Mia's Tentacle Growth Pt. 01

Slowly my tentacle pushed in between my lips. Its sensitive head passed into the hot wetness of my mouth. It was an exquisite cocktail of feelings. My lips felt the smooth texture of the appendage slithering between them. My tongue savored the sweet musk that it brought to my mouth. My sensitive tentacle, on the other hand, felt the comforting warmth of my mouth, the smoothness of my lips, the probing flicking of my tongue, and the light scratching of my teeth. All this together was almost too much ...

Oh. Sorry. Am I going too fast?

By now, you probably have lots of questions, like "Why does this girl have a tentacle?", "Where did it come from?" "Why did she put it in her mouth?" I have answers to some of them, though not all. I have no freaking clue WHY I grew a tentacle. But I can at least start at the beginning and hopefully explain what happened and how I ended up fellating my own tentacle.

So let's start again.

Hi. I'm Mia. I'm a 28-year-old female earthling. Or at least I started out as a female. These days I'm not quite sure how to describe myself.

If you need to picture me, picture a petite brunette with olive skin and short curly hair. My breasts aren't the biggest, but I'm happy with my two B-abies. Oh. And I wear thick glasses. I know. But what can you do?

I've always been the introverted nerd type. Talking to people does not come easy for me, and I do it only if there is no other option. That doesn't mean I don't have friends. But ... well ... I'm not the best at keeping in contact, so I seldom see them. As far as life goes, mine is a fairly shut-in one. I'm a programmer. Self-employed, of course. I spend most of my time in my flat working on some contract for one of my clients. I know that doesn't sound like the healthiest lifestyle, but at least I have a gym room to counterbalance all of the sitting. Whatever time I have left, I spend back in front of my PC, playing video games or working on little passion projects.

I guess I'm good at what I'm doing. I never had much of a problem finding clients and can ask for a pretty good rate. Truth be told, I've saved up a nice sum and could probably afford to take things easier and stop working myself to the bone. Not going out much probably helped in saving money as well.

I guess that's all you need to know about me in a nutshell. Or at least it used to be. Recently some ... exciting changes have occurred. But let's talk about those one at a time.

The first time I noticed changes in my body was during my evening ritual. That's what I call masturbation, by the way. I usually go to bed a little early, shut off the light, and spend some self-care time exploring my body and relieving myself. Makes me sleep like a baby!

I've always been a clit girl, but lately it had intensified. Thinking back, my little button must have been growing more sensitive for weeks already without me noticing. Well, the change couldn't go unnoticed any longer. I lay there on the side, wrapped into tons of pillows like in a big cloud, and let my fingers wander lazily from my breasts down towards that hot spot between my legs. My trailing fingers were greeted by my little clit-head, which eagerly poked out of its folds.

At first, I was surprised. I usually had to push away the folds with my index and ring finger to gain access to my little button. But there it was, standing to attention like a little soldier reporting for duty. It must have grown somehow. But how?

To be honest, those questioning thoughts came a bit later. At that moment, all I could think of was the welcome touch of my finger and the surprising ease of pleasuring myself. I continued my lazy stroking, gliding my fingertips over my legs and mons, occasionally gliding along my labia or clit. Those touches sent jolts of sexual energy through my body, and soon enough, laziness became diligence as my fingers focused on their mission. My middle finger started gliding over my clitoris. In my head, I call it 'pressing the button.' Not having to hold my folds apart for access gave my hands much more mobility, and I used it to the max. My finger glided faster and faster, occasionally twirling my button between two fingers before my fingertip returned to it.

Not long and I felt an orgasm approaching. My fingers intensified their movements, and I began moaning into my pillow. Shortly after, it was upon me, making my whole body convulse in a shaking orgasm.

Five minutes later, I was asleep.

It was not until the next morning that I remembered the strange ease of access to my little button and did what I should have done the previous evening: take a look at myself.

