Tentacle Debauchery

Irie squirmed while the thick tentacle snaked its way up her leg. Her arms, held behind her back by thin tendrils tightly wrapped around her wrists, strained against their bounds. She had been positioned a few ways, suspended by her arms, flat on her back, before she was put down on her knees. The slender but strong tendrils that seemed to do most of the lifting pulled on her arms, arching her back so that her chest stuck out. Her nipples, exposed to a breeze - some part of her overwhelmed mind wondered where the breeze could come from in this humid cave - stood stiff and hard, tickled by the beads of sweat running down her naked form. More tendrils began wrapping themselves around her torso, taking some pressure off her shoulders but also roping around her smallish, full breasts and massaging them ever so slightly. Two thicker tentacles held her up by her hips, pulsing against the exposed hip bones and flicking their feathery tips across her belly.

Overall, she thought somewhat detached, it was a rather comfortable position. In fact, she relished it when her lovers took her like this, hammering their dicks into her exposed, wet pussy from behind while their firm grips often left faint bruises on her hips. But this was no enjoyable encounter with a trusted friend or exciting stranger. This was scary, unnerving; an existential threat that would shake her to her core later, if she ever got out of it. She knew enough about the human mind to realise her detachment was her brain trying to protect her from the trauma that would surely engulf her whole being if she let it. Unfortunately, this detachment also let her analyse her physical reactions to the whole scenario. And those were, to say the least, utter betrayal. Surely, her mind could distinguish between sex she wanted and this. A few hours ago, it wouldn't even have been a question worth asking.

But now... the skin on her chest was tingling where the slimy tendrils coiled around her tits. Her lower belly sent shockwaves through her entire body, in time with the pulsing of the thicker appendages secured there. Her nipples, aching from their stiffness, sparked little shivers every time the breeze breathed over them. And every centimetre the bulkiest of tentacles advanced on her limb had her hitching her breath, writhing in her constraints and straining to get away. To get away... The main tentacle curved around the back of her knee. Irie let out the tiniest of squeak while her leg twitched. She was trying to get away. She was. Right?

The girl was breathing heavily now, nearly panting, trying to keep her detachment while her pussy spasmed a little from being exposed. Or from being ignored? No, out of fear. Yes, out of fear! Her body was trying to survive, trying not to get hurt by what was clearly going to be a drawn out fucking. There was no, there could be no, part of her that was hoping for this, hoping to enjoy a ravaging like she could have only imagined in her wildest fantasies. Irie growled when the coils around her breasts loosened and blood rushed back. The tingling increased, threatening to wipe any thought from her mind. It was dangerously close to pleasure, this torture.

The big tentacle around her leg was looping itself around her thigh, and starting to ooze from what must have been its pores. Her skin, already slick with sweat from the humidity and stress, was set aflame. Slowly, agonisingly, the tentacle reached the bottom of her exposed ass. Her pussy spasmed again, dribbling little strands of wetness along her outer lips. The breeze swooshed by, drying her juices and causing her to clench up and shiver. She felt empty. Felt like hours must have passed, while she was leisurely explored, bound up, fondled and molested by these tentacles. What did they belong to? There seemed to be more tentacles lurking at the edge of her vision.

Pressure on her thigh distracted her thoughts for a moment. She twisted her head to look over her shoulder, driven by mad curiosity and a sneaking desire to get this over with. How long could it possibly take?

Looking back was a mistake. The purplish tentacles around her hips were pulsating, little lights dancing across their surface. But what caught her out was the main tentacle, still wrapped around her leg yet now with a good half-metre or so swaying in the air. It twisted this way and that, coiled around itself, as if sniffing out its victim, waiting for something. For what? Time stretched endlessly. Her body, supposed to be numb from being in one position for so long, did not cease feeling all sorts of things. Her pussy, clearly preparing for an onslaught, trembled in time with the pulsating lights and feathery flicks around her belly. Finally, moments before her mind would have descended into panic, driven by endlessly erotic sensations she was determined not to acknowledge, the big tentacle quivered, becoming still.

