i swear I don’t know what Will Crimson said to inspire this little piece of drama…but it’s a very different style for me. there is NO female perspective here, at all. in some way it very much demonized what happens…so for that reason, a tiny dragon warning…~nilla~


“yeah, yeah, right there baby, yeah, that’s it, no, tilt your chin–aaah”



“yeah, that pout, oh baby, hold it hold it…”


“click click”

“Cant your head a bit..no-the otherway YES!”


“Now move, yes, over there. Careful of your heels on the grate…right, yes, up on your toes, lift that skirt hem a bit so I can see the shoes, right, right, you’ll need to have a care—are you scared of losing a heel or the monster in the grate? Right…perfect! Just a dose of nerves…yes, yes…HOLD IT! RIGHT!”

“Click click click”

“oh baby that’s fucking awesome…oh, nice hold that…a bit of shock there…”

it coils up through the wide grating. it comes at the click and whirr, ready, waiting–and just as He promised –warmth

“click click”

“Yeah, that wide-eyed look is great…no pun…yeah..hold it hold ittt”


sliding up the warmth, holding tightly, suckers gripping warm scented flesh. arrowing straight up and up and up to that warm moist centering, the suckers squeeze the venom into flesh

“Right, yes, spread your legs a bit, goood girl…yes, keep your mouth open, head back…I know, I know…it feels funny, but keep your face beautiful…”


“Perfection! Slide your tongue out now, yes, ignore him and lick your lip, slowly, yes, eyes half-closed there…”


it pushes aside the flimsy fabric keeping it away from the wet entrance, and begins to taste of the sweetness. it pushes deeper, eager to curl deeply into the warmth, spreading and filling the tunnel with its cool, meaty flesh

“that’s right, relax into it, you feel it now, the need in your blood. Hot, you’ll get hot, and I will catch each sweaty drop with my camera, and my tongue…yes, let your head fall back, look at your tits swell…”Tentacle-Doorstop_24910-l

“Click, click”

“Your nipples are so engorged. He likes that. Hell, *I* like that…”

“click CLICK”

“Yes, up on your toes, good. Reach your arms up and grab that rope to hold steady. Legs wider…”


“nice, lovely. The shoes look good on here, we’re almost done with the printwork for this ad…and the rest…….”

“click click”

“…are for my personal collection. Ah, he’s found your nipples…he holds them so tightly doesn’t he? You’d never guess that a tentacle could grasp and coil so tightly…jesus look at your tits jutting…He’s giving you a ton of juice, isn’t he?

wrapping her milk glands tightly, he coils around each nipple, suckering it tightly. small pearls of milk leak from each, which he absorbs through the sucker. His invading member fills her hot chamber even deeper, as a second seeking tentacle finds the tightly closed second entry. He knew her resistance would be like the others; it was to be expected that the human would resist. that was part of the enjoyment of taking this hole

“Bend over now, I’ve got you, yes. That’s right. It makes it easier for him to get deeply inside you if you bend…oh lovely. The camera will auto shoot every 15 seconds, so we’ll get every moment of this on film.”


“Open your mouth now, yes, take it. My cock is so fucking hard–love watching Him fuck you while you suck my dick…”

he reaches a third tentacle, twining up his servants thigh. Male humans were much tighter than the females, but just as much fun to invade. the tip of the tentacle almost trembled with excitement as it joined them together, pressing deeply into the male’s anus

“Ohoh…yeah baby…jesus he’s never been this fat before…he’s fucking my ass…suck it baby suck it hard…oh fuck…”


squeezing the venom into the male would keep him from ejaculating too soon. He wanted it to last a long, long time. The female would ejaculate many times before He would allow his tentacles to fill both humans…He enjoyed listening to the male’s whimpering as his cock engorged and he could not find release. It made his anus squeeze in frustration, effectively milking the tentacle buried in his bowels. The female’s mewling sounds inspired him to plunge and fill her with increasing vigor. A tentacle wrapped her waist, holding her securely, even as his servant used her mouth-hole. Another tentacle began to wrap his servants cock, squeezing it around the base, around the hanging bollucks, corkscrewing up and around the hardness he had created.

“oh fuckfuckfuck, baby, fuck…oh fuck I hatelovehate when he does this…my fucking cock…fuck…yes, suck the head. Ohfuck He’s going to use your mouth too…oh fuccckk…please….i need to cummm”


ignoring the servants pleas for release, he tightened around his cock. the whimpers became short screams with every pulse. the tip of his tentacle slid down her throat, spewing thick yellow juice into her belly. She thrashed on it, and he pulled away, allowing breath. sweat beaded on her flesh, which the servant lapped up. His tentacles squeezed more milk from her milk glands.


“you taste so good…your sweat is like his taste. He’s filling you, isn’t he? His tentacles are so thick, so fat, so rough as they pulse and slide in and out…my asss…oh fuckkk…my cock…he’s gonna break it…fuck fuck PLEASE…..”


“SUCK MY COCK YOU FUCKING WHORE…eat his tentacle, and suck it ..suck it…oh FUCK I”M COMMMMMMIIIINNNNGGGGG”

releasing the servants cock, he felt the jolt and spew of the human male’s release, deep into the throat of the female. They filled her belly with their juices, even as his tentacle began pumping hard, preparing to fertilize her belly with his babyjuice. Eggs and semen filled her, popping her belly full of the roe, coating her insides with the thick yellow fertilizer.


“oh fuck baby, so fucking good…”

He filled the males intestines with more juice, cementing his ownership over him. his servant was a good boy. he would allow him to play with their new toy, later.

“ouh! I hate when he…sorry…he won’t let me touch you anymore…now it’s just him, him and you…let me get some pictures…his tentacles are so beautiful engorged that way…so green when he’s turned on. He likes you, girl, likes you better than any I’ve brought him before…”



“Yeah baby, your mouth open wide, listen to you panting as he pushes those eggs into you…can you feel it? your belly growing full of them? His spunk smells like honey…he’ll seal you up –it will stay inside of you, your belly all puffed out and full of eggs…”


“oh babe…yes, yes, love your eyes half-closed like that, just a hint of blue there, your lips all swollen from my cock pounding your mouth, look at that ‘i’m being fucked hard’ face…”



“cum…yes, I want this picture…cum hard on his tentacles…”




drained, he slides out of her holes, leaving her filled to the brim with his ‘gift’. in a week or so, they would hatch, and swim round her belly in his semen, which he would replenish several times a day. Then she would squat, her hole over the grate, and release them to his tender care. Perhaps,  he would take her again, right then, filling her belly once more. He would bide his time.



They met in a bar in a mutually convenient location. First dates were always fraught with tensions on both sides of the table. He wanted to run his finger down the curves of her little black neckline, to see if her skin was as soft as it looked.

She wanted to be loved. Nurtured. Stroked.

She wanted to be wanted.

He wanted with a ferocity that was mind-boggling. There was one goal here. Score!

So much rested on the end of the drink. Would she have another? Or be on her way.

Three hurricane cocktails later they were laughing, while under the table, the press of his dick against his pants was painful. He enjoyed the pain, the promise of pleasure. He noted her nipples pressing against the thin fabric of her dress, she noticed him noticing.

She might have blushed, or maybe it was just the flush of the rum, but what the hell. He took her hand as they walked to her car.

“Follow me home. Please?”

She bit her lip. Following him home meant that she would likely stay through morning. She nodded, biting her lip, then giggled as she almost fell over when she leaned into him for a drunken kiss. He grabbed her before she went over, steadying her.

“Wait a sec…I think you shouldn’t be driving. Come with me…” His voice was tender with concern, and she kissed him again before sliding around him. The rush of sex-need was intense.

“Hurry,” she whispered as she nibbled his earlobe. He put her into the passenger seat, then buckled himself into the driver seat. He shifted, trying to ease the ache in his groin. It had never been so intensely hard. She must be sending off some powerful pheromones. He waited while she stabbed the seatbelt into place.

It took three tries.

With a flourish, she finally sent it home, the click as loud as clapping.

“Did it!” she giggled.

“At last,” he thought as he turned the car on.  She wasn’t sure what they talked about but it was not all that long before they cruised into a driveway, the dark open maw of a garage before them. He drove in slowly, put it into park, then unbuckled both belts. Drawing her across the seat, he kissed her with a hunger that reignited her own rum-fueled passion.

