WWT: The Tentacle Invasion

I shook, cumming again and again as the creature kept at its steady rhythm. Against the tree, another snake-like vine pushed up and into my ass. I screamed, careless as to who might hear.

It should have hurt. There was a sense that I was being split in halves. But each hole only tingled with the same steady beat of arousal.

I wanted this.

I couldn't admit it, but each orgasm proved the monster's point. Its tendrils coiled around my breasts, squeezing until I lost circulation.

Then in one last indignity, the thing pushed another cock into my open mouth, fucking my holes at once.

And I let it...

No, more than that.

I sucked, I swallowed, I slurped down its seed when it ejaculated, greedily gulping down every last drop as its twin cocks pounded into my pussy and ass. My hands closed around two vines, pumping them until they squirted out purple jizz juice all over my body.

It tasted so heavenly, so sweet...

I needed more.

Dick after dick appeared for me to stroke and suck. Only the two inside my pussy and anus stayed constant, fucking me until I could not tell where one began and the other ended. From the waist down the pleasure mixed into one, the two cocks creating me in a new kind of euphoria. I came, again and again, used up exactly until the creature erupted, pouring out sticky purple cum inside of my aching holes.

Done, it dropped me, only a few feet, but hard enough for my ass to hit the ground hard. Both the trunk of the monstrous tree and its base were covered in its seed, so much that I might have blended in from the sticky substance covering my face and tits.

I blinked through cum coated eyes, not able to see the creature retreat back into the vineyard.

Waiting for the next victim...

Chapter Nine: Rachel's Gift

Rachel squirmed underneath me, gripping my elongated mantle, squeezing against the slippery flesh. My feelers gripped and spread her thighs easily, opening her gushing pussy as I fully inserted the large, ridged phallus designed for the task.

My tentacle fit her perfectly.

Her arms closed around each other, trying to pull me into her. It was an involuntary spasm, unknown even to her. Dopamine and Oxytocin were absorbed through my flesh, stimulating the glans. I injected another propulsion of semen, filling her soaking hole.

My naked blonde girl let out another moan. Her orgasm continued, heard more clearly through telepathy. Every thought, unable to be articulated in symbols or sounds, clambered in my head.

Though I knew it all, I preferred to look.

I wanted to see her consummate joy, the endless expanses of each orgasm squeezed into one penetrating expression of everything that made identity worthwhile.

I shoved into her, feeling her vagina coil around me, remembering in a spasm of cum the reasons why I had broken with the Overgasm in the first place. She was unique, youthful and bubbly, energetic, and eager for the embrace.

And she was mine.

Stolen and saved from them.

This centropod did not rely on vibrations to communicate.

None of my kind did.

We could have grown them easily enough. Our consciousness travels easily enough through flesh, passed onto offspring bioengineered from basic elements. Carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen were in such abundance that living beings freely wasted most of it. Humans were underdeveloped enough to allow evolution to exist organically.

We spread through the galaxy in waves, blending, adapting, transforming the very molecules around us into new life. In the sparse depths of space, each body was designed for perfect utility in successive arrangements of DNA as our species searched for a new home.

We lost contact with the scouts shortly after learning of the third planet's suitability. That did not matter. Suitable planets are vanishingly rare even in the depths of the cosmos.

We came.

And for the first time, we split.

I can still sense them, former pieces of myself transformed into distinct personalities and new fleshy creations. Some are hidden, others make their intentions known through demonic designs destined to reverberate through this unnoticing world.

Sadistic clusters of consciousness like Dagoth the Defiler penetrated into every telepathic mind, seeking and searching to consolidate and combine, taking the weak ones for his cult. His female slaves were easy enough to find. The telepathic taint of his corrupted influence burned on the brain like a neon brand. I touched her mind easily enough, revealing myself to him.

I was all too aware of what I risked by appearing again, but there was no choice.

I needed a sacrifice.

Like the others, she was young and sexual by the standards of her species. Her skin was darker, her breasts smaller than Rachel's, her body certainly tempting.

I called her to the ocean.

The Overgasm needed a trade.

