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The Life And Death Of Robbie Rotten's Imagination

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The beach trip had ended, everyone was back, and things in LazyTown had returned to the way they always were.

Well, not quite.

Despite a rocky start, the relationship Robbie had formed with the fly on that fateful day of abandonment managed to endure.

They may have befriended each other in the span of a few hours, but Robbie felt as though they'd spent weeks, or maybe even months, together. The time they'd known each other was short but tumultuous, littered through with wonderful moments and even the occasional disagreement, as with all relationships.

Granted, said events were generally spaced further apart in average relations, but Robbie had no complaints. He and the fly had connected at once, chemistry instantly tangible. Why shouldn't they move along at a brisker pace than others?

Robbie truly couldn't be happier with the state of things. The past few days had been some of the happiest he could remember, with the fly moving into his lair and keeping him company throughout the day, even during his rare trips outside. Its presence gave his normally sour mood a much-needed makeover, and he found himself growing more and more accustomed to having it around.

In the process, he began to wonder if he wasn't depending on the fly just a bit too much. It was true that getting through the day with it by his side was easier than it used to be, or that sleep came faster when the fly fell silent under its blanket, or even that making a trip into town wasn't nearly as tedious with it buzzing away on his shoulder.

He'd become attached to it, there was no denying that. In fact, his attachment was by and large the cause of his only concern about the entire setup:

What if it left him?

It already happened once. Sure, the fly had returned before terribly long, but what if it hadn't? Back then, he'd been prepared to offer up the title of 'FlyTown Mayor' for it to stay. What would he offer now that he'd become halfway dependent on it?

It wasn't as if he had much. Nothing that it already had access to, at least. They were living together, he provided for it, he even presented it with gifts now and then.

If it randomly decided to leave one day, there was no way for him to possibly win it back, was there?

The possibility left Robbie numb whenever it occurred to him, each time worse than the last as his attachment to the fly deepened. He wasn't sure he could get by without it anymore. In less than a week, it had come to mean the world to him, and frankly, he probably ought to be worried about that in and of itself.

Instead, his time was split between happily coexisting with it, and intermittently worrying over it potentially deserting him.

Still, it wouldn't leave unless he gave it a reason to, and he'd been on his best behavior. He was all too aware of how badly he'd messed things up before, when 'just a bug' had slipped out. He'd been woefully unable to stop himself and the fly had been rightfully upset, yet forgave him all the same.

That didn't stop him from feeling guilty about it.

If only he could keep himself from yet another slip-up, everything would be fine. The fly would stay with him and they'd remain friends.

Always friends...

In all honesty, he wasn't entirely sure what he felt for the fly. Certainly there was profound affection on his part. What else could be expected from such an intense bond? But as to the type of affection he regarded the fly with... That was a much harder question to answer.

Robbie was entirely aware of his many failings when it came to the ins and outs of socialization. He barely had an idea of how to interact with the townspeople he'd lived so many years among, let alone how to sort through all the different relationship classifications out there.

But he'd be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat now and then when thinking about the fly. Or talking to it. Or being near it. Or—

No, that didn't matter. None of it did. It was likely nothing but another product of his overthinking, and chances were that bringing it up would only serve to complicate things between them.

Their relationship was fine as it was, and Robbie was content to keep it that way.

But not a week after everything had begun, a visit to town completely upset the careful balance that Robbie had fought so hard to maintain.

The few times he'd gone into town with the fly had been largely uneventful up until then. Sometimes they'd run across the usual batch of kids playing some sport or another and being awfully loud about it, shrieks of laughter and yells of encouragement filling the air. With any luck, he usually made it past them undetected.

Rarer were the times when Sportaflop was there too, jumping and backflipping and generally being a nuisance while the children gasped in awe.

If Robbie stuck around a while longer to watch during those times, it was only because it gave him valuable insights on how best to defeat the sports elf once and for all.

But for the most part, he and the fly made it to their planned destinations without interruptions. They did whatever business they'd come to do—usually shopping—then went on their merry way back to the lair. The only people they were really forced to interact with were the cashiers and shop owners at said destinations, and of those, the vast majority minded their own business and simply carried out their duties.

