Bred By The Tentacle

Author's Note: It's been a long time, huh?

I've missed you all so much. The reader interaction on Literotica is what makes this community so great, and if it wasn't for you guys I'd never be where I am now. I know it's just sexy stories but it really means the world to me that so many of you have read them. Not only that, a lot of you have favorited them, starred them, even emailed me about them. There is nothing better than that (discounting the few creepy messages that sometimes drop in :p). So from the bottom of my naughty heart, thank you. Thank you for reading, thank you for your kind words and your critiques. Thank you for sharing my dirty fantasies!

Since my free time is limited these days, so are the free stories I can write. I know that sucks. Believe me, I've been visiting this site for an obscenely long time - I know what it's like when your favorite writers go dark. (Been waiting on Chapter 3 of Futatales since 2013. Will Madison admit she's crazy in love with Chloe? Will they ever get out of that hot tub?!)

Recently I've been exploring the world of naughty tentacles and impregnation. Not everyone's cup of tea, I know, but sometimes...at two in the morning...you kind of wonder what would happen if a big slimy tentacle slithered into your bed and had its way with you... Ahem. So, with that said, please enjoy this short story. It features naughty tentacles, anal, BDSM elements, and noncon/reluctance. All characters are 18 and up, of course.

As always, thank you for sharing your naughty time with me.

Love,

V.

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Chapter 1

Rigel loomed in the view screen like a giant blue eye floating in the void.

"My God," said Lieutenant Selma Novak, "it's incredible."

Novak was the last on the bridge to see the blue supergiant and the first to speak. She'd been concentrating on the navigation data and looked up only when she noticed the crew had grown abnormally quiet. Captain Davies took a more casual approach to commanding than most others of the fleet, so there was always a bit of chatter from Lt. Commander Jason James or a young ensign learning the ropes (that is, if Commander Wulf wasn't present). The silence that took hold of the bridge was sudden and strange.

Behind her, Chief Science Officer Frank Crowley cleared his throat. "If we were on Earth, she'd be the seventh brightest star in the sky," he said. A nervous little laugh squeaked out of the nervous little man. "And if it weren't for the auto-dimmer on the viewscreen, we'd all be blind right now! That puppy's about 120,000 times brighter than our native sun."

Lt. Commander James gave an appreciative whistle.

"Lt. Novak, have you located the source of the distress signal?" the Captain asked. He stood just below the viewscreen, his hands folded behind him in a posture of amused anticipation.

"Uh, I think so, Captain," said Novak, snapping out of the hypnotic spell cast by the blue supergiant.

Behind her the bridge doors whooshed open. Novak winced to hear the thunderous tread of Commander Bernadette Wulf. "Cut that hesitation out of your voice, Lieutenant!" she snapped. "Are you on task?"

"Yes, Commander!" said Novak, returning to the navigation.

"Captain?" said Wulf. "Why has the ship stopped?"

"Oh, just admiring the view, Commander," said Davies. He gave her a lazy grin. She scowled but said nothing.

Wulf and Davies were nearly the same height, both tall and from the same Nordic stock that seemed to produce so many of the ranking command in the western galactic fleet. But whereas Davies' handsome mouth couldn't help from smiling, Wulf's was perpetually set in a small, disapproving line.

Her icy green eyes, ruby lips and shock of thick blonde hair could have made Wulf a cold beauty; she had the same creamy skin and firm body that graced the projections of so many classic holofilms. But her intolerance for laxity and reputation as a humorless bitch quickly robbed young men of their fantasies. A former Olympian gladiator, she'd stunned the sports world when she dropped her promising career to apply to the Galactic Westpoint Academy.

Novak wondered if Wulf considered her appointment as Davies' second-in-command a reward or punishment.

It was common knowledge that Wulf disagreed with the Captain's casual method of command, but she'd never question him to his face. She was rigorously devoted to her duties—and besides, Davies was a war hero. You wouldn't think it to look at him (his shaggy blonde beard hid the scars along his jaw, and he had a penchant for humming when deep in thought). He could have retired after the war, but instead he chose to take the reins on a small, exploratory vessel—the starship Eros—considered the unluckiest boat in the fleet.

"Lietuenant!" Wulf barked. "Report."

"Yes, ma'am," said Novak. Her thin brown fingers danced over the touchscreen.

