Tentacle Entrapment

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

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Tentacle Entrapment

The eagle inhaled slowly and deeply, creeping through the temple as if he expected something terrifying to be around each and every corner. He had chosen his clothing carefully to make the long trek through the jungle to the temple that was set into the side of a cliff, a roaring waterfall pouring down one side that could have, very possibly, have been created by active hands and paws rather than the will of mother nature. But the tan and brown cloth had long ago been worn down around the elbows and knees, dirt and grime from the humid wilderness of a jungle lining the creases that had wound themselves around his body as if they had become a feature of his being over the time of his expedition.

In all honesty, it could have been true that there was something lurking in wait in the temple or it could not have: it entirely depended on what deity the temple belonged to. Some of them were cruel and vengeful and others were strangely empty and devoid of worship as if those who had frequented them had not been all that devoted to their cause. All of the temples, after such a time when the indigenous tribes could not tend to them as they wished, had fallen into a state of disrepair - except for the ones that they held close to their faith and, of course, their hearts. But Aquilan would not have wasted his time on things like that when there were far greater spoils to be had in a temple that promised gold that had been untouched for nigh on thousands of years.

He shivered in anticipation, the claws of his hands curling lightly around the corner of a crumbling wall that had, at some point, been etched and engraved with extravagant detailing. Squinting, he tried to make it out, brushing away the sweep of vines covering it, although it did not do all that much to actually show the scene that rose and fell in broken lumps across a landscape that should have surely have been loved and cherished. If he'd been another anthro entirely, he might have felt guilty about further defiling it in planning to remove it further of what made it so very precious to all those lives that had passed through it before.

The image... Some splashes of colour remained, or they could have just been water staining taken into the stone over the course of many, many years as the eagle leaned in closer, his curiosity getting the best of him, stalling his feet. What was that... A vine wrapped around a...body? No. He shook his head. He was trying to make sense out of squiggles and they really didn't mean anything. He had to keep going, or else he would find himself caught up in the twists and turns of his own mind and that was worse than any labyrinth or threat that could possibly reveal itself in the depths of the temple.

Down a hallway, stepping carefully over broken tiles that were so faded that they had all become pale and bleached, as if by the sun. Even the roof had caved in at some points and he paced carefully around those places, eyeing the broken stones as if they were liable to crash down on top of him at any moment. They may have been and it was only an extra little precaution that he took, exhaustion clawing at his mind as if some part of his psyche was, even then, striving to trip him up.

What he didn't do...was look down. And that was his undoing.

The floor went beneath him in a roar of shattered stone, tumbling down and down and down. He scrambled, wings outstretched along the lines of his arms, but there was nothing that he could do to take flight like his ancestors, a land-locked eagle that was prone to the wiles of gravity as much as any mammal that did not know how to soar. The moments before impact seemed to stretch out and out and out, suspending him in limbo, and yet it could not be drawn out forever as the floor rushed up to meet him, his body connecting, as if from a great distance, with something hard yet yielding, head whipping down as it travelled further and faster than his body.

It took him a moment - several long moments, in fact - to come to his senses again, ears ringing and a low groan rising from the back of his throat as if making the sound along would, at the very least, remind him that he is alive. Aquilan worked his beat, spitting out what he hoped was not blood, the floor beneath him shifting and writhing as he grabbed for it and found the very fabric that it was made of slipping and sliding out of his grasp.

No...wait. That didn't make sense. That didn't make sense at all. Why would a floor move? Yet it was not stone or rock beneath him, something else entirely curling up against his body as he was lifted up and turned over, as limp and soft as a rag doll that a youngster may have in either crib or cradle. But he was not a youngster and he was strong enough of mind to quell the pain in his body, wriggling and pushing himself back and up on his forearms, head hanging, with every last drop of energy he felt he had left of his body. And yet he could not quite be drained dry...

"What... Urgh..." He shook his head, rolling it from one side to the other as the pain in his neck shot up to the base of his head, twisted and sore and wrenched to one side. "What are these..."

He could not have said just why he was talking out loud for there was no one there to hear him, the words coming thickly and slowly from a tongue that seemed to be coated in fuzz. But what he had landed on did not care about what had happened to him, only that yet another had been delivered into its waiting 'arms', so to speak, the vines twisting around him to wrap him up from head to toe, a living semblance of a monster that not even an explorer such as Aquilan could understand.

