“I’m not going in there..!” With a gasp, she stood upright. Below her was the largest fishtank she’d ever seen. She’d been to aquariums before, but never had she seen anything like this one.  With a flick of his wrist, the old fart who had hired her gestured to the two burly men who flanked the door.

They moved forward, and lifting her easily, threw her in the tank. Her last clear thought as she felt the water closing over her head was that she was being seriously underpaid.


She’d been looking for a job for 22 weeks. The stint at the local burger joint hadn’t ended well. Newbies were not looked upon happily when they criticized their new bosses for not preparing food properly. She knew she’d never eat at one of those places ever again.

A long string of weeks followed, where her only good news was that the unemployment check was coming. She wasn’t quite ready to start eating cat food, but she wasn’t far from it, either. She needed a fucking job!  There was a series of prospects, a flurry of resumes sent, received, and  then, interviews. Followed by two more weeks of absolutely nothing. Geezuz. Why wouldn’t someone give her a fucking chance?

Two weeks left of her unemployment. She tried to breathe through the panic. She opened her computer and went to her local help wanted page. It fairly leapt out at her:

Wanted: Someone dedicated, loyal, trustworthy. Needs to be able to follow through, be caring, and committed to excellence.

There was an email address listed below. Hell, she was all those things and more! She sent her resume, and tried not to get her hopes up. Every fruitless interview had beat her down just enough to shake her confidence. When the  phone call came an hour later, she was, frankly, shocked. She was even more stunned when the raspy male voice insisted that she interview today, and as soon as possible, please.

She dressed quickly, but carefully, somewhere between comfort and professional. She had absolutely no idea what the job entailed.  Hopefully her simple dress, linen jacket, and colorful scarf would portray a confident, capable woman.


He’d stared at her. Not a word spoken after the initial “come in” when she met him at the door. She had been surprised to be given the address for her interview~ it was at the most exclusive neighborhood in town.  The house, mansion really, was enormous. She tried not to imagine herself as a maid here; she was hoping for a personal assistant. The pay promised had been pretty darned generous; certainly well over what she had made at her last job. Yet, here she sat, in this beautifully appointed office, surrounded by bookshelves, antiques, and expensive what-nots, while being stared at by the man who would, hopefully, become her employer.

After 5 long, embarrassing minutes, his rusty voice almost startled her.

“When can you start?”

She blinked, caught off guard. He was hiring her? Or was this an inquiry?

“As soon as you need me to, Sir,” she had responded. The watery blue eyes had blinked, then he nodded.

“Sir? You’ve not told me what you need me to do…” the caustic look almost alarmed her. She swallowed.

“You’ll be caring for my pets. I have a very large, private aquarium. You’ll be responsible for keeping the viewing area clean and tidy. I often have private viewings for friends and associates. You’d be responsible for setting up chairs etcetera. Making sure the lights work, that sort of thing. Please come back tomorrow. Dress casual. That,” and he waved his bony hand at her, “is far too much. Shorts, tee-shirt, that sort of thing. You’ll need to go into the tank occasionally, just to clean around the top.”

“Oh. You don’t have sharks, I hope!” she giggled nervously.

He blinked owlishly at her. “No. Horrid creatures. No sharks.”


She’d arrived when he told her. A sheaf of papers needed to be signed. Social security number. Address, bank for direct deposit, identification forms, yada, yada, yada. So many papers. She stopped looking at them, fanned them out, signed them all.

He took them, checked each page for signatures, dated them, and arranged them precisely in order. Attaching a clip to them, he put them into a manila folder, and slid it into his bottom drawer.

“This way.”

He indicated that she lead the way out the door. They went to the back of the house, and then up a flight of stairs. And more stairs. Three full flights up and she was breathless. There was a heavy door at the top of the landing.

“Go on, then,” he gestured to her. She tugged it open. Saw the guards -they had to be guards,-on either side of the door. And then she saw the tank. She heard the door thunk shut behind her.

“You need to be naked.”

“I’m not going to be naked.” She whirled around and stared at her boss. “Mr. Withers, this is not what I agreed to at all.”

“Ms. Butler? This is exactly what you signed up for. I have 18 pages, all with your signature on them, downstairs to prove it. William can help you if you feel the need. He’s very good at undressing women.”