The laser projectors painted a model of Rigel in the center of the bridge. With a whirr, the star shrank down. Soon other spheres appeared to orbit its colossal girth. "These are the first 10 planets in the Rigel binary system, with Rigel B the small, fast dot circling close to Rigel A. The distress signal we picked up at the Gemini station is emanating from the territory around Rigel-7."

Novak pressed a pad next to her screen and the hologram zoomed in on the seventh planet. A thick cloud of debris hovered over the barren world.

"Is there a colony on the planet?" asked the Captain.

"There was," said Novak, "but it was abandoned during the war. What you see here is a collection of mostly defunct satellites and various bits of space junk. It's possible that the signal is from one of these. It might be a decade old."

Davies nodded and combed his fingers through his beard. "Mm. Well, let's get in there and see if we can track it down. Could be there's something worth salvaging, and at the very least we can turn off the signal so another ship doesn't get called in." He set a friendly hand on Wulf's shoulder. "The bridge is yours, Commander. I need to record a birthday message for my daughter."

"Yes, sir," said Wulf.

"Crowley!" Davies called as he mounted the ramp to the bridge doors. "How long will it take a signal to reach the base?"

"Maybe a month, at this distance," said Crowley. "We're several thousand AU from home."

"Damn," said Davies. The doors whooshed shut behind him.

Novak continued to zero in on the distress beacon. From its weakening signal she guessed it was hanging somewhere on the far side of Rigel-7, rotating into the blinding light of the Rigel day.

"Computer," she said, "let's set a course for the thickest cluster above the exosphere. I'm sending you the coordinates now."

Chapter 2

Lt. Commander Jason James gazed at the massive block of ice in the derelict's cargo hold. It resembled an ice cube dropped from a giant's cocktail glass, about five meters tall by five meters wide. The ensign's flashlight trailed up its frosty edge. Inside the ice the light was refracted into a glittering kaleidoscope.

"What's that inside?" said the ensign.

Jason slid his glove over the sweaty ice and squinted. "Not sure," he said. "Could be something from down on Rigel-7. Scanner reads some kind of organism. Maybe an animal, or a big plant."

The air was so cold it was painful to breathe. And something about the ice gave Jason the creeps.

The Eros traced the distress signal to an abandoned science convoy locked in orbit around Rigel-7. Crowley said the ships may have collided with some space junk but the Captain wasn't so sure. When he examined the tears in the hull that Crowley said were explosions, he shook his head and said it looked more like blaster fire. "Someone shot these boats," he said. "But they didn't want to destroy them. They just wanted to immobilize them. Maybe they planned to come back later."

He could have been right. When the salvage drones searched the ships they found nothing of value left onboard. The computers and supplies had all been looted and even the ship's log was missing. But there were no corpses either, and that was strange. "If it was pirates they would have left the bodies where they fell," said Commander Wulf. "There doesn't seem to be any sign of struggle."

The Captain sat back in his command chair and puzzled it out, his eyes watching the convoy drift along the high-definition viewscreen. "Send a team," he said at last. "One for each ship. Search it top to bottom. We've disarmed the distress signal, let's make damn sure there's nothing left that actually needs our help."

Jason led his team into the third and final ship of the convoy, a transport vessel that would have carried the supplies and samples of surface exploration. They found what the initial search drones had missed, a sealed off chamber that led to the transporter's cargo hold.

The giant ice cube was inside.

"Is it just ice?" Selma had asked over the communicator.

"No," said Jason. "There's something else."

Twenty minutes later Jason and the ensign were joined by the research team led by Commander Wulf.

After a few scans for pathogens and radiation, the team informed the Commander that the organism, whatever it was, wasn't toxic.

"No contamination," Wulf said into her communicator. "We can't get a good look at it and it doesn't match any DNA in the zoological record."

The Captain's voice crackled over the line: "Ominous."

"Sir?" said Wulf.

On the Eros' bridge, the Captain swiveled in his chair. He leaned back and caught the eye of Novak. "Three ships, all abandoned, no sign of life—or death—and one unknown creature frozen in the cargo hold. What do you think, Lieutenant?"

Novak nodded. "It is highly unusual, sir."

"Commander," said Davies into his communicator, "what is the fleet's protocol for finds of this nature?"

"If an object or creature does not violate quarantine," said Wulf, "it is to be sealed and delivered to the nearest command base for further study."

The Captain shook his head. "Pass."

"Sir?" said Wulf sharply.

"I dunno, Bernie. Something stinks."