The body-shaking orgasm from the previous evening had done nothing to reduce the size of my little button. If anything, it looked even bigger than it had felt yesterday. Looking down upon my naked body, I could see a tiny head poking out of the clean-shaven folds of my labia, softly glistening in the morning light. I needed to get a better look.

Thankfully, the wardrobe next to my bed has a mirrored door. It wasn't precisely oriented to give me a good view of myself while on the bed -- I'm usually not into seeing myself during sex -- so I had to scoot down a little and lie on my bed crossways. So that's what I did.

In the mirror, the size of my little button looked even more impressive. Its little shaft poked out of the folds of my skin and ended in a head that was held up proud like it wanted to tell the world that its time to shine had come.

The first feeling I had was confusion. I've seen my fair share of big clit porn, so the look of this tiny penis-like button between my legs was not alien to me. But I understood that this amount of growth did not come overnight. At first, I was afraid that something was wrong with my food or my water. I knew that certain kinds of steroids could cause clitoris growth. However, I kinda expected that to be more of a long-term process.

I ended up checking every inch of my body in the mirror to spot any other changes. Finally, I was satisfied that everything was as it should be. Well... maybe except for my ears, which were slightly too large. But that was hardly a new occurrence and had earned me the nickname Dumbo in high school. I was half smiling when I thought about what kind of cruel nicknames my enlarged button may have prompted.

That thought brought my attention back to my clitoris. It still stood upright as if trying to get my attention. It really did look like a cute small penis. I wondered if I could stroke it like one ...

What can I say? You probably can imagine what happened next. Yes. I was able to stroke it like a penis. Yes. It felt good. And yes, I fell asleep right afterwards. One of the perks of being self-employed is that you can decide on your own hours. So, if I needed an hour of rest after playing with my new button-cock so be it.

Over the next few days, I tried my best to narrow down what was happening to me. It probably says a lot about me that I didn't even consider going to a doctor. Instead, I decided that it must have been something in my apartment. Maybe I had somehow ingested some form of steroids or something else that worked similarly? Or maybe there was some toxin in my flat that I had breathed in? To be on the safe side, I threw away food in my apartment and gave my fridge a thorough cleaning. I also sent tap water samples to the waterworks to check for pollutants. I cleaned my washing machine and washed all my sheets and clothing. I even bought one of those mold-testing kits off the internet on the off chance that a patch had developed where I wasn't able to spot it. Finally, I was satisfied that my apartment was free of any pollutants.

All of this took about a week. And during this time, checking myself in the mirror became my new morning ritual. At first, it seemed like nothing had changed. However, after a few days, I started to question whether my little button had always been THIS big. That's the issue with gradual changes: you tend to miss them if the change is slow enough.

To be certain, I added another step to my morning ritual. Right after checking myself, I started to snap a picture of my little button with my smartphone. And sure enough, after a few more days, the comparison pictures left little room for doubt: my clitoris was still growing. To be fair, the pictures were hardly needed by that point, given that my clit was now the size of the upper limb of my thumb.

There was yet another part of my morning ritual. Like on the first day, I started to gently twiddle and stroke my little button once I was satisfied with checking myself in the mirror. The bigger my little button got, the easier it was to run my thumb and index finger along the shaft and stroke it like the little penis it now resembled.

Somehow this morning ritual became the only time where I allowed myself to acknowledge my new physique. During the day, I tried to push thoughts about it away and concentrate on work. In the evening, I continued to shut off the light and play press the button with my middle finger as if it was not becoming more of a joystick. Maybe it was some kind of coping mechanism that caused me to pretend everything was normal despite my body slowly changing and me not knowing the reason for it.

After my initial week of panic, I started to get used to the new situation. I knew I should be freaked out, go to a doctor, or at the very least continue my search for a cause, but it wasn't like the little growth between my legs impeded me in my day-to-day activities. Quite the contrary. The enjoyment I got out of my little masturbation sessions seemed to increase as my little button grew bigger. Soon I was starting to look forward to my little morning ritual and the pleasure it would end with. I even moved my bed to the other wall so that it now faced the mirrored wardrobe, and I didn't have to awkwardly shuffle around the bed to get a full view of myself.