She glanced over at the guard who must be William. The leer was unmistakeable. No way was she letting him touch her.

“I am paying you a great deal of money to do this task. I believe I mentioned that I needed someone who could follow through, and be dependable in my ad. You assured me that you were. I can assure you that if you don’t work, you won’t be paid a penny.”

“I need this job….”

“Then do it. Naked. Now. If I understand correctly, your unemployment runs out in 10 days, yes?”

He twisted the knife of fear so well. With a little huff of breath, she all but tore off her tee-shirt. She didn’t want to take off her shorts. But somehow they were pooled around her ankles. She stepped free of them. She stood there in bra and panties. He stared at her. With a roll of her eyes, she unhooked her bra, shimmied out of her panties.

He walked her over to the side of the tank. It was bigger than anything she had ever seen in her life. There was ….something huge swimming in the tank.

“Oh my gawd. Is that…is that….”

“A giant squid. Rare, extremely rare. He is one of only a few dozen left in all the world. He needs special care. And you, my dear, are here to provide it for him. You need to go into the tank and let him get used to you.”

“I’m not going in there!” she gasped.

“Indeed, you will.”


She fell with a splash, her ass hitting the water first. She’d expected it to be shocking and cold, but it was, instead, warm, comfortable. Not hot, not unpleasant in the least. She rose to the surface, grabbed a lungful of air.

“You BASTARD!” she yelled at William, who stood at the edge of the tank with a shit-eating grin on his face. Her tirade was ended before it began when something curled around her ankle and tugged her under the water.


There was shock. Pure instinct kept her from screaming. She was, after all, underwater. Something was holding her tightly by the ankle and pulling her down into the tank.

Suddenly it released her and she popped back to the surface. She was in the center of the giant aquarium tank, naked, heart pounding.  Her hair hung in fat strings around her face, and the sting of salt water blurred her vision. There was a ripple behind her, and the blur of faces at the edge of the tank.

“Have fun, little fucktoy!” That had to be William. She’d known him all of 3 minutes and already she hated him. Her new boss wouldn’t sound that happy, wouldn’t be so crude. Her thoughts scattered as she was engulfed from behind. Thick, rubbery things wrapped around her. Suckers attached to her flesh, everywhere.  She screamed. There was a quick, firm tightening of the tentacles wrapped around her. She felt them touching her hair, her legs, her …no.

She screamed again as she felt the tickling touch sliding up between her legs. She tried to clamp her thighs together tighter. She felt the twirling of tentacles around her ankles. She kicked, twisted, wriggled and writhed, to no avail. Her legs were yanked open abruptly. Then closed. Then opened. Her knees were jerked up to her chin, then pulled back, arching her into a bowed shape.

The message was clear; she had no free will, the ….thing….would do what it wanted with her.

She was twirled, turned to face the beast. He was ruddy, a color reminiscent of rubies.  The eye that studied her was blue, deep and intense, a color she had never seen before. The tentacles changed from that red of his torso, to a soft peach color. There was a strange beauty about him, if you were into that sort of creature. There was a gush of water around her legs. Looked down into the water, she saw what appeared to be giant lips opening and closing at the center-point where all the tentacles met.

He had not hurt her. He had not bitten her, invaded her, or done anything more than held her immobile. The stare of her employer yesterday was nothing compared to the unblinking look from this leviathan.

“Hi…” she offered, not sure what to say next. It felt kind of stupid to be introducing herself to seafood. “I’m Lori.”

A tentacle snaked up her calf, quickly up her thigh and over her belly. It slithered around her right breast, coiled and arched up her throat, then gently, almost tenderly, examined her face. She didn’t recoil from the touch;  she could not move an inch in any event.

“He is not a beast, but cultured in his own way.” Mr. Withers spoke in his gravely voice. “If he accepts you, he will soon want to play.”

She looked up to see her boss sitting at the edge of the tank, watching her intently. No. Not her. He couldn’t give a rat’s ass about her…he was worried about the beast.

“Play?” she replied, her voice acid, as her attention returned to the quivering mass of sea-flesh. “If this thing eats me, Mr. Withers, I swear I’ll haunt this place forever. And I’ll be sure to give this thing the worst case of acid indigestion ever.”