Fumbling, stumbling, they made it up the three steps from the garage to the kitchen, into the house, down the hallway. A long line of discarded clothing, mostly hers, left a trail. He kissed and pinched and fondled her breasts. She must have liked it for in moments she stood naked, back to the wall, arms stretched over her head.

“Ravage me, you beast,” she half-slurred, arching her back and thrusting her ruby-tipped tits towards him. His fingers grabbed and twisted, but the rougher he handled her the more she arched and growled.

He could smell her arousal, see the silver glint of it trailing down her thighs. His hands grabbed handfuls of tit, kneading the fat roundness, rubbing his still sheathed cock against her belly.

“Do me,” she whispered, biting his earlobe. “Take me hard, rough. I love it rough. Fuck me brutally you beast!”

Grabbing her hair he almost threw her across the room to his large bed. He smacked her ass as she landed on her side giggling. She moaned deeper as he battered at her bottom, her back arching, ass rising into each slap.

The heat from her ass cheeks, now a bright cherry red, excited him and he began to pant with need.

“I want to tie you, rape you, fuck you like you deserve,” he grunted.

‘Yes, yes, hurry. Tie me, fuck me, take me, you demon. Use me like a fucking whore…”

“Yesssss,” he moaned, dragging her up the bed to wrap her wrists painfully tight with the rope that he’d put there earlier, hopeful.

She growled as the rope bit into her flesh, hurting and exciting her simultaneously. In moments he was tying her ankle just as tight, stretching her leg wide. She’d never been tied so tightly before. She felt her nipples clench tight, her pussy so wet, so needy.

“Fucking hurrrrry. I’m dying for your cock.”

He turned and slapped her pussy hard, striking repeatedly. She cried, she kicked at the mattress, at him, with her free ankle. He grabbed it with one hand, while continuing the assault on her pussy.

“Come,” he demanded, slapping hard and hitting her clit. With a scream, she arched, whimpering prayers to nameless deities as she came again.

“That’ll hold you at least for a minute, you greedy slut!”

Hurriedly he tied her other ankle as her pussy pulsed and drooled.

Rising from the bed he shut the light and finished undressing.

“Hit me again you fucker!” she yelled, tugging at her restraints, thrashing her head. It was hard to see him in the room now, with the only light coming from the hallway. He moved towards her, mounting the bed, crawling between her thighs. His cock slid across her leg.

“What was that, you bastard? HIT me!” she demanded.

“My cock wants your wet holes, you little slut. Just as much as your holes want my cock.”

“Not my ass!”

“Oh yes, all your holes. Every one, mine!”

He laughed, then leaned forward and slapped her tits. He admired the bounce with every blow, the red imprint of his hand, the tight crinkle of her nipple. He laid atop her, and she felt his cock between her thighs.

Growling, she wanted it in her, dammit, she still rose as his mouth latched onto her breast, sucking and biting. The probing at her cunt made her freeze. Several somethings were probing. She felt a poke at her asshole, her pussy. Something fat and flexible probed at her, and he grunted around a mouthful of tit.

“Wha…what the…fuuuuck….” 

Her head arched back as she was suddenly full, both holes, with twisting, twining somethings.

He pressed his lower body closer, grinding his pelvis against her, moaning.

The fullness moved deeper, into her pussy, probing against her cervix, a painful excitement building there.

“Oh…oh fuck…” she drew a deep breath as the thing in her ass shoved deeply into her bowels. Past caring what it was, the sensations of dual-fullness, of pain in breast and belly ground her into an intense orgasm.

“Yessssssss!” He moaned, the first hard spurt shooting through and filling her belly with his seed. He filled her, filled her, filled her to overflowing, as dick in her ass and pussy pulsed hot jism into her.

Arching, receiving, feeling bloated and full of him. So full of him. He bit her nipple, bit her tit, and she welcomed it, reveled in it. Orgasms wracked her body, as she absorbed his juice, until spent, she slept.

She woke.

He stood beside the bed, and she stared at the place where his cock should have been. A small nubbin was there. Just that.

“Wh-what?” Feeling like she’d woken from a stupor, she stretched. Her body felt languid.

“They fall off after I cum, then grow back. The longer I go before I have sex, the more of them grow. Last night I had two. You seemed to enjoy them.”

He smiled at her.

Reaching out to fondle the nubbin, that was almost visibly growing, she smiled up at him.

“How long does it take to grow back?”

“Depends on the inspiration,” he replied with a wink.

“Beat me, you fucking bastard!” Dropping the empty juice glass onto the night stand, she thrust her finger at him.

His cock grew an inch when he slapped her inner thigh.

* Yes, there really is a drink called a Hurricane Cocktail: 1 oz dark rum, 2 teaspoons lime juice, 1 tablespoon passion-fruit syrup. Shake in a cocktail shaker with ice, strain into a cocktail glass.  url here: Hurricane Cocktail

** with special thanks to Donna, my scientific guru, who provided invaluable data to me about a species of sea creature that does indeed shed its penis after copulating, only to regrow another quickly. Some of these incredible creatures can thus copulate 3-4 times in 24 hours. Horny little devils. (my kind of creature!)

and yeah. blog vacation. fail. again. 🙂 The idea of it seems to be inspiring a lot of these “interesting” stories, however.  ~n~

The Visitor (5)

warning: graphic tentacle sex today…oh. wait. You like that. Sorry…carry on! ~nilla~

She tossed, twisted. Her wrists were wrapped in something cold. Not slimy, not wet, but slick. She was reminded of snakes, and that curious musty slickness that their hide had. Thick coils from elbow to wrists encased her arms, holding her hands over her head as she lay helpless.

She hated feeling helpless.

Yet she was loving this. Maybe. She was confused. Her body bucked at another teasing stroke between her pussy lips. Was she awake or dreaming? It was like those medication dreams when she felt hot and cold, and couldn’t tell what was real and what was not.

Her breasts were wrapped too. Squeezed so hard she felt the discomfort of it clear down to her cunt. A tingle in her clit, which seemed strange, with every pulsing squeeze around her tits, around her nipples. It felt like they might pop, so hard were they wrapped, in that same slick coolness. What a stark contrast, the heat of pain wrapped in the chill of the beast that threatened to consume her.

Or threatened to overwhelm her with sex-need.

It was a raw feeling, to want so badly. It had not penetrated her, and she was frustrated by it.

Just fucking do it! she wanted to shout.

Or even, just fucking do me.

Instead, she felt the cold grasp around each ankle. Rather than tugging her feet wide apart, dropping her legs over the edges of her bed, they were pressed back until her knees strained at the intense bend, as her heels touched her ass.

And then the heavier coils wrapped around her knees, folded frog-like, until they fell open toward each hip with the weight of the tentacles tightening there.

She was open, exposed, and still he…it…whatever it was, hadn’t fucked her. Always before, in these sick dreams of hers, he’d plunged into her pussy, making her cum and writhe and beg and want. This time was different.

A tentacle began to explore her. She felt the pencil thin tip stroking along her lower lips, even as another brushed her mouth. That one slid into the bottom of her nostril, almost making her sneeze. She shook her head ‘no’, and it fell away for a moment, before pressing up, wriggling deeper.

Her heart hammered hard. She could not stand the feeling of this sort of invasion.

“No…” she moaned, and the thing, miraculously,  slid out of her nose, but quickly entered her mouth. No. It wasn’t the same one. This one had a bulbous head to it, reminding her of a cockhead. It was big, and there was a thick fluid, like a milkshake, leaking from it. It pressed deeper into her mouth, the warm fluid filling her mouth fast, and she swallowed.

And swallowed.

And swallowed.

It seemed endless, the liquid. The more she drank, the more she wanted, the more spilled from the strange appendage. She felt…euphoric. High. Better than any wine buzz, she was suddenly burning with the need to fuck. Her pussy swelled and began to ooze. Her clit throbbed painfully, needing touch.

As if it could read her mind, she felt a firm stroking along that sensative nubbin. She moaned around the thing in her mouth, still swallowing, almost gagging. Her tummy was full of juice, feeling like she might puke she was so stuffed.

And then it stopped, the flow just ended, and the thing in her mouth slid out, though a tentacle, a real tentacle this time, slid inside. It coiled there, pressing her tongue to the bottom of her mouth, circling and coiling into a thick mass, bulging out her cheeks. Her lips stretched painfully, and she couldn’t make a sound.

She felt something pressing between her folds. It felt like that same appendage that had been in her mouth, a thick round head and her hips rose, attempting to lure it inside.

