Red Light

Co-written by nilla and Will Redbud.

thanks to my friend and fellow author, Will Redbud; that was an inspirational little exchange we shared the other day! This collaboration evolved organically–I shared the story with Will, and He tweaked it (yanno, since He *is* the custodian of Tentacle and all). This is the result of our little “ping-pong” story. (and who doesn’t like a little of that ‘back ‘n forth’ action, right? *wink*)


“Look at that!”


“That! Right there on the bottom of your screen. See it? It’s a little red light.”

“Oh, you see it too? I thought it was some giz….mo….on…my…new… puter….i.. feelfunnylightheaded…

He gave an exasperated moan as she blipped into thin air.

:You shouldn’t have made me do that…she’s a friend, dammit!:

The red light popped off his monitor. He shook his head and kept the window open. Damned the beast inside.


She popped into an unknown  space. Yes, Popped. That was the only way to describe it…like that neat old video from ah-ha where the girl falls into the cartoon. She was dizzy, disoriented. Off in th e distance she could see things…they almost looked like book covers, or displays in store windows…but they were all graphically pornographic. Not that that bothered her any…

There was a faint sound behind her.

She turned quickly.

“Who’s there.”

A soft voice in her head spoke.

:no one:

Quickly she turned again. Nothing…though she may have seen something out of the corner of her eye. Running didn’t seem to help. She got winded and got nowhere. Up in the corner was the vague shadow of a couple…copulating. She could see the tassels on the girl’s hat moving with each vigorous thrust of her companion. She heard it again.

“NO. Really. Who the HELL is there?”

:No, really, no one:

Something slid over her shoulder, something slipped up the insides of her fleece pj bottoms. There was a tickle around her waist, up under her bathrobe. She was suddenly unable to move, as yet another arm rose up to her face.  It…giggled in her mind.

:Hello, yummy woman:

“Nooooo…Not…Not you!”

The laughter was intoxicating, subtle and seductive.   She shook her head.

“No. I know you. Yes I do. You don’t want me. I ate garlic last night! I don’t like kittens! I’m not some nubile virgin sacrif–OH!” She gasped as the twining thickness around her thighs pressed against the warmth of her center.

“You wouldn’t. You COULDN’T! I’m NOT YOUR type….” This last was uttered as a wail as she was penetrated. Her lower lips gave way before the persistent pressure of the thick-headed shaft. “Ok, ok, maybe I am, just a little — your type. I mean, fine — I mean FUCK! THAT’S DEEP!” And then the second time she said it, she said, “Oh. Oh yes, fuck, that’s deep. That’s soooooo deeeeeeep, but can’t we just ─” her voice rose until it was piping little squeak “– just, maybe, process this a little befo─”

It was the last thing she could utter before her mouth was filled. Her eyes bulged, when at the last, she felt her final entry violated.

She was floating. Up off her feet, suspended only by tentacles, climbing, coiling, performing its eightfold coitus on and in her. She felt its laughter through its touch, and the need to possess, to take, to violate.

:Do you feel… violated?:

She groaned.

:Just asking.:

Twisted and turned, turned on and twined, she grunted around the thickness in her mouth, her hips undulating on his greedy impalement. She might have felt him filling her had she not fainted and swooned from the overwhelming orgasms that wracked her violated and defenseless body.

Not even a self-professed slut could keep up with this beast.


She woke on the floor. Some weird fucking dream that was, she thought, smiling at the double entendre. She’d have to get some of those details down, soon. It would be a terrific story for her blog.

Her old body protested as she rose from the hard chill. At last she stood, a yawn turning into a full-blown stretch. She froze in shock  at the gush of liquid spilling down her thighs.

Okay, that’s it, she thought to herself. What is *up* with skype?

Anti-virus she could handle, but anti-tentacle? She was going to download some right– or– she withdrew her finger. I could just make sure, she thought to herself.  I mean, it could happen again, and it’s good to be sure.

She <cough> reasoned.


He watched, waited.

There.  She was back. She was ─ oh my–quite disheveled and…he shook his head.


He spoke to no one in the room, yet to one in particular, that damned beast. It was likely coiled up and happily counting coup. Licking its chops, so to speak. He didn’t know. He ran his hand over his hair as he sighed. Who knew what that thing did, post-possession. Post deviant sexual encounter. Post-whatever. She looked okay, he thought, glancing nervously at the monitor.  He wondered if she’d ever talk to him again. He felt terrible…

:That was fun:

“You’re disgusting. You know, someday you’re going to get caught and I — as in me and not you — am going to have to clean up the mess. And where will *you* be? Oh, it’s just the beast inside, I’ll say. And they’ll say: Get the exorcist. And you know what else they’ll say: Tell that to all those poor, innocent defenseless wome — what? Okay, fine, female earthlings. Fine. And then they’re gonna’ exorcise my ass. Do you know how hard it was to get a green card for you? That” he stabbed his finger towards the computer monitor,  “was one hell of a performance for somebody” — his voice rose with a furious flurry of hands — “keeping — Hello!?! — a “low profile”.  He noted in the back of his mind, even with his rising ire with the beast, that his friend was coming closer in the monitor. She wasn’t smiling, or not exactly.

In a voice that sounded suspiciously elvis-like he heard the laughing reply.

:Thank you. Thank you very much…!:

He started to close the monitor. To hell with this! He paused, addressing the screen, that taunting red light blinking once again in the corner, damn him. His voice was close to a growl.

“I’m going outside”


“To shovel the driveway”

:You already shoveled the driveway:

“I’m shoveling it again!!!”

:Oh, look at that. It’s your little friend;  she’s trying to skype again.:

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, other hand on his hip.

“Just let me do the talking, okay?”

:I think she wants to go on the ride again…: