Polycephaly the Penta-countenanced

To your great annoyance, your shift is nearly over - you'd much rather keep going all night long. (You actually could, you reckon - tomorrow is your day off so a late night would be fine.) And you know you're not the only member of Titan TV's engineering crew who feels that way…

You and the rest of the engineers are lining up to say goodnight to the Titan on whom you've been performing calibrations all day, as well as debriefing and cleaning them between sorties and preparing them for the next of the never-ending cycles of upgrades. You can't believe this is your actual job now! (Only one day a week still, but who knows what will happen?) You were hoping that the Titan would be in the mood to let the engineers have a sleepover in the hangar, but tonight they've requested to spend the night in the hangar alone as usual. You guess it's the only true peace and quiet they ever get - the rest of their time being spent either in the field or undergoing maintenance.

The Titan has turned its main screen to face the walkway on which you and the rest of the engineering team are standing, so you can all take a turn at petting its screen goodnight as you file out. The Titan brings its hand up to the walkway also, wrapping its fingers around the handrail, inviting its engineers to rub its hand as well.

"Goodnight, my dear engineers," says the Titan. "Rest well, and I'll see you tomorrow… except you, Phaeton. I'll see you next week."

"Missing you already, boss," you say, rubbing the Titan's colossal screen.

You notice something in the corner of your vision, and to your surprise, another entity arrives to join the queue of engineers saying goodnight. It's Polycephaly, the largest of the TV faction besides the Titan themself.

"To what do we owe this visit, Polycephaly?" asks the Titan.

"I'm between missions right now - making a flying visit to say goodnight," replies the large unit.

"Well-timed. Good night to you, Polycephaly."

"You too, my friend," replies Polycephaly, giving the Titan's hand a rub. Polycephaly turns to you: "Hello, Phaeton. Are you a permanent member of the engineering crew now?"

"I am, but only part time," you say. "I'd love to work more days here, but I'm also needed at the base in Antlia-Four. Plus, that's where I grow all my food. One of the downsides to being an organic; it chains you to things like that."

"You heading back there now?" Polycephaly asks you as you both walk with the queue of engineers proceeding towards the exit.

"That's the plan. The weather's nice and clear tonight, so I'll probably head somewhere for a bit of stargazing before bed."

"…Could I join you?"

"Absolutely! I'd love the company." You're a little surprised by Polycephaly's request, but not unpleasantly so. You figure that they probably don't get a lot of downtime, being one of the faction's most elite agents. Maybe they welcome the opportunity to do something easy and non-violent.

"Are you watching out for anything in particular?" Polycephaly asks as you exit the Titan's hangar.

"No - I just enjoy the pretty stars. Sometimes it's fun to look out for specific constellations. I've always enjoyed the sight of a clear night sky, though I didn't get to see them much in my old life. I lived in a built-up area before the apocalypse, so there was always too much light pollution to see much. I'd always look out for the ISS when it was due to pass overhead, but I was rarely able to see it." You continue, mostly to yourself: "…I wonder if it's even still up there. There won't be anyone alive on board to perform whatever's required to maintain orbit. Will it crash into the Earth or drift away?"

Polycephaly softly strokes your head, interrupting your reverie. "I'm sorry, Phaeton," they say. You guess you sounded sadder than you realised, and Polycephaly is trying to comfort you over the near-total loss of your species.

"Thank you, Polycephaly," you reply sincerely.

They respond by crouching and opening their arms to invite a hug. "May I pick you up?" they ask.

"Please do!" you say. Pickup hugs from techfolk are the best - they're so strong and you always feel so secure in their robotic clasp.

Polycephaly lifts you and then cradles you in their arms. "I know a place that might be good for star-watching - there's no lights around. Could I port you there?"

"I'd like that a lot!" you affirm. Going to an unlit zone in the wilderness during wartime would normally be a terrible idea, but you trust that you'll be safe with Polycephaly. They can light your way with their screens if needed, and their infra-red vision will see hazards that you can't. Plus, Polycephaly is one of the most elite Alliance units - they can defend you from all but the strongest of skibidis. And if the worse comes to the worst, they can port you to safety.

Polycephaly holds you more tightly and initiates a teleport. Your vision is swirling blackness for a moment, and then… it's still black. Less swirling though. As your eyes adjust to the light provided by the moon and stars and by Polycephaly's five screens, you realise you're on the flat roof of a building. (You can't infer what sort of building it must have been before the apocalypse. It's just an unremarkable roof.)