She needed to be fucked. To be fucked hard, furiously hard.

It pressed against her, and into her. The girth was more than she imagined, and had her mouth been free, she may well have screamed at the pain of being filled thusly. But the fluid she had consumed had done its job, making her crave even more of the painful tool to fill her, to use her as vilely, and roughly as possible.

She craved the violence.

She craved the pain.

She wanted as she had never wanted before.

With a hard thrust it was inside her and pressing deeper. Looking down, she swore she could see her belly rippling with the invasion into her pussy, felt it tunneling deeper. It pressed against her cervix and again she would have screamed. It fucking hurt. It hurt so fucking good.

She bucked her hips again and the thing withdrew, then slammed back into her, as if sensing her need for violence. It rut into her roughly, her body primed and wet and wanting everything it gave. Each punch into her body was another thrust deeper into craving. She arched as the first orgasm gripped her hard, as a tentacle wrapped around her throat cutting her breath and bringing her to the edge of consciousness.

And then it relaxed, and she stole a breath, and another, until clenching again in an agonizing climax.  She couldn’t stop it. Wouldn’t have if she could have. Her ass hit the bed and she felt the wetness oozing from her, the sheet drenched from her opulent juices.

And then the sensation of being stretched impossibly wider, as a slender tentacle pressed against the thing in her cunt, seeking entry. She shook her head no, fearing she would be split in half, but it pressed, and there was pressure on her clit and she came in a paroxysm of ecstasy, losing her resistance, allowing the intrusive fingerling to enter her.

So full.


Such a dream.

So full.

Gawwwwd….and her eyes clenched as the tentacle pressed upwards into…through her cervix, opening her, opening her belly. A quick surge and she felt something press up and through the thing in her passage, something. She fainted as she orgasmed again.


It pressed the egg up and into her warm nest. In this region of the galaxy, this next generation would need to adapt to a warmer climate, or all would be lost of his kind, for eternity. He withdrew the egg tube, feeling it collapse and pull out of the female bipeds hole. In moments it was replaced with his sperm generator, and he felt the throb deep inside.

This was the part he had looked forward to. He had carried the egg within his DNA, as he had been designed to. But this, the ultimate fullment of the male? This is what he longed for. He felt the rising tickle as he thrust into the body cavity, felt the flaccidness of the female.

waken, he urged into her mind

He wanted her to feel the cold spray of his semen as he filled her belly. It was the filling of the victor, to feel her belly under his arms swell with the sudden influx of his jissom. He needed to watch, to touch as she bloated with it. The conqueror, the seeder, he would not be denied his destiny.


She was groggy, and her pussy hurt.

Hurt good. Hurt bad. Filled, so filled. Thickness, the worlds biggest dick in her. Fucking her. Plunging into her belly. The painful sensation of something in her belly, not just her hole, but through the opening of her cervix and into her womb. A painful stabbing as she felt filled with…something.

She shivered, feeling cold from the inside. Her belly was cold! Her teeth might had chattered had her mouth not been jammed full of rubbery tentacle. Her legs might have twisted had they not been wrapped in slippery arms. Her hips might not have risen if not for the pervasive need for more, more fucking, more fucking more….

She fainted as the pain in her belly grew more intense, like a need to burp, full of gas. Full of something.


He kept her mind quiet, as her belly took his load, moving from a flat taut abdomen,  to a sharply round, mounded circle. He kept her contained, a tentacle tip inside, stirring the mix in her belly, of the egg and his sperm, making certain that there was full contact between the two, ignoring her moans and whimpers as he tormented her body.

He knew when the connection was made, felt the small spark as the egg was pierced, fertilized and ready for fermentation.

He withdrew from her body, allowing the unused fluids to seep from her. She would be sore in the morning, sore from his use. She would know that something had happened. That she had been utilized. That she had been, as she spoke it, fucked. It was a possession of the most personal to these bipeds. She was his.  It pleased him that she would move today and feel reminders of his presence with every step. Her mammary glands would ache, her birthing hole would ache, her button would throb from the after affects of the mating juice he had fed to her. And yet….none of this should matter to him.

Yet, it did.

She was his.

The Visitor (4)

Only been 5 weeks since the last one…not too bad, for me, at any rate! You can read the prior chapter here. ~n~

The dreams were getting to her. She moved through the days feeling groggy and snappish. She wanted to get back to bed and sleep, dammit! She growled at Larry, she frowned at Moma; it was frustrating as she was normally pretty easy-going.

“You just got the mid-winter blahs is all,” said Moma as she sat on the couch watching her favorite soap opera, knitting an afghan for the Methodist Church Spring Fling Fair coming in April. She taped up a full weeks worth of shows, and spent her Friday evening watching the entire week at once.


She only knew a curious restlessness. Outside, snow lay thick and crusty from days with warmth, and nights with bone-chilling cold. It had been a very strange winter, sixty degrees one day, and subzero the next.

The seeds had been ordered for the spring sowing, Larry had all the equipment tuned up and ready to roll. Everything was poised. Waiting.

“Why don’t you turn in early tonight? Have a glass of wine, or maybe one of my p.m. pills to help you sleep.”

“Moma, it’s only 830! And those pills are for your arthritis, not for sleeping.”

“We do what we must,” said Moma with a sly grin. She couldn’t help but laugh a bit.

“I thought you had a date tonight.”

“The prick canceled on me. Second time this month. He’s dead to me now.”

Sarah stared at her grandmother, shocked. And then saw the little quirk at the edge of Moma’s mouth. She exploded with laughter.


“One does what one must,” Moma repeated pedantically, sending Sarah into more giggles. She plunked down beside the elder woman, hugging her hard.

“You always know what to say-either that or you’re just a wiseass.”

The two women laughed, Moma kissing her cheek tenderly. Rising, not wanting to interrupt Moma’s cherished soaps, Sarah moved to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. Blowing her grandmother a kiss, she went down the hall to her room, the sound of female screeching from the tv a strange comfort.

It was heading into March;  only a few more weeks until the early peas would be planted, and then life would burst free from the cold and drear of winter, and hint at the promise of spring. It would start slowly at first, with the fuzzy gray catkins of pussy willows popping along the brook. Then the crocus, all glorious purple after the sere black and white tones of winter would start appearing at the edges of the house gardens.

As Spring progressed, her favorite event of the season would unfold. Her mother’s legacy of thousands of bulbs planted hither and yon never failed to break the last of the winter doldrums as they  exploded in golden splendor. It was always a joy to move around the farm and find a surprise bunch of daffodils tucked in a hidden corner.

And by then she’d be too fucking busy to mope, anyway.

With a sigh, she set the wine glass on her dresser, and began to undress. Might as well lay in bed. She could masturbate before she slept, which might help forestall some of those fucking dreams. Fucking dreams, indeed, she mused. Of late her mind had taken a sick twist and begun to fantasize about tentacles holding her down, of being fucked relentlessly, helpless to stop the beast that plagued her through the night.

It was gross. And still, incredibly exciting. She felt like one twisted bitch, thinking of things like that. Still, the internet was peppered with stories of that ilk for a reason, right?

Her mind on her dreams and not her actions, she sent her shirt, rolled into a little ball,  in the general direction of the hamper. Taking the time to fold her jeans, she placed them on the side table. She shook her head, shrugging off the undeniable appeal of being fucked brainless. It was a dream, albeit a twisted one, but still, only a fantasy. Things like that just didn’t happen in real life.  A careless toss sent undies and bra  towards the hamper; for a moment, the panties hung at the lip by the crotch before sliding in a silky purple puddle to the floor.

Naked, she rolled her eyes. Of course they’d fall out of the fucking thing. She gathered up the things, stuffing them inside, then grabbing her wine glass, she popped off the light switch and moved across the room in the dark. It was cold and she hurried under the warmth of her flannel sheets and thick comforter.


It stood in front of her window, motionless, invisible, when she had entered her room. For weeks now he’d been adjusting to the warmth of the house. It was uncomfortable, but manageable. If the heat caught him out of the cooler pond for too long, it would not be good.

The force driving him now was one of biology, to procreate. There were no words for it, no emotions,  just a raw burning need. He’d spent this time preparing her, for she was the best candidate of the three bipeds. He’d sent tendrils into her mind, controlling her dreams, making her body loose and languid and ready for his seed.

