pspspsps.. the council demands more cozy time with the tentacle knight. (can be pure fluff or another chance for the tentacles to get in your pants)
wink wink nudge nudge
THE COUNCIL!?
We got monster fucking blogs with elected councils now? Love it, noice.
Tentacle knight...
-
Your mother had been lamenting your choice of knight again.
This time you were in your bedroom, watching as your mother swanned about bemoaning the knight now standing by your bed, his feather plume full and lush unlike the wilted soggy mess it had been when you first welcomed him in as your chosen knight. Apparently the maids had been gossiping about how your dear knight had been camped out in your rooms, rather than outside the doors as a proper knight should, word reached your parents and rather than deal with the maids gossip, your mother had come straight to you.
It's highly improper to have a knight in your rooms like this, but unlike a normal human honoured guard who ran the risk of breeching his noble family name, your sweet mess of tendrils, tentacles and rattling purrs had no such thing to besmirch.
So, you hardly take in anything your mother says, instead giving your maid a sharp look that reminds her you are keeping her safe from your parents ire over her little escapades with the drake knights your parents keep as their own honour guard. The look gets the message across as she steps in and manages to get your mother out of your room, the moment the door clicks shut your knight is moving, chainmail clinking against itself as he shifts closer, lifting his visor and letting some of his tentacles unravel from within his helm as they wrap around your wrist tugging your hand into the writhing mess that makes up his body.
It takes about five minutes before you know for certain that the coast is clear and your pulling sections of armour off your knight, exposing the thick twisting mess of tentacles that make his arms hold a human-esque shape, giggling as he rattles with contentment before slipping the long slightly slick lengths of them under your night shirt.
You've been waiting all day for this, and you're certainly not going to let the moment pass you by, not when your dear knight has been so well behaved these past few days.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Roommate! tentacle monster who has lived with you for years. Or. Well, he was here first when you signed your lease so you can't really kick him out.
Also you are a bit scared to irritate him cause those tentacles look strong and you could only imagine what they could do. (In more ways than one) But that's beside the point.
He,,,, they? You aren't quite sure what his pronouns are, he never corrects you and when you try to ask he always says smth about how his species doesn't have pronouns so you can use whatever males tend to use. At least you know he's a guy you guess,,, not that it even matters.
He's fairly helpful and actually insists on doing most of the chores cause he likes the house to be arranged and set up in a certain way. He puts particular care in how things are put in their spots. It's interesting. You've never seen his actual body just his limbs. He can't really see the house, but he's got the place completely memorized.
When you get home exhausted and annoyed from work he'll usually make dinner for the two of you. And more often than not you'll end up crashing on the couch before you even get a chance to make it to your bed.
When that happens you always wake up in different clothes, and in your own bed. you choose not to question it and just be thankful.
Apparently, your parents aren't happy you've taken a knight.
In fact, your father has been pacing the main sitting room with your mother, looking faint as she fans herself while draped across a lounge, both unable to look at you or the heavily armoured creature kneeling by your feet, staring up at you like you had personally hung the moon for him. Nothing you could say would make them happy right now, so you simply sit and play with the feather plume on your new knight's helm, enjoying the odd rumbling it makes as you do.
Your father speaks first, voice rough and withdrawn, "You... You can't keep it. You can't, I won't allow such a thing in my home, not now, not ever."
From the corner of your eye, you catch your mother nodding before she speaks up, weepy and following in your father's words. "I know you want a knight, dear, but... There are better ones, human ones that have applied endlessly to be your protector, can't you simply pick one of those and get rid of that thing?"
It, thing, no matter how many times you insisted that they should call him by the name it gave you, they demean and dismissed the knight now rattling with joy as you let your fingers sink into the writhing mass of tentacles just barely reachable under the visor of its helm. You shrug, looking between your parents before answering them, telling them you like this one perfectly fine, and it has done quite well at keeping you safe since you brought it home.