Irie held her breath. Maybe she could yet get out of this, maybe she could - squelching sounds cut off her thoughts. She strained to twist her neck, glimpse the source of the sounds, but two more tendrils shot out from the dark, from the direction of the sound. One wrapped itself around her head, turning it to the front. The other flattened on its way and, to her complete dismay, found its way around her neck. Luckily, it didn't constrict much, just enough to let her know it was there. However, when she tried to turn her head once more, the flat tendril tightened until she gave up. She wasn't stupid. She got the message. She had no say in how this would go. She also tacitly ignored the slight gushing from her pussy at being choked.

Irie had always wondered if her submissive streak, her rape fantasies, would ever have an effect on her real life. She realised now that they could turn this situation into a nightmare. Or... they might be her saving grace. If she had no way out, could she get the most out of it? Her mind grappled with this dilemma for a bit - years of society-imbued shame and victim-blaming battling against her darkest desires, aided by a basic fear for her life.

But it seemed the decision would not be up to her, after all. The ground trembled as the source of the squelching finally came into her field of vision, one writhing, coiling, twisting, agitated tentacle at a time. A massive, giant blob of silvery-purple, glistening with slime and pulsating with those odd little lights, surrounded by a mass of appendages that were the diameter of a small tree at the base and ended in a variety of extremities.

Some were thin and feathery, like the ones tormenting her abdomen. Some were spiny and coiled, some thin and wiry - like those around her breasts - and many were solid and thick with tiny little flowerlike openings at the ends that continued the pulsating, trancelike rhythm of the lights. Even if Irie could have turned her head, she wouldn't have. She'd never seen something so revoltingly fascinating in her whole life. The creature came to a standstill right in front of her, some two or three metres away. Two of the solid tentacles made their way to Irie's trembling body and she realised that this must be what was currently quivering behind her, unhurriedly waiting for whatever was about to happen.

She wasn't sure how she felt about three of those things so close to her. One had joined the first, curling around her other thigh and now rubbing itself against the first, which showered her behind in tiny specks of slime, each one alighting her skin with tingling heat. The third hovered just under her torso. With a big sigh, the creature stopped pulsating for a moment. The tentacles and tendrils stilled against Irie's skin, which surely must have been blistering from the slime oozing from their slightly rough surfaces, it felt so hot, so electric, so...

"Uurghh!"

Irie's frustration broke in a guttural scream. Her eyes wild, she fought against the tentacles binding her.

"Finish it!" she shouted. "Take me now, you beast! Get it over with, I can't take it anymore!! I can't, I won't, this can't be happening, it can't, I can't ... please ..."

She ended, sobbing, a lonely string of spit descending from the corner of her mouth while tears filled her eyes. There was no reaction from the blob. The tentacles hadn't loosened, hadn't stopped moving, kept her head secured and facing her molester without mercy.

As the string of spit dangled, dangerously close to falling, the tentacle underneath her perked up, finding the fluid with its flowery tip and absorbing it. For the first time, the creature had come into actual contact with her body fluids. It sent shivers through Irie, just as the monster shivered itself. Then, the tentacle advanced towards Irie's mouth. It pushed up against her chest, rubbing over her bound breasts and tantalising her engorged nipples. The feathery tip lengthened along her collar bones, thinning out the thick appendage and pausing briefly against her jugular, which Irie could feel hammering away in time with the rushing in her ears.

"No, no, no, nononono ..."

She started crying in earnest now. Any unwanted desires, erotic fantasies, were washed away by thoughts of what the tentacle wanted with her mouth. The physical reactions caused by the other tentacles were squashed into a simmering, tight little pit in her belly by her fear. With a whisper of righteousness, she felt her pussy clamp shut and dry up. It was still her body, in the end. But the little flower edging ever closer drowned out even that little spark of rebellion.

She pressed her lips together, determined to hold out as long as possible. The tip traced her mouth, a faint waft of forest sneaking into her nostrils. It smelled too good. She couldn't shake her head but she remained, tight lipped, as she felt the little flower press against her skin. Suppressing her need to scream, to thrash and fight, took everything she had. She would not let this monster defile her like this!

Slowly, as if enjoying the sight of her struggling, the monster vibrated, sending sparks through all the tentacles holding her down. Then, the tendril against her neck tightened ever so slightly. Panicked, Irie drew a ragged breath through her nose, as deep as she possibly could. As her neck was constrained further, the forest smell became overwhelming. Irie felt dizzy, stars dancing in front of her eyes. With every strained breath in, the tendril tightened and her mind became fuzzy.