But then there were the few who'd give him and the fly an odd look now and then, likely when they thought neither of them would notice. It annoyed Robbie to no end and left him desperately hoping the fly hadn't seen, but he didn't press the point, seeing as those people never followed up their looks with any comments.

That was just as well. He hadn't gone through all the trouble of befriending the fly just for people to be rude to the both of them.

And then one measly cashier saw fit to upend that balance with a brief yet insulting question.

“Um, sir? Who are you talking to?”

The kid was young, likely fresh out of high school. Probably a summer job, little customer experience.

None of that stopped Robbie from letting out the tirade he'd been stewing in for days.

“I'll have you know that my friend here isn't someone you can just ignore! Our relationship might fall outside the bounds of social norms, but that doesn't give you the right to thoroughly disrespect both it and us! Furthermore, there's absolutely nothing objectionable about the perfectly healthy relationship between a person such as myself and a fly as beautiful—as positively charming—as my friend! Anyone would be overjoyed to have a fly as wonderful in their lives! In fact, this little fly has given me so much more in the short time we've known each other than some people have in y—”

He caught himself too late, ducking his head down nervously. A few seconds passed, and then a questioning buzz from his shoulder caught his attention. He glanced up, meeting the gaze of the fly's compound eyes.

Bzzzz bzzzz?

“Well, yes. I do think you're very charming, and I did mean... All of that.”

Bzzzz, bzzzz bzzzz.

“Y- you do?” asked Robbie, voice slightly breathless with surprise.


A smile made its way onto Robbie's face at the confirmation. “Oh, fly! You— I— We have so much to talk about!” he exclaimed, nearly unable to control his giddiness as he left the store without a backwards glance, shopping and cashier completely forgotten.

Once outside, he quickly made his way to the nearest bench and took a seat, holding out a finger for the fly to do the same. As soon as it hopped on, he brought it up to eye level so they could talk as equals.

Robbie opened his mouth to speak, but found himself at a loss for what words to use. Thankfully, he didn't have to.

Bzzzz bzzzz bzzzz , buzzed the fly, tilting its fuzzy head at him. Bzzzz?

“I had no idea, fly!” Robbie gasped. “And you'd... Stay with me?”

A series of quick, amusement-filled buzzes answered him, followed by an affirmative Bzzzz!

“Then... Then yes, of course!” Robbie answered, just barely keeping tears at bay as he swallowed the lump in his throat. Opting to forego any more words, he simply brought the fly to his cheek, appreciatively leaning towards it and hoping it would understand all the emotions he was trying to convey.

If the high-pitched sigh it released was any indication, it did.

And so officially began Robbie and the fly's courtship.

Robbie was positively thrilled, to say the least. All that time he'd been agonizing over what exactly he felt and wanted, and the fly had felt the same way! His little buddy had chosen him, Robbie Rotten of all people, to set its gorgeous multi-lensed sights on. It was too good to be true.

So of course, the moment was ruined by a rubber ball soaring through the air, straight in their direction.

He yelped, ducking and narrowly missing a ball to the face. Immediately, he sat back up and frantically looked around for the fly, who'd zoomed off at the first sign of danger. It buzzed from his shoulder and he let out a sigh of relief before turning a hardened glare in the direction the projectile had come from.

Oh, joy. The entire troupe of brats had come to collect their ball, accompanied by none other than Sportaloon flippity-flopping along. It was true that Robbie didn't mind the bunch nearly as much as he once used to, but still.

He and the fly were having a moment.

Picking up the ball, he carelessly tossed it in their general direction, hoping they'd take the hint and leave. Alas, no such luck.

“Hi, Robbie!” a few of them called out in near-unison.

“Sorry about the ball,” the pink girl added, “I hope I didn't hit you!”

“No, you didn't. Now if you'll excuse me—”

“Wait, you're leaving?” she asked, the other kids echoing her question.

Robbie smirked. “Of course. I do have better things to do than spending time outside, you know.”

The kids all clamored to speak at once, their cries of “But we've hardly seen you this week,” and “What have you been up to?” all merging into a hardly intelligible mess.

“That's a good question,” the blue elf remarked, probably anxious to learn what clever scheme he'd be up against next. “What have you been up to, Robbie?”

Well, Robbie wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He'd have to face whatever plot came next whenever it came, no previews.

Not to mention the fact that Robbie hadn't even had a chance to think of any new plots, not with all his time focused on the fly.

As if on cue, its squeaky buzzing interrupted his train of thought and he turned to it, eyes widening. Sportaflop and the kids watched silently as it buzzed at him.

“But... Are you sure? We don't have to, not yet...”

Bzzzz bzzzz!

“No, no, not at all! I just wanted to be sure we were both alright with telling them!”

“Telling us what?” Sportaflop asked, curiosity evident.

Well, it was now or never. Robbie took a breath and adjusted his waistcoat, glancing around to make sure he had the impromptu crowd's full attention. Satisfied, he announced, “My beautiful buddy”—he indicated the fly on his shoulder—“and myself”—his gestured to himself—“have decided to formally take our relationship to the next level.”

The answering silence was paired with looks of little to no understanding.

“We're dating,” he elaborated.

The pink girl's smile flickered, but it was instantly back in full force. “Wow, that's great!”

Apparently encouraged by her enthusiasm, the other kids began piping up with their own congratulations. The fly buzzed gleefully and Robbie found himself standing up a little taller at all the adoration, nodding his head in thanks.

But then he caught sight of Sportaflop's expression.

The elf didn't look upset, per say. He definitely didn't look happy either. His face was a mask of... Concern, maybe?

Robbie didn't have time to figure it out before Sportakook schooled his features into something more appropriate for the situation, grinning and giving a thumbs up. “I'm happy for you,” he said, voice sounding genuine, if also a bit wistful.

Again, Robbie wasn't sure what to make of it, but found himself beginning to balk under all the attention. He cleared his throat and proclaimed, “Yes, well. It's high time I should be going. Goodbye!”

With that, he scurried away, leaving the gaggle of kids (and one infuriatingly unreadable sports elf) in his wake. His fly buzzed contentedly beside him, and wasn't that a thought?

His fly.

In a way, he supposed that meant he was also its.

They were dating.

All things considered, the day was turning out better than Robbie could've hoped.

Back in his lair, they spent the next few hours watching TV and sharing cake. Robbie mentioned wanting to organize a romantic evening for them and the fly buzzed its approval, rubbing its little legs together in anticipation. Before long, they both grew tired and decided to turn in for the night.

Such ended their first day as a couple, and Robbie found himself happily drifting off to sleep with thoughts of what was yet to come.

The next day was extremely busy, with him setting up everything he thought a nice dinner required. He knew the evening needed something to send it off with a bang, but he found himself at a loss for what that might be.

As far as he could tell, his best bet would be an extravagant dessert. Seeing no better option, he set about gathering all the ingredients needed for it to become a reality. All the while, he cheerfully chatted away at the fly, laughing with its funnier remarks and finding himself agreeing with a lot of its views.

About halfway through the day, they took a break to watch TV and snack on some candy, paying more attention to each other than anything on the screen. They were clearly a perfect match— or at least Robbie thought they were, sure that the fly was enjoying his company just as much as he was enjoying its.

He'd been getting ready to tell the fly exactly to what extent he cherished their time together, when a knock at his lair's hatch reverberated around them. Disgruntled, he yelled out, “Go away!”

“Robbie, are you okay?”

It was Sportaflop; he'd recognize that voice anywhere. Robbie rolled his eyes. Of course the elf had to come intrude on such a special day. “I'm fine, go away!” he yelled again.

Sportaflop persisted, “You've been down there so much lately. We were worried about you.”

“You saw me yesterday, what more do you need?!?”



“...Is the fly still with you?”

Robbie scoffed. “What kind of a question is that? Of course it is! Now go away , we were watching TV before you so rudely interrupted us!”

There was another pause, and Robbie almost thought the flip-flopping elf had finally flippity-flipped away, before he heard a soft “Okay, Robbie,” followed by the sound of the hatch closing.

That was... Strange.

He had no idea what to make of it at all. The kids and Sportaloon couldn't possibly miss him. They'd deserted the town without even notifying him, for crying out loud! And sure, they might have claimed to miss him after the fact, but he knew of the disparity that could exist between words and actions all too well.

That wasn't to say he hadn't appreciated the sentiment, but... Well, it was just a sentiment.

A dramatic sigh left him and the fly cooed sympathetically into his ear, the noise snapping him out of his chain of thought. His mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile. “So, anyway,” he murmured, turning his head towards it, “What were you saying?”

