The Ranch Motel -

'What does he mean by spicy?' She questions hustling toward the bathrooms.

The first door says, "Men. The second just has a big question mark. The third says, Women.

She tries to open the third door, but it won't open. A woman's voice from inside says in a panic, "Occupied."

"Oh, oh, sorry." She moves to the second door, and a weird vibrating feeling fills her head, causing her to let go of the doorknob.

"I just got to pee; this place is crazy," she says with irritation in each word. She turns and rushes to the 4th door, which is twice as wide as the other 3 doors, and on it, on a big brass plate, it says Other.

'What the hell is an 'other' bathroom? I don't care if it is spicy; I need to pee. She shakes her head, her bladder filled to the breaking point.

She opens the door, and inside is a bathroom. 'What did I expect? A hibachi bar' She looks around the bathroom and is confused. It's a very clean bathroom, but it is massive. To the right is a gym-style shower with enough shower heads for 20 people. To the right, on one side, a row of sinks. The other is a row of nearly 10 oversized stalls. "One of those better be empty, or I am peeing in the shower," she mutters as she rushes to the stalls.

She pushes on the first stall, and it doesn't open; she goes to the second, and it doesn't open. A loud flushing noise is heard, and the pregnant woman named Scarlet from the bar leaves the third stall. She sees her approach and holds the door open for her. "Never seen anyone run to use the stalls before; good luck."

"Thanks," she says and rushes into the stall. She pulls down her shorts and panties in a rush and starts to pee; a pee chill, like a finger running up her spine, makes her whole body shiver. spicy? Good luck? What is going on here? It is just a gym-style bathroom, she thinks to herself.

She sighs and gathers herself. She pulls out her phone, noticing still no cell service, but there is wifi. She sits and attempts various passwords she can think of.

She looks around the bathroom stall; there is a paper towel dispenser, a toilet paper dispenser, and a toilet seat cover dispenser.

She soon gets bored of looking at the bathroom dispensers and flicks through her photos. She comes across some photos of her and her ex. 'Ouch, that hurts. Wish he would stop being childish and go get a real job again and stop blaming me for everything, she bemoans.

She flicks back through the photos. Scenes from a basic life. A photo of a spider plant. A photo of the street out of their apartment window half a country away. Her favorite pizza place. The jello mold she once made with peas in it. She remembers the taste. 'Worst recipe ever,' she thinks as she flicks past.

She has scrolled to 6 months ago. The screen shows a thick 6-inch cock. She is shocked, having forgotten about the week when her ex sent a dick pic every day. She sits there frustrated and slightly aroused. "That one was flattering," she mumbles and flicks back more to the time they took photos during sex. Her ex was trapped between her legs. Her hand grabbing his hair, pulling him tight. She feels the all-too-familiar tingle and decides it might be fun to look at more.

She opened the secret folder on her phone and opened the first video. A 10-second video of him fully inside her. 'He is so thick,' she comments and flicks past. She scrolls past one of her riding her favorite dildo, a 12-inch tentacle. She never managed to fit it all in, 8 being her absolute limit. She feels an electric tingle as she thinks about all the times she tried.

She notices her hand has been on her breast, absent-mindedly massaging herself. She lowers it slowly, flicking back through her photos. The one she keeps going back to is her on her knees giving her ex a blow job while sitting on the long, soft tentacle. It made her feel dirty then, and it makes her feel dirty now. 'What am I doing? This is a public bathroom,' she thinks, then a nagging thought floats up: 'Who cares? You know it just makes it hotter for you.'

Her breathing is rapid. She is so close. 'Just let me cum already; I ache,' she cries in her mind.

A quiet knock on the side partition snaps her back to reality. "Someone's in here," she says. 'Damn it, I was so close again. The universe refuses to let me cum.' She flings up a hand in exasperation.

The thing she thought was a toilet seat cover dispenser opens, and a jet-black tentacle slips through. The tapering tentacle slides through no more than a foot from her face. "This must be a joke, right?" she says out loud to whoever is trying to fuck with her on the other side of the partition. She looks at it mesmerized. The underside is littered with suction cups contracting. Her hand is still touching her clit.