"This is one of my little camps," explains Polycephaly, as they go from crouching to sitting down fully. They're still holding you, but you're in no hurry to be set down. "I keep a few locations like this stashed with supplies I might need on a mission. I feel safe showing you because you can't follow the void-pathway-" (Polycephaly is referring to TVs' ability to port back to any location they've physically been) "-and I don't suppose you know this area well enough to find it again visually."

"Especially not in this darkness," you agree, casting your eyes around at the night sky from your convenient supine position. "This is a good location for sky-watching, you were right. Thank you for bringing me here."

Polycephaly scruffles your hair, making you lazily close your eyes and snort out a throaty 'huff' noise of enjoyment. You turn your head into the touch, all the better to enjoy the sensation. Polycephaly then starts stroking your hair back into place with one or two fingers, undoing all the ruffles they put into it. The gentle touches make you hum in satisfaction.

"Can I pet your head?" you ask Polycephaly as they've nearly finished. You've yet to encounter any techfolk who didn't enjoy receiving headpats from you.

"…Sure, why not?" Polycephaly replies, moving their hands to hold you steadily before lifting you up so you can reach.

You pet the top of Polycephaly's main head, moving your hand from side to side or from front to back depending on how Polycephaly tilts you to show which direction they want next. You try mixing it up and rubbing your hand in little circles, prompting some happy crackles of static.

You scruffle one of the upper corners of Polycephaly's head-casing with your fingers, moving your thumb down to stroke the grille of their monitor-speaker. (It seems odd that Polycephaly has those at the top of their head rather than the bottom, but it's probably rude to ask why.) The pattern of static on Polycephaly's screen appears to dance a bit more vividly than usual.

"That deserves a hug," says Polycephaly, lowering you back down to cuddle you against their torso for a bit. A welcome surprise! You lean into them. They're nice and warm, a delicious contrast to the fresh night air. (All techfolk are pleasantly warm, of course. Polycephaly's large size makes them exceptionally toasty from retained heat.)

Polycephaly lifts you back up again to their head level. "…Would you pet my screen too?" They emit some soft crackles from their speakers, almost imperceptibly. Are they shy about asking for affection?

"Of course," you say, "A fair payment for such a nice hug." You reach out and gently 'wipe' Polycephaly's screen with the backs of your fingers, letting them get used to the feel of your skin, before flipping your hand over to properly pet the screen with your hand, then bringing in your other hand so you can stroke in different directions.

The patterns of static on Polycephaly's screen go from random noise to bunching together into horizontal bands, which then waver and zigzag, as though they're trying to tune into a broadcast that's just out of range. Their speakers emit soft white noise interspersed with crackles and quiet buzzing. You observe Polycephaly's reactions to work out which touches they like best, settling into a cycle of rubbing in little circles mixed in with sweeping strokes from the corners back to the centre of their screen. Polycephaly shivers.

"That's… oh, that's… very good…" Polycephaly says, "Something about… oh. The way… your hand-meat absorbs static… Something about that is very relaxing. Can you… can you keep that up?" The cones of their monitor-speakers flutter in rapid clicks as they speak.

"I'd be happy to do that, my friend," you reply. "Bring me in closer if you'd like."

Polycephaly does so, holding you against their screen. You press yourself into it and rub it with the side of your face. (You hear your hair crackling with the static buildup.) It seems that Polycephaly is writhing and undulating the stems of their sub-screens, from what you can feel from the vibrations in their frame and the glimpses you can see of the monitors.

"Slide me around," you say. "It's okay."

Slowly at first, then picking up speed, Polycephaly rubs you against their screen, making soft buzzing sounds of pleasure, occasionally interspersed with static that sounds almost like moans.

"You're so soft," comments Polycephaly, squeezing you with rippling movements of their fingers as they use you as a screen-cleaning cloth. You make throaty happy-growls of approval at this treatment. "Is that a good noise or a bad noise?" asks Polycephaly.

"Oh, it's happy," you reassure them. "I like the squeezin's." It's a good pressure stim.

"Can you go back to using your hands? …I really liked it."

"Absolutely, my friend. You've got a nice crackly screen - it's nice to stroke."

Polycephaly emits some shy static at that. You think they might not be used to cute compliments.

You move both your hands in to rub Polycephaly's screen, in big swirling movements this time, working your fingers as if you were trying to rub some kind of substance all over the glass. Polycephaly shudders, as if a tingle is working its way up their robotic spinal column. You enjoy the sound of soft static crackles as your hands brush away the layer of static fuzz, which constantly replenishes with a quiet silky-ruffly sound in the wake of your hands' path.