While many of my brethren focused their minds inward on cloaking their telepathy from these demonic predators, the ancient collective still beckoned out at all from the deepest part of the ocean. Its tendrils had been connected to a thousand constantly orgasming women, each life claimed for the cause of efficiency. Even a single stolen specimen would awaken the behemoth.

I would swim with her clenched in my arms, my body perfectly designed for the task.

Collective consciousness reacts more slowly, each order needing to trickle through every connection for complete compliance. In this, Dagoth and the Overgasm were no different, spread too thin to react against the unexpected with any speed.

The woman shed her clothing shamelessly on the sand, leaving her dress to walk obediently into the water.

Too much tampering can unmoor a mind.

Dagoth had not been subtle. Her resistance had broken her brain, leaving little more than an empty vessel for his lust. I couldn't even manage to find out a name as she walked up into the water, one hand reaching down to stroke her insatiable sex.

Her buttocks disappeared into the water, then her breasts. Still, she kept walking, masturbating while she went, already desperate for more attention.

She thought of nothing but her quivering needs, the melodic pattern of the mind augmented to sound just one note.

More.

It was why those other monsters wanted her. Even drained into a stupor, she still provided enough of a telepathic spark through the intensity of sex.

The woman would have drowned with her fingers still rubbing mindlessly against her vagina had I not intervened. I took her into my tentacles, inserting my phalluses into her holes in an act of mercy rather than arousal.

She clutched against my mantles, the position the only thing that reminded me of Rachel.

There was more than their appearance differentiating the women. Rachel interacted with me, her thoughts a rich tapestry of imagination. More than that, my constant companion interjected ideas into me, adding to my development through our mutual expression.

I could whip or strike her with a particularly designed appendage, leaving welts and bruises that should have caused her nothing but pain.

Yet Rachel would wiggle her hips with a special desire after being treated like this. From her, I learned the absolute thrill of anticipation, my own urges more fully sated after the foreplay of thwacking red suction marks all over her tender rump.

I could tease her as well. Only hours before, I'd forced her to fidget as I released a burning figging sensation, bioengineering an imitation ginger root to hold inside her anus.

She had been forced to stay still, my tentacles raking her ass with a hard slap every time she flinched. Her pussy lips rubbed against the suction cups of my tentacles, aching for my touch.

I had made her stay like that, remaining perfectly still. I used my arms to pin her to the table, letting her tremble against my cock until I knew she couldn't take anymore.

Only at her breaking point did I insert myself completely into her, allowing her to orgasm when she remembered to ask permission.

Such an experience. Mixing the pleasure with pain, allowing a little electric jolt emitting from the tip of my tendril against her cunt. I made her jump and shake, her breasts banging against the table. Another orgasm built in quick succession, stifling and then overpowering her initial reluctance. I did this blind, through my intimate knowledge of her body.

She squeezed around my bulbous head, holding me as she continued to cum.

Though I knew exactly how to use her, Rachel was really teaching me.

Rachel loved these little games, wanting me to decide if she would orgasm. I would deny her until she reached a fever-pitch of desperation. Her energy alone rivaled a thousand mindless slaves, existing through her own agency in this subjugation. I grew erect at her cries, her pleas causing new swellings of my seed with every new interaction.

I doubted any of my brothers would understand the impact of these amusing delays and surging feelings. How could they understand the impact of knowing one individual like her? Together, we built a greater connection, a more enticing enchantment.

The more I had her, the more I craved, adapting myself to fill her every need. Delay, denial, eagerness, and anticipation, all of it proved so much more powerful than any harem, causing me to fashion myself into new forms for each fetish.

I changed.

I grew.

Each day becoming better.

I barely touched her mind, nudging here and there to keep her safe. As she pulled me towards her, eyes fluttering in one last orgasm, I let loose a stream of semen laced with enough sedative to last until the end of my trip.

I knew she would look for me. Not because I commanded it.

Because I knew she loved me, even if Rachel couldn't articulate her feelings about the alien squid monster.

Ruby...