Watching her take off the coverings that she wore had been exciting. He knew the bipeds wore them to fend off the cold, that they had a very low tolerance for the temperatures that he found very comfortable. It had surprised him that she’d come here so quickly; he’d barely had time to freeze in front of the window. When the light went out, he shifted quickly, moving the fetid draught in the carbon container out of her reach. He watched her hand move around searching for it, but he pressed a thought into her mind and her hand became flaccid, falling limply to her side.

She shifted, legs opening, arms moving up under her pillow, exposing her body, her mind under his control. He took the carbon and placed it into the bowl of water in the water room, letting the dark purple poison swirl as he depressed the lever. He felt her try to waken at the sound of the toilet as she called it, but he pressed harder into her thoughts, inserting the image of his tip stroking the button between her bipedal locomotive devices.

“from thought to deed,” he mused.

With a soft moan, she settled.

She was ready.

So, now, was he.

The Visitor (3)

prior chapter here (yup, it’s been awhile!)

The north wind roared down from the Canadian uplands, throwing drifts of snow ahead of it like so much sugared frosting. The hills of Western Massachusetts were coated by midnight, as the trees shivered in the gale. Sneaky fingers of cold, dry air puffed down the chimney, crept through cracks around windows and doors, and made Sarah and Moma huddle close to the woodstove. The electric had gone off hours ago, the strong gusts of wind likely tearing down branches and power lines. Thankfully they had propane for the cookstove, and plenty of food put up. The cold cellar would hold their perishables through until the coolers came back on. It wasn’t at all uncommon for this to happen in the winter.

Sarah was glad she had finished chopping wood earlier this afternoon.  A goodly pile of wood was laid in here nearer to the stove,  but later she would have to go outside and haul in a few armloads for the morning. It was cold enough already that she was dreading the task.  With the wind scouring everything in its path, some areas were bare ground, while other area’s piled on deeply. Snow fetched up in the leeward side of the barn, 6 inches deep or more. Finishing her tea, she grabbed up her barn coat, her scarf, and her hat. Nearer to the door were her “wood gloves”, thick leather that would not let her take any slivers in tender flesh from the raw wood.

“You sure we don’t have enough for the morning already?” Moma hated her to go out, though Sarah wasn’t sure if it was opening and closing the door and letting drafts in, or worry that she’d be blown to Boston!

“Moma, if I don’t, we’ll be chipping ice off the toilet by morning.  When the wind is blown out, the temp is supposed to drop below zero. If I wake up in the middle of the night, I can stoke the stove then. And then we’ll be short and have to go out in our jammies.” She shivered at the thought.

“Well, be careful out there, girl. I’m going to bed. Sleep well, my darling.” Standing on tiptoe, Moma rubbed her cheek against Sarah’s, then whispered “I love you, honey,” before turning and heading down the hall to her bed, the glow of her flashlight brightening the darkened hallway.

Sarah tugged her scarf up over her nose and mouth, until she could barely see. Despite the storm and the night, snow did curious things in the dark…there was plenty of “snow-glow” to see by. She stepped into the mudroom, and girded herself. Opening the door, the wind tugged it out of her hands and slammed it back shut. She had to lean all her weight on it to get outside. What an assache it was going to be to bring the wood in! She’d not be able to carry many pieces if she had to manhandle the door every damn time. She trudged down the stone path to the neat stacks of cordwood.

Pausing, she went on full alert.

She thought she heard…something. The wind howled viciously around the corner of the house. Maybe that was it.  Or maybe it was a cougar. People claimed to see them up here from time to time, despite the fact that they’d been extirpated a hundred years ago. Still, she doubted one would be out and hunting in this sort of weather; everything was hunkered down in their dens, except, of course, for her.

She walked alert for any signs of movement. All she saw was the skirling motion of snow caught in the wild eddies of the wind. She grabbed 3, 4, 6 pieces of wood, then turned. Had there been something there? In the shadow of the house? Her heart kicked up a notch and she held the pile loosely, except for one piece that she could brandish as a weapon, if need be.

It watched her from the shadows. She had nearly seen him, coming out of the  house unexpectedly as she had. The bipeds had never come out of their den before, into the darkness, not since the weather had turned more temperate.

He loved the wailing winds here, the sharp bite of the air, the swirling snowflakes, all reminding him of a home he had never been to. Yet his ancestral memories were of just such a place as this.

He watched as she froze again. He wondered, for a moment, if she would come to him, but watching the nervous way she held the chunk of fibrous material that she had been beating at earlier in the day, he could see that she was in hunting mode, and not sexing. Yet he could not resist studying her. Remaining still, she would not see him, as he blended in with his surroundings.  He knew that she used this as fuel to warm her hut, understanding that she was terribly weaker than he.

Knowing that made his tentacles curl in mirth. He’d begun inserting thoughts into the heads of the bipeds. Thoughts that would begin to stir them into a state of preparedness when he would be ready to enter their domain, and interact with them. That time was almost here.

Stepping onto the porch, she dropped her wood, and made a quick sprint back to the woodpile for a second armload. This time she carried one of the pieces with her…just in case. She felt silly, but also safer with it. The shiver wasn’t caused only by the cold, but by the persistent feeling of being watched.

It took several trips, bracing the door with her foot, to get all the wood inside the mudroom. It shut with a fierce thud, and she was doubly glad to be inside. The mudroom was cold enough to see her breath in, and the thermometer on the wall read 18 degrees.

Shortly she had her wood stacked inside, and a cup of tea brewing. She had  a great book to read about time travel on her kindle, and had warmed a rectangle of soapstone on the woodstove. Wrapping it in flannel, she carried the warming stone to her bed to put her feet upon.

She fell asleep with the light on.

Visitor (2)

(It’s been a while since part one…you might want to read that part again….. ~n~)

Corn season was done, the fields had been harvested. The dairy farmer from Otis had come with his big silage machine, cropping the stalks and trucking them away. They paid in the traditional way of farmers, a handshake and a promise of shared bounty. He got the corn, she got manure, milk, cheese, and the occasional steak.  One hand washed the other, as Moma would say.

But that was done, and the fields had been sown in with winter rye, to sweeten and enrich the soil. The autumn rains had been fierce, breaking the long, dry summer heat, and causing the farm ponds to spill their banks and leak one into the other. There’d been a week there when she’d come close to blowing out the dam on the home pond, as the water rise was close to threatening the house and barn. They’d even brought Larry in from his apartment in the barn just in case. Thankfully, the rain had eased, the water levels dropped, and life returned to post-harvest chores. Closing up windows, putting up garden produce, dealing with the fleece from the few sheep she kept for the wool only got the top of the autumnal chore list done. Now it was all about finishing up the wood pile. Three cords was not enough to see them through the winter. She and Larry took turns chopping wood that they’d pulled out of the woods back in the spring. After spending time seasoning, they needed to cut them into wood stove-sized pieces, then quarter each chunk of log, then stack them neatly in cords, close by the house for use this winter.

The wind grew chilly, making her shiver. Chopping wood warms twice, she recalled her Dad saying, once while chopping, and then later by burning it. She actually thought it was three times. Gods knew she was sweating as she carried split wood to the pile. Yet every time she stopped for a break, she was reminded that it was November. The wind carried a sharp bite to it, a promise of cold. The air tides were shifting, and soon, frigid Canadian air would rocket down the spine of the Berkshire mountains. She hoped there’d be some good snow this season; this remote area of Massachusetts counted on those skiers from the big cities for a great deal of their annual income.

Grabbing her thermos, she poured some tea into the mug, and wandered down to the pond. The geese had come, then gone. Something had gotten to one of them, she noted, seeing a few feathers around the ponds edge.  It was far from molt season. Likely a yearling lost its battle with a snapper, or a wily coyote had gotten lucky. They didn’t usually come that close to the house, but then again, pickings were getting lean, with the chipmunks and other burrowing critters staying in their dens during the colder days.  She walked the perimeter of the pond, checking the dam for leaks. Thankfully there were none. Next summer, when the water levels of the upper ponds fell, they’d barricade each pond, and make the repairs in the breaches caused by these late storms. Farm pond two had suffered a significant breach, and the tiny run-off brook had flowed hard through the hole in that dam for four days during the worst of the rain. That meant that pond three and four would have some damage as well. And that meant that this pond, home pond, would have borne the weight of all that water. Yet, this dam had held back the flow. Sure, she may have come close to pulling the lever to “blow” the dam if the water had risen any higher. But the pond had taken the extra water, and held strong.