"Oh… Oh, Phaeton… That's a… Oh, that's a good touch…" Polycephaly says, your touch distracting them from rendering their speech processes properly. (You enjoy the effect you're having on them with such a relatively gentle touch. …How will they react when they find out what you can really do?)

Polycephaly brings you in right up against their screen again, this time holding you still while they rub their screen against you. You feel a pang of affection as you realise they're effectively nuzzling you - how sweet! You reciprocate by pushing your head into them to match their movements.

"Oh, that deserves another hug," Polycephaly says as they lift you away from their screen and bring you back down to hold you against their chest.

"Thank you - you give nice hugs," you say, wriggling happily into the hug. "Can you swivel me around a bit so I can better look up at the sky again?"

To your surprise, Polycephaly carries out your request by lying down on their back, their four sub-screens spread to the sides, then loosening their hold on you enough for you to roll into the position you want. You lie on your back on top of Polycephaly, their hands clasped on top of you with fingers interleaved. Oh, this is cosy! You pet Polycephaly's hands to show you approve of this arrangement. They dim their screens to allow you to better observe the starlight.

"Thank you," you say - you want Polycephaly to know that their gesture with the screen brightness was noticed. "…I wonder how much more of the stars you can see that I can't? You can see frequencies of light that I can't see."

Polycephaly shrugs. It's quite a spectacular gesture, since it incorporates all of their sub-screens.

You enjoy the beautiful sky for a bit, sometimes pointing out to Polycephaly any constellations you recognise. After a while, you ask: "What's underneath me?"

"…I am, obviously?"

"I phrased that stupid. I mean, have you got a charging port like standard units, or do you have a core chamber like the Titan?"

"I'll show you," replies Polycephaly. "Move over a bit." They begin unbuttoning their suit jacket, moving their tie aside and unbuttoning their shirt. They re-brighten their screens as they do so, the better for you to see.

Polycephaly pulls their shirt open and answers your question: "I have both." You notice they have a charging port in the usual place, on the pseudo-sternum of their ventral plating, although Polycephaly's is differently-shaped from any other TV's you've seen. Below the charging port, approximately where the solar plexus would be in a human, is what Polycephaly said was their core chamber. It appears to be capped off. Polycephaly notices you looking at it, and reaches over to unseal the cap, revealing an inactive core chamber (about the size of the drum of a domestic washing machine, you think).

"I use my charging port for power, like a standard TV-unit," Polycephaly explains, "I was built with a core chamber to test the concept before the Titan's own one was constructed. Mine can function, but there's no fuel in my reactor. If it was fuelled, I could run on it like the Titan does on theirs. The reactor fuel had to be prioritised for the Titan, so once the engineers were sure that it worked, they moved me over to normal charging with grid electricity."

Polycephaly is almost as much a marvel of engineering as the Titan itself. You've noticed that the large speaker and large camera units are, ability-wise, mostly just big versions of their smaller comrades. Polycephaly, however, has many unique abilities, having been built as a test-run for building the Titan.

"What's your reactor run on?" you ask.

"Hell if I know. Do I look like a scientist?" Polycephaly replies as they set the core cap down on the ground (well, the building roof). "Sometimes it's nice to feel the breeze in it," they say by way of explanation for this action.

"Might I touch it?" you ask.

Polycephaly hesitates. Were you too forward? "…Go on," is their eventual reply.

"Are you sure?" you check. "You didn't sound terribly into the idea. Don't put yourself out on my account."

"Really, it's fine. Go ahead."

You put a hand in the core chamber and caress the sides, provoking a surprised burst of static from Polycephaly. You immediately withdraw your hand, asking, "Was that uncomfortable?"

"No… just caught me by surprise. Could you do it again, harder this time?"

You settle down nearer Polycephaly's core chamber and put both hands in this time, rubbing them in different directions.

Polycephaly emits a drawn-out static buzz, as if sighing. "Could you push inwards more?" asks Polycephaly. "Push into the rear wall, as if you're trying to push it into my back… please."

You can do so, but you can see this making your shoulders sore pretty quickly. "One moment," you say, "Wardrobe adjustment required."

You sit up and remove your shoes, letting them drop to the ground next to Polycephaly (you aim near the core chamber cover, so you'll be able to find them again more easily). You scoot forward, sitting on the edge of the core chamber, then lower your feet in, pushing them against the rear wall.