I sensed her easily from the barrage of guilt pouring into Rachel. The dark-haired woman was suspended from the giant medusozoa, her lily-white breasts letting out an orange and green bioluminescent glow from the constantly pulsing electricity thrumming inside every orifice.

Though she looked beautiful, her expression remained vacant. Even her irises had rolled back into her head. Her body remained in flux, cycling through orgasm after orgasm, the convulsions usually associated with a climax fading into a muted seizure.

The wavering thin tendrils pumped semen into her in a steady stream. The constant combination of pleasures from a thousand girls suspended together by this gargantuan jellyfish creating the massive Overgasm in the middle of the ocean.

Now severed, the alien consciousness had spawned Dagoth and the rest of us, infinitely powerful, able to traverse space and substance, immortal and unending...

Unable to react when Ruby was plucked from its grasp.

To the massive Overgasm, it was like noticing a dead light on a Christmas tree.

I switched the woman effortlessly, wondering if Ruby would ever be the same. Compared to the other one, she barely even moved, her body unreactive to my touch. There was very little left of the girl I had shared with Rachel in the tub, thrusting my feelers into both as they kissed with me inside of them.

But Rachel missed her more and more with every release of her mind.

I put my tentacle into her mouth, using it as a hose to synthesize enough oxygen. I wrapped my arms around her, beginning to swim back.

Then her hips moved... just a little...

And the thought came out, feeble and weak.

Please...

Please fuck me!

Chapter Ten: The Prototype

"It does not seem adequate," the girl said, inspecting the cracks in her plating.

Dr. Morrison sighed. He'd explained this to the aliens time and again. Though their technological insight had provided the breakthrough necessary for his work, there were so many basic concepts the creatures struggled to understand.

"This is a prototype," Morrison repeated. "We will attach the rest of the organic matter once we have tested the basic frame. Please try flexing your fingers.

The girl looked at her hands. The redhead moved each finger dutiful, her eyes inspecting the digit for the first time.

Even though she was artificial, Dr. Morrison could not control his own arousal to the naked woman, even incomplete. The curves of her breasts were bare, dark lines connecting the flesh-colored plates that formed the large orbs. In the middle, where the nipples would be attached, held two black circles.

It reminded him of a breast augmentation surgery, when the doctor draws on lines with a marker. Only these black stripes were structural. The building blocks of a human had clicked and snapped together like Lego bricks until this manufactured Barbie came to life.

Flexing her fingers in front of him, controlled by one of these aliens.

Dr. Morrison could have cared less about the implications to the human race. What were they compared to the thrill of discovery? Here was life, standing stark and new, his own impossible dreams realized in the glow of the augmented Lithium battery above her breasts.

They continued the work, the girl responding to a series of reflex tests. The results were mixed, less convincing than he anticipated. There was no scientific reason for the lag in each command. The alien was simply unused to this new form.

Dr. Morrison sensed the creature's disappointment.

"Bipedal locomotion will take getting used to," Dr. Morrison said. "It took the homo genus a few million years."

"We do not have a million years for our task," the girl said stonily.

These entities took his joke seriously! Could they really live forever, substituting one organic material for another?

There was one final test. From the effort and expense put into designing her vagina, Dr. Morrison knew the creature's sexual intentions. Unlike the rest of her body, both holes were finished products, indecipherable to real flesh.

The girl sat on the examination chair, spreading her legs. Dr. Morrison gulped down a lump, forcing himself to awkwardly stare inside her vagina while those long, slender legs spread. She tried to open the plate in her wrist, and struggled, needing more dexterity than had been practiced.

He helped her, jumping back when the first tentacle sprang out between her unhinged wrist and palm.

Morrision had never gotten used to those things.

He knew the alien's organic material had been stuffed into this model, like a soft skeleton running an outer layer of humanity. As the director of the Caltech project, he was privy to the different designs and the exciting new research, many in the early stages of development.

All of their previous projects were on the scrap heap. The most advanced biologists and robotics technicians in the world had been gathered and proven wrong in an afternoon. New ideas ricocheted around the campus, every professor armed with a new project. Despite their initial misgivings, the aliens stayed peaceful. Apparently they weren't concerned about anything other than their robotic woman.