And so the day continued in a manner as close to what it had originally been as possible. Robbie and the fly watched a few more hours of TV before he decided it was time to start setting up for their dinner: A fancy table, mood lighting, and last but not least, the food itself.

Soon enough, everything was as it ought to be, and the two of them sat down to enjoy each other's company over a plate of lovingly-prepared red velvet cake.

Throughout the meal, they spoke of many things: Reminiscing about how they met, their plans for the future, things they liked about each other. To Robbie's delight, they shared similar opinions on nearly everything, a fact that deep in his gut he'd already known, but was nice to have properly confirmed.

In a little over an hour, they'd both finished off their proportionally large slices of red velvet cake, and Robbie served dessert, proportionally large slices of chocolate cake.

The conversation carried on, and at one point he pulled out a surprise gift for the fly. It buzzed delightedly over the golden necklace he'd somehow managed to keep hidden until that moment, and Robbie felt himself grinning at how excited the fly was.

He doubted it'd ever be able to wear the necklace, but he'd found out early on that it loved jewelry, so what was the harm in getting it personalized, albeit useless, presents? As long as it was happy, he was happy.

As their dessert came to a finish, a curious buzz sounded from the other end of the table.

“Yes, my little fly?”

Bzzzz bzzzz, bzzzz bzzzz bzzzz. Bzzzz bzzzz. Bzzzz bzzzz, bzzzz?

Robbie nearly choked on his cake, swallowing his bite down as fast as he could and taking a drink to clear his throat.


“I'm okay, I'm okay,” he rasped, giving a few experimental coughs. He took another drink before letting himself think about what the fly had just suggested, putting down the glass when he could stall no longer.

He could feel the fly watching him intently, awaiting a reply.

“Are you... Are you sure? It's kind of a big step, isn't it? Are we moving too quickly?”

Bzzzz bzzzz bzzzz.

“...Yes,” Robbie conceded, seeing the fly's point. Going from strangers to dating in the matter of a week was rather fast— but that was one thing, and what the fly had brought up was entirely another. Not to mention... How would it even work?

Sensing his hesitation, the fly prompted, Bzzzz?

Robbie rapidly glanced between it and the few crumbs that were left on his plate, weighing his next words carefully. “If we did,” he slowly got out, “I'm not entirely sure how we'd manage it.”

His words were met by a buzzy chortle, then answered with, Bzzzz bzzzz?

That was the million dollar question, wasn't it? Robbie's teeth scraped against his lip as he thought it over. It wasn't that he had a problem with it, nor that he lacked affinity for the fly. If anything, he was mostly worried about disappointing it somehow. If he failed to live up to expectations, it might leave him.

On the other hand, what if he refused? Would the fly stay? And if it wouldn't, was it worth continuing their relationship in the first place?


Robbie was lonely. He was lonely and he wanted to share himself with the fly, so what was the harm in doing so? No, he wasn't sure how it could possibly work, and it did seem like a large step forward, but he wanted it.

Valiantly trying to fight down his blush, Robbie finally looked up and nodded. The fly said nothing, and so Robbie cleared his throat and confirmed, “I want to try it.”

Still the fly said nothing, rubbing its legs together as if contemplating how to move forward. Robbie held its gaze, letting out a surprised gasp when it launched itself at him, quietly floating beside his ear.

Bzzzz bzzzz bzzzz, it buzzed, the sounds somehow deeper than Robbie would've thought possible. His eyes fell shut, mind racing as he wondered just how he'd gotten himself in such a situation.

It was equal parts strange and...


...Fuck, it was.

He figured he shouldn't be so surprised by his own reactions. It took a certain kind of person to befriend, date, and then sleep with a fly, and it was readily becoming apparent that he was exactly that kind of person.

He took a deep breath and steadily exhaled it, feeling most of his hesitation leave. Another breath, another exhale, and his nerves hardened.

Bzzzz? Bzzzz bzzzz.

“No, I'm ready,” he answered, lifting himself from his seat. “How do we do this?”

The fly let out a noise which, from anyone else, might best be called a growl, but coming from it, Robbie could only describe as being dreadfully endearing.