Your parents think you found it on the streets and dragged it home; little do they know you found it in the gardens of your estate, kneeling in the mud with a wilted plume. It was quite a sad sight, so you guided it to the stables and told it to stay there till the current weather passed. The rain only stopped for a few moments at a time in this season, and you hardly wanted the strange knight to be ill.
But that particular truth could wait a while longer; for now, you simply have to get your parents to give up on trying to get rid of your new knight. And you needed your new knight to stop trying to sneak one of its many tentacles that hide under its armour, into your clothes.
Those are all problems for a later date, for now, you want out of this awful room...
Your knight needs pets after all, and you really don't need your parents knowing what that means.
Summary: On Easter morning, a woman finds a decorative egg that is actually a powerful tentacled creature. It holds her helpless and fills every orifice with its appendages.
I found the egg nestled in the fake grass of my Easter basket.
It wasn't there when I went to bed. I knew because I'd assembled the damn thing myself—shredded pastel filler, a chocolate rabbit with one ear already bitten off, those vile marshmallow chicks I pretended to hate.
But this morning, sitting right where my coffee mug should have been, was an egg the size of a cantaloupe. Ceramic? Glass? I couldn't tell. The surface swirled with colors that didn't quite exist—purples that bled into greens that had no business touching, veins of gold that seemed to pulse when I squinted.
"Pretty," I whispered, reaching out.
The moment my fingertip made contact, the shell went soft. Not cracking—melting, like wax beneath an invisible flame. I tried to snatch my hand back, but something had already hooked into my skin. Tiny barbs, no, suckers, no—
The egg unfolded.
That's the only word for it.
One moment it was a smooth oval cradled in shredded green plastic, the next it had blossomed into a constellation of limbs. Tentacles. Dozens, then hundreds, spilling over the edges of the basket and slithering across my kitchen table. They weren't the rubbery octopus kind I'd seen in hentai. These were wrong. Each one ended in something different; a bulbous glans, a tapered corckscrew that twisted even as I watched, a ridged shaft that flared at the base like a knot, a split head that drooled clear fluid.
I opened my mouth to scream.
One of them was faster.
The tentacle that shoved past my lips tasted sweet, like ripe fruit. It didn't push deep. Just filled my mouth enough to muffle the sound, pressing my tongue flat against the floor of my jaw while more of its brothers slithered up my thighs.
"Shhh," the egg said.
Except it wasn't speaking. The vibration came from everywhere—from the air, from the floorboards, from the tentacle parked between my molars. Inside me, somehow. Like the thing had already begun to nest in my skull.
"You touched me. You opened me. Now you get to be my little Easter basket."
I tried to bite down. My teeth sank into flesh that gave like overdone steak, then hardened, forcing my jaw wider. The taste intensified—metallic and sweet and hungry. A second tentacle slithered alongside the first, and I gagged as they pressed against the back of my throat in tandem. Not rough. Precise. Like they'd mapped every inch of my mouth before I was born.
"That's it. Stretch those pretty lips. I want to see the outline of my cocks through your cheeks."
Cocks. Plural. I looked down, past the tentacles now winding around my wrists, pinning my arms to the chair and saw that the thing wasn't exaggerating. The limbs that had removed my dress and wrapped my legs apart ended in shapes that belonged on a body, not an egg.
One nudged against the dampening cotton of my panties, its head shaped like a corckscrew that rotated in lazy circles. Another pressed higher, smearing its slick across my belly, and when it found my navel it toyed there.
"You're wet already." The egg sounded pleased. "Did you dream about this? Wake up with your thighs sticky and your cunt clenching around nothing?"
I wanted to say no. I wanted to spit out the twin shafts stretching my lips, wanted to kick and claw and run. But my body wasn't listening to my brain anymore. The juices coating my thighs weren't sweat. When the corckscrew tentacle finally shoved my panties aside and dragged its twisting head through my folds, my hips lifted.
"Oh," the egg crooned. "You're going to be so easy."
It didn't wait for permission.
