In the altered dreamspace of the creature’s palace, I reclined on a golden chaise longe. It was large enough for the giant of a man to lay out behind me, continuing to piston one of his oversized cocks into my swollen hole. We’d been fucking for what felt like hours, strung together by a sequence of differing positions and sensations. I had bent over in a fountain, against a pillar– he even followed me down to the floor when I took a tumble, piercing my puffy slit to the hilt as his crazed body weight fell onto me.
In the dreamscape, the limits of my physiology no longer applied, softened by the fuzzy practicalities of dreaming perception. The giant found no trouble in fitting his massive length inside my human form. I could go for minutes without breathing, his second dick buried in my throat, only failing when I remembered the laborious and inconvenient instinct to inhale.
While I had gone through cycles of arousal, discomfort, exhaustion, and mindlessness, the man-illusion never seemed to falter in his wide smile and laser focused glare. Even now as I laid prone, his energy had not abated. While his stimulation of my tender prostate had coaxed many orgasms out of my cock, his own excitement never seemed to mount.
After a few minutes, the creature finally had to acknowledge that my limp body was tuckered out.
“You need rest.”
I blinked hard, bringing me back to the fucking. I poured my effort into turning my head to meet his gaze.
“Did you cum?” His face widened into a smile again as he let out a laugh. It sounded deep and masculine from his throat.
“No, and I don’t think I will for a while. That is ok. You did well.” I tried to feel proud. I had done what I was supposed to do, I guess. Though, I wasn’t made privy to the specific criteria for this experiment.
I asked him, “I’m resting now, aren’t I?”
“Your mind is. Your body has not had time. The ether is quelling your soreness. Do not worry, you will feel no pain when you wake.”
“When will I wake?”
His expression narrowed as he thought of a response. “When you feel no more pain.”
I was about to tell him that gave me no information, when I realized that ‘two hours’ or ‘forty days’ would be equally helpful. It’s doubtful the creature in front of me even knew the units of time I was familiar with.
“Will I see you then?”
“Not like this. The next time we speak properly it will be when you reenter the ether. We most likely will have some task set by our captors. Remember; I am your friend. I will do what I can to make things as comfortable for you as possible.”
“I appreciate that. I guess I’ll see you later.”
“Yes. You will. Goodnight.”
—
I awoke with a coughing fit, sputtering and heaving as my abs tightened. Below me was the smooth turgid membrane of the organic chamber. I opened my bleary eyes to see the mass of dark purple goo peeling off my thighs like bread dough out of a bowl. My hairless skin was slowly revealed until the gobs of slime between my toes slung back into the central pool. I sat up, taking time to stretch my arms out to my sides and behind me. My muscles were stiff, but flexible and rejuvenated.
The ether room was dimly lit, making the chamber appear larger than it was. I found myself a few feet away from the edge of the pool, splayed on the floor face-up. With a quick glance I found no other moving shape in the room, stillness only disturbed by the slow swirling of the fluid. I could only assume that the ether itself had thrust me out onto the surface, initiated by some operation of our mysterious and omnipotent experimenters. The air was quickly cooling my skin, wicking away the wet warmth that still clung to my body.
As the threat of shivering loomed over my naked frame, I thought about crawling back into the comforting ether. I drew my knees up to my ass and pushed myself up. I stood with a plethora of moans and groans as my calves, thighs, glutes, all sighed and buckled like rusted machinery. It was only when I went to take a step that my balance shifted unfamiliarly, sending me crashing back down to the slippery floor. I stretched for a minute longer, taking care to massage out the pinpricks that rippled over my muscles. I heaved my left arm straight into the air, examining the plump roundness of my biceps. My muscles had not atrophied, though their strangeness did suggest disuse.
I stretched that same arm sideways, wanting to dip my fingers into the womb-warm ether. Instead of the melting gel I had encountered earlier, the purple pool’s surface had jellied, elastic against my digits. When I flinched in response, the film bounced and curved, but the surface never broke. I tried pressing the palm of my hand in but was equally fruitless. Guess I’m not going back in, I thought.