It followed up the noise with more buzzing into Robbie's ear, keeping its tone low and lingering. Robbie studiously listened to its suggestions, nodding along all the while. Then, at last having an idea of how they would proceed, he stalked over to one of his cabinets and dug through it until he found what he was looking for.

Lube and vibrator in hand, he made his way to the fuzzy chair at the lair's center. Setting the items down on the table beside it, he maneuvered the chair around to face the table and paused. He chewed his lip again and asked, “Should I just... Start?”

Bzzzz, buzzed the fly, then flew to the table and turned to watch him.

Robbie's hands moved to unbutton his waistcoat when the fly interrupted him.


Robbie paused, feeling his face grow even more heated. “Oh? Alright,” he said, slowing the movement of his fingers. Bit by bit, he freed the buttons on his waistcoat, alternating between shooting the fly heavy-lidded looks and keeping his eyes downcast, behaving as teasingly as he could.

Waistcoat fully opened, he slipped it down his arms, letting it dangle loosely from one hand before dropping it. Done with that, he bent over to remove his shoes, angling himself to give the fly a decent view. After a few seconds, that was done too, and he languidly pulled himself up. His back creaked in protest but he ignored it, sighing gratefully once he was fully upright again. His eyes met the fly's once more, and he smirked in satisfaction to see it rapidly rubbing its legs together, clearly captivated by his impromptu show.

Dexterous fingers went for his suspenders next, sliding them off and moving to his belt. Robbie unbuckled it, dragging his pants down his torso, over his hips, and past his legs, finally stepping out of them. He took a moment to yank off his socks, then gazed down at himself, all too aware of how close he was to really getting the party started.

Hands lightly shaking in a mixture of anticipation and nervousness, he reached behind his neck to the zipper there, pulling it down and tugging at his sleeves, working them loose as he gradually peeled his top away. He pulled it down his chest, drawing his arms free as it went, then continued sliding it down, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of his boxers and pushing off all that remained of his clothes in one fluid motion.

Fully bare at last, he found himself at a loss. He didn't feel particularly insecure, at least not in the traditional sense. How could he? It wasn't as if he had any hope of matching up to regular fly standards.

But that shred of reassurance was double-sided. What did the fly even see in him?

Enough to keep it happy, evidently. It gave a drawn-out approximation of a wolf whistle, overly buzzy but instantly recognizable for what it was.

Robbie's self-confidence rose slightly higher and he sat in the chair before he lost his resolve. The fly moved to the edge of the table, large eyes trained on Robbie's naked body. It buzzed again, encouragement laced throughout the vibrations.

Robbie obediently parted his legs and lied back, putting himself on display. He gulped, bringing his hands to his chest and dragging them down, fingers playing along his front. He brought a hand back up to flick at one of his nipples, eyes shutting in an effort to ground himself.

Again, he flicked it, keeping his other hand occupied with teasing the area around his half-hard dick, forcing himself not to touch it outright.

Not yet.

Instead, he kept teasing both himself and the fly, switching to his other nipple and hooking a leg over one of the chair's armrests. He kept up the mild stimulation for a couple more minutes, then found himself growing impatient and slid down in his seat, bringing up his other leg in the process and completely baring himself for the fly.

His hands abandoned their designated spots, running over his abdomen one last time before shifting to his thighs, massaging them open wider and stubbornly ignoring his aching dick.


“F- fine,” Robbie gritted out, pushing himself forward and barely managing to close his fingers around the bottle of lube on the table. He dropped it onto the chair and lurched forward again, taking the opportunity to preemptively bring the vibrator to the chair as well.

Shakily opening the bottle, he scooped out a liberal amount of lube and slathered it onto himself, roughly working a finger in and hissing at the subsequent burn. He worked it around for a few moments, then pushed in the second, tensing up immediately.

He stilled his hand and waited for his body to adjust. Eyes reopening, they darted around before focusing on the fly still at the table, four of its legs fervently rubbing together.

“Like what you see?” he panted out, attempting the best approximation of his usual dramatic tones as he could.

Bzzzz bzzzz!

He let his eyes fall shut again. “Good,” he groaned, starting to pump his two fingers in and out, moving and curling them within himself slightly rougher than entirely wise.

Robbie was horny, not wise.