"Oh… ohh, that pressure's nice…" says Polycephaly. "But now you feel oddly clothy. I'm not getting that nice static feel any more."

"Easily solvable," you say, peeling your socks off and throwing them down to join your shoes. You push the balls of your feet into the walls and floor of Polycephaly's core chamber, making them softly buzz their speakers with static. "More pressure?" you ask.

"…Can you?"

"How's this?" you ask as you stand up, your feet planted on the rear wall of Polycephaly's core chamber with your full weight.

Polycephaly emits a satisfied groan of static, and moves their hands in to rub the edge of their core chamber. "That's really good," they affirm. "That weight is pulling down at all my front plating… oh, that feels… good."

You begin treading your feet, shifting your weight from foot to foot and from the heel to the ball of each foot, clenching and unclenching your toes. Polycephaly huffs with static, gripping the edges of their core chamber. They move a hand back to rub at their own charging port.

"Why don't I take care of that?" you ask, "Then you'll have your hands free to give me some attention."

"…You're so good…" is all Polycephaly can manage to say.

You lean forward at the hips, still with your shins standing inside the core chamber, and lay your hands on Polycephaly's charging port. You pad your hands on it a bit, like a happy cat kneading a blanket, checking that you can maintain this pose without straining your back or shoulders. It's pretty easy. This shouldn't be a problem. Polycephaly is emitting soft clicks of static that are ramping up in intensity.

You get to work, rubbing and massaging the charging port, poking your fingers inside and rubbing the metal connectors. Polycephaly writhes under you, all the stems of their sub-screens shuddering.

"Too much?" you check.

"More. Oh, please, more of that."

You continue your pushing and rubbing, leaning forward to push more weight onto your hands and then back again to dig the balls of your feet into the core chamber, making Polycephaly buzz their speakers with static in response to their plating pulling at their framework in different directions.

You emit a moan of your own when you feel a pressure on your back - Polycephaly brings their hands in and rubs your back in circles with one hand and rubs your head with the other. Ohh, that's good… you've heard that word a lot in the last few minutes. It really is, though. You arch your back inwards and then outwards in response to the touch, setting off Polycephaly again as your feet change position.

Polycephaly begins stroking you from your head all the way down your back, using both hands in a conveyor-belt pattern - as one hand lifts off your back, the other lands on your head, keeping you in a perpetual cycle of being stroked. You involuntarily whine with desire, keening sounds forcing themselves out of your throat. Polycephaly moves their hands to your sides, stroking your ribs and flanks. You hold your breath to focus on not being overcome by the tickliness of the feeling - you feel the waves of it rising, demanding that you flinch, and you force the waves flat before they can crest and break. You come out the other side, your body having accepted this touch as a predicted and allowed stimulus, and let out your held breath in a long huff. You moan as you start getting into this, enjoying the firm, slow stroking bordering on massage. Polycephaly wraps their hands around your waist and begins guiding you gently, pushing you away and pulling you back to show how they want you to shift your weight and devote your attention.

"Oh, you know how to make a TV feel special… I think I'm… oh," begins Polycephaly, overcome with a static buzz sounding strained with pleasure, "I'm having most of the fun here-" another crackling burst of static, "What do you want? Is this- oh. Is this enough for you?"

Part of you wants to tell Polycephaly to just relax and enjoy your touch. You love what they're doing right now, and you don't want them to feel obliged. But, you tell yourself (buying some time with a wordless huff), if you tell Polycephaly not to bother reciprocating, you're the one pointlessly martyring your desires. Polycephaly is offering you more. It's yours for the taking. Would you reject their offer? No, you tell yourself.

"This does feel good-" you begin, before Polycephaly interrupts:

"It sounds as though there's a 'but' coming."

Oh no. Oh no. Why did they have to say that… You can't help it… "No, butts don't cum. I cum using my junk."

Polycephaly pauses, their thumbs idly stroking your flanks, as they decipher what you said. "…For fuck's sake, Phaeton. You're lucky I like you."

You wheeze with helpless laughter, trembling between Polycephaly's hands, until they start laughing at the sight of you.

Eventually, Polycephaly gets themself back under control, and asks: "What were you going to say?"

"I was going to ask if you'd let me grind my junk against your hand."

"How about I do that until we're both fired up again, and then you can get back to work on me?"

"Oh yes!"

Polycephaly lifts you out of their core chamber in which you're still standing, holding you in both hands before sitting back up (using their sub-screens as boosters to push themself up). They cradle you in one arm and bring in their other hand near your crotch. "Guide my hand and show me where you want rubbing," they instruct.