I rose again, more steadily this time, and was more successful. I squeezed my glutes together to stabilize myself and felt sharp pressure against my prostate; it took a moment for me to realize that there was something in my ass. I reached behind me to feel at my hole, but found no protrusion. I did find, though, that my sphincter was more soft and pliable than it had ever been. It’s also the only place where I still felt the tenderness of pain after my bath in the restoring ether.
Driven to expel whatever is pressing against my insides, I walked slowly to the wall of the cavern and leaned against it, clenching my stomach as hard as I could. I could feel the mass moving, but nothing came out. I reached back, splaying my cheeks apart and digging a finger inside. While flexing my hole open, I worked myself up to three fingers, biting my lip through the dull pain of my stretched ring. An inch or two inside, just behind my prostate, I could feel something smooth and soft. I rooted around, searching for an edge or hold. There was nothing. I tried to grab it a few more times until the discomfort became too much to bear. I tried to push myself against the wall to rise up, but instead found my arm slipping back into the surface behind me.
I looked behind me, confused, only to find my right forearm had been swallowed by an unseen sphincter. I reached over with my left hand to tug at my arm, but as I pulled harder, the sphincter's pressure rose to match like a Chinese finger trap. I looked around for anything that might help, but the chamber was as featureless as always. Then, dreadfully, the sphincter began to pull at my arm.
I caught no friction between my bare feet and the slimy floor. Even as I threw my body weight towards the center of the room, threatening to dislocate my shoulder, the sphincter seemed to only ebb outwards, giving no distance and gaining on me when I’d lost my footing. I panicked as my shoulder was absorbed, darting my eyes around rapidly. I yelled “help!” to no one. I scratched at the sphincter as hard as I could, but my nails were short, and I never seemed to break through the thick membranous surface.
As my head was about to be swallowed, I remembered the translucency of the tissue, and scanned the seemingly homogenous surface for any inconsistencies. I locked my eyes on a dark blot just behind the wall. What’s more, it appeared to be moving towards the ether room. I craned my neck against the sphincter, sticking my free arm out above me. If one of my captors was entering, I wanted to see what I was dealing with.
What I witnessed formed a pit in my stomach. That dark blob entered first as single digit, sticking out of one of the many hidden sphincters. This was followed by four more digits, a palm, a wrist, and just as my sight was obscured by the fleshy clutch around my head, the hairless form of another human being was thrust from the sphincter, landing a few feet from the wall. I never found out what happened to that person, as my vision was finally obscured completely. My strength in bracing myself gave out, and the sphincter swallowed me, Charybdis-like.
My journey through the cramped, tight, undulating channel of tissue gave me some uncomfortable time to think about what I’d witnessed. Another person had entered the ether room. I’d been stupid to think that my situation was unique, that the others in the tubes were potentially released or spared or still in stasis. Any hopes that my compliance would afford me leverage sublimated in the wet, warm hug of the sphincter. Luckily, I had not much longer to travel, sensing the air on my slime-slick fingers. A few seconds later, the sphincter expelled me. This time I was somewhat ready and hit the floor with a roll, softening the impact.
I looked around, expecting the same spherical cavern that I’d entered originally. The first thing I noticed was that the color of the chamber was a deep, opaque crimson as opposed to the rosy translucent pink of the other membranes. What’s more, the texture of the chamber was wrinkled and rough to the touch. The slime which coated the membranes persisted here, though it was watery and thin. While the membrane had been sensually slippery, this corrugated flesh was deeply upsetting.
It was difficult to see with no soft light bleeding through the walls, but a singular dim light glowed white a few yards ahead of me at about waist height. It illuminated the wall immediately behind it, but the light died off before revealing any more of the chamber. The light, which was the only real centerpiece of the room, was the size and shape of an egg. It rested on some unlit pillar, which narrowed before it flared again at the chamber floor; its silhouette against the wall stood as a sharp blade of darkness in an otherwise diffuse tableau.