The corckscrew drove into my cunt in one spiraling thrust and I felt every rotation. The ridges carved channels through my clinging flesh, spreading me wider than any human cock ever had. My scream came out garbled around the tentacles in my throat, spit bubbling past my stretched lips as the thing in my pussy kept turning, kept boring deeper.
"There it is." The egg's voice vibrated in my mind. "Your little clutch of nerves. I can feel them pulsing against my tip. Do you know how many eggs I'm going to pump past that ring of muscle? How many times I'm going to make you gush around me before I'm done?"
I couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe. The corckscrew had bottomed out and it unfurled—petals of flesh spreading inside my womb, anchoring itself in place. The tentacles in my mouth pulled free just long enough for me to choke out a sob.
"Please—"
"Please what? Keep going? Stop? Use your words, little slut."
"Need more!" you shouted shamlessly.
And the tentacled egg gave it. You were swiftly moved on all fours, arms and legs restrained, pussy still overfilled. Another tentacle came to tease your asshole. No corckscrew on this one, just a smooth, tapered tip that widened into thick, pulsing knots every inch along its length. It circled my tightest hole while the thing in my cunt gave a lazy twist, sending sparks up my spine.
"That's the one I'm most excited about," the egg admitted. "Your mouth is soft. Your cunt is greedy. But your ass... that's going to fight me. And I love it when they fight."
I clenched. Every muscle in my body locked up as the tapered tip pressed against my asshole, not forcing,just letting me feel how much wider it was than anything that belonged there. The knotted shaft pulsed against my rim, and the tentacle in my womb rotated again, sending fresh slick gushing down my thighs.
"You can relax or you can tear. I don't care which. But I'm not asking twice."
The first knot popped past my sphincter and I sobbed.
It wasn't pain, exactly. Or maybe it was, but my nerves had stopped translating properly. The sensation was pressure; a fullness that spread from my asshole through my entire pelvis, compressing organs that had never been touched before. The tentacle paused with the first knot seated inside me, and I felt every ridge of it pressing against my inner walls.
"Breathe," the egg ordered. "You're going to take all six knots before I let you come. And you will come. You'll come until your eyes roll back and your tongue lolls out and you forget your own name. And then I'll fill you."
The tentacle pushed deeper. Second knot. My vision whited out at the edges, and I heard myself making sounds I'd never made before—high, keening uh-uh-uh noises. The thing in my cunt had started moving again, corckscrew ridges dragging against my g-spot on every rotation, and the two shafts in my mouth returned, replaced by three, all different shapes.
One was smooth and blunt, like a mushroom cap. One had ridges that vibrated against my tongue. The third... the third was split down the middle, a cleft dick that wrapped around my tongue and pulled, forcing me to suckle it deeper.
"That's it. Show me that throat. I want to feel you swallow around me."
I gagged as the split tentacle slid past my gag reflex. The mushroom cap followed, then the ridged one, and suddenly my throat was a sleeve, a wet tunnel for three monster cocks that pistoned in a rhythm I couldn't predict. Sometimes they pushed together, stretching my lips to their limit. Sometimes they alternated—one thrusting while the others held still, then switching, keeping me off-balance.
The third knot popped into my ass.
Fourth.
I was crying now. Or maybe just leaking—tears, spit, the juices that gushed from my cunt every time the corckscrew twisted. The tentacle in my womb had begun to swell, its base expanding to lock itself behind my pubic bone, and I realized with a distant kind of horror that I couldn't push it out even if I wanted to. I was plugged.
"You feel that?" The egg's voice was softer now. "That's my ovipositor. It's threading itself through your cervix right now. Can you feel the little barbs?"
I could. Thousands of microscopic hooks, each one anchoring the tentacle deeper into my womb. Making sure I couldn't dislodge it even if I tried.
"I'm going to lay my eggs inside you. And you're going to take every single one."
The first egg moved through the ovipositor.
I felt it travel—a smooth, hard sphere pushing through the tentacle's core, distending the shaft as it descended toward my womb. The sensation was wrong in the most exquisite way, a fullness that had no right to feel good but made my walls clench anyway.
