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The stage lights were bright, glaring right onto the main attraction, a singing red robot.
That robot was none other than Reddy, the face of the red ball diner, the iconic one and only. The long lasting mascot, with merch in every corner and a few shitty shows. Yes, he kept the place alive. While the diner had the reputation of a dying rat, he kept kids hooked. That, and the disturbingly affordable prices they offered. There was a big speculation that the food had dog meat in it, but poor families had no other choice than to keep eating there if it meant having food on the table every once in a while.
Many would've thought the diner wasn't gonna get far with its prices, but there was a reason the food was so cheap. Half of it was cheap scraps from cheap cows, and the other half was 2 steps away from salmonella. They paid the diminutive amount of workers so little they might as well have been volunteers. The penny-pinching didn't end there. The band of animatronics, Reddy, to be specific, were so poorly maintained it was a miracle they were still performing.
Still, the business was enough to give the greedy owners a great deal of money.
Unfortunately, their ways came with quite the amount of consequences. Food poisoning, malfunctions, hiatues.., Such things. Still, none of it was enough to hurt their reputation to the point of bankruptcy, so they didn't care. Not even the workers cared, because why should they? They got paid less than minimum wage. Because of that, the animatronics only got touch ups once every sometimes.
This came at the expense of the main star, the only conscious one, and the one with the most pressure.
As of two weeks or so ago, Reddy had been due for an oil change. Initially, it wasn't that big of an issue. He'd leak oil at times, but it wasn't anything that the owners nor the workers found to be a big issue. They'd simply wipe it off after performances and go on with the day.
Unfortunately, as time passed, the leaks began to get worse. He'd cough it out, or perhaps shed a sob of oily tears multiple times a day. It hadn't affected his performances, but it was bound to happen. Everybody working with him knew so, but they kept putting it off.
As a result, Reddy had begun to build up oil in his body. He thought he could simply wipe it off backstage, but the diner had been so packed that day he didn't have a chance to even glance at it.
“C-clap along, kids!”
He loudly stated, singing an obnoxious song about friendship and what not. He had felt fine for the past hour or so, but as his body moved around, he began to feel an undeniable pressure within his abdomen. It started off as a small prod, something he could brush off and hold until the end of the day. But, of course, that was very wrong.
“He-he!”
He laughed, shifting with the song's beat. The pressure was steady, it remained as a small poke throughout the cheery tune. It was easy for him to think he could handle way more. In all honesty, that wasn't an insane assumption, but to assume he could handle it forever in such a worn-down state wasn't smart. Though, one thing made clear already is that he wasn't the brightest bulb in the box.
His hands held the microphone with steadiness, one he had realized he took for granted later that day. A smile drawn on his face, he danced with ease, hearing the cheering of greasy kids that would later sob as they were dragged out of the filthy restaurant.
“Don't sto-stop nnnnow!”
He cheered, bending down to meet the children's gaze. That was the mistake that started that awful day off. Even if it was bound to happen, he felt doing something else could have saved him some time before the agonizing journey. The shifting of his torso made the oil built up inside him move along, which wasn't a good feeling at all. He jolted slightly, his smile twitching as the sensation of the oil pressing down on his exits
He didn't fret, though. Why would he? It wasn't anything intense, he thought, just a bit of discomfort, he could take it. Though, to save his dignity, he straightened up shortly after.
Despite his wishes, that shift didn't save him. He felt the oil swish, pressing against his body as he moved with eagerness. As much as he shouldn’t have, he kept himself moving, his legs whirling around. The kids kept up their screams as he danced, serving as a distraction from the pressure.
Though, as the minutes passed, he felt the dull ache slowly press on harder. It took its time, similar to a blooming flower or the rising sun. Though, much unlike those two things, the outcome wasn't as beautiful. Not to his reputation, at least.
He kept up with his movement steadily, but from time to time, he felt the ticking bomb run out of it. The way the glistening, hot oil kept pressing down at the gaps between his thighs held him by the throat, tightening its grip with every passing minute. His concentration with the show was something he prided himself on, nothing could distract him. He could ignore the biggest of things, children ripping his suit, the crying, the banging, the greasy fingers and high-pitched wails, anything. Yet, his growing need was the one thing that dug its dreadful claws deep into him
What was worse is that, as previously mentioned, he hadn't had a single chance for a break.