Beckoned by the almost artificial brightness of the bulb, I rose slowly, first crawling on my hands and knees and then sauntering. Two feet from the fixture, I leaned in to investigate. Up close, the egg-shaped tip of the tendril was transparent, permitting light to escape from inside. Running through the transparent tip, a centimeter below the surface, were two intersecting loops of bright light. They were imbedded in the tissue, much like the hypnotizing patterns found on the heads of jellyfish. I scrambled closer, watching the light paths dim and brighten, dilate and contract. My eyes, now only a few inches from the bulb, could see subdivisions in the bulb, an organic faceting that revealed beautiful diffractive symmetry. Below, the rougher, opaque skin covered the bulb’s meaty stem. At the apex of the bulb, a puckered opening split outward into three stubby lips.
The chamber was grotesque except for this beautifully alien organ. Even as I found myself teetering on the edge of losing my balance, I still moved closer. I dropped to my knees on either side of the tendril, meeting the bulb at eye level. As I leaned in, my eyes fixed on the curved light, my nose nudged the tip. In response, the whole tendril rocked back towards the wall like a sunflower bent by a gust of wind. Across the wall, the refracted light danced and mingled with the craggy flesh. The stalk swung back lazily, knocking me lightly on the nose. I pushed it again, lightly, and watched stupidly as it drifted away before returning. This time, though, the stalk brushed against my cock. The ribbed, wrinkled surface was unsettling, but still my penis swelled at the stimulation.
This gave me a new idea. I stood again, my semi-hard cock just above the silky-smooth bulb. I shifted my weight forward, thrusting the hanging head of my dick towards the light source. It slipped off, sending erotic tingles down my spine. The tendril swung away and back, lightly tapping my tip again.
I only recognized the heady humidity of the chamber after its effects on my body and mind had begun to take hold. The repeated grazing of my cockhead was reducing my mind to mush. I became less and less aware of my surroundings, the rhythm of my thrusting and moaning slowly taking over my working memory.
My face grew sweaty and warm. I panted, feeling every clench of my cheeks, every rut against the supple egg. My eyes, half-hooded, were fixed on the bulb’s brightness, following its oscillating pattern. My cock had grown to full hardness, veins of cobalt blue illuminated by the white light. A trail of precum snaked out of my tip, dripping onto the bulb before a glancing thrust spread it thin.
In my mindless lust, I decided I could try some other body parts. I looked down at my balls, hanging low and weighty under my erection. My sack, like the rest of my body, had not begun to grow back its hair. The skin, rosy and soft, stretched taut around my balls.
I lifted myself up on my toes, shifted forward, and gently tea-bagged the glowing bulb. The slickness drilled its way into my frontal lobe, releasing a desperate sexual energy. The bright light shone through my thin scrotum, silhouetting my crown jewels in their sack. The tendril itself sagged, the length of the stem bending into a smooth arc. As the light from the bulb ebbed and surged, beams of warm red light glowed against my abs and chest. I looked down, admiring my own package.
I shifted around on the ball of the bulb, letting my testicles rest to either side, then rolling them over the convex softness. It felt like latex, and the sensation against the sensitive skin under my sack was luxurious. The ovoid shadow of my heavy testicle fell across my face as I continued to rub my balls against the alien mass.
My cock had grown steel-hard and I was ravenous. The thick air had me undone in minutes, just as before. After bouncing my balls against the tendril in every way I could, a stray shuffle lodged the bulb behind my sack. It softly nudged at my taint.
In that moment, I knew what I was supposed to do. I continued to rub against the bulb, shifting my hips forward and back. I reached forward with my hands, bracing myself against the wrinkled wall. I grabbed two larger folds in the flesh like rock climbing holds, torquing myself up and down against the bulb. I tried spreading my legs wider, but I needed the added height to sit atop the tendril without it springing out from underneath me. I continued to rock there, nudging the bulb towards my waiting asshole. Its slight touches reminded me of the soreness there, but I could feel the individual lips at the tip of the bulb lapping against my worked out sphincter, bringing smooth relief.
Removing my hands from the wall, I reached back to clutch the neck of the tendril. I stood on my toes, posture straight, and slowly lowered my heels to the gnarled ground. Holding the egg steady, I eased it against my loose hole. My face contorted in hazy pleasure as the thick, bulbous head squeezed its way into me. At its widest, I thought the pain would be too much. Half a second later my hole sucked the entire bulb inside, letting my muscular ring rest against the thin neck of the tendril.