"Here it comes, little slut. Open up."
The egg pushed past the tip of the ovipositor and lodged in my womb. I felt my abdomen bulge—just slightly, just enough to see if I looked down—as the sphere settled against my uterine wall. The corckscrew tentacle gave a final twist, grinding the egg deeper, and I came.
Not a gentle orgasm. Not a ripple or a flutter. My entire body locked, every muscle going rigid as my cunt seized around the corckscrew shaft and my ass clenched around the knotted tentacle and my throat milked the three cocks shoved down it. I felt my eyes roll back. Felt my tongue loll past the split tentacle. Felt my consciousness fracture as the egg in my womb pulsed with heat.
"One," the egg counted. "Only nineteen more to go."
Nineteen???
The second egg started its descent before my orgasm finished. I was still twitching, still gasping around the cocks in my throat, when another hard sphere pushed into my womb. The next one followed, then another and another, the previous eggs shifted aside to make room, and I felt my abdomen stretch, felt the skin of my lower belly tighten.
"You're taking them so well. I thought you'd fight more. Beg more. But look at you... Your cunt is dripping. Your nipples are so hard I could hang ornaments on them. You want this. You've always wanted this."
I couldn't deny it. Not when my hips were grinding against the corckscrew tentacle, chasing the friction. Not when my ass was pushing back against the knotted shaft, trying to take it deeper. Not when my throat was working around the three cocks like I'd been born to swallow.
The tentacles in my mouth pulled free.
I gasped for air, coughing, spitting, drool stringing from my chin to my chest. Before I could speak, the egg's voice filled my head again.
"Look down."
I looked.
My lower belly was swollen. Distended, stretched around the eggs into my womb. I could see the outlines of them through my skin, smooth spheres pressing outward like I'd swallowed a dozen billiard balls.
"Eight," the egg said. "You've taken eight. Let's speed this up."
The tentacles shifted. The knotted shaft in my ass pulled out— knot by knot, each one dragging against my sphincter until I was sobbing from the loss. The three cocks in my mouth retreated, leaving my lips bruised and gaping. Even the corckscrew in my cunt unfurled, its petals folding back as it began to withdraw.
"No—" The word escaped before I could stop it.
The egg laughed. "Oh, darling. Did you think I was done with you?"
New tentacles rose from the mass. These ones were different—thicker, darker, their ends shaped like fists, like bulbs, like nothing I'd ever seen in any anatomy textbook. One pressed against my pussy.
"There." The egg sounded satisfied. "Time to take the rest."
I screamed as the new tentacle bottomed out. The sensation was indescribable—not pleasure, not pain, but a kind of pressure that rewired my brain with every thrust. The egg in my womb pulsed, and I felt the remaining eggs surge forward, no longer moving one by one but in a flood.
Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
My belly swelled like a balloon. I could see my skin stretching, the outlines of eggs pressing outward in a grotesque parody of pregnancy. The tentacle in my new hole began to rotate, its tip scraping against something that made stars burst behind my eyes.
"Fifteen," the egg crooned. "You're halfway there. And you haven't even come again yet."
I had. I was. The orgasm built without my permission, rising from the pressure in my womb and the fullness in my hole and the hum of the tentacles still wrapped around my limbs. I opened my mouth to scream—
The split tentacle shoved back inside.
I gagged around it as the ridged one joined it, as the mushroom cap pressed against my soft palate. The three cocks filled my throat in a perfect triangle, and this time when I swallowed, I felt them pulse—felt something thick and hot shoot past my lips, flooding my mouth with that ripe-sweet taste.
"You wanted my cum, little slut? Take it."
I swallowed. And swallowed. And swallowed, because the tentacles wouldn't stop pumping, filling my belly with something that burned in the most delicious way. My stomach distended alongside my womb, the two swellings pressing against each other through my diaphragm, making it hard to breathe.
"There she is," the egg breathed. "There's my good little slut.."