Despite it not really being needed, I continued to take a photo every morning. I even spent an hour or so whipping up a small Android app to make scrolling through the images and tracking my progress easier.

Meanwhile, my little button showed no sign of stopping its growth. After about a month, it was already the size of my middle finger.

My masturbation techniques started to adapt to the new size of my equipment. Somehow, I still distinguished between my morning ritual and my evening ritual. The morning ritual was for stroking my little clit-cock. Eventually, two stroking fingers became three, four, and then the whole hand. The evening ritual was for pushing the button. I went with my earlier joystick metaphor, wrapping my hand around the shaft of my little button so that my thumb could gently play with its head.

At about the one-month mark was also when I noticed the next change. I know what you think. And no. It did not suddenly start squirting sperm when I came. While my little button looked penis-like, it was still very much a clitoris. It was just a lot bigger. Stroking it probably felt as good, if not better, as it does for a man, but functionally it was still a clitoris.

I first noticed the most recent change during my morning ritual while taking my daily photo. The angle of my camera was slightly off, and I moved to adjust it. I must have been a bit absent-minded because instead of moving my phone around, I moved my clitoris. I don't mean that I moved my hips to reposition my clit. It bent to the side to adjust for the camera's angle.

I quickly took the shot and put my phone to the side. What in the hell was this? I was used to my clit becoming stiffer as I was becoming more aroused, and blood was circulating through it. And I also knew I could make it jump by contracting the muscles at its base. At a certain length, it had even started to pulsate up and down when I was orgasming. This was something different. It shouldn't be able to bend to the side, especially not in the middle.

Yet it had!

This warranted further exploration. I tried to hold it at the base and bend it in different directions. At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly as my brain made the right connections, it moved to the left. Then to the right. Then up. Then down again. It felt weird, like getting accustomed to moving an eleventh finger that moments ago you didn't know was there. But eventually, I seemed to be able to slowly bend it in all directions.

Next, I placed a finger on top of it -- somewhere to the middle -- and pressed it against my tummy. I tried to move it again. This time I concentrated on the contact point where my finger pressed it to my skin. And sure enough, it started bending. First left, then right. With a bit of concentration, I was even able to make it snake up around my finger.

Did that bending make it slightly longer? I was intrigued! The next thing I tried was whether I could indeed change its length. Rather than thinking about side-to-side movement, I thought of moving in and out of something. Again, it took a while for my brain to connect to the correct muscles, but when it did, my little button got shorter and thicker. Then I tried stretching it in the other direction, and it got longer and thinner. The feeling is hard to describe but it felt like an extending telescopic rod.

I should have been shocked at this development. This marked the point where the changes to my body could not be explained with anything I knew any longer -- no matter how far-fetched. Yet I was ... intrigued.

I placed a pillow under my head to see down my body and started playing with it, snaking my little clit tentacle around my belly. Bending it this way and that way. Pulling it in all the way until it resembled a fat little nub and then stretching it out all the way until its little head brushed my navel.

I gave off a slight giggle and whispered, "clit button, meet belly button!"

That's when I couldn't resist any longer. The head of my little button bent and snaked into the cavity of my navel, sliding into the shallow hole and wiggling around in it. My giggling turned into moaning, and I knew that I needed the feeling of sliding my little button tentacle slowly into something, pushing in deep.

The obvious answer was obvious but sadly impossible. I could bend my little button until it faced the warm portal between my legs, but that used up all its length and couldn't go any further. Turning it around on itself also was slightly painful.

I exhaled a frustrated sigh. So close, yet still so far. I could already feel the warmth and moistness of my pussy on my button, could feel the soft wiggling push of my button head against my vulva. But I couldn't go further. It seemed like my hands would have to do the trick again.