The pleasure was near immediate. The pressure against my prostate pushed precum out of my cock, running a rivulet of clear sticky liquid down the bellend of my cock. The room was now devoid of light, the absolute darkness surprising me. Though, I didn’t need to see to know how to pleasure myself. My legs relaxed as I leaned forward again, resting both hands against the wall. It felt like a buttplug, tickling my G-spot as I rocked back and forth. I reached back to push more of the tendril inside, tongue lolling out of my mouth as I lost myself in the alien sex.
I ground my hips down against the bulb, driving it deeper. I thrust and thrust and… I was stuck. The bulb had stopped moving against the prostate, instead attaching itself to something inside of me. It was only now that I remembered the mystery mass in my hole; the bulb had clutched onto it, and neither were letting go of my insides.
In a panic, I attempted to pull myself off the bulb. I pushed my legs against the ground, but as I exerted force against the flesh, the tension in the tendril held. Whatever had bound the mass inside my ass was not decoupling despite my hardest push upwards. My struggles to pull it out only increased the pressure clutching my prostate, pulling a husky whimper from my agape mouth.
I leaned against the wall, pressing myself flush. The tendril simply bent in my direction, bulb lodged in my pink hole. The angle sent another pang of arousal through my system, loosing a number of lewd means from me. Falling to my hands and knees, clutching at the wall, a final wave washed over me and a spurt of precum shot from my cock.
I recovered for a few moments, letting my mind and body quiet their frantic routines. Taking stock of what I could put together in my delirium, I collected a few useful thoughts. I had something stuck in my ass. It was rooted to the ground. Pushing against it wouldn’t work. It was dark. I was horny.
That creature had told me he would be gentle with me. Maybe this was gentle. I tried not to overthink it; this is what I did now. I was a lab rat subject to sexual experiments at the whims of people I did not know. I didn’t get to know what was going on— this was the deal that I’d accepted when I spoke with him. I wouldn’t get to know, ever. I just had to deal with it.
I tested the limits of the tendril, half to assess my space and half to stimulate my ass. Crawling on my hands and knees, I made a wide circle around the anchor point. All the while, the limit-stretched tendril bore down on my insides. Thrice I was knocked to my elbows as I struggled to process the pressure on my insides. As I closed the loop, my path was ended back at the wall. There was no give anywhere around the perimeter.
I stood and began to play with my new leash. I found that standing and leaning away from the anchor point would engage the tension and start squeezing my prostate harder. At almost a 30 degree angle with the vertical, I felt the incredible pleasure wash over me as the tendril worked to stay buried inside me. My hands ran across my chest, finding and squeezing my nipples. Though the room was pitch black, my obscene moans and whimpers filled the empty chamber.
As I continued to play tug of war with the tendril, its pressure on my insides only continued to build and build. I was experiencing such extreme bodily pleasure that I failed to notice what was happening. It was only when I dragged my hands lower down my torso that I noticed a fullness in my belly which had not been there before. I froze, then rubbed the my stomach slowly. It had ballooned, a spherical protrusion in my abdomen. My mind caught up with my body all at once, and the incredible stretch of my guts hit me like a trainwreck.
I scrambled to grab the neck of the tendril and confirmed that it was pumping something up into the bulb. In cries of anguish, I pleaded to no one, desperate to escape the swelling plug inside of me. More fluid flowed inside. Pulling against the tendril didn’t work before and it definitely wouldn’t now, but I still tried and tried until my palms were raw. All the while, the pressure built.
I was heaving, hands rested on my knees, barely standing. And then, like the coming of the dawn, light slowly filled the room. My mind, possessed with the growing soccerball-sized plug in my guts, was slow to realize the gradual illumination. It was slower still to realize that the even, growing light was coming from my own body. I looked down at my stomach and saw the swelling I knew would be there, but was surprised to see two faint arcs of light barely making themselves visible. The brightness intensified and the same red light cast through the skin of my scrotum shone through my belly. Muscles were shoved apart, organs pushed upwards, as the sphere of light made my body its lampshade.
