Rod Vs The Tentacle Monster

With the setting sun casting long shadows, my Range Rover slowly crept along as I watched the large brown numbers painted on the buff-colored block buildings increase with each passing row. I was in a large, upscale, light industrial complex, looking for unit 1650. It had taken me a moment, and a wrong turn, to figure out the numbering scheme for the complex. The first two numbers were the row, while the last two indicated the unit number. I turned down the last row, the wide corridor bracketed by buildings with a six-foot-high, number sixteen painted on the ends. At the far end of the wide row, a group of cars were parked, likely indicating my destination. They were the only vehicles I'd seen in the entire complex, other than the occasional parked delivery truck or van.

There were far more cars than would fit in the ten slots assigned to each unit, the extra vehicles parked in front of the tall roll-up door and spilling into the parking spaces for 1648 to the right, and 1649 across the wide drive between the buildings. There was one space available, next to the office door, seemingly saved for me, so I pulled into the spot, staring at the giant 1650 painted on the wall directly in front of me. I switched off my SUV and sat for a moment. I hadn't signed anything, and I could drive away any time I wanted, but the question was... did I want to?

Two weeks ago tomorrow, I'd been contacted by Richard Lem, and he'd offered me a job. I didn't need side work since I was living comfortably running my Aston Martin/Jaguar/Lotus/Range Rover dealership, but he'd appealed to my vanity... so now here I sat. He refused to give me any details about the shoot, but the money was good--five grand for up to five hours work. I'd still hesitated, but then he'd promised he was working to the highest production values on something new and unique, and he claimed I was perfect for the role because I could act. It was his use of the word 'role', his suggestion that I might get to act a little, and his insistence that they actually had production values, that had finally convinced me to agree to meet with him and consider his offer.

I used to be a star. I'd performed in over two thousand shorts and scenes, starred in more than fifty feature length films, and had been one of the highest paid male performers in the business. At the peak of my career, I'd once shot ten features in a year, and while I received a small, fixed residual from the DVD sales of my feature films, in this age of streaming, none of my movies generated enough sales to matter. The last time I checked, I had well over 4,500 scenes available on xxxvideos.com. Many of the scenes were duplicates, and all were ripped from my various features and shorts, but I was pretty sure every scene I'd ever been in was available.

Despite my former success, my last job had convinced me it was time for me to hang up my cock. After more than three years out of the business, a producer had contacted me with a job offer. I'd once been well paid to fuck the most desirable women in the world, but I'd fallen so low that for the princely sum of four hundred dollars, I'd fucked a man's wife, in their marriage bed, while he filmed on an iPhone. After I'd collected my pay, twenty $20 bills that would probably cause a drug dog to hit, I'd decided I wasn't taking any more jobs to preserve what dignity I had left.

That had been more than a year ago, and despite my promise to myself, I was once again considering dipping my cock in. I pondered a moment longer, hoping--perhaps praying--I wasn't here because I was just another washed up porn star longing for his glory days. I glanced at the clock. 8:56. I was expected at 9:00. With a huffing sigh, I unlatched my seatbelt and opened my door. I was here, so I was going to take a look, but I made another promise to myself that if I didn't like what I saw, I was walking... all the while hoping I wouldn't break that promise as well.

I tried the glass front door that led into an office, but it was locked. I moved down to the man door beside the wide roll-up door and opened it. Inside was a large open space, perhaps one hundred feet wide by fifty deep. Occupying the space was a lump of something sitting on a raised floor with walls on three sides, another area that appeared to be some kind of control room, and a section of corridor that was maybe thirty feet long. They were obviously sets and appeared to be designed to represent some kind of ship or submarine. In addition to the sets themselves, near each of the sets were matching wall sections that could be moved into place to reconfigure the set for shooting different angles.

"Rod?" asked a thick woman of average height with vibrant, deep green hair that stopped at the nape of her neck, a small septum ring, and three small green stars stuck to her face. She was probably in her early to mid-thirties, with a pleasant smile, lively eyes, and an impressive set of breasts.

"That's right," I replied.

She extended her hand. "Nice to meet you," she said as I took the offered hand. "I'm Jen Strickland, assistant producer and production coordinator."

"Nice to meet you too."

