my first fanfiction *wipes away tear*. its about sasori doing his routine maintenance work on the third. and getting close to him while hes at it. for all you freaks and freak supporters out there. the story is explicit, features agalmatophilia and necrophilia, but is relatively mild. you can read it under the cut or on ao3. enjoy 🦂
Maintenance
It was one of those nights when I preferred to take him to bed, instead of placing him on his usual spot on the workbench. There was nothing big to repair, but I was afraid his insides were due for a routine cleaning, something I had to do quite often as the sand of the desert, as well as the magnetic sand within his system were prone to creating a residue that required regular maintenance. Something I couldn’t complain about, in fact I enjoyed these frequent rituals, and sometimes I rather enjoyed them in my bed.
The place where I slept was a small opening inside one of the cave walls that formed my workshop, less of a bed and more of a den, consisting of carpets, a few pillows and blankets, a nightlight and practical cooking equipment. The focus was clearly on pragmatism, though the patterned covers gave off a certain coziness, especially when the darkness of the workshop was broken by just the light of the lantern that stood at the headrest, dying the lair in an orange hue.
I gently lifted the Third onto the soft rugs on the raised bedframe (Experience has taught me to not underestimate the danger of desert creatures during sleep), positioning him to sit down in front of me. His silhouette drew a contrast against the soft light and his bigger stature snugly enveloped me in his shadow. I relieved him of the comfort of his fur-crested coat and neatly placed it to the side. The Third’s doll body posed in front of me in his usual manner, proud yet calm like a dark-maned lion, a characteristic I paid much attention to when transforming him. He was an attractive man in his lifetime, but as a doll he was enticing. For a while I stood above him, cupping his face in my hand and gently angling it, observing how the lights played out on his face when I turned it here and there, and resting my gaze on his lifeless eyes, staring absently at wherever I led him to. He was inanimate, a vessel inviting me to possess him and give him the life that he lacked. His movements, his body, his will and his soul, were mine.
I carefully guided him into a laying position, climbing around him to settle down by his side. As we laid next to each other, I adjusted the place of his hair, tenderly combing through the dark silky strands with my fingers and curling it around them. My hand moved over to his jaw, across his neck and to his collarbones, my eyes closely examining his lack of reaction, subduing the ever tiniest movement. His temperature blended in with the environment, making him seem cold against my body heat. I drew circles around his chest area, first using my fingertips, then my nails, and finally digging deep into a spot near his solar plexus. An alive person would have jolted, but he continued his peaceful somnolence, unbothered. Instead of soft tissue, I felt his robust wooden mount beneath his preserved skin. His unresponsiveness drew me in like a magnet, and I used my arm to turn him to the side, facing me closely. I felt my own heat rising and the growing, yearning urge to get closer to him. Again, I cupped his face with my hand and let our foreheads touch, my breath hitting his tan skin. My thumb moved over to his lips, gently tracing their shape and studying their soft texture. I came closer and closer, as if he was the one pulling me in, until mine were touching his just slightly. It took a moment for me to process the sensation and the intense wave of desire for him hitting me, something that I would only admit to in the seclusion of my workshop. I pressed my lips onto his, feeling my movement against his immobility, and with every slight motion that went unreturned, my kiss grew more passionate. I used my thumb to gently open his mouth by pulling down the mechanical part of his lower lip and slipped my tongue into him. The insides were entirely artificial. I made my way to the static tongue that was more for decoration than utility, tasting wood and metal as I circled around it. It was certainly different from my first encounter with him, before his transformation under a hefty dose of anesthesia and still possessing his human mouth. Its insides are now preserved in a jar with formaldehyde, sitting within my collection. Unconsciously, I moved closer to him with the rest of my body too, rubbing against him through a layer of fabric that I now wanted to get rid of. I drew away from the kiss and undressed my tight turtleneck, like an insect shedding its old skin. I instantaneously latched onto him again, craving the touch of his skin on mine, and now able to enjoy it. Continuing, I moved towards placing kisses on his neck, paying attention to the many different muscles and tendons still present underneath his skin, whittled to seem as naturalistic as possible.