The light grew to the point of blindness, too intense to keep my vision trained on the protrusion for longer than a second. When it became intolerable, I instead directed my vision out to the room, eager to see if the sphincter that permitted my entrance would grant me egress.
Before, the walls had been cast in darkness, unreached by the dim white light the bulb had illuminated. Once inside me, the entire room was obscured. But now, in the light cast by this cruel organic fixture, I could see the walls.
At first, I thought they were studded with tiny gems. They glinted in the growing light like stars in the night sky. Then I thought they could be the openings of sphincters, more numerous and small than the ones I’d been through before but plausible in their homogeneity. In only a few minutes, the wicked light was bright enough for me to put those theories to rest. What I was looking at were thousands of tiny eyes, each on its own stalk, each staring at me.
I contained the urge to throw up. I looked down, trying to avoid their glare, but the blinding light shocked me into recoil. I shut my eyes, breathing in the darkness. Though, even with my eyes closed, my lids could not block out the strong light.
I opened my eyes shakily again and saw that yes, they were still there. I realized they had probably been watching me since I had gotten there. I tried to speak and signal to them, but they did not falter. Each dark and glassy eyeball was trained on me.
I felt my cock dribbling precum below me, but I could not see it over my glowing distended stomach. Instead, the pressure on my prostate coaxed more fluid from me, running like a tap now. I tried to reach for my cock, but found it difficult with my inflated torso. Any movement threatened to shift my guts around further, sending my body into lunacy.
Instead of my hand, I felt the familiar grip of a tentacle around my shaft. A few seconds of slithering and the tentacle had coiled around the entirety of my length, giving it an exploratory squeeze. I was instantly brought to the brink of orgasm and released a litany of whimpers. I had to shut my eyes tightly, as the light inside of me grew too bright to endure. I felt the dreadful seconds pass, too long, before a second squeeze had me on the edge again. Now, as time droned on, as the immense pressure inside me pressed on my prostate, as countless eyes watched me, the tentacle coiled one last time and reached down my piss slit. One final constriction was enough.
My orgasm ripped through me, squishing my guts against the intruder, muscles flexing and unflexing. My toes and fingers spread apart as if electrified with sexual charge. The strain of my cock pumped semen down the tentacle lodged in my urethra. I gasped and yelled with the force of my pleasure, forgetting the voyeurs and letting go of restraint. The orgasm left me happy and lightheaded, only semi-conscious of the bulb of light inside of me. As my mind returned to me, I took note that the pink inside of my eyelids were dimming to their normal brown-black void, and I cautioned a glance. The light was indeed dying, fading as slowly as it had surged. The pressure inside me began to diminish, bringing with it much needed relief. I laid on the floor, face up, the tendril sticking out of my ass like an aux cable. I felt the bulb constrict, restoring blood flow to parts of my body that had numbed after my climax. I looked up, behind me, to the wall of eyes that was fading from view. Soon, they were once again merely glints of starlight in the grey darkness.
I rolled over, rose to my hands and knees, and pulled against the bulb. This time, predictably, it dislodged with a squelch, swinging back up to its true neutral position. I felt at my hole, finding it lax, but not broken or damaged. I stuck a few fingers inside, exploring the cavity. I found the squishy mass firmly attached, not to my prostate, but deeper inside against the anal wall. I tried to move it, but it wouldn’t budge.
I sat there, naked and spent, for as long as I needed to. My body was still sore when I went to get up, but the thought of being watched by those thousand eyes moved me to action. I stumbled across the wrinkled floor, too tired to care about its disconcerting surface. At the far side, I pushed at the wall with both arms, looking for the exit. On my fourth try, I was successful, and slipped into the tightness. I waited for my body to be dumped out the other end, no longer bothering to land comfortably. I could feel consciousness fading from me. I slowly rose and walked the distance to the purple pool. In my last waking act, I turned away from the goo and let myself fall backwards, enveloped by the warm, thick fluid.