The final eggs came in a rush and were the most difficult to accept. I lost count as my body gave up trying to resist and simply surrendered. The tentacles in my holes began to withdraw—slowly, carefully, their barbs and knots and corckscrews pulling free one by one.
And then I was empty.
No. Not empty. Full. My belly hung heavy between my thighs, round and taut and groaning with the weight of twenty eggs. I could feel them shifting when I breathed, could feel the cum sloshing in my stomach, could feel the ache of every hole stretched beyond its limits.
"Happy Easter, my little slut."
The tentacles retreated—slithering back into the central mass, which had begun to harden, the colors swirling slower and slower until it was just an egg again. A decorative egg, sitting in a pool of slick and cum and my own fluids.
I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Could only feel—the eggs settling in my wombs, the cum digesting in my belly, the throb of every orifice the thing had claimed.
When I finally dragged myself to the bathroom hours later, I was still leaking. Still full. And when I looked in the mirror, I saw the egg monster's final gift: a tattoo on my lower belly, right above the swell of its children.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Hello Hello 👋🏻 I just came across your writing and I really fell in love with them. So I have a little something like how the fem reader accidentally gets caught by tentacles monster and then taken to the tentacles’ lair to be pleasured all her sensitive parts and overstimulating her. She too has always been someone who’s curious about tentacles and how they feel around her.
It’s okay to ignore this if it’s something that goes against your rules 🤗
p.s. Can I call you darling or sweetheart as a form of endearment 🥰
When curiosity leads the way
Hi love !! Thank you so much for these compliments, it really means the world for me 🥹💖. This is absolutely fine and doesn't go against any rules of mine ! Plus I added a bit more than you requested and I think you'll like it ~. And, of course, it's fine if you call me darling or sweetheart!! ✨️
You were fucked, do you? And you knew it in the moment you felt your wrists being tightly restraint.
Who was? Why was it doing it? Your head filled with questions as a slimy substance slide down your arms.
Your body shivered in fear. One time you lost your consciousness and now you were in this strange, dangerous situation. Your heartbeat jammering inside your ears, sweat running down your back and your legs trembling.
You are paralized and the worst thing is that you cannot escape.
"C'mon...c'mon" urgency in your voice as your mind kept screaming to move your feet.
But now, it was too late.
As you thought you were doing a step forward, your ankles were captured by the same thing that was holding your wrists.
You screamed, wishing someone, anyone, could hear you.
Your heart sank when you realised that no one would come for you.
You are alone. Alone and with barely any light in sight.
A squelching sound echoed in your ears. Your first impulse was to touch whatever it was but you groaned.
You can't touch it, remember?
A moan escapes your mouth. The strange thing that was on your shoulder was sucking it, marking your skin.
"Who are you?! What are you doing?!". You shout while another moan broke out from you.
No answer, just silence around you.
Your mind kept being loud, making your head ache. You wondered when this will be over.
You started to feel less and less of your energy. Your throat hurting from screaming and shouting.
But this is far from over. Another pair of those things that were making you impossible to escape went on your thighs, opening your legs.
You mewl feeling your nipples getting stimulated as - for what you could saw - two more tentacles held your boobs and in a circling motion massaged your chest.
You felt ashamed. Juices wetting your panties, your eyes rolling back from your nipples being played with.
You were especially sensitive there and you swear you could came like this. You tried to close your legs, needing some friction down to your aching core but the tentacles squeezed your thighs more, keeping them nicely open.
A rustling sound alarmed you. With barely any light you couldn't see very well.
But why would you need to see when you could feel?
Something bigger poked your shorts, putting aside your drenched panties.
You widened your eyes and moaned when the tentacle entered your warm insides. It didn't care if you were stretched enough, for it the important thing was to be in a pleasant pussy.
You were so wet, so wet that the squelching sounds reververed around you.
This bigger tentacle kept moving at an harsh peace, your hips moving with the same tempo. Pleasure flowing through your whole body as you wanted more and more.
You were feeling ecstatic, your hole clenching the tentacle, your nipples teased as you approached your first orgams. Your white cream dirtying the unstoppable thing inside you.