She gave me a quick appraisal and then smiled. "Not bad. When Lemmy told me who he wanted to hire, I looked up some of your work." Her smile spread as her gaze returned to mine. "You were hot as fuck back in the day... and it doesn't look like you've lost much of it."

I smiled with her compliment. "Thanks. Nice of you to say."

"You're welcome. I can see why he wanted you."

"Why's that?"

"Well, like I said, you're still hot as shit, in a DILF kind of way, it appears you can actually act a little, and you look like a guy that would captain a spaceship." She began poking at her tablet. "Now, if you're ready to get started, I have some paperwork for you to sign, and then we can get you over to makeup and costume."

"Before I agree to anything, I want to find out exactly what's expected of me. You said spaceship?"

She smiled. "I did, but before we give you any details, I need you to sign an NDA."

"An NDA? A non-disclosure agreement? Really?"

She nodded. "We're working on something... special... and we're keeping it quiet. We're planning on releasing a series of videos, and we don't want anyone horning in on our turf. You know how it is." She poked at her tablet and then handed it to me.

I did know how it was. Even back in my day, if a film or short went big, everyone started making the same movie, trying to get in on the gravy train. I pulled my glasses from my pocket and slipped them on before I took the tablet, quickly scanned the legalese that said I couldn't reveal what I was about to see without written authorization, and then used the stylus to sign. I handed the device back to her.

"There you go," I said as I tucked my glasses back into my pocket

"Thanks," she said as she took the tablet. "Let me go find Lemmy. He can answer all your questions. Wait here," she continued before she turned and hurried away.

I stood, watching as the crew continued setting up lights, positioned cables, and performed other tasks. After a moment, a large, greying man approached.

"Rod? I'm Rich Lem, the producer and director. People around here call me Lemmy. Glad to finally meet you in person," he said as he extended his hand.

"Same," I replied as I took the offered hand. The man appeared to be about ten years older than my own fifty-six years, and while he might be going soft with age, he still had a firm grip.

Like Jen, he gave me a long look up and down as he released my hand, nodding in apparent satisfaction as he did. During our initial discussion, he'd asked for some recent shirtless stills and my measurements, and while I wasn't as ripped as I'd been twenty or thirty years ago, I still worked out hard to stay in shape.

"Jen said you had questions?"

"A few."

He jerked his head to follow as he turned away. "Come on. Let me show you what we're doing." He led me toward the lump I'd seen on the raised flooring. "This is Londo," he said with a gesture. "If you agree to take the part, we're going to shoot tonight."

"And if I don't?"

"Then we're going to shoot some B-roll." He glanced at me with a small smile. "If you don't take the job, I've got Cal Steele on standby, and we'll do principal photography tomorrow night."

I didn't know Cal personally, but I knew who he was. He was probably about my age, and had gotten into the business a few years after me. He was a big muscular guy, like I was, but he'd never gotten as big as I had, and hadn't lasted as long. If Cal and I were Lemmy's choices, he was obviously casting for type. I didn't like his stupid games, but as I opened my mouth to tell him to go ahead and call Cal, Lemmy continued.

"I'd rather have you, because Cal can't act worth a shit, but I've got to start shooting tonight."

"Why?"

"Because we've got some rich asshole Silicon Valley billionaire funding this, and he's putting the screws to us to produce something. We've already dropped nearly a quarter-mil into this production, most of it going to Londo and the sets," he continued with a jerk of his thumb at the lump, "and we haven't shot a single frame... except for some test footage of Londo in action."

I looked at Londo. It looked like a semi-melted rubber monster with a dozen or so tentacles curled up on one end. "Like in Calrissian?" I asked with a nod at the lump.

Lemmy smiled. "Not Lando, Londo, as in Londo Mollari. You ever watch Babylon 5?"

"No, I can't say that I have. It's some old sci-fi show, right?"

He nodded. "Right. The guy that built Londo gave him his name. It's a lot easier to call him Londo than to keep saying the tentacle creature. Anyway, in one episode, it's revealed that the Centauri's sex organs are tentacles." He shrugged with a grin. "I didn't know that myself until I was told, but whatever. Spielberg has his Bruce, I have my Londo."

I couldn't stop my smile at Lemmy comparing this to a Spielberg production. "And what, exactly, is Londo's role in all of this?" I asked, my voice cool.

Lemmy smiled. "Just what you're thinking."