You do so. Polycephaly lets you get comfortable with pushing your junk into their hand… then they take it away. "Thank you for that information," says Polycephaly. "Now, I think a little punishment is in order, for killing the mood and telling such a terrible joke." Where are they going with this…?

Polycephaly brings their hand back in, as if to give your groin some attention, before rubbing around it instead, touching and stimulating you from your thighs to your flanks to your belly, tantalising you by getting you worked up and excited and in dire need of a proper rub-down, but refusing to actually go all the way and rub you there. Oh, so cruel but so fitting. You're squirming and huffing and keening, suppressing the urge to cry out something like "fuck me already, damn you."

"I shoulda lied and said my junk was in my elbows or something," you say, your voice tight with frustration, "Then you'd be touching everywhere except there."

"You should've! But you didn't." Polycephaly moves a single finger in to massage your crotch… oh, you're ready for more of that… and takes it away again, making you whine from the sexual frustration. Polycephaly is enjoying teasing you.

You move your own hand in - if they're not going to get you off, you'll have to take matters into your own hands… Polycephaly deftly moves their hand in to cover your crotch before you can get your own hands there. You begin humping and grinding against their hand in desperation.

"You really want this, don't you?" asks Polycephaly.

You can only emit a sound partway between a whine and a groan. You're so riled up.

"You want release, don't you?"

"Hnnnngh… yes…"

"So do I. …Shall we finish each other off and be nice to each other this time?"

"Yeeesss… Oh please…"

Polycephaly lies back down, holding you steady with both hands so you don't slide off. They help you step back into their core chamber so you can get back to work pressing and treading the rear wall underfoot. Polycephaly emits a static noise like a purr.

"That's what I needed," says Polycephaly. "Ohh, something about that pressure and the way your meat-skin absorbs electricity… oh, that works so well… I think there was something you needed too, wasn't there?"

"Nnnngh…"

"Get your hands moving… oh- …get 'em in place, and I'll do the same with mine…"

You resume your earlier position, standing in Polycephaly's core chamber while your hands get to work pressing into their charging port. Polycephaly brings their own hands in, one of them stroking your head and back and the other coming up to meet your groin. You shudder out a sigh of happiness as you push your junk into Polycephaly's fingers and they gently push their fingers back against you to meet your thrusts.

Polycephaly guides you once again, using their free hand to push you back and apply more pressure to their core chamber and pull you forward to apply more pressure to their charging port, in the process powering up your own thrusts into their other hand. Your own frame is getting a little tired, despite Polycephaly supporting some of your weight, but you find yourself thinking that this is so worth it - you feel so mighty, knowing that you're getting off this colossal TV-unit, the biggest besides the Titan, and you feel so desired and desirable knowing that they want to pleasure you too. They squirm under you as you thrust your hips, sending a jolt of kinetic energy down your legs to tremble against the walls of the core chamber.

Polycephaly must be the only TV-unit with both a core chamber and a charging port, you realise - and they must be getting such a unique pleasure from the input you're giving them, one that probably no other TV feels. The wiring and cabling and piping for both Polycephaly's power sources is in close proximity, maybe even intertwined. Stimulating one of them is surely stimulating the other, as surely as stimulating a human's clit bulbs through their pussy wall or their prostate through their ass. The thought pleases you as you shift your focus to your own junk, currently getting fatter and slicker and wetter from Polycephaly's ministrations. Maybe… oh… the trousers you wore today are too tight for this… You take your hands back briefly to unzip, the fresh night air wafting over your junk briefly before you meet the warmth of Polycephaly's hand again. Oh, your underwear is almost soaked from your pre-slime. Better pull that down; it's getting cold and clammy now.

"Show me where to put my hand," says Polycephaly, "No tricks this time."

"I'll slime your gloves."

"Gloves are washable… Or is that your way of telling me to take them off?"

It actually wasn't, but if they're offering! "Oh yeah," you say, "I'd like that."

Polycephaly briefly pauses for the time it takes them to remove their gloves, exposing their dark metallic hands with something plastic-like covering the hinge joints, and something dark purple like a rubbery gel providing padding on the fingertips. A golden web of circuitry covers the back and palm of each hand.

"Keep your feet moving," instructs Polycephaly, reminding you to keep treading and pushing their core chamber. You do so, as Polycephaly brings their hand in to touch your crotch.

