A gay adult story: Wet Dreams_(0) by ,
A Tentacle Rape Fantasy Story
I know there has to be something wrong with this apartment. No one rents out a huge loft like this for one-tenth of the market value unless it’s haunted or something. But since I haven’t found a steady job yet, I don’t really have a lot of options. This is all that I can afford.
I search the place thoroughly, but I can’t find anything obviously wrong with it — no rats, no roaches, no bloodstains, and the plumbing and electricity both work. I go to bed feeling extremely lucky.
When I wake up, though, it’s a different story.
My asshole is sore, like I’ve been ridden hard, but I broke up with my boyfriend months ago and haven’t been laid since. There’s also this…slime on my skin, almost like snot, but thicker and slicker. It’s on my sheets, too. I take a shower and strip the bed, glad to see that it hasn’t seeped through into the mattress. I check the ceiling, but can’t find a leak. I make a note to call the landlord if it happens again.
The next morning, it’s the same thing. I call the landlord and leave a voicemail, and then trek down to the laundry room to wash my sheets, since they’re all dirty now. There’s a young woman already in there, folding her clothes as she takes them out of the dryer.
“Good morning,” she says cheerfully. My ass hurts too much to be cheerful, but I smile back at her.
“Morning,” I say, stuffing my sheets into an empty washer.
“I don’t think we’ve met before,” she says. “I’m Kathryn. I’m in 2B.”
“Henry,” I say, “in 4A.”
“The loft?” She stops smiling.
“Yeah. Why? Is something wrong with it?”
“I don’t know. I just…I’ve heard things about the place. People say it’s haunted, but that’s just silly. I do know that there have been a lot of tenants come and go over the past few months. A lot. Most only stay a couple of nights.” She finishes folding her clothes, piles them back in her basket, and picks it up. “If you see any ghosts, let me know, okay?” she says with a smile as she leaves.
I do my laundry and go back upstairs. The landlord hasn’t returned my call yet. He still hasn’t when I finally go to bed. I have trouble falling asleep, wondering what I’m going to find in the morning.
I wake up sore and slimy for the third time. This is getting ridiculous. I call the landlord again, leaving another voicemail. He finally calls back around noon, telling me there’s nothing he can do unless I can find where the slime is coming from. That gives me an idea.
Before bed, I set up my laptop and turn on the webcam, setting it to record all night long. I still don’t sleep easy, but at least if it happens again, maybe I’ll find out what’s going on.
I’m not even surprised when I wake up, my asshole aching, my skin glistening with smears of slime. I shower and strip the bed — gonna have to do laundry again — and then sit down to watch the video. I fast-forward through a couple hours, watching myself toss and turn in my sleep. Then, just after midnight, something strange starts to happen.
The blankets slide off of me, leaving me naked in bed. The sheet beneath me begins to ripple, almost like water, and I gasp as several dark, slimy arms emerge from the bed, monstrous fingers tipped with gleaming claws. I watch, unable to believe my eyes, as the hands hold me down. The bed ripples and heaves again, and thick, muscular tentacles, almost like long tongues, emerge from the bed, several of them coiling around my thighs and pulling my legs apart while another pushes straight into my asshole.
I cringe as it squirms into me, the girth as big around as my forearm before it stops. No wonder I wake up sore. The me in the video begins to moan, but doesn’t wake up. How the hell could I sleep through this? I feel a flush of embarrassment as the me in the video gets hard, cock straining, pre-cum dribbling onto my stomach. After a moment, I cry out, my hips lifting off the bed as I cum, striping my stomach with my cream.
The tentacle pulls out of me and they all begin lapping up the jzim. When the cum is gone, they sink back into the bed, leaving me in peace.
I can’t believe this. This apartment really is haunted. I need to get out of here.
But where am I going to go? The rent might be low, but I had to fork over first, last, and a deposit that wiped out my savings. If I leave, I won’t get any of that back. I can’t afford to move.
Wearing a T-shirt and boxers, I try sleeping on the couch, but it’s not very comfortable. I lie on my side, facing out into the room, watching the clock tick slowly toward midnight. I must have dozed off because I suddenly jump awake as the couch shakes. I try to get up, but strong, cold arms wrap around me, holding me still. I try to scream, but a slick tentacle slides into my mouth, muffling the sound.
I’m helpless as the tentacles wrap around my waist, dragging my boxers down. I try to keep my legs together, but I feel the back of the couch ripple and a thick tentacle emerges, flicking the tip against my hole. It feels like a cold, slimy tongue licking me and I shudder uncontrollably. My legs kick helplessly and I scream around the tentacle in my mouth as the one at my ass slides inside me. It’s so big and works its way so deep, I can almost feel it squirming in the pit of my stomach.