I glanced at Londo again. This was even worse than fucking some old guy's bimbo of a wife. "You want me to fuck a puppet?" I asked, already trying to figure out how I could cut this short without being a complete asshole.

"He's much more than a puppet," Lemmy said quickly, obviously realizing he was losing me. "You know tentacle porn is a very popular genre." He waited until I nodded before he continued. "Well, we've set out to make the best tentacle porn ever created. It's a particular fetish of our backer."

"Okay," I began slowly, "but isn't that mostly tentacles fucking women?"

Lemmy nodded. "It is... and that's our ultimate goal... but as I said before, we're getting a lot of pressure to film something, anything, to show the backer so he doesn't pull his funding." I said nothing, and after a moment Lemmy continued. "We're currently using off the shelf valves to control the tentacles, but they don't give us the fine control we need to do traditional tentacle porn. As you can imagine, someone could easily get hurt, so we're going to do something a little different while we have some custom valves made." Lemmy glanced around a moment before his gaze paused at a man on his knees at the back of the raised set. "Tim! Come over here and talk to this gentleman, and tell him how Londo works." Lemmy nodded at Tim as he stood and approached. "That's Tim Sloboski. He's the mechanical engineer that designed and built Londo and our bridge."

I waited for the thin, balding, bespeckled man, to arrive. "Hi. Tim Sloboski. You Rod Hardwood?"

I took the man's offered hand. "I am."

"So, what do you want to know?"

"What can you tell me?"

"Okay," Tim began with a smile like a proud parent. "Without getting too technical, Londo's tentacles are made of low-resilience polyurethane foam, what most people call memory foam, surrounding a multi-segmented spring steel skeleton, and covered with a molded TPR. That's thermoplastic rubber. Depending on the size of the tentacle, the spring rate of the steel ranges from 5 pounds or so for the smallest, to nearly a hundred pounds for the largest," he explained as he pointed at the various tentacles curled tightly against Londo. "Inside each tentacle are two high-pressure water hoses. We started with air, but we found that water gave us finer control. Anyway, one hose follows the length of the steel spring, while the other wraps around it," he said as he spun a finger in a loop. "When pressure is applied to the one following the springs, it forces the tentacle to straighten. When pressure is applied to the coiled line, the tentacle will twist at the gimbled segments. Clear so far?"

"I think."

"The plumbing goes under the floor there," Tim said while pointing at the opposite end of Londo, "and we control the valves off camera over there," he continued while pointing to six large metal boxes with four levers each, each control topped with a different colored ball. "Inside Londo there's a cavity where a puppeteer lies on her back so she can use her arms and legs to move and control the body."

"Why don't you give Rod a demonstration," Lemmy suggested, "so he can see for himself."

Tim grinned. "Sure," he said before he turned from us and called across the room. "Silvie! Guys! Lemmy wants Londo to dance!" He turned back to us. "Give me a sec. I have to pressurize the tanks." As I watched, four men and two women stopped what they were doing and walked toward us. As his crew gathered, Tim walked to a large electrical panel and flipped a breaker. While what I assumed was a pump quietly thrummed, five of the crew clustered around the six consoles, while a small woman squirmed her way under the set that was sitting about three feet off the floor. A moment later, I heard a sliding, grinding scrape, followed by a soft thumb, and then Londo's body expanded and began to move, making him look far more realistic. As the woman inside Londo made herself ready, Tim joined the other five crew members at the consoles.

The moment the pump fell silent, Londo came to life, its tentacles uncurling and waving about, reaching, curling, and twisting about in a surprisingly believable manner as the men and woman worked their levers, pushing them forward or pulling them back from the center position, as the woman inside Londo's body did whatever she did that made the body come alive. This was clearly not a hand in a rubber mold, nor tentacles controlled with wires or poles, and I was impressed. Londo was a Hollywood quality practical effect.

"Want to give it a try," Tim asked as the tentacles became still, "just to get a sense of what will be going on?" He must have seen my hesitancy. "It can't hurt you. All the springs are covered in the memory foam, and an adult can overpower even the largest springs. I tested it on myself, and if I can overpower it, I know you can."

"Sure," I said, not wanting to look like a wimp.

"We'll start out slow," Tim said as I hopped up onto the raised floor. "Hey, Londo," I said as I stopped in front of the monster.