"Pull my trousers down for me, would you?" you say. You might as well, you reckon. Won't be much fun with damp and rapidly-cooling trousers hugging your ass. Polycephaly peels your trousers and underwear down for you to step out of, and you throw them down to join your shoes and socks. The night air is slightly cooler than you'd normally choose for being naked from the waist down, but the heat rising from Polycephaly's frame and core chamber is keeping you going.

You take Polycephaly's hand (well, their index finger - about as big as your own forearm) and bring it in to meet your junk. Ungloved, their hand feels warmer and the touch more intimate. You move Polycephaly's digit against your junk, showing how you'd like to be touched. Polycephaly brings their other hand in to stroke your back, as you lean forward and bring your hands back in to rub and ruffle Polycephaly's charging port, pushing your fingers down inside to squeeze the connector points against the frame. You push your feet back, like a just-woke-up kitty-cat doing a big stretch. You huff your breath and then moan from Polycephaly's touch and from hearing their own static buzzes of pleasure. You're fucking on a roof in the wide open, but the cover of twinkling darkness and the quietness of everywhere around you makes this feel so private and intimate, as though you're in a pocket dimension just for the two of you.

Your breathing is getting harder and huffier, and you're starting to bark a string of sounds somewhere between a squeak and a yearning mew.

"Are you getting close?" asks Polycephaly. Ohh, that's hot… it's always hot when someone can tell…

"Ah- tell me… tell me I'm getting close… I just love hearing it…" you say.

"…You're so close."

"AhhhhHAAAAAaaaa…" you scream and buck as you cum.

Polycephaly disengages their hand and pulls it away. In the dim light from their screens, you briefly see a strand of your mess connecting your junk with Polycephaly's finger before it snaps.

"You'd been wanting this, hadn't you?" asks Polycephaly.

You feel so delightfully floppy, as though you'd been balled up and then stretched out again. "Yeeess…" you reply.

Polycephaly wipes their slimed finger on their tie. Ties are washable too, you reason. "…You're rather cute when you're all riled up, you know," they say, shyly.

Oh, that is hot! Polycephaly finds you cute. Ohh, you're revved up now and ready to give them what they deserve. "Aren't I, though?" you reply. "And now… I'm going to make you fucking adorable." You get into position again to finish fucking Polycephaly, your feet planted on the rear wall of their core chamber and your hands rubbing and stroking their charging port. Polycephaly strokes your back and sides as you do so, making appreciative static sounds as they reach their own climax.

You shortly discover another thing that Polycephaly has in common with the Titan (and with you): they're a screamer.

Polycephaly emits such a wall of static frequencies that the soundwave clips - and then you hear an unmistakeable pop as one of their monitor speakers breaks from the exertion.

"…Oh… what was that?" Polycephaly says when they've recovered from their orgasm.

Both of you realise that only one of Polycephaly's monitor speakers is working; the other, silent.

"…That's just fuckin' great," Polycephaly complains, sounding oddly quiet and distant.

"Let me take a look once I'm dressed?" you ask.

Polycephaly gently sets you down on the ground so you can put back on your trousers (you decide to go commando for now, using your underwear instead as a napkin on your slimed-up junk, rather than put them back on) and footwear. Polycephaly replaces their gloves and the cover on their core chamber, and re-buttons their clothing (they undo their tie and stuff it in a pocket, presumably for the same reason you pocketed your underwear).

Polycephaly picks you up again and lifts you up to examine their speaker. You make a beckoning gesture to one of the sub-screens, inviting Polycephaly to bring it in and shine its light for you. They do so, and you use the provided light to inspect the speaker.

"I think I can fix that, right here in the field, with the tools I have on me," you say. "May I try?"

"Yes, please do," replies Polycephaly. "…Wait, what tools did you bring?"

You unclip the grille covering the affected speaker, jamming it into your pocket for now (not the one with the cummy underpants). You move your head in closer-

"I don't think you can push it back into place," warns Polycephaly, "It's already caved in; it needs pulling out."

"I know," you say. You put your lips on the misaligned speaker cone and with gentle suction pull it back into place.

Polycephaly buzzes their speakers in alarm at what just happened - you notice that the sound is coming back out of both again.

"There," you say, snapping the grille back into place, "Kissed it better."

Polycephaly rubs their speaker grille, not quite believing it's fixed. "…Well, isn't that something. Thank you. …That deserves another hug." They lower you to cuddle you to their torso, and you delightedly squirm into them, returning the cuddle as best you can.

You sigh dreamily as you gaze up at the stars.