'I must not give in," Irie thought. Or tried to think? She didn't know. For a second, she considered dying here. It would be a proud death, wouldn't it? One of defiance and strength. But her body, betraying her once again, would have no such thing.

She gasped for air, her mouth forming a perfect 'O'.

Immediately, the flower-like tip having caressed her lips sunk into her mouth. At the same time, the tendril around her neck loosened and Irie breathed, breathed, breathed... and then spluttered, choked, coughed as the tip of her mouth-invading tentacle explored further down her oral cavity, bumping against her palate and pressing down against the back of her tongue. It remained there for a second, as if pondering something, then retracted a bit and started flailing around in her mouth, oozing so much slime it dripped out between Irie's lips. Any attempts at biting were craftily met with a quick, strong contraction of the tendril around her neck until Irie gave up and succumbed to the inevitable.

What use was it to fight? There was nothing left to gain. She might as well just let the monster have its way and hope she survived to pick up the pieces.

A shudder, almost like approval, went through the creature. The slime in her mouth started tasting sweet, complementing the forest smell that filled her brain. Letting go, giving in, Irie's muscles finally relaxed.

Steadily, the tingling on her skin intensified. She became aware of the tendrils massaging her tits, realising they probably never stopped. Every pulsating squeeze sent sparks to her nipples, which still rubbed against the rough skin of the tentacle pulsating in her mouth while it swelled from pencil-thick to the size of one finger, then two, then three.

Her tongue, previously locked in place by fear, stretched and coiled with its regained freedom, teased by its contact with the alien appendage and enticed to explore every inch of it. With every flick, every caress of her tongue, the tentacle became a little stiffer, oddly resembling the thick cocks she had so thoroughly enjoyed sucking off in her previous life.

Previous life, for she would be - was already - forever changed by this encounter. A passing thought while the heat in her belly expanded into her whole body.

Bit by bit, the tentacle in her mouth retreated, eliciting a slight moan from Irie. Was it from frustration or relief? She couldn't tell. She didn't care, because the tentacle pushed in again, starting a snail-pace rhythm; in, out, in, out...

Irie sucked on the little flower, flicked the rough skin with her tongue, scraped her teeth over it, pursed and squeezed her lips and was rewarded with pulsating tingles from all the tentacles around her body for every bit of attention she gave. Her pleasure centre started working in overdrive, and Irie thought to herself, 'Maybe this won't be so bad after all.'

While the girl was preoccupied with the tentacle in her mouth, all but making out with the creature through it, the appendages around her hips had intensified their pulsing. Their feathery tips separated. The split-off pieces found their way down to her labia, oozing slime along the sensitive skin, radiating heat. They gently yet firmly latched onto her outer lips and spread them, almost anxiously. The combined sensations penetrated Irie's oral adventure, making her moan around the tentacle, by now four fingers thick, still moving in and out of her willing mouth. She squirmed, trying to move her hips so the tendrils might make contact with her clit...

They allowed her the movement, moved along with it even, and by doing so expertly avoided any contact with her throbbing nub.

Irie bucked her hips in frustration.

"Please," she whispered around her tentacle, her eyes rolling back a little as some more slime oozed from its tip and filled her brain with only one thought: to be filled, full to the brim, with tentacles, seething, curling, writhing and setting her insides ablaze the same way her skin was burning with need.

But this creature was old, indeed older than most human-made remains around the world, and it had had many mates over the millennia. It was in no rush, and it had developed a keen expertise in drawing out the mating to an almost breaking point. Ensuring that the future host felt as much pleasure from the encounter as possible meant they would bear proportionally more positive feelings to what was to happen after the creature finished. This was critical to the species' survival, as the offspring needed consistent care and devotion after implantation.

And so, while Irie's brain was gradually made to expect and crave the sexual pleasure it was receiving, the creature took its time caressing the girl's body and paid special attention to her mouth and breasts. After all, good things take time.