"Sir," said Wulf, "we have an obligation to the fleet's laboratory. Eros is an exploratory vessel. A specimen like this is precisely why we're out here."

On the bridge, Davies sighed. He glanced at Novak, then back to the viewscreen and the icy monolith. "Officer Crowley," said Davies. "Is that right?"

"Yes, Captain," said Crowley over the communicator.

"And if I passed anyway?"

In the cargo hold, Crowley wrung his hands. "Well, sir, ah—"

"Standard procedure is to report any dereliction of duty," interrupted Wulf.

"Mm," said the Captain. "Alright, well, Crowley, how do we get that thing onto the ship?"

"In its present state, the block is obviously too large," said Crowley. "We'd have to bring in some laser cutters."

"How long will it take to get it from the derelict to our lab?"

"About three hours," said Crowley.

"You've got one," said the Captain, and signed off.

Chapter 3

The creature rested behind the plexiglass barrier of the specimen lab, its skin still wet from the ice. Once the team had cut deep enough into the original cube they discovered that the alien was only a few heads taller than a man. It also closely resembled a man, at least above the waist.

The creature had a humanoid upper torso. Its proportions were a little longer than a man's, with a stretched rib cage and lengthier arms, but the skin was remarkably similar. It was a ruddy tan color, its body totally hairless. It did not appear to have a mouth and instead of a nose it had two pairs of slits below its eyes. Its ears were large and not unlike a bat's.

Below the creature's waist its anatomy could not be more distinct from a human's. Instead of two legs it sported a multitude of thick, muscular tentacles. The skin was a deep, bloody red and spiderwebbed by purple veins. Each tentacle was at least twice the length of the creature's upper body. Their undersides were stuffed with hundreds of gaping suction cups, opened like howling mouths.

"I'd wager it's not a natural creature," said Crowley. The Science Officer had invited Dr. Allison Lee to take tissue samples from the alien as they dethawed it in the lab. The two of them were outfitted head to toe in blue biohazard suits. On the other side of the plexiglass Captain Davies and Commander Wulf watched them work.

"Not 'natural?'" said the Captain.

"As in, engineered," Crowley clarified. "I can't imagine something like this evolving by natural selection. It resembles a Cecaelia, a mythical demon or siren with the upper body of a woman and the lower body of an octopus."

Davies swore under his breath. "What kind of captain am I to let a siren onto my ship?"

"No worries, Captain," said Crowley. "It appears to be dead."

At the bio-scanner, Dr. Lee made a rude noise. "I wouldn't jump to conclusions just yet. The reading here is inconclusive. Engineered or not, this organism could share attributes with other marine creatures and be able to put itself into a state of suspended animation—like a tardigrade."

"Is it safe for the two of you to be in there?" said Davies.

"For now, yes," said Dr. Lee. "But we removed it from the ice. It's possible it may awaken once its body acclimatizes to the environment."

"Then let's keep the A/C running in there."

As Crowley and Dr. Lee finished their examination, Commander Wulf took the Captain aside. "Sir, there's another possibility we might not have considered."

"Go on," said Davies.

"It might be intelligent. If that's so, keeping it in a coma might be morally wrong."

Davies groaned and pulled at the muscles in his thick neck. "And what does fleet protocol recommend?" he said.

"'Life forms that exhibit intelligence must be honored with all due rights of galactic citizens,'" Wulf quoted to him.

Davies shook his head. "I appreciate the sentiment, Bernie, but I refuse to pull it out of deep sleep just so we can ask it if it knows its ABCs. It doesn't even have a mouth."

"Sir, that is against fleet protocol."

"Fuck the protocol," said Davies. "This is my ship, Commander, and if you don't like it you can follow my orders or you can take a long walk out a short airlock. Comprendé?"

"Sir," said Wulf. "Of course."

"Thank you so much," said Davies. "Crowley, keep the temperature constant in there and don't let it creep up one iota till we get back to Gemini base." He turned back to Wulf. "That will be all, Commander."

Chapter 4

Later in her quarters, Bernadette Wulf angrily stripped off her uniform.

Since joining aboard the Eros, she'd clashed with Captain Davies at almost every turn. She hadn't spent four years as an Olympic gladiator and another three at Westpoint to survey the ass end of the galaxy—and certainly not under a man who considered fleet protocol "guidelines" at best. How could Davies have risen so high and accomplished so much without Westpoint's rigid discipline? The Captain was as slipshod in his command as he was with his personal grooming.