“Dam good,” she said out loud. And grinned at her own sally.

There would be a ton of work to get to once the fields had been sown. Dam work wasn’t always fun, hard on the fingers, the feet. The ponds stayed pretty chilly, even in late June. She sighed into her mug, and  her exhalation became visible for a moment. She opened her lips wide, blew again, watching the puff of breath dissipate. It made her smile, remembering how, as a kid, those first cold days when she could see her breath…how exciting it was.  Now it was a harbinger of hard, cold times ahead.

“And if you don’t get back to chopping wood, it’ll be even colder, you dummy,” she admonished herself, each word punctuated by puffs of white cloud. She was just dog tired. Autumn work was hard work. And she’d not been sleeping all that well of late. Maybe she needed to get laid. Gods, those fucking dreams. She shook her head. She was not going to think about them just now. Still, her clit flared to life for a second. Fuck that. She had wood to chop! Throwing the last of her tea into the pond, she turned and strode away.

The biped had come to him! He was excited by that. He watched her from bottom of the pond. She never guessed at his presence just below her. He lay still, watching her, fascinated as always by her alien body. Two legs, two arms. Poor deformed creature, he’d thought at first. He had come to realize, after finding  others who resembled her, that she was one of the norms here. The other creatures…those he could ignore. Lower life forms, they were food. But the bipeds…as he sank into the depths of home pond, as she had named it in her thoughts, …the bipeds were very interesting. And her in particular. He curled into himself, wrapping his many arms tightly round his vulnerable center and rested, waiting for nightfall.


For Master….thanks for the inspirational pic that birthed this one!   Love, nilla

No one paid much attention to meteorites that slid through Earth’s atmosphere anymore. It happened, now and again, that some erstwhile stargazer would see one streak through the skies, and jot it down somewhere, perhaps on the NOAA website, or in a personal blog. And some lone hiker may find an interesting rock while hiking and bring it home.

In the wee hours of  July 22nd, not many were out and about to see the single light flash across the sky, and fizzle out. It was too soon to go out and look for the Persieds…they didn’t stream across the sky until August 11th. That it landed with a small splash in a forgotten lake in the uplands of New England drew no special attention, except for a few curious fish.

The meteorite was quite small by then, of course, after surviving the heated descent through the blue-black skies of the third planet of Sol. It settled into the debris of the lake, not far from where the main current carried fresh water out to a lower series of lakes, and eventually, the reservoir. In the dark, cold depths of the mountain-fed lake, water began to permeate through the oddly shaped space debris; its warmth, compared to the deep chill of space, began to stir the first frissions of life from within. In the same way that a pine cone releases seeds after a forest fire,  a single fertile seed  within the chunk of  riddled stone was awakened by the heat from the meteorites fall. It began, after eons adrift in the dry and frozen outer skies, to grow.


Sarah pulled her overalls over her workout bra.  It was hot as hell today, too hot for a tee-shirt. This was just not a normal course of events here in the hills of western Massachusetts. Usually the rolling uplands were unaffected by the heat that plagued the mid-west, and any that bubbled north from the southern states tended to hang in the Connecticut River valley. It was going to be hell to head out to the verdant corn field that needed to be harvested. Winter had been mild, the ground had warmed early, and this first-of-the-season harvest was much-anticipated in the town below. Usually Pittsfield residents had to wait until August for their first taste of  “summer gold” as corn was jokingly referred to here.

She pulled her hair into a fast ponytail, then coiled the thick mass up into a hair clamp. Pulling on cotton socks and her battered sneakers, she slipped out of her room as the sun slipped up over the horizon to mark the new day.

“Hey Moma!” she leaned in and kissed her grandmothers weathered cheek. No matter how early she herself got up, her grandmother was always up before her.

“Get yourself some food, there, little girl.” It didn’t matter that Sarah was almost 30. Her Moma still called her little girl. She smiled, then served up some tender pancakes, crispy bacon strips, and a spoonful of scrambled eggs.

“Moma, you shouldn’t have done all this in this heat. You should be staying down at the senior center while we’re steaming. Go on down today and drive those boys wild with your fancy dance moves! I can drive you down, or I can send Larry back  to the house to take you in. I mean it. Don’t shake your head at me, Bettina Carmichael.” She gave her Moma the “hairy eyeball”, which made them both giggle.

“I won’t be responsible if Mr. Jim Donaldson falls dead with a heart attack when I get up to boogie.”

“Nope, won’t be your fault at all.” She smiled into her coffee. Mr. Donaldson was 80 if he was a day, and had a sweet spot for her grandmother. She figured out that they’d had a blazing affair some years ago, but her grandmother was not a “keeping” kind of woman, and she’d dumped the poor man. He continued to pine for her, which amused her Moma no end.

She finished up, pointing a finger at her Moma. “Senor center. All day. If it’s hot tonight, then stay in town. Macy will put up with you, unless you find yourself some frisky thing to play with.

Her grandmother giggled, a sweet, girlish sound. Shaking her head, she grabbed her work gloves, and headed out. Her grandma was a regular slut sometimes! Gods knew, Moma had more sex than she herself was able to find time for! She headed out to the barn, and found Larry just starting up the tractor for her.

“You got fucking ESP or what?” she hollered over the rumbling roar. Larry’s head popped up, his cracked front tooth gleaming.

“Mornin’  Ma’am!”

Sarah rolled her eyes. Larry was from Texas, and 5 years in the Berkshires of Massachusetts could not take the “ma’am” from him.  She hopped up on the seat, and told him to be sure to take Moma into town. Soon. She knew that the mannerly farm hand would do exactly as told, making sure her grandmother wouldn’t swelter in the heat. She wondered if Larry and Moma had…no. She wasn’t going to even think that. But she cast a glance at his retreating figure as he crossed the yard towards the house.  Just..no.


The July sun blazed down. She was pissed as hell that she’d forgotten her ball cap this morning.  Drinking the last of her water, she swung down from the seat of the tractor, and headed towards the bank of  Farm Pond 3.  Crouching, she scooped water and dashed her heat-ruddy face with it. Damn! She could feel the burn on her nose already. Rising, she looked around. Her family land went on for acres; there was no one around. Quickly she stripped from her sweaty pants and peeled herself out of the sports bra. Shoes and sox went next, and naked, she stood for a moment, letting the hot breeze caress her sweaty skin.

Turning, she walked into the pond. In the middle there was a faint current where the stream from the higher peaks ran through. Although there was a  half-dam to contain the water “just in case”,  they rarely used the farm ponds these days. The overflow continued downstream to Farm Pond 2, and a bit closer to the house, Farm Pond 1. She let herself sink into the cool depths, slowly landing on the bottom. Here was a bit of muck from leaves decomposing, and the gentle, cooler tug from the current, trying to push her downstream. Miles away, her ponds slid into a series of larger ponds, which emptied into the reservoir. She stood, her head breaking the water. There was a very startled water skater in front of her nose, who scuttled away with his “rowing” legs, across the top skin of the water. In seconds he was snatched up into the sky by a hungry dragonfly.

She watched the short fight until the dragonfly was out of sight. Gods, this felt so good. She let herself sink again into the depths. She felt a fish nibbling at her belly, and pushed it away. Another bumped her calf. Fucking fish. They tickled. She rose up and walked towards shore. Her hair dripped into her face from her bun.  Her nose felt better. All of her felt better. She scooped up her water bottle, and carried it back to the pond, filling it.  She’d pour that over her head when she got hot again

With a sigh of regret, she dressed quickly, remounted the tractor, and putted back to the fields of corn.


It was small, in the brackish water it now called home. It had moved upstream, resisting the current, and growing stronger. In its larval stage it was nearly transparent, aiding it in hiding from the predators hiding in the ponds and streams.  If one looked closely, there was a faint shimmer in the water where its heart beat strongly. It swam around growing acquainted with every new place until it knew it, and then moved on.