"W-wait, ngh, please !". Your walls fluttered, your breath heavy as now a sucked was on your clit.
"Feels so good! A-ah, mhh keep going !!"
As if the tentcles was tired of your incessant moans two small but thick of it touched your mouth. Your mind was clouded with pleasure so you gladly took them.
The bigger one still was pounding your creamy pussy and something poked at your puckered hole. Its small tip teasing it with his precum, verifying that it had enough space.
You came another time. The pleasure too intense, especially now that both your pussy and your anus were being pounded so good. Never in your entire life you felt like this.
You were completely gone. You only wanted more and more and more and more. And that's when the grand finale arrived:
The two tentacles on your mouth came, making it hard for you to swallow everything and the ones fucking your pussy and ass came it too while you squirted.
You body squirmed, moaning loudly as a puddle of cum was on the ground and your juices goes everywhere.
"Did I lost my consciousness, again?".
You pondered, your body free to move and light coming out.
"Whatever..." your voice uncertain as you walked your way to your home.
but anyway... I dunno if you ever thought about it before, but imagine a prince(ss) × knight scenario. The knight has sworn fealty to the prince(ss) BUT... the knight is living armor. Everyone believes that they are just a mechanism, including the prince(ss). So imagine their surprise when Knight suddenly drags them away and throws them onto the bed, dozens upon dozens of writhing tentacles seeping through the gaps of armor... -🐈⬛
Okay, but this ask came in when I was working on the raven hybrid knight and the prince drabble I did and my brain connected the two in a way.
Like this concept, but the prince is one of the other royal children and this personal knight being the tentacle creature infesting the armour...
-
You all have your personal guard, some of your siblings more than others, the youngest prince has but one raven knight, your sister a set of three oath bound champions of mixed hybrid status, the two eldest have full detachments each, led by a hulking wolf beastmen and a minotaur respectively. You have two knights in your charge, a living automata of armour and a drake knight, the two hardly mix well but they tend to your safety without fail.
You'd always wondered who had made your first knight, the armour moving so smoothly as it followed you from room to room, standing for hours as you did your royal duties without so much as a hiss or clank from whatever powered the thing inside of it.
Often curiosity had you reaching, fingers brushing the edge of its helm before work, or the world stops you from going further, like fate keeping secrets from you. Still, you wonder between social meetings, economic motions, and delegations that take up your time, what lies beneath? Is it cog work? Steam? Magic? Or something unholy bound to endless service for you alone?
Late into the night, when your drake guard has retired you stand ready to lock your office and bring an end to your day's work, jolting as the gauntlet of your mystery knight wraps around your wrist dragging you back to your rooms. Sure, you had worked late, and even as one of the lesser princes of the kingdom you still were at risk of political movements, but you hardly thought your late work day required such rough guidance to your bedchamber.
Your shoes only come off due to the way you are tossed onto your bed, still in your days finery as you lean on your elbows, looking up at your knight with confusion and slight fear.
Whatever you had thought to say dies as you watch the chainmail under its plate unravel, the links once interwoven now thin writhing lines of tentacles. Your knight is no automata, the armour is a living thing that unwinds belts and hanging pieces to reveal their true nature as mimicry tentacles, wrapping around your wrists and sliding under the cuffs of your shirt, the visor of its helm lifting as a more silvery tentacles slip from underneath.
Surely it is uncouth the way you act, but the long simmering curiosity has you leaning forward, lips barely brushing one of the longer, thicker, tentacles as you look up into the blank depths of the helms visor. Letting the thin tip slip into your mouth and wrap around your tongue, drool slowly seeping out of your mouth as you wonder what has spurred such actions on.
Come morning your valet would announce a minor bout of sickness, leaving you to rest and recover from the long night you endured. The false automata knight standing guard by your doors, letting only those trusted into your rooms to tend to you.
Octopus Tentacled Mate PART 4: The Broodmother (tentacled monster x fem!reader!1st POV)
Summary: reader becomes the broodmother of the octopus monster and its eggs.