“He doesn’t eat humans. As I said, he is quite refined. I’ve known this fine fellow for many years,” she heard the unmistakable fondness in the old man’s voice.

As if their conversation had sparked something in the beast, the tentacles holding her fast disappeared. In seconds he had dived, down, down to the depths of the tank. She wondered how far down it went. She turned,  stroking towards the far side  of the tank where a ladder dipped into the water.

And was abruptly tossed into the air as the creature came flying up through the water like a torpedo, scooping her in it’s limbs, and throwing her skyward.  She landed back in the tank with a splash that wetted the men watching the show. She heard the old man laugh with glee as she once again sank into the water.

She rose, sputtering, treading water and trying to scoop her hair out of her eyes.  She head the deep laugh of one of the men. If it was William, so help her, she’d pull that ass into the tank so fast–. She blinked water out of her eyes, and glared. It was the other guard, doubled over and hooting.

Even Mr. Withers was smiling.

“Very well, we will go now, and let you two get to know one another better. You can’t harm him…but if you try I will be watching. There are video monitors, as well as views of the tank from every floor. And if you try, Ms. Butler, you won’t be fired. You will be severely reprimanded. By William, and his thick leather belt. Do be the employee you promised to be, yes?” He pulled his glasses out of his jacket pocket and perched them on his thin nose. Rising, he and the two goons left the room. She very distinctly heard the turn of the lock.

Swimming for the edge of the tank, she was halted by the sudden wrapping of suckered arms around her body, twirling and twining around her, stopping her dead in the water.


“He’s almost rut-red.”

“Yes, I know. We found her just in time, I think.”

“She doesn’t have any idea?”

“It’s not within her field of expertise. She’s a paper pusher, William. She’s happy with her first paycheck, and we’ve kept her responsibilities to a minimum. And he doesn’t frighten her anymore, nor any of the others. She’s acclimating well to being around them in the tank.”

The old man leaned back in his chair. He didn’t have many months left, but he was determined to see his work carried forward. His eldest son, William, was sometimes a bit too eager. He thought more about the sexual aspects, than of the bigger picture. Hopefully Wyeth, his younger brother, would provide the necessary balance.

“If he’s that red, it could be later today,” William postulated. The old man shook his head.

“Tomorrow. At the soonest, tomorrow.”

“Should I send out the invites today, for tomorrow?”

“Invitations, William. Your mother would roll over at your lapse in grammar.” He paused, staring at his son for a moment. The younger man had the grace to flush a bit.

“Shall I send out the invitations, Father?” His voice was just this side of sarcastic. This generation! So rude.  He inclined his head in a nod reminiscent of royalty, and William left the room, presumably to send out the e-vites for the big event.


She sang a little song under her breath as she worked. She never remembered the artists names anymore, they all blurred together…well, except Lady Gaga. That one was pretty memorable. But it came to her that she was happy. 

In a way, it was almost unexpected. She’d gotten over the shock of being touched by the giant squid she’d taken to calling Sid. She loved the rhyming ridiculousness of it, Sid the Squid. It humanized him a bit, taking away the initial, shocking revulsion she’d felt. She still went into the tank, several times a day. The two men who hung around from time to time were actually Mr. Wither’s sons. She still hated William. He was a prick. But the other guy was okay. Wyeth. William watched her with a thinly veiled suggestive leer. He seemed to always be the guard when she went into the tank. She worked hard to ignore his leering gaze as she shrugged out of her thin dress and into the pool, naked. She would swim to the center of the tank to play with Sid, or move around the side to clean it. There was always a thin crust of salt that built up where water met tank. Not that it affected Sid that she was in the tank at those times to work. He turned every trip into the tank into an experience. If someone had told her two weeks ago that she’d be swimming naked in a giant fish tank while a giant squid played “dunk ’em” with her…she’d have laughed in their face.

Her lovely first paycheck belied that this was a “game”. And truth to tell, she was sore most nights after her 4th or 5th trek into the pool. Sid was careful, but he was strong. She had lots of bruises from tight grips on wrists, ankles, legs and belly.

And the stupid sucker marks. Round red bruises that faded in a day or so, but looked like she’d been hit with a pink bingo dauber each night.