I snickered as one of the medium sized tentacles lifted from the floor and waved at me as his body squirmed in excitement. After a moment, the tentacle reached for me and wrapped itself around my torso before slowly contracting. I quickly discovered if I braced and leaned into the tug, I could hold my position. I grabbed the grasping tentacle and was able to quickly escape its grasp. The moment I was free, the largest of the tentacles slowly wrapped around me. That one forced me to really dig in, but as before, I could hold my position, and with a grunting effort, I was able to twist free.

"That's it," Tim said. "We don't control how tightly the armature curls. All we can do is straighten it out and cause it to twist on its gimbals. It's a safety feature."

"Got it." I considered a moment. "Give it to me full speed, like in the scene, and let me try it out."

"Okay, but you should remove your shirt first, or you're going to lose some buttons," Tim said as the rest of the crew gathered to watch.

I nodded in thanks, removed my shirt, handing it to Jen as she reached for it, and after a brief pause to consider, I sat on the edge of the raised floor to remove my shoes and pants as well. Finished, I stood, wearing only my underwear.

"Marks," Lemmy said. I stepped in front of Londo and stood facing it. "Action!"

I was instantly gripped by tentacles of all sizes, battling for my life as they surrounded my legs, arms, and torso. I could easily break free from any one, but there were so many, and as quickly as I escaped from one, I was surrounded by another. Grunting and straining, I wrestled violently with the beast for about two minutes as I was slowly dragged closer to the body.

"Cut!" Lemmy called, and almost instantly all the tentacles slowly straightened to allow me to escape.

"That was so fucking hot," Jen murmured, glancing down at my hardening cock as she handed me my pants. I couldn't explain why, but wrestling with Londo while wearing only my bikini briefs had started turning me on.

"Now that you've seen Londo, what do you say?" Lemmy asked as I pulled on my pants. "I need an answer," he continued as the woman who'd been inside Londo appeared from beneath the floor of the set.

"So, I'm supposed to fuck that thing while, what, I fight off the tentacles?" I asked as I stood and pulled my pants up.

"That's it exactly. You're Captain Rod Hardwood, space merchant. Londo is a Jizzarian slug, and you're transporting her back to Jizzaria. She gets loose, and the only way you can get her to cooperate is to fuck her."

I shrugged into my shirt. "So... I'm fucking an animal?"

Lemmy rolled his eyes. "She's intelligent, okay? She was... on a diplomatic, no, a trade mission, to somewhere. It's just a fucking movie, Rod. What difference does it make? If someone is questioning whether it's bestiality or not, they're missing the point."

"Just trying to get a feel for what you want. It wasn't like you sent me a script, you know."

He rolled his eyes again. "Okay, fine. You're delivering a load of... Jizzarian brandy to... somewhere. She's coming along to conclude the deal. Satisfied?"

I walked up to Londo. "Where am I supposed to fuck this thing... her?"

"Here," Tim said, joining us and pointing to an orifice near the top of the body, above Londo's tentacles, at the perfect height for a standing fuck. "It's a standard Fleshlight insert, painted to match the rest of Londo."

"Where's... her... eyes?"

"She doesn't have eyes. She's a burrowing creature and uses ultrasonic sound, like a bat, and heat, like a snake, to see." I gazed at Tim, and he smiled. "That... and we couldn't get them to look right practically, and it would cost too much to do in post." He grinned at me. "When the Jizzarians mate, they face each other and try to insert their smallest tentacles, while simultaneously trying to stop the other from doing the same. They're hermaphroditic, and whichever of them gets impregnated carries their offspring and becomes subservient to the other." I held his gaze for a long moment, and he grinned. "Anything else you want to know about a Jizzarian slug? We worked out their entire physiology while designing Londo."

"Uh... no. I think that's plenty, thanks." I turned to Lemmy. "You got a script?"

He shook his head. "No. This is going to be a short, a proof of concept I guess you could call it. There's no plot to speak of. As I said, you're Rod Hardwood, captain of a tramp freighter, and you're transporting Londo to some planet. Think Hans Solo... but your blaster isn't in a holster on your hip. Anyway, in addition to the Londo set, we've got a basic bridge set, a section of corridor, and an elevator. We're going to shoot in sequence, and I figured we can work out any dialog during filming. Since it's just you, and we'll add Londo's voice in post, there won't be a lot."