, Fordsy?” Bill asks, then winces in disgust as the creature inside of Ford comes. It’s more than any human would come, hot enough to feel like its burning him up. The monster grunts and then pulls out, leaving Ford feeling weirdly empty, with alien come spilling out of his hole. “I have to say, you’ve made a mess, even for you!”
Ford feels unbidden tears start welling up in his eyes. They’re hotter than the come trickling down his thighs, more than the foreign tongue that’s suddenly laving over his loose hole, licking out the thick come before spitting it out on his lower back.
“You’ve had your fun, Bill. Stop playing with me,” Ford says. He tries to keep his voice strong, but he can feel it shake and waver as that tongue continues to toy with him. Now that the large beast that was fucking him had retreated, some of the more timid monsters approach, small feelers brushing his ass or tickling his sides.
“My fun?” Bill asks, eye widening, then drooping to a neutral expression. “What makes you think I’m getting anything out of this at all?”
Now that he mentions it, he does appear to be distracted, and he actually starts to turn away, returning to what he was doing before.
Ford’s not sure why this of all things is what makes his tears spill, but it does. They run down his face, anguish combined with shame, and he can’t help lashing out, “You put them up to this, Bill! Don’t play your mind games with me! What do you want?”
Bill pauses, and casts an annoyed glance back at Ford. “Don’t overestimate yourself, kid.”
Indifferent to Ford’s emotions, the tongue on his ass finishes licking up all of the come. And then it, too, grows steadily larger, wiggling underneath him until Ford is resting prone on it, the rough, wet surface of it providing a gross sense of pleasure on his cock and all along his belly and chest. A handlike appendage pulls at his sore hole, spreading it wide for the crowd of creatures to see.
Bill continues to watch, though his eye darts away periodically as if to keep a watch on his surroundings. “These guys came up with this all on their own. And hey, why not? Job perks are important for keeping your underlings happy.”
No. He can’t believe that. He doesn’t know why he suddenly wants to believe that Bill would hurt him, would chase him down across the dimensions and humiliate him, tear open his weaknesses until they destroy him. Instead, Bill turns half away again, and starts gesturing at someone outside of Ford’s line of view. He feels like a spurned wife, left to pine at home while her love works long hours. He feels like a fool.
The tentacle around his neck finally retreats, letting his head droop low. The residual goop it’s left on him drips off of him in large globs. Ford watches them as they hit the ground.
The hand probing at his ass finally worms a few fingers inside, and counter to the rest of him, his cock sends shocks of pleasure coursing through him as the digits brush against sensitive spots.
“Are you going to kill me?” Ford asks. It shouldn’t be a plea.
“What?” Bill asks, still sounding distracted. “Hm, yes, it would be fun to kill you personally.” The relief Ford feels at that statement makes him sick. When he looks up, Bill is now moving about, and the viewpoint follows him along, bobbing up and down.
“…but I’m a bit busy now, as you can see!” he says, sweeping his arm out. The view remains focused on the center of his eye. “Oh wait, you can’t see.”
As if on cue, the monster behind him shoves his whole fist inside ford, making him squeeze his eyes shut in pain. The tongue beneath him twists as if to sooth him, then flicks up to leave a trail of saliva on his face.
“I’ll come for you later! Probably,” Bill promises. “In the meantime, here’s something to look at.” He blinks his eye closed, and it feels like a heavy door slamming shut. The larger eye containing it also shuts. Ford stares, for a moment, at nothingness, before it starts to open again.
It’s the view from the top of his home. The triangular window, he realizes. Tourists swarm around it, chattering excitedly. Bill’s showing him the view from one of his many portals. But why?
One of the tourists’ gazes skims past the roof of the shack, and then he does a double take. He stares directly into Ford’s eyes with an expression of dawning horror.
The large eye blinks closed, and then opens again. This time a different scene, again with a triangular border. The alien on the other side of this window is not quite as horrified as the human tourist was. He’s initially surprised, and then chortles in amusement. He nudges another by him, to get him to look.
—
Hours later, many of the aliens are getting bored, some complaining about working overtime. A particularly disinterested critter is fucking Ford’s mouth, not even bothering to restrain him. He can't blame it - he himself had thought that he’d lost his spirit hours ago, no longer sensitive even to the fresh humiliation of each new peephole that had opened up. How much of Bill’s domain has he seen? A third? A quarter? No, the number of triangles carelessly etched through the world, by fools like him, must be endless.
Still, as the creature chats idly with one of its colleagues nearby, its knife dangles temptingly in its pocket. Making a sudden decision, Ford twists out of its loose grip and grabs it. It’s tiny and helpless against this huge pack of monsters, but he manages to wrestle out from under the one in front of him at least and press the knife to its neck.
The others have jumped up in alarm, starting to pull their weapons.
“Nobody move!” Ford shouts, knife pressing in to leave a thin line of blood. He doesn’t know if these aliens would care if another died, but it’s all he has to work with.
Luckily, they do stop. The creature he has in his grip starts to shout in distress, and for some reason, that breaks the others out of their shock and they start to relax, some even chuckling at the display.
“You let yourself be caught by this weak little thing?” one of them asks. “Come on, you’re just playing, aren’t you?”
“Do you think the human’ll want to stick its dick in you, now it’s got you?” another says, sounding genuinely curious.
They… they don’t even see him as a threat. No, of course they wouldn’t, not when he’s got six different colors of alien come on him, and his own spent cock evidence of his enjoyment of his own degradation.
Still, he grits his teeth and holds the knife fast, backing, slowly, away from the group. The group chatters more loudly, still watching him.
“It’s escaping? Shouldn’t we do something about it?” he hears, and tenses in anticipation.
“Nah, let’s just leave it,” one of them says. “Doesn’t seem the boss is keen on collecting for a bounty anytime soon, anyway.”
That last is true. It sinks to the pit of Ford’s stomach. More than six hours, and no sign of Bill. Not even to kill him.
Once he’s backed a safe distance, near an interdimensional rift, he tosses the monster aside and flees. The raucous laughter follows him even as he leaves this universe far behind.