It begins to fuck me, pressing against my prostate as it moves in and out, and I can’t stop my cock from getting hard, pre-cum oozing from the tip. More tentacles appear, squirming against my cock, spreading their slime over my skin as they wrap around the shaft, pulling and squeezing, and oh, fuck, it feels so good I can hardly breathe, my hips rocking with the deep, hard thrusts of the tentacle in my ass, and I cum suddenly, spurting all over the tentacles writhing against my cock.
I sob in relief — they’ll stop now — but they don’t. I moan and struggle, trying to get away, but the thick tentacle just keeps pounding my ass, and the smaller ones lick away the cum from my cockhead, the stimulation so intense it’s almost painful, their delicate tips probing the slit and pisshole. I scream, the sound muffled by the tentacle in my mouth, as one of the little tentacles stretches out long and thin, and begins to squirm down into my cock, a feeling like- like…like I don’t know what, but it’s intense and visceral, pain and pleasure, agonizing ecstasy, and I just want it to stop, but it doesn’t, and then I’m cumming again and I can feel the cum shoot out of my cock, my hips jerking as I force one stream after another out past the tentacle in my urethra, and the orgasm lasts for so long…so long that I’m left dazed and shaking when it finally ends.
The tentacles and arms release me, cleaning up the cum that sprayed halfway across the living room before disappearing back to wherever they came from. I lie there, sweaty and slimy, and then pass out.
~*~*~*~
I spend half the morning cleaning the slime off my couch. I’m even more sore than any of the other times, the times that I slept through, and I can’t help but wonder why last night was different. Was it punishing me for trying to avoid it? Would it get worse if I didn’t cooperate?
I’m not about to let myself become some demon’s fuck-toy without a fight. I lay in bed, wide awake and waiting, my heart thumping in my chest as midnight draws near. This might not work. I don’t know anything about ghosts or demons or phantasms or whatever the fuck this thing is. This could just make everything worse.
The covers begin to creep down my body and I squeeze my eyes shut, taking slow, deep breaths until I feel the sheet beneath me start to ripple. My eyes snap open and I choke back a scream as one of the demonic hands rises up, hovering over me. I grip the rope in my sweaty hands, then throw the loop at one end over the arm, tightening it with a jerk. The arm pulls back, trying to disappear into the bed, but I fight it, digging my heels into the mattress as I heave.
I wrap the other end of the rope around the bed knob, securing it just as a second hand lunges up out of the sheets at me. I kick the arm, then grab a second rope I have waiting, catching the arm and tying it to the other bed post. The headboard creaks as the arms flail and jerk, trying to get free. I pick up another rope and wait. There were always three arms before.
It shoots up right between my legs, grabbing at me, and I feel the sharp claws rake my skin, but I throw the rope over it and scramble off the bed, puling until I can tie it to the post at the foot of the bed. The whole bed shakes as the arms thrash, but it can’t get free. With a strange, sibilant moan, a mass of tentacles squirm up through the rippling bed, sliding over the ropes, but I was a Boy Scout — I know how to tie a knot.
“Release us,” a chorus of voices hiss, a thick, wet whisper that makes me shiver.
“What are you?” I ask.
“We are (dreams, nightmares, desires, shame, fear, perversions, secrets),” it whispers, the different voices saying different things at the same time.
“What do you want?”
“Your (seed, life force, energy, cum, essence).”
“Why? What do you need my cum for?”
“We need human essence or we die,” it hisses. “Release us now. We will not come back here again.”
“No, you’ll just go rape someone else,” I say. “Maybe I should just keep you here and let you die.”
“No! We meant no harm. We had no choice. Humans find us (disgusting, terrifying, revolting, ugly, scary, grotesque, horrible).”
I can’t believe I actually feel a little sorry for the creature, but I do. Who would willingly submit to being violated by such a disgusting thing?
“You hurt me,” I say, reaching out to poke one of the thick tentacles. “That is too big to fit into a human ass.”
“We are sorry,” it hisses. “We can be (gentle, careful, tender, kind, loving). Let us show you.”
I hesitate, and then draw back, shaking my head, shocked that I would even consider it. This thing is so revolting, it turns my stomach. Why would I willingly let it touch me?
But it’s not the creature’s fault that it’s ugly. It was just doing what it had to in order to survive. Could I really let it die for that?
I walk over to the bedpost, the tentacles drawing back as I reach up and untie the rope around one of the arms. Freed, is disappears back into the bed. I release the second arm, and it, too, disappears. Walking around the bed, I stand beside the last tethered arm, hesitating. Should I really do this? If I let it go, there’s no guarantee it won’t come back, or go terrorize someone else.
“Please,” it whispers, its voices plaintive. I reach out and untie the last rope.