Sarah parked the tractor behind the barn. The truck was here, which meant Larry could tow out the cart with today’s harvest.  She decided to take a short swim. Bowing to decency, and not wanting to unduly shock the older farm hand, she headed into the house, shucking her coveralls as she went. In her room, she grabbed a pair of shorts, and a towel, and headed back out behind the barn. Passing the tractor, she saw she’d left her cell phone and her water bottle behind. She snagged both as she passed, her stride long yet unhurried. Checking for any messages, she was pleased to find none. She left her towel and phone on the bank of the pond, and dove in. This main pond was a bit deeper, and a bit cooler. The stream ran in via an underground pipe that her father had  installed before she was born. The outflow stream ran fast as well, burbling over a stone slow-down, which created a small waterfall. The sound was cheery in the early evening. The sun was hovering at the tops of the trees, and bats were starting to slip out and gobble the first of the mosquitoes. The clouds turned pink overhead, as she dove and bobbled in the refreshing pond. No hot tub for her, nosiree! Nothing beat a cool down like this after a hard day.  A good day, with the corn in the upper fields gathered in, and ready for Larry to take down to town. She played a short game of “retrieve the water bottle” throwing it across the pond and swimming over to fetch it, stretching tired muscles. Finally, she opened it, pouring out the contents, then headed out. Refreshed, she was finally ready to head in and start her accounts.

She rapped on Larry’s door.


“Corn’s in. Can you take it in and see if Moma is ready to come home, or if she’s going to spend the night? Then your clock is done, ‘kay?”

He nodded, then, picking up his hat from the peg next to the door, slapped it down, and headed out for town. No one but Larry would wear a 10-gallon hat up here in the north, when it was 90-plus degrees. She smiled to herself as she let herself into the house.


This pond was the coolest of any it had lived in. There was much to eat, and it grew fast; faster than the lifecyles of those native to this planet. In a day it doubled in size. In three, it was even larger. By weeks end, it was nearly full grown. It was beginning to lose its translucence. The blood of it was a muddy red-brown color and was clearly visible through its nearly clear arms.  It had nine thick tentacles, with a bulbous, rounded head. It’s single eye could see many spectrum’s of light.  The bottom of the muddy pond was as clear as day; moonless nights were just as bright.  It lay on the bottom of the pond when the bipeds were about during the yellow time of the day. And at night, it left the pond, and roamed. 


Tanked (9)

She was feeling a bit woozy. Not surprising after all those wet dreams during the night. And gods she was so fucking horny. She blamed William for that, for his fucking sexy mouth, for kissing her in the hallway, for breathing, for fucks sake.

She glared at him as he watched her strip, then allowed herself the vanity of sauntering so that her hips swayed, so that her swollen pussy lips rubbed together, so that her full breasts bobbled. She climbed the short steps up to the rim of the tank, and yelped, almost falling forward as his hands grabbed her hips.

Her fingers wrapped around the silver railings on each side of her, as his hands slid around her waist, and up to her tits. He cupped them, lifting them as if weighing them. He bit her shoulder, hard, making her yelp, his fingers finding her nipples swollen and begging for his touch. He licked at the bite he’d made on her flesh, fingers pinching hard on her hard little buds. She knew there would be a mark there. It throbbed in time with the pain in her tits, the pleasure leaking from her pussy.

She so fucking hated him, the perv!

He let her go, pushing her gently between the shoulder blades. She slid somewhat bonelessly down the steps to stand,   legs quivery with the unexpected outburst of lust, on the platform where she kept her supplies.  He passed over a bucket of the tiny fish the squid liked to catch and stuff into their beaks.

She leapt into the tank, hoping the water would cool the heat raging inside of her. Her shoulder beat dully where his teeth had marked her. Rising up through the water, she saw him there on the platform, peeling off his shirt.

It was a fucking shame that he was put together so well. Her eyes followed the long, dark arrow of hair that disappeared behind the waistband of his chino’s.  She wiped the runnels of water from her face, realizing that she’d forgotten to peg her hair up into a bun. Dammit! Their tentacles always got tangled when she wore it loose, and they swam merrily off as she winced and whimpered as her hair was tugged loose from her scalp.

“Throw me a pony-holder, will you?”

He turned, looking at her.

“What do I get out of it?”

“I’m not here to bargain with you, perv. I just need a pony holder. For fucks sake, would you just give me one? It’s right there on the hook.”

“Oh, this?” He slid his finger under a bright pink scrunchie. “These are so 1980, Casey.” He made his hand into a pretend gun, pointing the scrunchie at her. She reached up a hand to grab the expected launch, when he turned, and fired. It wound up on a potted palm.

“Oh, that was fucking helpful.” She growled at him. “C’mon William, stop acting like a 12-year old.”

“But I am a 12-year-old. A very horny 12-year-old. Come and get it, little Casey.” He held the spare scrunchie out over the water.

“I’m not a fucking dolphin. I’m not swimming over there and jumping out of the water for it.  You’re a bastard AND a perv.” She flicked water at him, but he merely laughed.

She dove down into the water. It was never possible to see out of the tank. She was careful to not go too deep; she didn’t know when the guests were arriving, and she didn’t want to be a public display of female nudity. She figured that would upset the uptight and proper Mr. Withers no end. She imagined fainting ‘grande dames’ and the sweat-beaded upper lips of top-hatted gentleman. Kicking hard, she broke the surface of the tank. She saw William sitting on the ledge, and ignored him.

In moments, she felt the familiar upsurge of water against her feet that presaged Sid’s arrival. The warm water swirled around her, and in seconds she felt the familiar caress of a tentacle around her ankle. Her skin was so hyper-sensitive to touch today. Maybe all the salt-water was getting to her. She flushed as the tentacle coiled up and around her foot, twirled up over her calf, and again around her thigh. Her left leg was encased in tentacles, the suckers ‘kissing’ their way up her leg.

The throb, deep in her cunt, was unexpected. Sid always greeted her this way. Sometimes he’d tug her head below the water, if he was feeling frisky. But today, the touch turned her on, made her hot and trembly. She rubbed at the tentacle tip as it reached her belly, extremely aware that William was sitting on the ledge, watching.

She wanted to tune him out completely, ignore the bastard, turn her back. But Sid kept her still in the water, facing him. Her breasts floated at the surface of the water, and she saw his sardonic grin as he, very blatantly, oogled her.

“You can stop that at any time,” she growled at him.

“Come over here and make me,” he taunted her.

“You really are a fucking 12-year-old,” she grumbled, frowning fiercely.

“Operative word there is “fucking” I think.” He ran his hand over his groin suggestively.

“You wish, perv!”

He nodded slowly, staring at her tits, then her face, and rubbing the very obvious bulge in the front of his speedo’s.

“I do wish. Very much. Right now I’m imagining my cock sliding between those bulbous mounds of yours, until I cum all over them. Spray those tits, your face with my juice, and watch it drip off your nose.”

She shivered. The water was warm, but she was suddenly steaming hot. Her nipples peaked again, and when another tentacle slid between them, she could not hold back the moan. Her body a pulsing riot of lust, she watched Williams hand stroking his thick cock, imagining it where Sid’s tentacle slid. Imagined the thick, purple head of it bumping her chin, her lips. Imagined the salty tang of cum on her lips, the tight grimace of sex-release on his face as he spilled his seed on her.

The first tentacle was half-way in her pussy before she realized what it was. By then it was far too late. Sid had encased her other leg tightly, then gently, subtly, parted them. The tip twitched and moved inside of her, rubbing and twirling all those sensitized nooks and crannies. Her eyes locked with William’s as her asshole was similarly plundered. A tentacle tickled her ear, another rubbed her lips. She was, quite suddenly, filled with Sid.

When the tentacle withdrew from her cunt, she felt a sense of loss. She was so horny. So needy. She throbbed. She burned. There was liquid heat in her belly, and the need to explode.

Something larger poked at her leg. Looking down she saw a silvery white tube that she’d never observed before.

“Oh my gawd…he has a….cock…” she moaned.

“Of course he has a cock. He’s going to fuck you brainless.” Williams words did nothing to still the fire building between her thighs. She couldn’t quite ignore him, but she was suddenly focused on that giant, bulbous head.

It pressed against her pussylips.

“It won’t fit!” she yelped.

“It will fit, trust me. It will fill every inch of your pussy. He’s got one in your ass to hold you steady, but he will press that giant cock of his into you, whether you want it or not. But we both know you want it. You crave it. You can’t wait to be split on it.”

She took a deep breath against the sudden upwelling of sex-need. She’d never felt this turned on in her life. She had no idea she had hormones flowing in her blood, aiding the fire in her loins. She only knew she had to be fucked.

“He’s going to push that big dick of his right up into your belly, and rut with you. He doesn’t understand you, only that he needs to fuck you, as much as you need him to plunge that fat, rubbery, slippery thing inside of your heat. He’ll feel it, that burning inside your cunt.”