Touching him made me recall the process of transformation that I guided him through. The countless hours of sketching and blueprinting, the creation of a mount made from wood and plaster, the meticulous removal of his skin for chemical preservation, all to make him the work of art he is now and my indispensable companion. It was nice to indulge in the results of one's own work for a while and to appreciate the fine details that went into his making. None of my puppets were ever finished, they were in an endless cycle of transformation, disassembled and reassembled on their journey to perfection. In the case of the Third, my interest went beyond artistic merit, and ever so often I would notice the whims of desire within me as I worked on him. Maybe it was my age, maybe it was the effects of the desert's solitude, it was a weakness that I sometimes tended to in the secluded darkness of my workshop, much like soldiers finding solace in each other in moments of pause between duty. It had not hit me until I saw the Third before me on the autopsy table, pointlessly struggling against the effects of the poison within his body. The feeling overwhelmed me and took me apart. Even though I've been familiar with the process of transformation, he turned it into an entirely new experience. I did not leave an inch of him untouched and unkissed, marking him and claiming him in his entirety.
His arm was laying idly beside him, forgotten by the motion of turning him sideways. We were still in a snug head-to-head position, though my focus shifted towards his limb now, observing the ball joints on his shoulder, his elbow and his wrist. His hand featured five of them, one for each finger. I took it in mine and moved it towards my mouth, brushing my lips across his joints, placing one or more kisses on each of it, on his fingers, his knuckles and his wrist. I've always had a liking for his hands in particular, due to the amount of small joints that could be played with and adjusted, and often I just found myself idly toying with them in mundane situations. The tips of his fingers were artificial and shaped more like claws, and aside from their intended use to release a lethal venom upon digging into an opponent's skin, within the covers of my bed they were quite good for scratching. I took his hand and guided it across my chest. The artificiality of his jointed palms made it an unique experience, his inhumanity excited me with every motion. I made him touch and scratch my neck and up to its nape, while I dug my face into his. I was troubled to receive affection instead of giving it, but controlling his hand made it easier. Upon letting go of it, I attached chakra strings onto his fingers, making them run across my back. The sensation made me tense up briefly, but then I relaxed into him and closed my eyes.
I let go of his hand again and ran my own across his torso. I softly traced my fingers across the lines separating his body into parts, resembling the anatomy of an arthropod more than that of a vertebrae. The designs of my puppets often took inspiration from the insect world due to their physicality and functionality being quite similar, as well as their many survival tactics that I liked to imitate when conceptualizing their combat tools. To me, the Third was the imago, the final stage of his metamorphosis, a process that only I could help him through. I caught and I pinned him, and I made him my most prized treasure within my collection. Ever so often I was in awe of him, admiring and examining him like a rarity in a picture frame. He made me want to handle him with the same precision and gentleness as an entomologist would handle his preserved insects.
Slowly, I ran my fingers up to the ball joint of his shoulder. I always saved my treat for last, and I felt it was the time to indulge properly. While positioning my head in the creek of his neck and closing my eyes, I began to idly trace around the lines that connect the joint, arm and shoulder. It was a teasing game that I liked to play with myself, as the slowness of my motion mismatched the intense desire that flared up within me the moment I touched this area. I dug my face deeper into him to anchor myself. As I continued to toy with his ball joint, my breath became quicker and irregular against his neck. I spent my time drawing anticipation, torturously elongating the time desiring to go further. Once I felt I was well prepared, I slipped two of my fingers into the creek between his joint and shoulder. My blood quite intensely rushed towards my groins and a quiet moan escaped me. I kept exploring the area using my fingers, enjoying the peculiar sensation of touching a place that would be impossible to touch in a human. Even though the Third was a person once, and still kept his human looks to perfection, I was pushing inside of him in a place that only existed in an object, my object and possession. I couldn't help but to grind my hips against him, even though I didn’t have much interest in doing anything further. My focus was on the joint alone, and I made my way to the metal hook that held the ball tightly connected to the rest of the body. It was connected to a spring, and I used my fingers to gently pull it, slipping the rest of them inside. I opened my eyes to watch this intently, as the limb slowly disconnected to the shoulder. My fingers were still toying with the hook, and I was growing steadily more impatient and pleading for release. I teased myself like this for a while, getting terribly desperate with each passing second. Finally, I mercifully unhooked the joint from the shoulder, detaching it fully as they were now two separate parts. I practically exploded as this happened, digging into the Third's torso to anchor me against the waves of pleasure that jolted through my body. I was dizzy, and vulnerable, and all over the place. The closeness of the Third gave me an inconceivable feeling of safety, and I clung onto him with all my power. As the minutes passed, I became more calm and relaxed, letting go of my grip. I idly kissed him around his neck, enjoying his static presence that protected me in a moment of weakness. Using his other arm, I made him scratch the nape of my neck and just lied beside him for a while, listening to the faint chirping of the katydids outside.