As such, he hastily squeezed in a third finger, grateful for his foresight in regards to the sheer quantity of lube he'd used. Still, he felt a sharp sting, and so slowed his hand for a minute, breathing heavily and yearning to touch his dick.

But not yet. He wanted the show to last as long as possible.

Curling his fingers again, he resumed the routine at a slower pace, stretching himself open and relishing the knowledge that he'd be sore the next day. Pulling his fingers free, he grabbed the vibrator, slicking it up with yet another liberal dose of lube and positioning it at his entrance.

He took an unsteady breath, then looked at the fly and let his eyes silently ask if he was allowed to continue.


Agonizingly slowly, he pushed the toy into his ass, savoring every second that it stretched him open. Having the fly watch made the normally exquisite activity doubly so, and Robbie simply couldn't stop himself from letting out a shamelessly loud moan of pleasure once the vibrator was firmly situated within him.

Bzzzz bzzzz bzzzz, bzzzz bzzzz...

A stilted whimper left Robbie. He'd had no idea that the fly could be so dirty. Unwilling to deprive himself any longer, he reached for his dick, lightly running his fingertips over it and gasping. He stroked the head, feeling it twitch at the sensation. His fingers came away slick with wetness, and he knew that any further contact with his dick would lead to a quick end for the show.

He chose instead to focus on the toy, shallowly thrusting it in and out a few times before flipping the switch on its base, turning it on at its lowest setting. The dull hum pulled his insides taught. It made him yearn for more, unable to come from the meager vibrations alone, and that was just as well. He could desensitize himself on the lower settings and finish off with the higher ones.

He looked up at the fly again. “I had no idea you could be so... So forward, little fly,” he huffed.


“Only when I'm asked.”

Bzzzz bzzzz?

“N- not before, no...”

Bzzzzzzzz bzzzz bzzzz.

Robbie's stomach fluttered at the praise. He attempted to stammer out a thanks before giving up and hoping the fly had understood.

Perhaps it had. Confidence seemingly bolstered by Robbie's eager disposition, its next buzzes were those of a justified demand rather than a modest request.

Robbie hesitated a moment, unsure whether he should let the fly have so much control. It wasn't as if he was averse to the request though. And so, without a second thought, he turned the toy's setting all the way up, crying out in earnest as soon as the vibrations commenced wreaking havoc on his lower half.

He alternated between shouts and whines, oversensitized but prevented from coming by his earlier desensitization. All he could do was squirm in his chair, desperately seeking release of some sort.

“Fly! Fly, please,” he slurred, not entirely sure what he was even asking for, “I n- n- need—”

Without any further prompting, the fly soared from its spot on the table and landed squarely on Robbie's dick, skittering up its length and coming to a stop on the head, just beside the leaky opening.

Robbie instantly tried to still his movements, panting with the effort. His fingers clawed at the chair's orange fur as he observed the fly, distantly becoming aware of the situation's absurdity.

As he watched, from the fly's small fuzzy head extended its proboscis, unfolding further and further until finally latching onto his dick, right where a drop of precum had collected.

“I'm— I— Fly!”

He nearly blacked out from the pleasure coursing through his body, frame seizing and dick shooting cum. His sense of feeling was temporarily lost; the first thing he noticed upon regaining it was the way his internal muscles continued squeezing around the vibrator, trying to wring every last bit of pleasure they could from it.

Throat sore and body exhausted, there was nothing he wanted more than to fall asleep right there, indecent as the position might be. Unfortunately, his ass was feeling worse by the second, the toy's vibrations having been rendered a nuisance by the lack of impending orgasm.

With a world-weary grunt, he reached down and swatted the vibrator off, wincing at his body's protest. Electing to leave the toy in place for a moment, he let himself melt into the chair, giddy smile playing at his mouth.

That had very likely been one of the better orgasms he'd experienced in years. Having someone else there really made a difference, even if that someone was just a b—

His eyes shot back open. “Fly! Fly, where are you?!?” he asked, looking around the lair in a frenzy. He hadn't accidentally hurt it, had he? Worry bubbled in his chest as the fly's absence ensued.

And then, a soft tickle on the bridge of his nose.

Crossing his eyes, he could just barely spot his little buddy perched there, looking entirely too pleased with itself if Robbie had any say in the matter. “You frightened me!” he rasped out, heart racing from the combined forces of his orgasm and subsequent bout of panic. “Where were you?”