A small hiss of air left him as his insides filled with that disgusting fluid. His mind kept telling itself he could do it, that it was nothing and that he could simply walk backstage for a few seconds and let it out, yet every single time he moved his legs, he wanted to run off the stage and hide until the pressure escaped him.
Unfortunately, that would most definitely get him in trouble, and he was already in a lot of it after the last incident, where he walked out the diner chasing after a butterfly and nearly caused a car accident. How amazing, he just had to do that, huh?
“Do you kids like pi-pi-pizza?”
He questioned, attempting to distract them for a moment so he could walk off. His voice had a slight tremble to it, more than usual, strained from how tense his legs were. His knees were locked tight, and he was nervously tapping his fingers on the handle of the microphone. He really did need to keep himself steady, but as he heard the drink dispensers work their unhealthy magic, he began to feel as if he'd leak right then and there.
“It's dinner time, isn't it? Let's take a b-break to eat! Red- bzztt- needs his time too!”
He crookedly smiled, praying silently that the forced reminder would snap the kids out of it. Though, as if the universe itself was against him, the kids began to whine and wail. He frowned at the sound, pressing his legs together as he continued to attempt and shoo them off.
“Come on, now! You can play with R-Reddy later-er!”
He continued, his voice becoming somewhat whiny. Tragically, the children didn't budge, outshining him when it came to their whines. To top the tragedy off, a nearby worker gave him a glare, shaking their head frantically. No, it wasn't anywhere near break time, and he could not do a single thing about it. Another, somewhat louder whine left him, though he quickly cleared his throat, acting as if it was another one of his usual glitches.
Despite the ability to hide his noises, he could barely mask his physical discomfort. He crossed his legs theatrically, acting as if it was part of the show, yet his trembling was clear as day.
He blinked away his frown, a shaky smile forming on his face, continuing to sing. He did his best attempts at ignoring the godforsaken pressure, but the more he moved, the more he felt it torturously slosh.
His nerves had begun to throw off his act, making him stutter more than usual and make his tuning go off track. The torture was so clear, some children began to point at him and question why he was so tense.
“Reddy, why are you standing like that?”
A girl asked, making him nervously chuckle.
“Reddy just n-n-needs-eds a little- bzztt- break! Hi-his legs hurt!”
He desperately hinted at his issue, his voice louder than usual to try and catch the attention of a worker.
For once in that horrid day, the worker had noticed his cry. With a groan, they walked over to the kids and shooed them off, waving their greasy, pizza stained hands.
“Okay, kidths. Reddy will be back, he juth needs to uhh… have a thnack.”
They grumbled, ignoring the noises of sorrow that began to wallow out of the crowd as they walked over to Reddy and led him back stage.
Noticing his wobbling, they sighed.
“What now..?”
Their annoyed voice spoke, pushing Reddy's back. Despite their attempts, all they managed to do was to get a whimper out of him, and his hands hold onto his pants as he felt the oil begin to leak out.
“gahh-!”
He cried out, stilling himself, pressing harshly onto his inner thighs. The sight made the worker's eyes widen, catching onto the situation at a questionable time.
“since when could roboths pith themselves-?”
They murmured, doing little to help other than to embarrass Reddy further. A quiet moan left the robot, pressing his thighs together, his body beginning to give up on him. A
“Oil leak!”
He hissed at the worker, who grabbed his arm and dragged him into the backstage doors. The sudden movement made Reddy begin to leak, gaining a loud whine out of him.
“Shut up!”
They yelped, though by the time they reached the door, Reddy had fallen with a loud thud. Unfortunately, that was the straw that broke the camel's back, for he let out a strangled moan as he felt the oil spray out of him.
It felt embarrassingly amazing, though the feeling didn't help him feel any better about his reputation. He was on all fours, pissing like a dog. He hid his face in his hands, letting out whimpers as the oil coated his pants.
The worker simply watched in horror, unknowing of what to do.
“Dude-!”
They said, looking around for some sort of quick solution to prevent the floor from getting any dirtier. Though, with Reddy's luck, they found nothing. They simply had to watch as the unlucky robot leaked oil like a faucet.
“Ghh…”
Reddy whined, burying his face in his arms, the oil seemingly unending. He had very, very much underestimated how much oil had built up inside him, and how good it would feel to let it out. The release felt sloppy and dirty, but after holding it for so long, he couldn't help but whimper in pleasure.