I was about to grip my little button and start my one-handed stroking routine when I got a better idea. The need to slowly slide into something was still fresh in my mind, so I used my right hand to scoop up some of the moisture collecting between my legs. I moved my hand to spread it around my fingers. When I was satisfied that they were nice and slippery, I formed my hand into a fist and let it sit below my navel.

Finding the entry into my hand was hard as I had to navigate unfamiliar muscles to a target I couldn't see. I slipped up or misjudged what I was doing multiple times and ended up pushing my hand away or slipping off my hand. But eventually, I hit my target dead center, and my little button started to push into the ring formed by my pinky finger.

I tried to move my hand as little as possible, wanting to instead get the feeling of exploring something with my little tentacle. Once it was positioned correctly, I started to elongate it, and it pushed easily into my hand until its little button head poked out the top of my fist.

"Hello, little guy," I said, not knowing why I suddenly started speaking to my clitoris. Somehow the fact that it could move freely made it feel more alive, despite me controlling its every move.

"Is my hand too short for you?"

Seeing my little clit snake its way through my hand was the most erotic thing I could think of right now, and I wanted it to continue to penetrate my slippery hands. I gave my left hand the same treatment as my right and placed it on top of it, enveloping my little button head. Another push and it snaked its way into my left hand, reaching about to the middle before it couldn't go any further.

I almost came then and there. This last stretch along the bumpy interior of my fist -- together with the knowledge that I was snaking myself into my own warm hands -- sent shivers down my spine. But I didn't want it to end yet. Slowly I withdrew from my hands until I was almost out. Then my little tentacle pushed forward again. Slowly, savoring every bumpy finger. I started wriggling around, trying to turn it this way and that way.

After withdrawing a second time, I was right on the edge, my little button head wedged in the ring of my pinky finger. I extended it with one strong push, raising my pelvis simultaneously to get that extra bit of purchase. My little button slithered right through both of my hands until its head poked out into freedom. At that point, I was happy that I had not developed the ability to shoot sperm because otherwise, my orgasm would have sent it right into my unsuspecting face.

I bucked in my hips wildly and started to moan. My hands immediately left my belly and grasped the sheet in ecstasy. My little tentacle-button was poking up fully erect, spasming, and snaking in all directions.

It took a while for me to come down from that orgasm, and I must admit that it wasn't the only one on that day. I ended up enjoying my newfound capabilities to the fullest. When I finally went to bed that evening, my little button felt raw and tender from all the exploring, and my hands were white and wrinkly from all the moisture.

In the following days and weeks, more changes happened to my body. My little button kept growing at a similar rate, slowly but steadily. It also changed its texture. At first, it still resembled an elongated version of my original clitoris. Now it gradually started to morph into my normal skin tone. It only changed back into its original glistening pink when I was aroused. When it did that, it became a huge erogenous zone as sensitive as my original little button. I couldn't quite explain it, but somehow my little button seemed to have two modes now. I called them normal mode and sex mode. I know. I should have been more imaginative.

Soon enough, I had to stop wearing tight Jeans that usually graced my legs and switch to loose-fitting sweatpants. This alleviated the constriction that tight clothing now caused for my little button and hid the growing bulge in my pants while in public. At home, I started to wear skirts. It gave me the ability to easily free my little button to experiment.

And experiment I did. Building up muscle memory for my new appendage didn't take long. After only a few days, I was able to control it freely. I tried different exercises, like picking up small items or lifting weights, to determine and develop the dexterity and strength of my tentacle.

It was growing bigger, so I could soon try more complicated exercises, like picking up cups, pulling down my pants from the inside, or holding small items while my hands were occupied. At one point, I even tried operating my keyboard with it. It worked but wasn't of any practical use since it was pretty slow.

I also noticed other changes in my body. My stamina and strength kept increasing. Since I have a home training setup, they've never been the worst, but the number of reps and weights I could lift kept growing much quicker. I also noticed a near-constant headache that I eventually traced back to my glasses being poorly adjusted for my eyes. It seemed even my eyes were improving! All these changes used a lot of energy as my appetite increased considerably.