And sometimes it felt like she’d never be done, when he or one of the shier squid swam up and stole her sponge. They’d throw it across the tank, and she’d have to swim to get it…only to find it snatched under at the last second. She’d tread water, then dive down, to see one of the little buggers lazily cruising just under her feet with it.

They were very careful to not keep her below water too long. Obviously they understood that she needed to be above to live. Today they were all being exceptionally clingy. She had no idea what was up with the little guys but every time she went into the pool, they swam up to her, wrapping her arms, legs, torso in their tentacles. Honestly, today she’d spent more time petting squid than cleaning their tank!

She  finished tidying around the room, watered the tropical plants, picked up the candy wrappers that she knew William just dropped on the floor to annoy her. And like clockwork, just as she was ready to go into the tank, there he was, standing and watching her undress.

“You’re a real perv, you know that, right?” She hadn’t been entirely aware that she was going to say that…and he was the boss’s son. Still, it was said now…. and he was a perv.  She glared at him as she slipped out of her shoes, delaying the inevitable moment when she would pull her dress over her head. For a moment, he just smiled at her.

“Come over here and say that, little girl.”

She was not a little girl. The jerk! And no fucking way was she going over there. She scowled at him, which only made him laugh. The door opened again.

“William.” It was Mr. Withers. “There is a delivery at the back door. Would you please assist? I’ll watch Ms. Butler while she is in the tank.”

Oh. She’d had no idea that she’d been protected while in the tank. His next comment clarified.

“She won’t need supervision much longer. If she was going to harm them, it would have happened by now.”

“I was never going to harm them…” she began, a bit outraged. His raspy voice interrupted her.

“They are precious and rare creatures, and fragile. Of course there was nothing in your background to indicate that you would do them harm…but I prefer to err on the side of caution. I believe he waits?” She glanced over the at the tank. Indeed, Sid was swimming along the top, occasionally raising a tentacled arm as if to call her in.

“I’m coming, Sid,” she said, slipping off her dress.

“Sid?” His tone was incredulous. “You’ve named one of the rarest of octopi …Sid?”

“Oh, I thought he was a squid. Sid the squid.” She gave a short smile.

“He is a North Pacific Red Octopus;  you will continue learn about him. You know what he eats..” It was half statement, half question.

“Fish. Crustaceans. Small animals. And by the way, Mr. Withers.  I think it’s horrid when William throws mice in here.” She rushed through that little declaration. My, she was quite combative this evening. The woman inside her, who wanted those new pair of shoes, and eagerly anticipated her next paycheck hollered at her to shut the fuck up!

He didn’t seem to notice that she was being difficult.  He shrugged. “The squids enjoy them. It is the way nature works in the ocean, my dear. Eat, or be eaten.”

She shuddered. Not that she liked mice, but watching them swim for their little lives, only to be caught and consumed by squids? It was…unnatural. And that William threw them into the pool while she was in there? So fucking gross. Not just that the mice were disgusting, squeaking and those long tails floating behind them. Oh, that was pretty gross. But when all the squid came arrowing up, and she was surrounded by tentacles, all trying to be the one to catch the poor beast?

She shuddered.

She climbed down the ladder, and when she was up to her knees, just let go. The splash would alert them that she was in.  When she glanced out of the pool, Mr. Withers had gone. Paycheck. She must remember the paycheck.

Sid swam up and encircled her in a squidly hug.

“Hi Sid.” She patted his arm as it curled up and around her torso, the tiny tip rubbing her cheek. He pulled her out to the center of the pool. His tentacles rubbed all along her flesh. She noted his color was very ruddy today, but she’d learned that octopi were able to change their color to suit their environment, the better to blend in. It was part defense, part offense. She’d seen that transformation herself, on one of her journeys to the bottom of the tank. She’d not seen Sid at first, so well did he blend with the bottom of the tank. He was almost the exact same deep green-gray of the large granite boulders that had been placed precisely to create a series of dens for all the tanks denizens. . She’d been wearing a scuba tank, and had been examining the hidden niches. There were tiny, bright-colored clownfish, a forest of green plants, anemone, starfish; why she’d even seen a group of lobster! She’d almost put her hand on the giant squid-octopus- before realizing that it was not part of the rocky outcropping.  Sid had been ecstatic to see her down in his world. She still had bruises from those hugs.