It was tempting to doze off in all this coziness, but I didn’t feel done yet, as the Third’s scratches once again made me crave to prolong our time together. My hands journeyed across his body again, exploring him like a sculpture, until they met with the empty void where once his arm was. I ran my fingers across the hollow bowl where his joint had been inserted before, and down his shoulder, which I gently pushed in my direction. I motioned him to lay on his stomach, as I began to place kisses on the revealed area. The spring was lost somewhere inside him, giving away just a hole leading to his inner mechanics. Pushing my face further into him, I let my tongue circle around it, as my hand instinctively grabbed the Third’s obsidian hair and pulled him downwards. My legs coiled around his like snakes, and I spent a while just enjoying the sensation of tonguing him in this peculiar place.
I let go of him again and changed positions. The Third was laying on his back as I hovered above him. My eyes rested on his for a while, observing him as he observed nothingness. He had a cat-like eye shape, one of my favorite features of his, giving room to artificial, amber eyes. I lifted his jaw, with unusual fervor, revealing yet another ball joint that made his head's movement possible, as well as the line on his neck that marked the connection of his head to the rest of the torso. Steadily, I put my hands around his neck, lingering for a while and feeling his well-crafted throat, sturdy underneath a soft layer of preserved skin. I breathed in and out. With a swift motion sideways, his neck made a familiar click as the keyhole unlocked, and his head was in my hands, detached. I ran my eyes across his face, and his body, twice separated underneath me. It was a strange fascination, but one that held me in its grip. The Third's preceding personhood lingered above this situation like a shadow, it added a sense of confusion and uncanny that made the sensation more intriguing. I wondered where his personhood started and ended, at what point his limbs and body became objects for me to play with. His disassembling filled me with an indescribable sense of pleasure, the vagueness of what he was and what he would become through my actions. I continued by detaching the rest of his body one by one, his arm, his legs, his elbows, knees, hands, and feet. It made me a bit hysterical to see him objectified like this.
I just toyed around with him for a while, as I remembered what I intended to do the whole time. He of course needed his actual cleaning. With a sigh, I collected his body parts and brought them over to one of the desks in my workshop. Having him disassembled made his maintenance easier, so my fun had its use. I placed his torso in front of me and lifted off the lid that halved his body, revealing the complex machinery on the inside. Where once was his gastrointestinal system, there was now a large room with a seal that was used to summon his iron sand, as well as a long pipe leading up to his throat. This system had the unfortunate habit to collect a lot of residue, and it needed quite a lot of manual labor to remove it. I opened the kit where I store the usual tools needed for his maintenance. My tool of choice was a large metallic pipe cleaner, which I now slowly inserted into the entrance by his neck. I put my hand on top of the magnetic apparatus on his chest, sending a low level of my own energy into him to start the circulation. As the machinery hummed, the magnetic sand residue clung to the pipe cleaner and I continued to scrub the largest gunk out of him, all the way to the bottom. Once I had it, I let go of him again, powering him off. For the next part, I put on gloves and took out a can of solvent, poured some of it over another pipe cleaner made out of soft cloth, and once again inserted it as before. It had to sit for around ten minutes, so I changed my focus to the rest of his insides. Being in the desert, he naturally got quite dusty, especially the parts where he regularly had to get oiled. I gave the parts inside of him another round of solvent scrubbing. As I waited, I cleaned off the rest of his limbs and head superficially, making sure there were no imperfections to him. The amount of chemicals used to clean all his different materials was akin to a whole beauty kit, and not even comparable to the sparse few things that I used for my own organic body. I finished him up with another dry clean and some lubricant, and began to reassemble him. With a click his head was back on his body and I noticed his dark hair had gotten quite messy. I turned him around and took out a hairbrush, untied his chaotic bun, and gently brushed his hair back into order. His long silky hair fell onto his shoulders quite beautifully, it was his original, aside from a few small spots where it had to be replaced with similar human hair. Since it wasn’t yet time for a thorough washing, I simply tied it back into his usual bun, and turned him around to fix his look from every angle. Satisfied, I put him back together like puzzle pieces, hooking his joints back into place and making sure they worked properly and soundlessly. He was whole in front of me again, and I just sat and looked at him for a while.
There wasn’t really anything that I thought of in particular, I simply enjoyed the silence of the cave and the ambient sounds of the world outside, the tranquil pose of the Third in the dim light of the workshop, and having the job done for tonight. I decided it was time for me to go to sleep as well. It was already starting to dawn outside, and I got up and took the Third with me to bed. After turning off the lights, I snuggled up to him in a spooning position, moving his arms around me from behind. I lifted the blanket over us, disappearing in it completely, like a scorpion in its burrow. At last, I placed a kiss on his jointed hand, and slumber quickly took me over.
