It was a quiet day in the vocaloid mansion. It was that certain kind of day with such a balance of heat and humidity that left most feeling more or less lethargic. The residents of said mansion were no exception. Some were strewn about the main living area, Miku deciding to lay in front of a fan, Kaito eating his ice cream on the couch, to list a few.

One in particular was laying down in his bed, but he was not asleep. The current activity he was engaged in was proving to be quite vigorous, actually. His shirt strewn over somewhere on the floor, forgotten. His shorts unzipped and pulled down, along with his underwear. Len currently had one hand wrapped around his cock, the other resting on his stomach. He had been at it for several minutes now, working himself over with positive results. He had a pleasant smile on his face whilst looking down at his progress, his tip now steadily dribbling a pleasingly sticky fluid that he happily smeared unto himself.

Watching his hand slide up and down his shaft, his hips twitching to and fro. He could feel drool dripping from the side of his mouth. A gasp snuck past his lips when his fingers brushed the back of his tip. Repeating this action brought him to edge sooner than he would've desired, so he let go of his cock. The next couple of seconds consisted of Len staring at his throbbing shaft as it dribbled and bounced about his crotch.

Breathing in deeply, trying to quell his impending orgasm. His cock finally slowed to a dull twitch. His shaft was smooth, free of any unsightly veins, topped with a soft, pink head. Len made sure to keep himself bare of any hair he found unpleasant.

This activity in particular was one that Len had come to find himself to have grown quite accustomed to. Because of this, over time he grew to be quite proud of his package. Naturally, this grew into curiosity plagued his mind, which led to him taking the time to carefully measure himself; to gleefully recieve the information that he was a resounding five and a half inches long, and able to wrap his hand around himself rather snugly.

Along with these discoveries and experiences, came certain signs. One in particular, was after a while of working himself over, he found himself releasing little pants and gasps of air unconsciously. Another sign that he was nearing his climax, was how the quantity of pre-cum he produced would increase significantly as time went on.

Despite the obligatory feeling of dissapointment over ending his little game, it was always worth it. For this session in particular, Len had been prevented from his alone time for over five days due to faulty scheduling and non-stop practice for a big upcoming performance. Len rarely skipped this activity more than a day or two at a time, but anymore than four? It was a hard time for Len to say the least.

But it was all okay, now that Len could finally take matters into his own hands. His attention was focused solely on his tip, flaring a darker pink than normal from overexertion. Running his thumb over his slimy slit, he could tell he was moments away from the finale.

And what a finale it would be.

Moving his hand to the base of his cock, Len gazed at his swollen head, awaiting his imminent release.

With vigor to have his call answered, he began cumming. Stream after stream of white hot jizz spilling onto his stomach and chest, his hips thrusting incessantly. A few particularly good spurts ended up landing across Lens cheeks and streaking unto his lips. This in turn caused him gasp, only to recieve another healthy glob to land messily in his own mouth.

Countless more seconds of this passed until Len was left a quivering mess of skin, sweat, and cum. At this point, it was debatable which there was more of. After regaining some sense of self, Len decided he should survey the damage. Looking down, he saw multiple strings of white spiderwebbing across his own tummy. He was unsurprised to note his bellybutton had been flooded. His hand that had been resting on his stomach had fared no better, reduced to a thick, sticky mess. Looking to his now slowly softening cock, Len found it would give a slight twitch every so often, threads of semen connecting his tip to the hot mess previously mentioned.

Thankfully, very little of his seed had gotten its way to the bed cover. How that was even remotely possible, he refused to question. Sitting up, Len looked to a hanging mirror in the room, what he saw surprised him quite a bit.

He had managed to decorate his own face and hair with similar streaks of semen. Some stuck to his cheek, other strands covering his slightly parted lips. His blues eyes now appeared dull, and half lidded. Len stared at the mirror for a few seconds, until flopping back onto the bed, a strong lingering taste of himself still present on his tongue.

'Thank goodness I took off my shirt...' Len thought, cringing internally at the thought of his shirt becoming a makeshift jizz rag. It was in the next few moments that Len would experience true fatigue. Breathing proved to be quite taxing, the mere thought of standing up causing him to ache. Against his better judgement, Len decided to rest his body.

.

..

...

*Click*

...That is until someone decided to turn the doorknob.