She noticed that he had her well wrapped today. She patted him again. “I’m okay, Sid. really. I like you boy. Good boy.” His suckers kept rubbing across her breasts, and her nipples responded to the stimulation.

“Sid,” she whispered, “don’t touch me there…”

She swore he understood what she said. For a moment, the touch went away, but her relief was short-lived. Suddenly, both her breasts were being fondled. Suckers attached as his tentacles wrapped around her, and the tips of them began massaging and flicking her nipples.

She gasped. Her tits were so sensitive, and she’d often cum just from having a boyfriend squeeze and play with them. Truly they were the gateway to her sex. Her head fell back, her mouth opened, and her clit throbbed. Another tentacle slid between her thighs, rubbing at that sensitive junction. She tried to struggle. Being molested by sea-food was not, definitely NOT, on her bucket list.

She could not deny the response of her body.

It took only seconds until her body jerked. An intense orgasm rolled through her, making her hang limply in the water. She didn’t have much time to recover, as he continued to touch and explore her body. The tip of one tentacle traced the line from the front of her mons to her lower back, sliding all along that crack, but not entering her. As she shuddered through another orgasm, she was thankful, for that heartbeat of awareness, that Mr. Withers had left the room.


“He’s preparing her.”

Mr. Withers stood at the glass wall. It was tinted to keep the animals inside from being disturbed by those who stood here and watched.

“Geezus, Dad, I can’t believe it’s really going to happen. He’s gonna fuck her. And she’s fucking clueless.” Williams voice was raspy with his own excitement. His cock was  hard and throbbing in his pants. He could feel precum leaking, making his boxers wet. Who knew a fucking squid would give him the old rusty zipper?

“I’d guess she’s not so clueless now,” added Wyeth. “So, when will you insert the eggs?”

Mr. Withers looked at his son and smiled. “Soon, very soon now. Go outside and make certain that her car won’t start tonight. We’ll offer to let her stay here, and that way she can play with “Sid” this evening. And of course, I’ll offer compensation for the overnight.”

William snorted out a laugh. “You mean getting fucked royally isn’t compensation enough? Paying her makes her a whore. And whores can expect to be used.”

“William.” His father’s voice was stern.  “You may not touch her until she is done incubating. Understood?”

The big lump in his pants betrayed his excitement, but eventually, William dropped his eyes. “Yes, Father. I understand.”


She yawned as she walked out to her car. Two orgasms in the tank, as well as all the cleaning and set up she’d had to do had kept her here at the house much later than her usual shift. She was glad for the work, especially since Mr. Withers had said she’d be earning a bonus for helping to set up chairs on every tank-viewing level. Apparently, he was having some sort of fancy viewing party tomorrow; she’d set up 20 chairs on each of 3 levels. Since the tank was round, the levels spiraled all around it. By evening, she had likely set up 250 chairs. This was going to be one big party. Caterers had been busy on the lower level, and she made her way between vans offloading glasses, flowers, and trays of who-knew-what.

She opened her door, threw her purse across to the other seat, and slid in. For a moment, she closed her eyes, head lolled back on the seat. She’d had an orgasm…two orgasms…from the slippery, suckered tentacles of an octopus.  She should be grossed out. She should be thrown into some sort of perv jail or something. She’d not said a word to Mr. Withers, nor to either of his sons. And gosh, she should be ashamed…but instead, she reveled in the quietly insistent throb between her legs. As soon as she got home, she was going to pull out her biggest vibe and feed her empty, aching pussy some nice silicone ‘meat’.


“She left about 5 minutes ago. Saw her talking to the florist for a minute.”

“You’re certain that…”

“Dad.” Wyeth rolled his eyes skyward. “I took care of it, okay? I know how to disable a car, you know.”

“And he’s so proud of you, too.” William chided his younger brother. “Though I think you’re more proficient at stealing them then stalling them…” Wyeth reached over and punched William in the shoulder. Rather than punching him back, William laughed, knowing that would piss his ‘baby” brother off even more.  The little putz.