The eagle sucked in a breath, eyes going wide, yet it was too late to do anything. The tentacle-like vines shot up beneath his clothes, thicker and wieldier than the ones that he'd brushed aside to depict the mural earlier, the time appearing far too long ago. The clothes that he had donned and worn through trial upon trial were no match for the tentacles that writhed and squirmed over him, leaving him bare but for his feathers with not even a scrap of underwear left to cover his body.

Heart pounding dully against his eardrums, he raked in breath after breath, the vines constricting around him. But there was no escape and there wasn't even a way to make sense of it, to make it right in his own mind, as the tentacles crawled and teased over him like he was an object, something that could be turned and shifted to the will of a creature that Aquilan could not even begin to understand.

And neither could he hold back the sick dread of the tentacles forcing open his beak, one slamming into the back of it as if it belonged there, teasing slightly down his throat and cutting off his air supply. It did not linger there, however, perhaps just thinking that it would show its dominance in the best way that a monster of the temple could, drawing back to pump his beak as if, well...

As if the tentacle was a cock to thrust and grind. And that was exactly how they behaved, slipping and sliding over him and staining his feathers with thick, viscous pre-cum that seemed to drool copiously and continuously from the heads of the tentacles, marking him as a thing that, now, belonged to the temple itself. There was no freeing himself from the twisting swathe and he could not even gasp as a tentacle wormed its way up under his tail-feathers, which lifted automatically to the touch and sensation despite him screaming, mentally only, that he needed to flatten them down, protect himself in some way.

But the monster was well-versed in taking what it wanted and it slammed a tentacle up into his tail hole without pause for ceremony, snaking deep and ramming in hard. It had to be vicious, after all, to force its way past a clenching tail hole, a barrier that was designed to keep out intruders and expel only. And yet that did not mean that Aquilan could not scream, however muffled, around the tentacle stuffing his beak, hips jerking and twisting, although he could not even say if he moved so much because his body was grinding or because the tentacles were tossing him around, their toy to do with as they willed.

Time lost all meaning, the slick and slippery tentacles crawling all over him with the claim of an owner. Just one inside his brutally penetrated tail hole too was not enough and it was swiftly joined by another as a thick vine fell over his eyes, blocking out his view of the twisting, writhing mass of green, the immense stretch pushing him to breaking point. With so much pain lancing through him, he could not imagine that he was not bruised and broken beyond repair, one tentacle after the other pounding him.

It took him a while to realise that they were seeding him too but it was hard enough to keep track of time as pleasure slightly overcame the pain, just enough for his cock to slip out and throb hungrily for its own pleasure. The tentacles took advantage of that too, locking around his length and 'sucking' greedily as he was hastily massaged to a quick and rusty orgasm, the spasm of pleasure coming hard and fast as the thick pre-cum turned to salty semen, ploughed sloppily into his tail hole and mouth alike as if they were one and the same.

No... No. He didn't want to think but feeling was too erotic to ignore, a moan rising up shamefully from the back of his throat as his body fell prey to baser pleasures, desire rising up above all else. He needed something, his body needed something. There was too much to keep on at and he had to hold on to some sense of himself, clinging to his memories even as illicit lust and sensation threatened to overwhelm them, one cock-tentacle after the other covering him from head to toe in a liberal dosing of slick, heady seed.

He had served his purpose, even if he did not understand it, the tentacle monster taking him just as it willed. Two tentacles, three... What did it matter how many ground up into his tail hole? He couldn't do anything about it, his mind dulled to anything but the immediate moment, one blow of desire coming after the other. There was no escaping and he could not hope to thrust them away even as he was pounded and filled over and over again.

A sacrifice must be made to the temple and an eagle could do just the trick. Only time, however, would tell for just how long the tentacles would keep him in there, squirming over him and ploughing his holes until they had deemed, of course, that their sacrifice was taken in full and due course.

The eagle groaned, beak stuffed full of another tentacle, strained and aching and yet still not allowed even any semblance of respite. His feathers stuck up in all the wrong directions and the outside world seemed so very far away as he tried to grunt, not a single sound coming out as his eyes rolled back into his skull. Sweat clung to his skin like a second layer, twisting and turning as he lost sense of which direction was even up or down or where the outside world lay, if it even resided there anymore at all. There could be nothing wrong at all for him or everything but none of that mattered as long as he was still writhing in the monster's grasp, needing something more and yet not managing to get his mind around the notion that he could possibly ever again have anything more than what the tentacles had for him.

Aquilan had a long night ahead. Maybe even days.

He cared not.