He all but spat the word at her. Cunt.

She shivered again, such a dirty word. But he was right. She wanted it, craved it. She moaned, long and low, as the giant octopus pressed his cock between her lower lips. She could not resist, he held her open, pressing inexorably upward into her body. Her hole stretched, and her mouth opened to emit a loud keening cry. It hurt! So big. Too big…she couldn’t…

It went on, and still he pressed up and into her tunnel. He felt cold, and rubbery, like…like one of her big dildo’s. He twisted, adjusting his angle, and the rubbing hit every single nerve ending, stretched taut. Her asshole burned as the thick appendage up her shitpipe pulled her open, wider than she had ever been before.

The beginning of her first orgasm came with the tiniest tickle of the tentacle in her asshole. Had it stroked deeper inside of her belly? The thought of that tentacle traveling deeply into her bowels grossed her out. She imagined the coiled tangle of her intestines filled with the thick, twisting arms of the beast that held her tightly, unable to resist. Unable to push him out. Unable to move. It fueled a deep, primal fear of being invaded. It ashamed her that it also, however sick it was, turned her on.

The cock pulled out, just a bit, twisting. She wondered if her pussy was too tight for him, and if he’d stop. Geebers she hoped not.

Wait…what was she saying…she didn’t want this. To be fucked by an …The tickle became a tidal wave as the cock slammed back inside of her, brutal and hard. Her cunt clenched down on the invading rod, squeezing it, until she felt every vein, every nodule along the thick, pulsing shaft. She came so hard she blacked out, head lolling back in the water.

“Way to go, Sid,” congratulated William, his tone pure sarcasm. His slow, hard handclaps roused her.


In the viewing areas below, all the carefully arranged chairs lay in disarray. People crowded the windows, looking up.  A woman, skirt rucked up around her waist, hands pressed against the cool glass, was being fucked from behind, as she craned her neck to see the tentacled beast ravaging the woman. Another woman held the cocks of two men in her hands, jerking them off as her tits were brutally molested.  In viewing area 5, three men were roughly fucking Marie, the maid, who had brought in champagne on a silver tray. She may have complained but the thick shaft buried in her throat prevented speech. Her ass and pussy were as violated at that slick cunt in the tank. How she hated her! Soon, all rational thought fled, as she served more than bubbly to the men in the small room.


Mr. Withers sat in his comfortable office. He could watch each of the viewing areas, and the activities in the tank, thanks to a series of cleverly hidden camera’s. His own cock was twitching just a bit, which was quite unexpected. He turned his attention back to his accounts. The hefty fee paid by each of the 122 visitors should more than aid in continuing to fund his Giant Squid rebirthing project.  He hoped for a successful outcome with the eggs planted in Ms. Butlers receptive womb. He looked back at the monitor, imagined that slender pussy, impaled with that giant cock. He felt no remorse for her ordeal. She would be well compensated for her time and purpose. His cock twitched again as he observed yet another orgasm shake the girl.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

“Enter,” he ordered, curtly. The staff had been told to not disturb him. The gardener’s assistant, Frederick, poked his head in the door. A young, strapping lad of 23, Mr. Withers felt his cock leap to life as he stepped inside at his wave.

It wasn’t long before Fredrick was under Mr. Withers desk, performing a very un-garden-like task. The sounds of sucking and moans filled the spacious office, as sunlight streamed through the tall windows.


She thought she had died from pleasure. He had fucked her forever. Her pussy was swollen from use, and the water around them was cloudy with cum and semen. Slowly the tentacles had withdrawn. One held her gently around her waist, supporting her.

The first contraction shocked her. Her belly heaved, and for one second she thought she was going to throw up. There was a tightening along her stomach, and her toes curled. Sid squeezed her waist gently. She felt a pop. Then another. A series of pops, all coming from her cunt.

She was scared. He’d broken her, and now she was dying…something leaking from her pussy. She looked into the water, expecting to see blood.

Small, round orbs, each the size and color of ripe plums were floating around between her legs. She counted six. Another contraction, and two more popped out. She could not believe it. It was …otherworldly. Like a science fiction tale.

She was laying eggs.

One last contraction. One last pop. One last egg.

There were nine of the little fuckers. Gently, Sid pushed her over to the ledge, where William helped tug her out of the water. She was drained, boneless. His arms went around her, supporting her. Together they watched Sid gather up the eggs, and dive down into the depths of the tank.


She awoke in the pearly dawn. Something heavy was on her chest. She blinked, trying to clear sleep-sand from her eyes. She tried to stretch, but she was definitely pinned.


His voice was deep, foggy with sleep. A large hand covered her breast, but the fingers clenched around her, pinching her nipple.

“go back to sleep.”

It was William.

A wide yawn overtook her. Not certain why she was still so tired, she curled into him and slept. Tomorrow was far enough away.

As she fell back into slumber, his arm tugged her closer to his body, tucking her into him.

She smiled as his lips pressed against the back of her neck.

At peace, she slept.

*The End*

Tanked (8)

She paced back and forth, cupping her elbows with each hand.  She’d circled the tank twice. She’d seen Sid rise, his aquamarine eyes looking at her quizzically, it seemed.

That kiss. It had sizzled all the way to her toes. She hated him. He was a perv. A pain in the fucking ass. 

So, she wondered, why hadn’t she slapped his smug face after they broke apart? Why had she stood there for long seconds, looking up into his eyes, feeling that…that.. thick, heavy heat in her belly. There was no way a perv like him turned her on.

And he was smug.

She hated smug guys. Okay, some people might call “smug” by another name, like ‘confident’ or ‘self-aware’, or even ‘capable’. She wasn’t buying it. He was smug. She’d stepped back, eyes locked on his, lips burning from the pressure of his. And the nipping of teeth. Her mouth tasted of him.

He moved one hand, and she evaded it. Turning, she all but ran down the hallway to the stairs. She’d half-expected him to follow, but he hadn’t. After all, she was just a quick fuck for him. She shook her head. Damned if she was going to be a notch in some asshat’s belt.

She was annoyed. Angry. Horny. Annoyed. Just annoyed. Not horny. No. As if it would help, she shook her head. She paced over to the tank, leaned over.

“I’m coming, big guy.”

She saw him fanning his tentacles, furling and unfurling them, before jetting himself downward. He was nearly garnet red today, and she wondered if squids…er…octopi…molted the way snakes or ducks did. Perhaps that would explain the deepening of the color? Mr. Withers didn’t seem at all upset by it, despite her pointing it out to him several times.

Just as she reached down to peel off her dress, the elevator doors opened.  Of course.

“What now, perv-man?” she said, going on the attack. He held a can of energy drink. He ignored her remark.

“Dad sent this up, suggested it might give you bit more energy. He said you looked….strained.”

She frowned. Strained? She was tired. And being with these three men was exhausting.

“He’s an old man, Casey. Humor him.” He’d never used her name before, and the sound of it from those lips sent a stab of lust right through her clit.  Which made her frown. He leaned against the side of the tank, not far from her. He set down the drink, pushed it towards her with one finger. “I’ll even promise to not touch you while you drink it.” He raised a sardonic brow. “You’re not scared of me, after all. We both know what happened downstairs, and it wasn’t fear. Nor was it…disinterest I felt there,  inside my mouth. Felt more like …your tongue. And then there were your nipples…”

“Cut it out!” She blushed, furiously. Her nipples throbbed and rose. Snatching up the drink, she quaffed it down quickly. He very obviously oogled her tits as she drank. She wished she didn’t feel the hard slam of lust deep in her belly, like a coil twisting round and round. Her pussy swelled, imagining that thick, hard cock pressing inside her cleft, pressing hard.

He wouldn’t be a gentle, easy fuck.

No, she was sure he’d be a hard, rough, dark and dirty fuck. Finishing the drink, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, tossed the can back at him. She needed to not think about William and fucking in the same thought.

“There, you can take the can back to Daddy and tell him that I complied.”

“Thought you were heading into the tank?”

“I am. As soon as you disappear.”

She gritted her teeth as he smiled that smile again. The smarmy one. The smug one. She wanted to punch him so badly that her fingers curled up into little fists.

“Nah. I’ll just hang out up here and make sure you don’t fall asleep in the tank. Wouldn’t want you to drown…”

What else he was going to say was cut off as the door opened. Dominique, the maid, came up to them. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see she had the hots, bigtime, for William. His expression cleared, dropping in stern-ish lines that brought to mind his father.

