The Custodian - Ep. 02: A Tale from The Cog

Sci-fi/dark fantasy - "Snackbot" - Coty tries to enjoy a day off after a disturbing event but is interrupted mid-booty shake

Oct 19, 2025

Previously: Coty travels to a farmhouse across The Cog. Red is there, the situation is compromised, things go up in flames.

🎶 Musical vibe for this episode.

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Whirring, pink lights flashed and a small door opened in the bottom of the robot hovering outside of an abandoned farm stand. Coty pursed their lips and danced to the upbeat music coming from the robot’s speakers as they reached out a hand to catch the falling bag of chips.

The squat, cylindrical robot with two long arms and no legs rolled from side to side in midair, emulating Coty’s dance moves. Coty pointed at the robot and whooped in delight.

“Get it, snackbot!”

Together, they danced to the rhythmic bass and synth sounds in the dry, dusty afternoon.

Hips still gyrating, Coty tore open the bag of chips and tossed a few into their mouth. They closed their eyes and savored both the snack and the music. Time slipped away as they concentrated on the beat.

A low hum preceded the sound of shoes on gravel. Coty’s eyes shot open. Red was casually strolling across the parking lot, hands in his pockets, a warm smile on his face.

Coty lifted the bag and tilted the corner toward their open mouth. Chips and crumbs cascaded smoothly out and between their lips. Pleasurable crunching ensued.

“Like a dump truck,” Red laughed.

“Nope, not today, glitterhead.” Coty spoke between chewing.

Red’s laugh was soft and low. “That’s a new one.”

“You like flowerpecker better?”

“Ha!” Another laugh, this one a higher pitch and accompanied by a clap of his hands. Coty couldn’t help but smile.

The music faded. They waved their hand in front of the dark scanner eye of the snackbot and a new bag dropped, bringing with it a new song.

“Can I have one?” Red asked.

“Don’t give him any, snackbot!”

The flying robot beeped discordantly and flashed two red x’s where its scanner was.

“Come on, why do you hate me so much?”

When Coty didn’t answer, engrossed as they were in snacks and swaying, he continued.

“You know, I’m a pretty special pollinator and you are a flower.”

Tight burgundy curls twirled around as Coty got into the beat, arms raised above their head. A small amount of their brown stomach showed at the bottom of their shirt.

“I’m a self-pollinating flower. I don’t need you.”

“Ah…that’s right.” Red kicked at a rusty can on the ground. “So what are you then? Solanaceae? Fabaceae? Tagetes?”

“That’s such a rude question.”

Hips. Coty’s hips kept moving. Their skin glistened under shimmering, pulsing holographic tattoos. Their eyes closed and their lips parted as they let the music trail down their neck into their spine and back down to those hips. Red smirked.

“Cotyledon, this is a side of you I’ve never seen before. What’s gotten into you?”

“It’s my day off.”

“You’re off, alright. We don’t have days off, do we?”

“I do.”

The song ended and Coty moved to sit on the hood of their car. They squeezed the bag of chips and it opened with a squeaky churning of plastic. The hummingbird sat next to Coty and reached for a chip.

The sweaty flower effortlessly swerved the bag out of the way. Red’s eyes narrowed and he fought back a smile.

“Tell me what’s up with you. You’re never this — unpredictable. Also,” — he leaned in and lowered his voice — “You didn’t shift your appearance when you saw me.”

Coty looked at him then, his face only inches away: straight, but soft features, bright emerald eyes, and close-cropped strawberry blonde hair. They popped another chip into their mouth.

“You are so damn beautiful. It grosses me out,” they mused.

Red’s eyebrows raised and he laughed gleefully. Coty looked back at the snackbot, lost in more silent musings.

“You’ve lost it! Tell me what’s going on.” He reached for the bag but it evaded his grasp once again.

Coty coughed. “I dreamt I was a human. I woke up next to another human. I was a ‘she’. Not shifting. Flat. Just she.”

“A ‘she’, eh? You’re pretty hot as a ‘she’.” Another move for the snacks, another miss. “Also, you know we can’t dream.”

“Well, I did.” Coty looked him in the eyes again. “I know I did because it felt structured and hard and I could feel The Cog stopping — slowly grinding to a halt. It felt all wrong.”

Inclining his head toward them again, Red spoke gravely, “It is wrong.”

Soft, cool breaths tickled Coty’s lips as he drifted closer and closer. They took the opportunity to look at the gradient of colors that made up Red’s eyes, the flutter of his eyelashes, the freckles on his cheeks. When he spoke again, their noses were almost touching.

“Do you think this has to do with the farmhouse?”

Coty tilted the bag toward him. He sat up and took a chip without breaking their gaze.

“I think it has to do with The Cog dying.” They considered for a moment. “And maybe the farmhouse.”

Red chewed slowly and thought. “I think we should stick together,” he said cheerfully, “And I think you should let me drive your car.”