A squeaky laugh met his question, followed by, Bzzzz.

“Oh. Yes. Well, I hope you enjoyed the show.”

Another series of amused buzzes. Bzzzz bzzzz, it replied.

Robbie failed to ward off a shy smile as he offered it a finger to hop onto. “Right then, I think it's time to sleep, don't you?”

An enthusiastic buzz as it flew onto his finger answered the question, and before long, he'd magicked most everything back to the way it was, setting the fly's own miniature chair on the bigger one's armrest and getting ready to drift off.

Unable to help himself, he sleepily mumbled, “We should”—a yawn—“do this again sometime.”

And so they did.

Several times, in fact.

Over the course of the next few days, they proceeded to have sex at regular intervals, experimenting with a variety of positions and activities to find out what worked best for them. On one memorable occasion, Robbie even wore a cock ring as he rode his largest dildo, only loosening it once the fly allowed him to.

In short, their relationship carried on as it always had: Unconventional but rewarding.

Robbie felt happier than he could honestly remember feeling in... Well, ever. He slept soundly with the fly by his side, hours not quite regular but as close to it as they were likely to get, and not even the racket from the kids outside bothered him very much, not when the vast majority of the time he and the fly were busy with their own games and conversations.

Every once in a while they'd be forced to leave his lair for some reason or another, and as usual, they rarely ran into anyone unplanned for. The few times it did happen were, again, mostly the usual children accompanied by Sportaflop. They asked about him and about the fly, and as always, he gave them the briefest answers possible and went on his way.

He did catch the sports elf looking at him somewhat oddly at times, but he still couldn't put his finger on what was causing it. Maybe he was jealous? After all, to Robbie's knowledge, they'd both been single up until recently. Suddenly, there was Robbie, dating a lovely fly while Sportakook was left as unwanted as ever.

At least, in a manner of speaking, since Robbie was sure that someone out there must want the elf, what with all those muscles and that flippity-flipping. Some people liked that, right? Whatever. What mattered was that none of those people had asked Sportaflop out, and so as far as Robbie was concerned, he had good cause to be jealous of the town's hot new couple.

Meanwhile, life went on, the ins and outs of a relationship becoming almost commonplace to Robbie. He and the fly worked together in perfect harmony despite the species dissimilarity, and as long as the fly didn't have a problem with it, neither did Robbie.

He couldn't imagine any way it could possibly go wrong.

Of course, that was, until it did.

He wasn't sure how it happened. One minute, he'd been talking about something; he didn't know what, it hadn't been important. The next, a distinct buzzing—one that he felt more than heard—flew into his mouth and down his throat.

That's when the panicking started, followed by prolonged bouts of coughing and wheezing, all to no avail. It seemed as if nothing he did was helping the situation, a situation that he didn't feel entirely connected to in the first place.

As his panic reached a peak, it soon became apparent why.

He awoke in a cold sweat, teeth clenched tight and jaw aching. From there, it took a considerable amount of time before he remembered to breathe. One deep breath, then another and another, and finally he became aware of just how hard his heart was hammering.

Staying put in his chair, he waited for his body to calm down, soothing his mind with the assurance that it had only been a dream.

At long last, his panic subsided. Residual traces remained, but for the most part, it was gone. Still, there was no way Robbie wasn't going to check on the fly, however much potentially disrupting its sleep pained him.

Leaning towards the little chair beside him, he gently pulled away the tiny blanket on it and peered down.

The fly was gone.

No, he was seeing things. He furiously rubbed at his eyes, setting off a kaleidoscope of lights, then blinked away the effects and looked at the fly's chair again.

Still no fly.

There was a pause as Robbie's mind tried to make sense of what he was seeing. More specifically, what he wasn't seeing. The fly couldn't have just vanished into thin air. That was impossible.

Which meant that it was somewhere else. But where? Maybe it had woken up in need of a snack?

He jumped from his chair and ran towards the kitchen, skidding to a halt and nearly crashing into the refrigerator. “Fly? Where are you, my little fly?!?” he called out, spinning around in search of it.

After a few fruitless minutes, he resigned himself to the fact that it wasn't in the kitchen. But then where?

