Four writers for the price of one blog
Tentacle does the Twilight Zone
More from the endless, evil estuaries of Redbud’s tentacle mind.
“Who are you?”
“No,” she snarled. “Who are you?”
The men in black fasten the struggling girl’s wrists over her head and attach them to a silver hook, itself attached to a silken and heavy, white rope. She’s wearing a jean mini-skirt and a tank top. Her legs are slender and bare, and she’s wearing sandals. She kicks at the three men as they stand, but her wrists are secure. She can’t escape. She misses but kicks even after they’re out of reach. They walk silently out of the great domed room. The floor is a teak deck that surrounded a perfectly still pool of dark and opaque water.
“We used to use a chain,” says a smooth voice from the darkness, “but it ruined the mood.”
“Oh yeah, the rope is a huge improvement.”
“That was sarcasm!”
“We have candles. Would you like candles?”
“Where are you?”
“Well – so to speak.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Study?” says the girl. “Study what?”
“You, of course.” The soft hum of a machine begins to lift the rope’s slack.
“To make sure you’re – compatible.”
“Wait,” the girl cries, suddenly panicked. “What do you want? A blow job? A quickie? You’re not going to put me in the pool are you? Is the water cold?”
“Of course not.”
“‘Cause I don’t like cold water!” The rope begins to go taut and lift the girl’s wrists up. She glances upward, panicked, and begins to kick as her as is lifted off the deck. “My fiancé is a lawyer!”
“Yes, your fiancé, we will discuss him shortly.”
“What do you mean? Do you know him? Did you do something to him? Does he know what you’re doing?” The girl is lifted upright, then to the balls of her feet, then toes, and then she kicks in midair, dangling from her wrists. The hem of her tank top is lifted above her pierced belly button. The rope begins to move her over the teak deck and slowly toward the center of the pool. “What – I can’t – what’s in there? Sharks? I don’t like sharks! Please!”
“Sharks! Are there sharks in there?” The girl kicks, hyperventilating as she gazes down into the dark pool. The hum quiets as she centers over the middle of the pool. “What’s that?” She sees something dark, like a smudge, moving in the water under her.
“Ah, yes, they’re quite good.”
“What? What’s good? What do you mean good?”
“You eat sharks?”
“Oh my God! It’s moving! What is it?”
The girl stares into the water repeating the word over and over as if to remember what it means. “Cepha… Oh my God. Cephalopod! That like – that’s like – ” She screams. “An Octopus. Oh my God! No! I mean, I’m sort of into tentacles but, I mean, I never really wanted to meet one. I mean, it’s all fantasy, right? I like reading your tentacle erotica, but they don’t really do that stuff, do they? Why are you lowering me? Look, it’s just a hobby, okay? The blog, the pictures, the door stop, the tattoo –” She squeals and lifts her feet as the water nears. “You want doggy style? Oh my God! I’m acquaphobic. No, really! My shirt! Wait! The tie-dye isn’t color-fast!” But she can’t lift her knees any higher. Her pointed toes and her bottom are the first to touch the water, sending dark ripples from the center of the circular pool. All of her from the neck down disappears into the water.
“Now,” says the disembodied voice, “Beautiful, isn’t it? Took me half a lifetime to invent this. I’m sure you’ve discovered my deep and abiding interest in pleasure. At present, I’m writing the definitive work on the subject, so I want you to be totally honest with me on how the Cephalopod makes you feel. This being our first try, I’ll use the lowest setting.”
“Setting? What setting?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I say setting? I get so carried away. Please, just be totally honest with us. We considered using a blind fold, but decided a dark pool would be better. You see, we just want you to communicate your sense impressions with us – your tactile impressions if you will. Visual impressions get to be so tiring.”
“Oh my God!”
“I feel something!”
“Please, do go on.”
“It’s just like – oh my God – it really is like seaweed.” The girl kicks beneath the water. She looks but can’t see. She kicks some more and then is jolted by something that tugs her downward, that stretches her arms and makes her inhale, wrists pulled tight in their restraints. “Okay, it’s got my ankle. It’s got both my ankles. It’s holding– I can’t – I’m not moving. Oh my God. It’s strong! They’re really strong. They’re like muscles but they’re– they’re warm. They’re not cold. I really thought they were going to be cold. ”
“It’s – OWE! – suction thingies! They’re giving me hickies!”
“What’s it doing?”
“Oh God! It’s holding my legs apart. Look, I give great head.” She inhales sharply. “It’s arms – the tentacles – they’re wrapped around my legs, holding them apart. It’s pulling – tight. Please! I give great head! I swallow! Oh God, I can’t move. There are more – tentacles. I feel one on my stomach It’s – ” Her head falls back and she groans. She spins one direction and another as the thing beneath the surface prepares her. The tank top floats around her shoulders, leaving her small breasts and stiff nipples exposed. “Oh God, it feels –”
“Yes, please, your commentary is very important.”
The girl gazes at the ceiling, mouth open, panting. “I – it’s tentacles – they’re moving over my stomach – and my tits –” She grunts. “In my –” She pants, holds her breath, then stiffens and moans. “–ass. I’m trying – trying to –” She grunts again. “Push it out but – it just pushes deeper. It – it’s like it’s waiting for me to–” She grunts. “– push and it goes deeper. I can’t help it –” She clenches, as if she were constipated, then goes slack and moans. “Oh God – pushing – so deep – just pushing again and again – so full –fuck – I feel it –” She clenches and pushes. “I can’t help it.” She clenches and pushes again. “Why? Oh God, why?”
