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sabinetzinSo last year some time, I was approached by a small publisher about writing a short-ish story for an anthology of tentacle stories. I agreed wholeheartedly, but then through a series of events, I had to drop out. This is the biggest scene I finished, and I'm posting it now because of another series of events.
Believe it or not, I have a lot of Thoughts about this, about the tension between fictional desire and realistic desire, what we want to see and what we want to actually do. But in lieu of that, have ~1300 words of explicit tentacle porn. It includes underage drinking, kink-shaming, a depiction of noncon of the tentacly variety (in something the character is watching), and discussion of age issues in hentai, so, y'know, be warned in time.
--
Matt must have been nineteen the first time, give or take. He doesn't even really remember how they came around to it- a bunch of friends just getting trashed together, a stupid suggestion somebody made that seemed really hilarious at the time- but somebody put the tape in the VCR, and somebody turned it on.
He'd heard about the stuff before, and it lived up to its reputation, featuring helpless, "eighteen-year-old" girls who looked about twelve and evil monsters with ridiculously sized, well, everything. And the barely legal girls got caught, and the evil monsters did what evil monsters tend to do, and Tokyo ended up covered in white goo.
There were no end of things to mock about it. The animation was cheap, even by the standards of cheap animation, but the voice acting was even worse, alternating between theatrical moaning and unbearable screeching. Anything even resembling a plot went out the window in the first minute and a half, and the parts that didn't contain little girls getting fucked by tentacles were even stranger than the parts that did.
His friends thought it was completely hilarious, mocking it with undisguised glee; they thought it was absolutely the funniest thing they had ever seen.
Matt chugged his beer and tried to will down his erection; he didn't think it was funny at all.
A lot had changed since then; Matt had finished college and moved on to grad school, he had lost touch with pretty much all those friends, and he lived almost a thousand miles away, out near the ocean in California.
And the production values of Japanese tentacle porn had really improved.
He had more of it than he really liked to think about, but one night, he put on his very favorite, watching it for what seemed like the thousandth time.
There were a lot of reasons he preferred this particular video. It was a little harder to find the stuff with guys in it, but he'd lucked out with this one; the guy didn't even look like jailbait. He looked like he was Matt's age, maybe a little older, and he didn't have a voice that grated Matt's ears.
He skipped the first part; there wasn't anything interesting about it. It was just a lot of people standing around in temples talking, and there weren't any subtitles.
Ten or twelve minutes in was where the good stuff really started. The creature in this one wasn't really a monster, per se; it was just a writhing mass of vaguely plant-like tentacles that apparently had a bone to pick with the hero. As their unsuspecting victim walked past them, they waved faintly, as if blown by the wind; he looked at them suspiciously, but kept walking. It wasn't until he turned his back on them that things went south.
The tentacles pulsed with light, reaching towards him slowly, encircling him without touching; he turned his head, noticing them out of the corner of his eye, and they all latched onto him at once. He yelled as they raised him up off the ground, pulling his limbs apart until he was spread-eagled, helpless to stop what was to come.
They didn't rip his clothes off, not immediately, groping him through the material. Matt couldn't help mimicking them, sliding his hand down his stomach; the video focused on one tentacle as it moved over the bulge in his pants for the first time, and Matt sighed as he cupped his half-hard cock, trying to do it just like the film.
In most of these videos, the monsters just ripped through all their victims' clothing at once, their outfits just exploding as they were torn open, but this one was a little more methodical. The tentacles tore his clothes off piece by piece, exploring the new skin every time it was bared. His shirt was first, exposing his hairless, helpless body. The tentacles writhed over his chest, playing with his nipples, their suckers working them gently; Matt's fingers were nothing like that, but he tried, pulling at them rhythmically and trying to imagine what it would be like with one of those things on him.
His pants were next; the creature tugged them off, letting go of his legs briefly so it could pull them over his feet and drop them to the ground. He kicked and kicked, but the tentacles caught him easily, spreading his legs again. The tentacles crept up up the insides of his legs, wrapping around them, sliding wetly over the skin of his inner thighs; this was the part that always got to Matt, the part where they quit the teasing and just ripped his underwear off, all at once.
Matt worked himself out of his pants quickly, stroking himself, the touch of his hand so good on his aching cock. There were times when he came right there, just from seeing the thing move like that, stripping its victim without a thought to his wishes. He bit his lip; if he could just hold himself back, much better things were coming.