“‘scuse me, William, but your father asked me to give you this note.” She made a show of tugging a folded piece of paper from her boobs, handing it to him and dragging her finger across the back of his hand. He ignored her, opening the note and reading it. Tugging  a pen from his shirt pocket, he wrote a fast note then handed it back to her.

“You can give this back to him.” She continued to stand looking up at him, taking long, slow, deep breaths. He didn’t so much as glance at the heaving bosom.  Casey was amazed that he wasn’t taking the opportunity to leer at the young woman. She could see the dismay cross her face, as she turned reluctantly and headed back to the elevator. The doors closed, leaving them alone once more.

He glanced at Casey, understanding her surprise.

“I don’t fuck the hired help.” His tone was curt. It was the first time she’d ever seen him this way, and she couldn’t wait to tweek him on it.

“Really? All that free tit just waving under your face, and you were uninterested? Go ahead, tell me another joke!” And she laughed, insultingly.

He glared. “Never a good idea to mix business and pleasure. She’d lose her job when I decided I was done fucking her. And she is not my type. She’s far too…obvious. Besides, I happen to know she’s been fucking my brother, the cook, and the gardener’s assistant.”

She blinked. Really? The girl had looked …well. If not innocent, perhaps not quite so…wanton? A thought occurred to her.

“Hey! You kissed me. I’m hired help here…”

He shook his head, that smile at the edge of his mouth again. The one she wanted to kiss…um…slap…away.

“You are many things, Casey. But not merely ‘hired help’.”

She swayed, feeling funny. Gods she was so tired. And her skin burned. She flapped her hand at him. As she pulled her dress up over her head, baring her body to him, she failed to notice him look at his watch.

It was time.


(i heard that…the sound of voices yelling “nilla! for fuck’s sake!”…but just like a delayed/deferred orgasm…it’s better for the wait… come see me tomorrow…for as we all know…good things cum to those who wait! *unrepentant grin*  ~n~)

Tanked (7)

okay, you asked, and i’m giving it my best shot to make a longer chapter here…and you all know that Thursday is HNT day, and my Master *orders* me to show my half-nekkid bits then, right? (not that the exhibitionist in me minds that order, btw!). So, no moaning when there is no Chapter 8 on Thursday. Unless you’re moaning over my picture, that is! LOL! ~n~

For the first time in weeks she wasn’t happy to be at her job.  It seemed that she was really missing her silicone boyfriend a lot more than she should. She was horny, uncomfortably so. And maybe there was something in the air, because twice she’d unknowingly walked into trysts in corners, or in unoccupied rooms. She’d turned quickly and exited the room, but not before seeing waaaay too much of the caterer’s crew. Then again, maybe caterers were always like that. Sighing, she moved back through the main viewing area, tidying chairs that had been moved by the fucking food troops. It was starting to piss her off- every time she thought she was done, she’d make a quick check and there would be something to fix. And she had been putting off going to see if Mr. W was back in his office. She’d tried, but the first time she’d knocked on the door, there’d been no response. She’d peeked in, just in case he hadn’t heard her, but he was not there. She’d decided then to look busy, and earn her keep, as it were.

Gods, but she was exhausted. She felt drained, thick and heavy. She had no idea how she’d go into the tank in the next hour and not drown. She stood for a moment, then, decided to take a break. She sat in the front row of chairs, watching the tank. A swirl of clown fish mesmerized. Her lids drooped, and she laid across several chairs, and fell asleep.


“found her,” William spoke softly into his cell phone. “View area 3. Sleeping.”

His father’s voice came clearly, ordering him to leave her to rest as her body incubated their precious cargo. He was told to stay there and watch her. 

There were more unpleasant tasks than that of watching a sexy woman sleep. 

Her tits almost poured out the top of her summer dress. One long, bare leg stretched out straight, while the other was bent at the knee. The fabric of her dress followed each curve, outlining her most succulent folds. It had been all he could do last night while assisting his father to not reach out and rub those fat pussy lips. His cock stiffened at the memory. 

He tried to remember that the pheromone output from the tank was enhancing everyone’s sexual desires. His cock didn’t give a shit about the science. . . pressing hard against his chinos, fighting the restrictions of cotton and zippers, all that rigid bone wanted was to bare those legs, revealing the hidden chamber where pleasure hid. He wanted to sink, balls-deep into her hot, wet, steaming cunt, and pound her until his body was drained of every ounce of juice.

Swallowing down the desire, he stepped back to the door, hoping distance would calm the raging inferno in his groin.


She woke abruptly. Her eyes opened to see Sid, plastered against the window in front of her. Sitting up stiffly, she yawned. Rising and stretching, she put her hand against the cool glass.

“I’ll be up in a minute, Sid old boy.” She broke off, yawning fiercely. The nap had been unexpected, but refreshing. She felt like she could still sleep for a few hours, but the unsettling, deep fatigue had eased. She wondered how long she’d been dozing. She’d gotten out of the habit of wearing a watch these days, falling into the simple schedule of tank and tidying. She twitched the chairs she’d slept upon into a tidy row, then left the room.


She met Mr. Withers as she was heading upstairs.

“There you are Ms. Butler. Please, come to my office.”

She hoped that she wasn’t going to get sacked for the strange little incident earlier this morning with Wyeth.

“I did come down right away, Sir,” she began, her voice sounding nervous, even to her own ears. “But you weren’t here…” she fell silent, swallowing nervously.

“Yes, I was called away by the caterer.” He ushered her into the opulence of his office. Shelves loaded with well-worn books, subtle lighting, and today, the curtains were drawn back, giving a view out to the side garden, where all that one could see were manicured lawn, flowers, and the serenity that only the outdoors could bring.  There was something soothing and comforting about this room, and she knew instinctively that Mr. Withers spent a lot of time here. And who could blame him with the unbridled heat between his two sons. That had to be wearing on a man of his age. She wondered why the two men didn’t work harder to put aside their differences, and give their father some peace.


He gestured to one of the comfortable wing chairs, and not one of the “stern” chairs by his desk. He sat across from her.

“I am certain that you were upset by the …” he paused, searching for the right word. “The boys, this morning at breakfast.”

She didn’t snort, but she did blink. Boys? Why, they were full-grown, able-bodied men.

“That’s okay Mr. Withers. I have brothers and I understand the rivalries that they get into..”

He cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“Still, miss, that does not excuse your behavior. You cannot be unaware of the lure of a naked female body in a house full of men.”

She sputtered. She flushed.

“Look, Mr. Withers, with all due respect, YOU hired me to be naked. That was not my choice. Wyeth was there when I was coming out of the tank. I wasn’t in an enticing frame of mind~I just wanted out of the tank and back into my clothing. He was there, and I was there, and some things were said.”

Through her speech, Mr. Withers stared at her, his blue eyes sharp and intent. Her blush deepened.

“Mr. Withers, you must believe me, I was NOT trying to entice your son. It’s not my fault…I have breasts, okay?  And …your boys…”  she spoke that word with thinly veiled sarcasm, “they’ve been standing guard since day one. Why, today, that made a difference, I have no idea. He touched me, and I didn’t want it and then it was different and then…”

He cut her off with another slash of his hand. She was rambling, and not offering the logical argument she’d been rehearsing all morning.

“Sorry, Sir.”

“Accepted. Now, I believe you have duties to attend to.” And just like that, it was over. He stood and went to the door. She was bewildered. The rich really were different. She stepped into the hallway, and frowned as the door shut quietly behind her.

“He can be a bastard. I wouldn’t mind him all that much.” William’s voice broke into her thoughts. She didn’t like these people. She wished they’d all just go the fuck away and let her do her job.

“I have a job to do.” She strode down the hallway. He easily kept pace with her, hands in his pockets. The annoying jerk.

“So, my pansy-assed brother made a move on you this morning, eh?”

She stopped, closing her eyes, and took a deep breath. She turned to him, opening her eyes. That sardonic smile made her want to bite it off his face. She growled. Her hands closed into fists, and she almost, almost, gave into the urge to punch the fuck out of his smug mouth.

At her growl, he raised one eyebrow, and canted his head to the side. The corner of his mouth danced a faint smile, and she growled again. Raising her hands, she shoved him back towards the wall. His hands covered hers where they fisted in his shirt almost over his nipples, and he leaned back against the wall, tugging her close.

“Yes?” He drawled, watching her mouth.

“You…you…all of you…”

His mouth silenced her.