“Boys. That’s enough. There’s a bigger picture here. A lifetime of –”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve spent your whole life waiting to get a girl fucked by a squid.” William tried to hide the bulge in his pants, standing behind the wing chair.  He thought of the girl in the tank today, her head thrown back, her legs locked around one thick tentacle as it rubbed against her pussy. Her nipples had been round and fat; he could barely wait to taste them himself.

“You’re as crude as your mother,” Wyeth spoke, noting the bulge in the front of his brothers trousers.

“Yeah, I know. You’re jealous. Has your cock ever gotten a stiffy? Maybe when you see a particularly sweet… piglet, farm boy?”

Their thin veneer of civility was peeling away. Mr. Withers tapped the top of his desk with his hand.

“Enough! You are my sons, not merely the progeny of your mothers. I’ve raised you better than this…” he broke of with a thick, rasping cough. “For me, my boys.” He coughed again, clearing his throat.  “My will still leaves the estate in doubt. I’m sure the Nature Club will be thrilled by the bequest…”

The men glared at each other. William rubbed his crotch surreptitiously, still twitting his half-sibling. Fucking idiot. He wondered if the little pansy had fucked anything with two legs.  As for him, he had his own little two-legs to nail.

There was the click of heels on the floor outside the den, then a knock on the door.

“And so it begins,” spoke their father before he bid William to open the door.


She’d gotten through dinner, Gods knew how. Up to this point, she’d had little prolonged interaction with the three men. While it was obvious that Mr. Withers valued his children, she doubted that there was any love lost between them all. She hoped it would be a long while before she had to sit through another of those type of meals. Hopefully, breakfast would be more casual, and less caustic.

Still, it had been nice of Mr. W. to let her stay overnight. It was too late for a garage to come out to retrieve, let alone repair her car. And  how would she get back out here tomorrow, carless? Mr. Withers had insisted that she stay overnight. He had several guest bedrooms, on the other wing of the house.

His house had wings.

She wondered what it was like to have that much money.  To have a fucking zillion-gallon fish tank in the middle of your house. To have wings on your house. She was thinking about how to stretch her budget to get a new pair of sexy pumps for the holidays, and he was throwing a viewing party for close to 250 people at the drop of a hat? ONE flower arrangement was over $400 bucks!! That was the cost of pumps AND the matching purse for gosh sakes.

She slid between the sheets. The bed was comfortable, the sheets slick and smooth. And she was so horny! She smiled in the darkness, thinking about the look on Mr. Withers face should she have inquired about a dildo for the night. Then frowned imagining William’s smug face, knowing he’d offer to ‘stand in’ for a silicone boyfriend.

She was not curious about the cock behind that bulge in his pants.

She rolled over to her side with a huff of disgruntlement. She needed to sleep, not think about Williams big thick cock. Oh, for gawds sake! She flopped onto her back, giving into the urge to touch. The yawn caught her with her fingers working her needy button. Must be the wine, she wasn’t used to having alcohol with a meal.  And certainly not of …


Sheets peeled back in the dim light.

Legs lifted, and a protective pad laid beneath her raised bottom. Legs bent at the knees, spread wide, raised almost to her chin. Open, accessible.

A fat syringe pressing against her lower lips, pressing slowly until those lips parted, accepting the thickness into her sex tunnel.

Soft moan as the head of the syringe pressed against the tender flesh of her cervix, and the sudden pressure as the toggle was depressed, filling her open, ready belly.


She woke feeling sluggish. She’d had strange dreams, of swimming in hot waters, like  a hot tub. And she was just as horny as when she went to bed. Maybe hornier.

Sliding off the bed, she noted the wet spot where her bottom had been. Whoops! She must have oozed pussy honey in her sleep. Well, fuck. How embarrassing that would be. Still, it wasn’t like William or his brother or father did their own laundry. The maid would find it, and take care of it. Besides, she imagined she’d seen a fair amount of ejaculate if she washed William’s sheets.

She slid into the shower, avoiding getting her hair wet. No point in dripping at breakfast. She dressed in her clothing from yesterday, skipping the undies. No point, as she needed to go into the tank early to get it cleaned before the party. She glanced over at the bed one last time before she left the room. Then crossed back to throw the covers up to hide the wet spot. She opened her door to find, of all people, William just about to knock.