The tentacles wrapped around his thighs sprouted little tendrils, pale shoots that ran up towards his cock, wrapping around it. They stroked him, but it was clearly not for his benefit; one of them whipped itself around the base of his dick like a little green cock ring.
He was fighting back hard against the creature now, but it didn't do him any good; the tentacles just held him tighter and tighter. He was babbling and begging, and Matt knew just enough Japanese to understand "no" and "stop" and "don't." There was something really hot about it, the way he protested, and Matt didn't know what it said about him that he enjoyed it; he just worked his hand faster on his dick and kept his eyes on the screen.
The arms of the creature pulled his legs even wider, and one of them, a big thick one, wetness shining at its tip, snaked its way up between them. It rose up over him, as if looking at him; he turned his face away, shutting his eyes, but another tentacle pushed his head back so that he had to look. The thick tentacle brushed against his lips before retreating, but it was far from done with him. It only moved down to probe at his ass, smearing fluid all over his hole before pressing in, slow but inexorable, sliding inch by torturous inch inside of him.
Matt's hand was flying on his dick; he could barely contain himself, but he had to make it to the end, had to see it. On screen, the hero was really screaming now, but that only lasted a few moments before a tentacle plugged his mouth. Suddenly he was getting it everywhere; the thing was fucking him from both ends, the tentacles in his mouth and ass working in and out in tandem, while the tendrils kept jerking his cock. There were tears at the corners of his eyes, and he screwed them shut, trying to keep out what was happening to him. There was no way he could, not when his entire body was moving in the creature's grasp, the tentacles controlling him entirely.
The tentacle in his ass was growing and growing, spreading him open, moving hard and fast. Suddenly, everything stopped, and Matt's breath caught in his throat; the tentacle pulsed, growing enormous for a moment, and the hero came all over himself just as the creature did, pumping something into him, something thick and white that flowed out of him, coating his thighs.
Matt grabbed the edge of his desk and came hard, so hard, swearing and panting.
And then it was done; he hung limply in the monster's grasp, used up and finally broken, looking totally wrecked. Matt stopped the video, sighing loudly and reaching for a tissue. It really was his favorite, and he wouldn't trade it; still, there was something really sad about it, something that caught him every time.
The hero had everything that Matt wanted, but he never got to enjoy it.
Believe it or not, I have a lot of Thoughts about this, about the tension between fictional desire and realistic desire, what we want to see and what we want to actually do. But in lieu of that, have ~1300 words of explicit tentacle porn. It includes underage drinking, kink-shaming, a depiction of noncon of the tentacly variety (in something the character is watching), and discussion of age issues in hentai, so, y'know, be warned in time.
--
Matt must have been nineteen the first time, give or take. He doesn't even really remember how they came around to it- a bunch of friends just getting trashed together, a stupid suggestion somebody made that seemed really hilarious at the time- but somebody put the tape in the VCR, and somebody turned it on.
He'd heard about the stuff before, and it lived up to its reputation, featuring helpless, "eighteen-year-old" girls who looked about twelve and evil monsters with ridiculously sized, well, everything. And the barely legal girls got caught, and the evil monsters did what evil monsters tend to do, and Tokyo ended up covered in white goo.
There were no end of things to mock about it. The animation was cheap, even by the standards of cheap animation, but the voice acting was even worse, alternating between theatrical moaning and unbearable screeching. Anything even resembling a plot went out the window in the first minute and a half, and the parts that didn't contain little girls getting fucked by tentacles were even stranger than the parts that did.
His friends thought it was completely hilarious, mocking it with undisguised glee; they thought it was absolutely the funniest thing they had ever seen.
Matt chugged his beer and tried to will down his erection; he didn't think it was funny at all.
A lot had changed since then; Matt had finished college and moved on to grad school, he had lost touch with pretty much all those friends, and he lived almost a thousand miles away, out near the ocean in California.
And the production values of Japanese tentacle porn had really improved.
He had more of it than he really liked to think about, but one night, he put on his very favorite, watching it for what seemed like the thousandth time.
There were a lot of reasons he preferred this particular video. It was a little harder to find the stuff with guys in it, but he'd lucked out with this one; the guy didn't even look like jailbait. He looked like he was Matt's age, maybe a little older, and he didn't have a voice that grated Matt's ears.
He skipped the first part; there wasn't anything interesting about it. It was just a lot of people standing around in temples talking, and there weren't any subtitles.