The girls fingers twist, grip and open above her. “It’s not stopping.” She exhales a long, deep and dark belly-ache. “I’m gonna’ cum –”
“Wonderful. Could you describe that please?”
But the girl can’t. She looks at nothing. Her fingers straighten, she closes her eyes, the muscles of her arms strain and she arches in the water. The domed cavern echoes with the precise, staccato bursts of a girl in orgasm. A thin milky froth clouds the water. She goes finally slick and pants as though trying to catch her breath. Her cheeks balloon with each exhalation. She tries to manage but the fullness continues it’s push and push. Her eyes flutter and she grunts each time.
“Please, don’t be distracted, your complete honesty is vitally important.”
“I can’t – I can’t –” The girl groans submissively. “I can’t push anymore. My an –” She pauses as though embarrassed and pants. “My anus is – completely stretched. It’s just – going in now – and going and going. It keeps tugging on my – oh fuck – clit. And it’s milking me. I can feel it coming out of my tits. I don’t – don’t know how. And there are little squirts – like I have to pee, but I can’t – it’s holding my legs so wide.”
“Delightful. Can you tell me more?”
“It feels good.” The girl breaths deepen. “So good. So deep. It’s like, I can feel it, the tentacle, like a coil, going through me, feeling its way, so soft, so warm, like a tickle. Oh fuck. It’s letting go of my legs. It’s just – I can’t – I don’t want to close them. Please –” She moves as though looking for something. “Please, put it in. There too. Please, oh yes.” She groans loudly. “Yes. It’s filling – it’s filling me again – in my – my pussy. Yes.”
“Does the cephalopod continue to milk you?”
“Big – the tip – Fuck!” She shudders. “I can feel the tip, like, tickling me in my womb. I – I’m gonna’ cum again. Oh fuck – yes.”
“Have you never been milked before?”
“No, Sir. No.”
“How does it feel.”
“It – it squeezes –” She moans. “– And I can feel – feel it gush out of me. Its – milking me.”
But the girl doesn’t answer. She submissively hiccups through another orgasm, this time unable to make a sound. Her eyes roll and her head lolls loosely back as she twitches on the end of the rope and hook. She finally inhales as though she has forgotten to breathe.
“What is happening now?” asks the disembodied voice.
“It’s letting go of my tits. It’s – it’s sliding out of my pussy.” Her head falls forward. She swallows. She swallows again and a white fluid drips from her lips and out of her nose. “It’s slipping out of my pussy. It’s letting go of my clit. It’s still pushing. It’s going – ” She swallows again and can’t speak. Her gaze loses focus and she opens her mouth as though silently choking.
A soft hum fills the room and the girl is slowly lifted out of the water. She hangs slack. Her eyes are unfocused. Her tank top remains wetly bunched around her shoulders. Her slender waste, nipples and stomach glisten and drip water. Her red panties hang from her left ankle and her toes point listlessly downward. A tentacle, like a tail, coils and curls upward between her legs, disappearing under her jean mini-skirt. The girl momentarily presses her knees together, arches and twitches, head lolling back, as the hook brings her back to the teak deck.
Her feet gently touch the deck, then her knees, then she sprawls onto her side. After a moment, she rolls onto her belly, her wrists still bound in front of her. A shadow crosses her own. She looks up, exhausted, and her eyes widen. “What kind of a –”
“You’re a monster!” She gasps with a quick twinge lifts her ass behind her. Her cheek remains pressed to the deck. Her crossed arms remain extended ahead of her. She spreads her knees. She grunts. She arches and pushes as though trying to expel something from her guts.
“I’m really not,” the voice answers. It’s shadow twists and turns with the gyrating motion of tentacles. “Why fight it?”
“Oh God –” She spreads her knees wider and abruptly pushes. Piss arcs, behind her, from her pussy. Her eyes widen with shock before another orgasm turns her piss into squirts. Her toes spread and her fingers claw the deck. More inseminate drips from her nose. “What have you done?”
“Be the tentacle.”
“Let it meld with you.”
“Be one with the tentacle and join me.”
“But it’s so – so twisted.” The girl begins to rub her nipples against the deck and lift her pussy behind her again and again. “I thought it was going to be like a cold, wet kiss.”
“Please – help me.”
The creature moves behind the girl and takes hold of her hips. “Are you ready?” it asks, its voice changed.
“Are you ready?”
“Of course it’s me.”
“I mean – You’re not – How?”
“I had to be sure we were compatible.”
The girl stiffens, lifts her cheek and chin from the deck and groans as she’s penetrated from behind. “Before we married, I had to be sure.” Her fiancé uncoils in her womb. The girl pants. “Show me, before I inseminate you, that you understand.” He thrusts. She grunts. “Yes, that’s it.” His tentacle twirls and knots in her hair. He lifts her as he fucks her from behind. Her knees open and her bound hands claw her own thighs. Her wrists crossed at her pussy, rope and hook hanging from them. He turns her head.
“Fuck me,” she says, her voice deep.
She opens her mouth. Her tongue-tentacle uncurls. His own tongue meets hers and their tongue-tentacles intertwine. She presses back against him. The first spurts of his inseminate begin to fill her womb.
Will Crimson : February 3, 2013