“I’m coming,” she said briskly.

“Mmmm, I like the sound of that,” he said, looking down to where her tits rose from the top of her dress.

“Perv. Absolutely a fucking perv.”

He pressed her against the door, only that. Her tits pressed against his chest, his rutting cock a thick bulge against her belly. His hips pressed forward, suggestive of fucking.

“Still cumming?” His breath wisped warm against her cheek as he spoke softly to her left ear. She hated that her nipples pressed back at him. She hated that her clit rose and throbbed. She hated that her mouth filled with spit and desire.

He stepped away, taking her arm. He didn’t say another word as he escorted her to the breakfast room. He didn’t have to; his expression said it all.


She hurried up to the top floor. The caterers would be relegated to the first floor, and would not be able to see the upper reaches of the tank while she cleaned. She might not have believed it had she not peered from the lower windows, up to the top where she would be.  It was true, the only view from the lower windows was of the bottom of the tank. And for those in the catering area, the myriad of smaller fish at this level held their own charm. She’d seen several of them transfixed by the perpetually changing view. It was too bad that the squid were so fragile that clothing would damage their environment- or so Mr. Withers had told her. Then again, if she had invested a gazillion dollars on such a thing, she’d be pretty fucking careful about it too.

Thankful to escape the toxic atmosphere of the three men locked in perpetual conflict, she took her time making certain that this upper area was as tidy as she had left it last night. Peering over the rim of the tank, she noticed that none of the inhabitants were near the top tier.

That was curious. Usually Sid or one of the others were up here when she was doing her “out of tank” chores. Then again, by sleeping here last night, she was starting her day a bit earlier. Perhaps Sid and company were still sleeping in the depths of the tank. Taking advantage of the fact that none of the men had arrived from their breakfast, she slipped out of her dress and into the tank. The water was warm and for a moment she just lay back in repose. Memories of her dream floated through her, as she moved lazily across the surface of the aquarium. Eventually she gently bumped the far wall. Scooting along, she found the bucket with her cleaning gear, and got to work.

It was strange, working in the tank without the usual companions. No Sid. No little squidlets. No stealing her sponges, her brushes, and no pulling her wrists and ankles so she couldn’t move. She thought she should report this to Mr. W. Not that she was trying to be alarmist, but it was certainly not the norm of the last few weeks.

Careful to put her tools away, she climbed up the ladder. Peering down into the depths, all she saw was serene waters. Hmmmm. Broaching the top of the tank, she came eye to eye with Wyeth.

They pulled back, nearly simultaneously.

“You startled me!” she gasped.

“Yeah? Same goes. What are you doing?”

“Getting out of the tank. I just finished cleaning the rim. And Wyeth?”

She stepped up the last rung, then pulled herself up to the edge of the tank. He passed her a towel.  Absently, she took it, and dried her hair as she spoke.

“I didn’t see any of the squid this morning. Not Sid, nor any of the others….”  Her face obscured by the towel as she vigorously rubbed her hair, she didn’t notice his scowl.

His hands on her knees, he pressed her legs open, sliding his fingers up to the apex.

“You think I’m fucking blind? You sit here and shake your tits at me and I’m not going to react? You fucking slut!”

His body pinned her in place, his fingers rubbing her swollen sex. She was so horny today. But not like this. She dropped the towel, pushing at his shoulders.

“Stop! Stop right nowww.” The last word ended on a moan as his finger flicked her clit, then rubbed it quickly. His other hand shook loose of the fallen towel, and searched for her tit.  If he didn’t stop, she’d cum right now, right here.

Neither heard the door open.

“That is quite enough of that!” Mr. Withers voice was scathing.

“Miss, I do not expect your lack of clothing to be used to tempt my sons into impure acts of lust. Wyeth, I do not expect you to act upon your base urges.”

As if the words were a dousing of cold water, they froze, then Wyeth stepped away. She grabbed at the towel before it fell to the floor, covering herself from it. Rather than argue, she kept her eyes low while she fought tears of embarrassment.

She  heard the door wrench open, slam shut. She looked up. Mr. Withers stood before her, stony-faced.