With every second that passed, Irie's hips gyrated a little more forcefully. Her tongue by now was almost attacking the tentacle, which continued swelling at a rate almost unnoticeable to the depraved girl, still moving in and out of her mouth ever so slowly, coating her oral cavity and face in its tingling slime. The feathery tips on her belly tickled and teased, the thin ends latched onto her labia pulled them apart and pushed them closed like butterfly wings, sucking gently on the skin. More tendrils snaked around her arms, her shoulders, her torso, her chest... they rubbed and writhed, oozing just enough slime to lubricate themselves and send sparks throughout Irie's body.

By the time the tentacle penetrating Irie's mouth had swelled to the size of a petite person's fist, the two other thick tentacles securely curled around her thighs still had not done anything but rub against each other and shower the girl's buttocks in tiny little slime specks. Irie's pussy was slick, from her own juices as much as from the slime accumulating and when the tentacle in her mouth started picking up speed in rhythm with the pieces attached to her nether lips, her eyes really did roll back in her head.

With her mouth relaxed and eager from the slime, the fat, solid tentacle had no difficulties moving in and out faster, and deeper with every stroke. For a while now, Irie had only been breathing through her nose so when the tentacle hit her throat with a soft 'thwack', it meant nothing to her except more chance at bliss.

The thick tentacles around her thighs started swaying back and forth in earnest, rocking Irie's body in cadence with the tentacle now solidly fucking her mouth. In no time at all - Irie's pussy spasming, her clit throbbing, her nipples aching, even her ass trembling - she helped the tentacles swaying her, rocking her body and swallowing every bit of the tentacle in her mouth she could possibly reach.

It felt like bliss. Her whole body was on fire, the rough skin of the monster rubbing against her soft insides, the slime lubricating everything, the tentacles pulsing... she wanted all of the creature inside her. She wanted his juices to fill her belly, her pussy, her ass, everything, she wanted it now and she wanted it hard.

"Hmmmh," she groaned against the tentacle lodged so deeply in her throat that even pistoning in and out, it didn't ever leave her mouth anymore.

"Pwwse," Irie tried again. She couldn't really speak with all that alien meat filling her mouth. 'Please,' she thought then. 'Make me yours, fill me up, take me now!'

She was sure, just a few more strokes from the thick tentacle down her throat and she would cum, cum so hard without even having had anything in her cunt yet! She was so close, god, she was so...

A shudder went through the creature, as if it responded to her silent pleas. But just before that last, necessary stroke, the tentacle stopped dead. Irie would have howled with exasperation had her mouth not still been stuffed.

The creature, sensing Irie's arousal, instinctively knew that it had to act fast. For what it needed to accomplish, its victim had to be quite literally out of their mind with ecstasy. So, within a split second, the tentacle in Irie's mouth started oozing a special, different kind of slime. Where the first kind was simply formulated to help the victim's sexual desire along, this one was a powerful drug, fusing to the host's cells, changing their DNA and forever bonding them to their fate. Additionally, it acted as a powerful aphrodisiac.

Irie immediately felt the difference. Where her skin had been on fire before, it now was a hell blaze. Every single cell seemed to be having micro-orgasms and yet some part of her knew that this wasn't even the start of it. Her cunt started gushing, juicing so forcefully it hit the tentacles wrapped around her thighs, patiently waiting for their turn. The tendril around her neck tightened a little, and her fetisch of being choked, amplified by the new kind of slime, exploded.

She shivered, she shook, she forced herself forward to gobble up more of the thick tentacle in her mouth, and yet something was still missing - but Irie was too far gone to even beg the creature at this point, she just kept pushing forward, taking more and more of the tentacle down her throat, coating her insides with the special slime and agonising over the flood of sensations that pushed her, so close, but yet not nearly enough.

She didn't have to wait long. Identifying the exact point it needed to strike to have maximum impact on the DNA-altering process already happening, the creature lengthened the tips of the tentacles swaying behind Irie's glistening ass and plunged them, without mercy or ceremony, downward, inward, one into each hole. The abused girl let out a silent scream as she was penetrated; it didn't hurt, the tentacles had thinned out enough to barely even stretch her aching cavities but they were covered in tiny little nodules now that ignited her insides and finally, finally, she got the earth-shattering orgasm that was her due.