As she unhooked her bra, Bernadette glanced at herself in the full length mirror. She was nearly six feet tall with high, firm breasts and a radiant crown of golden curls. Old scars raked her sides and shoulders but did not diminish her shapely physique. She traced their lines with a cleanly manicured nail, then followed the curve of her abdominals down to her trimmed thatch of pubic hair. Without thinking, she pressed against her clitoris.

She quickly pulled her fingers away with a hiss. Yes, she was frustrated but it wasn't worth it to try to relieve herself that way. It never worked. She'd never found a partner that could truly satisfy her, and her youth had been spent fighting, not masturbating. Touching herself always felt silly and pointless. She turned to the mirror and examined herself again.

She would never be as hard and dangerous as she was at her peak. At 16 she was the deadliest gladiator in Olympic history. She'd grown tall and fierce from an early age and her fine features often led her enemies to underestimate her. They'd called her the Vicious Valkyrie, and she'd parlayed her successes into a sponsorship to Westpoint. Now in her late twenties she trained in the ship's gym as a way to maintain her discipline and agility but she was no longer the killing machine of her teens.

Men liked a softer woman, she thought to herself as she cupped her heavy breasts. The notion filled her with loathing. Who cared what they thought?

For a moment Commander Wulf gave in to doubt, and the ache between her legs made her stumble against the mirror. She knew what this was. In the past she would feed off her sexual frustration. Her training, her instincts, enabled her to focus that energy into destruction. That's what gladiators did. When she got mad there was always an opponent to beat into submission. But here, on Eros, there was nothing to punch, nothing to break, nothing to kill. Her body needed a release and she was too damn proud to seek it out in any other way but violence.

She threw herself onto the bed. Again she tentatively reached between her legs to probe her moistened sex, and again she jerked her hand away in frustration.

She pulled the sheet over her naked body and curled into a fitful unconsciousness.

Several floors below, the temperature in the specimen lab began to climb.

Chapter 5

It was a hot and curious dream that she fell into. At first it seemed that there were dogs licking her feet. It was a strange but not unpleasant sensation. In fact, the rest of her body was so warm that the cool, wet licks were something of a relief. She sat up in bed to search for the dogs but her room was lost in shadows.

She twisted out of her sheet—and something wriggled across her belly. She jerked back. It flopped into her lap, as thick and muscular as a snake. As she reached out it rolled back and plopped between her breasts. It was heavy. It expanded and contracted in time with her breaths and affixed itself to her skin. Was it kissing her? She felt a hundred little kisses snake down her belly. Then the snake curled up and pressed into her aching sex.

"Oh..." murmured Bernadette. What a dream this was! She hugged the snake with her thighs as it rolled itself against her. The licking around her toes sent bolts of pleasure through her feet. And then—another lick! A second snake squirmed between her sheets and rubbed into her anus.

"Hey!" she cried. The little tongue poked her, it prodded her. It danced around her fingers as she tried to bat it off. Each time it returned to lick at her buttocks and each lick triggered a reflexive twitch in her belly.

It was indecent! But in the dream...in the dream she didn't really mind.

The smaller snake curled its way up her back and around her neck, and then it was sensing her lips, its questing tongue flitting out to give her airy, probing kisses. She reached out for the snake's neck and grasped it. The clammy skin squished between her fingers and a dozen little mouths suctioned onto her skin. It wasn't a snake at all!

She realized she was covered in sweat. She was hot, feverish. The thick tentacle between her legs pressed down and its suckers kissed at her like hungry lovers. A moan escaped her lips.

What was this feeling that had overcome her? The throbbing emptiness between her legs was as unwelcome as it was undeniable.

The moist tentacles at the foot of her bed oozed over her toes and wrapped themselves around her ankles. They rolled their way up her calves and her knees and sucked onto her thighs. With effortless strength, the suckers pulled in opposite directions. They forced her legs apart!

It was impossible to resist. Despite her copious sweat, the tentacles' suckers were airtight. Her legs would open as wide as they wanted her to go.

A viscous slime began to pour off the suckers and onto Bernadette's hot skin. More tentacles descended from the darkness and massaged the substance into her muscles. They roped themselves around her feet, her calves, her knees, her thighs. She would have been afraid but the pressure on her inner thighs was so relaxing. It was like a hungry wave in her lap, and with every gentle crash it slid closer to her moistened sex. Suckers curled up her buttocks like greasy, greedy fingers.