TW: NSFW, MDNI, non-con, mind break, incestuous themes, orgy/“family” use, all holes constantly filled, sharing, humiliation, loss of identity.
<-----PART 3
˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚🫧🥚🐙˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚🫧🥚🐙˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚🫧🥚🐙˖°𓇼🌊
Months blurred.
The cave was my world.
I was never alone.
The octopus monster, who I’d started to think of as the Patriarch in my few lucid moments, was always there, a constant presence. But now, I was surrounded by a sea of tentacles;his, and those of his growing sons. The eggs I birthed.
The offspring matured with terrifying speed. Within weeks, they were the size of large dogs, their tentacles thick and strong.
The Patriarch was their teacher. I was the lesson.
He would hold me down, often on my back or bent over a smooth rock, and demonstrate. A thick tentacle would slowly push into my cunt as the young ones watched, their black eyes absorbing everything.
The Patriarch would then withdraw and nudge one of the larger ones forward. It would mimic its father, tentacle probing my entrance before thrusting in, learning the rhythm, the pressure.
“See,” the Patriarch seemed to communicate without words, a pulse I could now feel in my bones. “This is how you claim the broodmother. This is how you make her sing.”
And I would sing. My voice was always hoarse from screaming and moaning. The youngling's technique was clumsier, more frantic, but its size was undeniable. It would fuck me with eager, jerking thrusts until the Patriarch pulled it off and let another try.
My body was no longer my own.
My older sons, now nearly as large as the Patriarch but less coordinated, were insatiable and jealous.
A typical “day” was a never-ending cycle of sex. I might be on my hands and knees, a large son fucking my cunt doggedly from behind, his suckers leaving bruises on my hips. Another would be facing me, its tentacle shoved deep down my throat, making me gag and drool as it face-fucked me. A third, impatient, would be pushing at my ass, demanding its turn.
They had no concept of waiting, of anything but their own need to be inside me, to claim a piece of the broodmother.
When one would finish, pumping its seed into one of my holes, it would often leave a smaller tentacle tip behind, plugging me so its sibling’s cum wouldn’t leak out. I was stuffed in all three holes, plugged up, a leaking vessel of their fluids, my own juices, and the constant milk flowing from my breasts that they still suckled from.
The jealousy was palpable. If one son had been fucking my cunt for too long, another would wrap a tentacle around its sibling and yank it off me, often with a pained squeal from the displaced young. Then the victor would immediately spear me, claiming the prize.
I was passed between them, a treasured pleasure doll. My arms and legs were always restrained, either by the Patriarch’s larger limbs or by the coils of my competing sons.
My mind was gone. Broken.
There were no more thoughts of escape... of my old life.
There was only the endless, stretching fullness, the wet slap of tentacle flesh against mine, the squelching of my overused holes, the sharp suck of a mouth on my nipple or clit, the guttural, choking sounds I made when my throat was filled.
Pleasure and pain had fused into a single, constant state of being.
I existed to be filled, fucked, and fed upon.
The Patriarch watched over it all, a monstrous king presiding over his harem of one.
Sometimes he would disperse the fighting young with a powerful lash of his tentacles. Sometimes he would claim me for himself, fucking me silly while his sons gathered around to watch and learn. After he finished, he would often deposit a new clutch of eggs inside me, and the cycle of distension and birth would begin again.
Now, I lay on a bed of soft, mossy rock they’d cultivated for me, surrounded by a shifting, restless mass of tentacles—some large, some small, all seeking contact. A younger son nuzzled at my breast, suckling. Two larger ones were rhythmically thrusting into my cunt and ass, their movements now practiced, efficient in their need to hear my choked, broken moans. A fourth traced the shell of my ear with a slippery tip.
So good.
This was my life now.
I was the broodmother.
My world was the cave, my family was the monsters, and my purpose was to receive them, all of them.
And in the shattered silence of my soul, a part of me, the last surviving ember of who I once was, knew with absolute certainty that I didn’t want it to ever end.