He dashed to and fro, scanning every nook and cranny. He looked in all the cabinets, emptied all the disguise tubes, combed the entire surface of his furry couch, and even returned to the kitchen to open the refrigerator and sort through its contents. At one point he even coughed with all his might, half-convinced that his dream hadn't been a dream at all. Alas, just like everything else he'd tried, it yielded no results.

As every possible place the fly could be eventually turned up flyless, Robbie's mounting horror intensified tenfold. He was terrified of confronting the very last possibility, the one that was rapidly becoming the only remaining explanation for what had happened.

More time passed without a trace of the fly. He didn't know how much.

All he knew was that his heart was completely and utterly broken: Shattered into tiny, irreparable pieces.

He cried and cried and not even cake could cheer him up.

He cried until he had no tears left to cry, and then he cried some more.

By the time Sportaflop came knocking, Robbie was sure that he'd cried his entire body weight in tears.

“Robbie! Are you okay? We haven't seen you in a few days so—”



I said lea—” he cut himself off to take a gasping breath, only just masking the sob fighting to leave his throat.

To his chagrin, he heard the elf drop down the hatch, steadily descending down the pipe and landing slightly short of where Robbie was lying on his rug, surrounded by half-eaten cakes and candy wrappers.

At first, neither said anything, too thrown off by the situation. Sportaflop was clearly taking in the state of the lair: The way things were strewn across the floor every which way, how haphazardly the cabinets had been thrown and left open.

Most of all, he seemed to be taking in the sight of Robbie's puffy red eyes and tear-streaked face, hair mussed and ungelled.

Robbie was a mess and knew it, but that didn't mean Sportaflop could look his fill. Patience wearing thin, he sat up and snapped, “I'm perfectly fine. Now, don't you have some brats to go save?”

“Robbie... What happened?”

“I told you, nothing. Go away.”

Undeterred by the brusque answers, the sports elf carefully stepped over the scattered plates and came to Robbie's side, kneeling down to his level.

Belatedly reacting, Robbie attempted to scoot back, the endeavor rendered unsuccessful by the chair behind him. Having failed to get away, Robbie did the next best thing and avoided eye contact, training his glare on what remained of the cake slices he'd served himself.

“Robbie, look at me.”

“No. I told you to go away, Sportacus.”

“Robbie, please.”

Fuck, it was happening again. His lip was trembling and his throat was swelling with the force of all the sobs he'd held back since Sportacus showed up. He couldn't keep it up, he couldn't.

In the blink of an eye, he was clinging to Sportacus, sobs wrenching themselves free as he buried his face in that stupid blue vest thing. His grabbed fistfuls of it and sobbed for all he was worth, which admittedly wasn't much, for all that he liked to tell himself otherwise.

He completely emptied himself onto Sportacus's shoulder, distantly wondering why his crying worsened at the feel of those strong arms coming up to hold him. Weren't hugs supposed to make people feel better? Yet another feel-good tip that Robbie could now prove wrong.

He exhaled shakily, an explanation coming forward unprompted. “It... Left me. I looked everywhere. The fly left me,” he mumbled, almost hoping that saying the words would make it magically appear to prove him wrong.

But there was no answering buzz, no indication that anything had changed at all. Gone was the last bit of hope that Robbie hadn't even realized he'd been clinging to, and now all he had left was tiredness. Granted, he always had that, but never before had it manifested so sharply, like a knife to the gut.

“Why did it leave me, Sportacus? Why does nothing I do ever work?”

No answer. Well, of course not. Better to say nothing if you had nothing nice to say, wasn't that how it went? Robbie sighed and stayed as he was, clinging to Sportacus. He had no doubt it was inconvenient for the elf, but tough.

It was cozy, and if there was something Robbie needed right then, it was coziness.

“Robbie, come outside with me.”

Robbie almost barked out a laugh. How typical. Sunshine and exercise could solve everything, right?

“Please, Robbie. Let's go outside and talk.”

Robbie's scathing protest died on his lips as he thought the prospect over. No, sunshine and exercise wouldn't solve everything. They probably wouldn't solve anything.

But talking didn't sound so bad.

Plus, he'd already found love outside once. Maybe he could again.

“...I guess I maybe could. Just for a couple minutes.”

“Okay, Robbie.”