“My sons are…” He let that one hang, then moved on.  “They cannot always control their reactions- when a beautiful woman…a beautiful naked woman is so…apparently…available…things happen.”

“Yes, sir. I…sorry…I…”

“Get dressed. There are other chores to attend to today.” He turned away.

“Mr. Withers?” At his look back, she continued hurriedly “The squid were not out this morning.”

He peered over the rim of the tank. “It’s earlier than usual. I’d not worry overmuch about it. Once you are dressed, come see me in my office.”

She nodded. Oh gods, she hoped she wasn’t going to be fired over this! It wasn’t her fault. Not entirely. Okay, perhaps she could have fought him off a bit harder but she was so fucking horny.


Mr. Withers smiled to himself as he took his private elevator to his office level. Everyone was reacting to the proddy atmosphere in the house. Wyeth had made a move on the girl. Her pheromone level must be pretty high to excite that boy. It wasn’t like he thought of Wyeth as dickless. Or not that often.

Shaking his head, he went into his office and prepared a list of chores to keep the girl busy until mating time.


“Wider.” His words were a soft, rude grunt. There was the sounds of squirming, of wire coat hangers squeeing across the closet pole, the crunch of plastic-covered clothing. Hooking his arm under her leg, he boosted her up enough to make contact.

She moaned at the feel of the fat cock poised at her entrance. Pressing down with her pelvis, it ground and slid along her sopping cleft, slipping up and twanging her clit, before pressing past and up to her belly. They moaned in unison as he missed the mark.

“Up” he grunted, “fucking hurry…. up…”

She lifted her torso, and using the hand that wasn’t gripping his shoulder for support, grabbed at his thick shaft, and pressed the swollen, weeping head against her opening. Fingertips kept him aimed correctly as she leaned down, dropping her pelvis to encase his cock with her swollen, dripping pussy.

He hefted her knee up, urgent in his rabid need. He slid home, thick rod meeting wanton flesh. She growled, and shimmied down on him, screwing him deeper into her hot body. Her fingers turned to claws, she reached up under his t-shirt, and tore at his chest. His nipples rose as she raked them, and giving into the beast raging inside of him, he slammed her back against the wall and pounded into her, savagely plundering.

Her growls turned to whimpers, eyes closed, but rolling  up in her head at the pleasure of being so well used. Her pussy made sucking noises in the darkness with every thrust, unwilling to have her invader leave for even a moment.

Fully buried in her snatch, he ground his hips, rubbing his belly against hers, the thick swatch of his hair tickling her and kindling the first orgasm. It rolled through her like a wave, a tsunami of sensation as she succumbed to the pleasure.

Hot and thick, his cum boiled up from his toes, pumped by his balls and pressed through the thick tube of his shaft. His seed sprayed, geyser-like, from the engorged head of his cock. Her belly was filled, quivering as she milked him with her own convulsions.

Wordlessly, he pushed her off his spent cock, ignoring the sound of her hitting the back wall, sprawling there. Opening the closet door a bit, finding no one around, Wyeth slipped out of the closet, leaving the catering wench to find her own way back to the kitchen.


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.


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.


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*

3 thoughts on “Tanked

  1. This story is fantastic.
    The way you build suspense to the climax is very well done. I particularly like the way you explain the meaning of the squid’s colours to the reader through the medium of the other characters, but never reveal it to Ms Butler, so she’s not aware of the peril she is in but we are. That’s very effective indeed.
    If I were to ask for anything more, it would be a slightly longer finale. We invest a lot of story getting to the climax, and it builds to the end in a well-paced way, but the final scene feels a little rushed.
    But that is a minor comment. I loved this story, and it was very hot. Thank you for writing it!

    • Hi Alecia!
      Thanks for the comment on this story. I appreciate the feedback. I was still kind of new at this gig when I wrote this in 2012. I hope you’ll enjoy the other naughty tales here!

      • Oh wow, I hadn’t realised you’d written it so long ago. It must feel like ancient history to you. I very much hope you still write, because you’ve a style and imagination that are unique and very exciting.
        I’ve only just come across this site, so everything here seems very fresh to me, and I’ve only just started writing too, so I’m kind of where you were eight years ago.
        I’m going to read all your other stories here now, so you may see comments pop up on other posts…

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