She blushes. 'How did they find my search history?' She looks around for a hidden camera. 'They didn't. I am hallucinating. The stress has made me crack.' She rationalizes. Her eyes just keep looking at the tentacle, which is questing around. 'I can stand up and go to bed, pretend this never happened, go back to my regular life, leave this place, and never think about it again--not the orc, not the bartender with cat eyes, or the two semi-transparent people arguing about healthcare. I can just go.'

The irrational part of her mind, the horny part of her mind, says, 'No, this is a once-in-a-lifetime event. Even if it's not real, it looks real. And I want it. She rubs her clit, her body shivering with delight. 'Guess I am outvoted,' her logical mind submits.

She reaches out slowly to touch the tentacle as her finger brushes against it and it twitches. 'It is very much real.' She has a moment of panic. 'This is what you have always wanted; why fight it?' irrationality convinces her.

She touches it again, running a finger down it. A drop of a white viscous fluid forms on the tip in response. The substance feels thin and slick, not slimy. She notices her finger is now tingling like she is covered in minty hot water.

She watches thin drops of a clear substance form on the surface. The air is filled with a soft smell of melon. She pokes it again, and there is a strange cooing noise, oddly birdlike but also alien.

She feels encouraged, so she cups it in her hand, slowly moving back and forth. The tentacle is warm, almost hot to the touch. The soft cooing noise continues as she strokes. The white fluid that she can only think of as cum has covered her whole hand and is now dripping onto the floor. She changes hands; the angle is uncomfortable.

She lowers the now slick hand to herself, the warmth and tingle enticing. The slick fluid making her fingers slide between her lips with ease, she gives her clit more attention. The warmth and minty feeling spread through her entire sex. She moans loud enough for anyone to hear her anywhere in the bathroom. She strokes the tentacle faster, making the owner of the tentacle coo louder with vibrato now.

She thinks, 'What am I doing? I have a boyfriend. Had a boyfriend. This feels so bizarre, so wrong. But it feels so good.' She strokes the tentacle slower, paying more attention to the thin tip. The smell of melon overpowered her senses. She stares at the cum wondering if it will taste like melon too. She sticks out her tongue, the tip lightly touching the tentacle. The tentacle cum is a salty and melony flavor but also makes her tongue tingle. The hand on her clit rubs faster. Her tongue occasionally licks the tip, her lips warm and tingly; she swallows some of the precum, and her throat grows warm as well. She tries to describe it to herself: 'It's the feeling you sometimes get after a powerful orgasm.' She shushes the analytical part of her brain and lets the aroused part take control. 'I want it in me,' it begs.

She raises herself off the seat, ready to put the dripping tentacle inside her. But before she can get more than an inch above the seat, the tentacle swells and curves upward; she panics at the thought of how much it can cum. The large puddle on the floor is a foreshadowing of the amount of cum about to erupt. She looks around for something to catch it in. She imagines trying to walk out of here covered in it. 'No way in hell But there is nothing. It's an empty bathroom stall other than a toilet and toilet paper holder and one high-tech gloryhole.'

She gives up and just puts it in her mouth; she moves both hands to the tentacle and strokes it with determination. She feels it pulse and swell till her jaw starts to ache, then it erupts. The hot cum filled her mouth. It's sweet and melony like the precum. She is rubbing at her clit madly as she swallows.

She shudders and feels the warm tingles across her body. She swallowed again, the stream slowing down and the tentacle pulling from her mouth. She licks her lips. 'Best cum I have ever tasted,' she said to herself. 'Not a sentence I thought I would ever think.' The tentacle retreated through the hole. She sits there catching her breath. Her watch buzzes, telling her that teriyaki chicken is ready. 'That's great, but I still haven't orgasmed.' The watch buzzes again insistently. 'Fuck fine, I will finish in my room.'

She cleans herself up the best she can. She steps around the large puddle of jizz on the floor and leaves the stall looking for whatever or whoever the tentacle belonged to.

She looks around and finds nothing. Her ears detect a very manly grunting sound from the stall at the very back of the bathroom. She shrugs and then laughs at the very normal action, 'What a normal thing to do after giving a tentacle head,' she sighs to herself, 'Nothing will ever be normal again.' She heads back to the bar to get her food. She is determined to grab it and head back to her room.