Still, no one spoke a word about their close encounter with this strange kind. Perhaps the other professors were equally detached. If anything, Dr. Morrison was more worried about violence from the general public. After all, these things were rather repulsive, even if he could recognize their inner genius.

The aliens certainly didn't seem all powerful. After a month of work with pieces of their technology, this model was the most rudimentary. He had deduced without daring to ask that many of the aliens struggled controlling anything other than the organic material they were accustomed to inhabiting.

He had seen a few of them, slithery, slippery, phallic-shaped tentacle creatures. None were quite like the thing swimming inside of the amniotic fluid coursing through the female shell. Still, despite the simplicity of the controls, the skin graft was perfect. If it wasn't for the black cracks and the plastic areas of skin, he could have forgotten the girl was a forgery.

He stared, watching rapturous as she moved her open wrist down, letting several strands of tentacles reach to begin circling her clit.

The girl held her hand over her sex, almost like she was masturbating without actually making contact with her flesh. The bulbous heads of nearly a dozen different tentacles slipped one by one into her pussy, spreading out her virginal hole with each tiny insertion.

Somehow the different bulbs managed to fit inside of her pussy without becoming tangled inside of her. Even lining the robot like a jumbled collection of veins, the aliens remained much more comfortable manipulating its usual form. Her wrist obscured part of the few, but Dr. Morrision could still see her lips parted wide. He stared, watching each of the miniature pricks pushed deeper with the slightest flick of her wrist.

He imagined them inside of her, tickling and caressing hidden folds inside of her canal with expertise only known to an individual acting on themselves. A dozen different heads, each no bigger than a garden snake, spread her open like a fist. If her wrist hadn't blocked the view, he could have seen a large protruding bump as the tentacles fucked her.

Morrison could feel the hard-on pressing up against his pants, adjusting himself as he sheepishly remembered his task. He looked at the tablet, reading the biometrics. Her face remained frozen, but every other reaction indicated an orgasm.

Her eyes blinked, cocking the head quickly to the side before returning to the same vacant expression.

She drove the heads from her tentacle hand further inside of her, working them in and around faster, her eyes blinking in a muted demonstration of another orgasm.

"This is adequate," the girl said.

Did he imagine it or was there some extra labor in her voice?

Either way, she did not stop, the tentacles flourishing inside of her as they reached their own finale. The girl adjusted, spreading her legs even wider. Dr. Morrison could see the drippings of white cum brimming out of her pussy as each tentacle ejaculated, filling her eager cunt with its insatiable seed.

One by one, the flaccid drooping tentacles withdrew. When the last finally slipped easily out, a large gushing puddle of semen seeped into the seat where the robot girl sat. She pushed her legs together, hiding her pussy from Morrison as the tentacles withdrew back into her wrist.

Later that night, Dr. Morrison found himself unable to concentrate as he worked with the data. Cock in hand, he pulled up the video log, watching the girl fuck herself again and again.

Chapter Eleven: Rachel and Ruby

"Please fuck me. Please fuck me. Please fuck me..."

Ruby would repeat it over and over again, her lily-white skin clammy and sweating. Her breaths billowed up her bare breasts in rapid, shallow, panicked moans.

Tattoo had rescued her.

He had not spoken, not directly, showing images of the gigantic jellyfish in the sea. Its tendrils were inserted in a thousand different girls constantly convulsing with orgasm after orgasm. My roommate had been attached for months, pussy, anus and mouth still dripping with the alien seed. She had been lost out there, claimed by the greater alien consciousness that remained after a splintering of minds, trapped forever in an endless cycle of sex.

Where her mind still stayed, battered and nearly broken through those continual climaxes.

I stroked her dark hair, watching her eyes dart back and forth from me to the fleshy tent we lay against. Every inch of the gelatinous cube was Tattoo, pink except for one black splotch. The alien effortlessly constituted himself into whatever shape he wanted, usually resembling a deformed octopus, complete with pulsing tentacles perfectly designed to be inserted inside of me. He could change to fit my mood, indulging in whatever sex act I craved.