The arm stretches out and grabs me by the wrist, and I cry out in surprise as the other two arms emerge, grabbing my hips and pulling me onto the bed, into the midst of the writhing tentacles.
“What are you doing?” I demand. “You said you were sorry!”
“We are. We will show you how sorry.”
“You don’t have to show me, just let me go!” I struggle, kicking and thrashing, but the strong tentacles wrap around my arms and legs, holding them still. Others work into my boxers and pull them off, and I scream as the cold, slimy hands clutch at me. A tentacle fills my mouth, silencing me.
“Do not be afraid,” the voices say. “We will not hurt you.”
I shudder as the hands begin to caress my body, but I have to admit, they are a lot more gentle than the other times. I stop fighting, trying to catch my breath around the tentacle in my mouth, and it withdraws, leaving me panting. I consider shouting for help, but it’ll just gag me again, and there’s no reason for it to give me another chance if I screw this up.
“Please,” I say instead. “Please let me go.”
“Give us this chance,” it hisses. “If we cannot convince you, we will never come back.”
Short of having it leave immediately, that seems like the best deal that I’m going to get. I sigh, the sound coming out a shaking sob, and I try not to cringe as it continues touching me, two of the grotesque hands sliding up my chest to pinch and tease my nipples, the third shifting down to stroke my cock. It doesn’t take long to make me hard, even though I try not to respond.
I gasp, tensing as something cold squirms against my asshole. I’m still sore from last night. The tentacle doesn’t force its way into me, though, it laps at my hole, coating it with slime, the sensation making me quiver inside. I love getting rimmed, and being without a boyfriend has left me severely in need. I can’t help but groan and rock my hips, pushing against it, my tight hole relaxing.
The tentacle slips inside, cold and wet, but it’s not nearly as big as before. It’s barely bigger around than a finger, but so much longer and more dexterous, searching inside me until it finds my prostate. I cry out, my back arching, as it presses into the wall of my rectum, circling that spongy lump and contracting around it, rhythmically squeezing until I feel like I’m going to explode, but not providing enough stimulation to let me cum.
I moan helplessly, my cock throbbing and leaking pre-cum onto my stomach, the tentacles licking it up. I shift restlessly and the arms allow me to turn over, rising to my hands and knees on the bed, my legs spread wide as the hands and tentacles stretch up to caress me.
“Oh, fuck me, please,” I beg.
“You want this?” the voices ask, and a new tentacle emerges from the bed, the sight of it taking my breath away. I imagine the slender tip sliding into my ass, the tapered head stretching me slowly, and then the knobs — like marbles just under the skin — rubbing inside me, over my prostate — I whimper with unashamed need.
“Yes…yes…fuck, yes,” I gasp, and groan as the tentacle in my ass pulls out, to be replaced by the slick, slender tip of the knobbly one. I rock back against it, trying to fuck myself on it, but it teases me, the tip squirming inside me, but giving me no satisfaction. I groan as the smaller tentacles gather beneath my crotch, stretching up to worship my dribbling cock, brushing against the head and teasing the slit.
Several strong tentacles slither up the insides of my thighs and caress my ass before gripping my cheeks and pulling them apart. I cry out, my back arching, as the knobbly tentacle pushes into me, the knobs catching on the ring of muscle at my hole, stretching it, and then slipping inside with a pop that I can feel echo all through my body. It moves slowly, thrusting in and pulling out, until I’m shaking, babbling, my cock leaking like a faucet as my body tenses, balanced on a knife’s edge. The tentacles wrap around me, holding me up as the knobbly one begins to drill my ass, pounding into me. I buck and cry out helplessly as I cum, splattering the writhing tentacles beneath me. The knobbly tentacle in my ass stops moving, except for a slow undulation against my prostate that has me keening as it milks every last drop of cum out of me.
Exhausted, I collapse, but the hands and tentacles catch me and lower me to the bed. I lay there, gasping for breath as the shudders of pleasure echo through me. I’m going to be sore again in the morning, but this time, I don’t mind. After a minute, I feel the covers being drawn back up over me, and I raise my head, watching the tentacles and arms disappear back into the bed one by one, until only one arm remains. It gently touches my face, then begins to sink into the mattress.
“Wait,” I say and it stops. “You can come back any time.”
“Thank you,” it whispers, and the hand disappears. I reach out, pressing my fingers to the rippling spot on the bed, and jerk back in surprise when my hand sinks into the mattress. It felt like pushing my hand into a bowl of gelatin. I run my hand over the sheet again, but the rippling has stopped and the bed is solid. I wonder where it comes from, where it goes, if it visits other people, if it will be gentler with them after this. With a satisfied sigh, I roll over and turn out the light.
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