Ten or twelve minutes in was where the good stuff really started. The creature in this one wasn't really a monster, per se; it was just a writhing mass of vaguely plant-like tentacles that apparently had a bone to pick with the hero. As their unsuspecting victim walked past them, they waved faintly, as if blown by the wind; he looked at them suspiciously, but kept walking. It wasn't until he turned his back on them that things went south.
The tentacles pulsed with light, reaching towards him slowly, encircling him without touching; he turned his head, noticing them out of the corner of his eye, and they all latched onto him at once. He yelled as they raised him up off the ground, pulling his limbs apart until he was spread-eagled, helpless to stop what was to come.
They didn't rip his clothes off, not immediately, groping him through the material. Matt couldn't help mimicking them, sliding his hand down his stomach; the video focused on one tentacle as it moved over the bulge in his pants for the first time, and Matt sighed as he cupped his half-hard cock, trying to do it just like the film.
In most of these videos, the monsters just ripped through all their victims' clothing at once, their outfits just exploding as they were torn open, but this one was a little more methodical. The tentacles tore his clothes off piece by piece, exploring the new skin every time it was bared. His shirt was first, exposing his hairless, helpless body. The tentacles writhed over his chest, playing with his nipples, their suckers working them gently; Matt's fingers were nothing like that, but he tried, pulling at them rhythmically and trying to imagine what it would be like with one of those things on him.
His pants were next; the creature tugged them off, letting go of his legs briefly so it could pull them over his feet and drop them to the ground. He kicked and kicked, but the tentacles caught him easily, spreading his legs again. The tentacles crept up up the insides of his legs, wrapping around them, sliding wetly over the skin of his inner thighs; this was the part that always got to Matt, the part where they quit the teasing and just ripped his underwear off, all at once.
Matt worked himself out of his pants quickly, stroking himself, the touch of his hand so good on his aching cock. There were times when he came right there, just from seeing the thing move like that, stripping its victim without a thought to his wishes. He bit his lip; if he could just hold himself back, much better things were coming.
The tentacles wrapped around his thighs sprouted little tendrils, pale shoots that ran up towards his cock, wrapping around it. They stroked him, but it was clearly not for his benefit; one of them whipped itself around the base of his dick like a little green cock ring.
He was fighting back hard against the creature now, but it didn't do him any good; the tentacles just held him tighter and tighter. He was babbling and begging, and Matt knew just enough Japanese to understand "no" and "stop" and "don't." There was something really hot about it, the way he protested, and Matt didn't know what it said about him that he enjoyed it; he just worked his hand faster on his dick and kept his eyes on the screen.
The arms of the creature pulled his legs even wider, and one of them, a big thick one, wetness shining at its tip, snaked its way up between them. It rose up over him, as if looking at him; he turned his face away, shutting his eyes, but another tentacle pushed his head back so that he had to look. The thick tentacle brushed against his lips before retreating, but it was far from done with him. It only moved down to probe at his ass, smearing fluid all over his hole before pressing in, slow but inexorable, sliding inch by torturous inch inside of him.
Matt's hand was flying on his dick; he could barely contain himself, but he had to make it to the end, had to see it. On screen, the hero was really screaming now, but that only lasted a few moments before a tentacle plugged his mouth. Suddenly he was getting it everywhere; the thing was fucking him from both ends, the tentacles in his mouth and ass working in and out in tandem, while the tendrils kept jerking his cock. There were tears at the corners of his eyes, and he screwed them shut, trying to keep out what was happening to him. There was no way he could, not when his entire body was moving in the creature's grasp, the tentacles controlling him entirely.
The tentacle in his ass was growing and growing, spreading him open, moving hard and fast. Suddenly, everything stopped, and Matt's breath caught in his throat; the tentacle pulsed, growing enormous for a moment, and the hero came all over himself just as the creature did, pumping something into him, something thick and white that flowed out of him, coating his thighs.
Matt grabbed the edge of his desk and came hard, so hard, swearing and panting.
And then it was done; he hung limply in the monster's grasp, used up and finally broken, looking totally wrecked. Matt stopped the video, sighing loudly and reaching for a tissue. It really was his favorite, and he wouldn't trade it; still, there was something really sad about it, something that caught him every time.
The hero had everything that Matt wanted, but he never got to enjoy it.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-12-10 12:26 am (UTC)