WWT: Tattoo and Rachel

Tattoo and Rachel

Author's Note: I've had several surgeries on my hands. To write I used a talk to text program that isn't always accurate. If you like my work, please consider helping me edit so I can publish the dozens of backlogged stories in this series.

World War T is a series of independent, vaguely interconnected stories about different tentacle monsters invading Earth, very much an erotic homage to World War Z. These short stories do not need to be read sequentially.

The lake was beautiful.

I hadn't worn clothes in days, swimming naked in the sun, my breasts billowing up just a little in the water.

How much do b cups honestly billow?

The dread of these past few days seemed all gone, replaced with an idyllic pastoral scene. A quiet cabin on the lake, a romantic weekend retreat...

With my tentacle monster boyfriend...

It sounded so crazy when said out loud, so I made an explicit point to never say a thing about it to another living soul. There were times when even I cringed at the thought of what Tattoo had done to me in all his different iterations. He could change almost at a whim, shrinking or growing, adding arms, points or bulbs, whatever he thought might fuck me best.

But always he kept his beauty mark.

A inky, black shaped rosararch mark on the top of whatever he was calling his head at the moment.

I turned on my back, my nipples warming in the sun when I heard him call for me.

Tattoo could talk, well... think directly into my head if he wanted to, causing my brain to react as though he actually formed words. But...

Well, he put it best.

Symbols are inefficient at transmitting information.

This single sentence had juxtaposed a thousand different images of his kind, split telepathically from each other in the great divide, their once collective consciousness spread out across the hundreds of different reproducing entities, some lost, lonely, confused, and hurt.

And some, so very, very angry.

Tattoo showed me scenes, garbled from their frayed connection to each other. Ideas of what was waiting out in the world, lurking below the surface...

But these weren't sentences or descriptions, the best way to describe him talking would be a dozen tiny television screens all running different programs at once, each known instantly and eidetically.

After fleeing, he led us here, letting me forget about the aliens who had kidnapped my friend and invaded the ocean. I should have spent the past few weeks screaming about the impending alien invasion. Instead I rested, strangely confident in this extraterrestrial.

I laid there, lazy floating when I heard him speak.

Sex.

In a word that was what he said.

But what I saw.

I saw his tentacles disappearing into my pussy and ass, driving in and out of each hole as he allowed them to swell up inside of me.

I felt the ridges and bumps of his suction cups, remembering perfectly each place to touch up my thighs.

I saw him slapping my ass with his tentacle, the suction cups stinging and biting with every spank on my ass, leaving kiss-shaped bruised all up and down my cheeks and thighs.

I felt him ejaculating load after load of cum inside of me, filling my mouth, anus, and vagina with gushing, sticky, warm alien seed.

I saw it all, past and future splayed out in front of me in a telepathic beam, a vivid and vast hallucination pushed out to me with no more effort from Tattoo than a simple hello. It allowed me to see his perspective, the overwhelming need that caused me to drive in spindley tentacle after tentacle into my holes, leaving me quivering and coated in cum.

It was this insatiable need that created in me a lust no man could ever satisfy again. With Tattoo, each encounter built on the next until I again lay completely sated and soaking in the alien's goo, perfectly mimicking the sweetest tasting semen.

Because he could change for me...

He could grow thoses suction cups saucer-sized, heating them and cupping down my back, relaxing me into an almost vegetative state. Or the same tentacle might become a cat-o-nine tail, whipping and smacking my tender ass while I stood tottering, fucking myself as he propped me up by the phalluses he had driven inside of me.

He could piston more than one arm inside of me, fitting three or four tendrils in each hole, shrinking, expanding, and spiraling each round and round, spinning me around on these spindles as I rode him like a sorority girl on a mechanical bull.

His feelers could grip, pinching my nipples as hard as any clamps. With his mind melded with mine, he instantly knew exactly how much I could take before I did. Limits and no's were shattered, not by force but through his peculiar expertise, knowing exactly how to push and tease my submissive body.

And then the electric current..

Tattoo ran these tiny shocks through each one of his suction cups, causing me to spasm as he drove his cocks inside of me, electricity adding passion to each of his penetrating protrusions as they filled me deeper, fuller, and farther than I'd ever experienced.

Each time he fucked me harder and faster, taking my thoughts, my imaginings, my expectations and exceeding them the next time he entered me, repeating these feats over and over again until anything other than abject submission to the creature seemed insane. My body grew to need him, missing the seconds spent outside of each other.

And he needed me again...

Now.

I nearly skipped back to the cabin,

I rose up on my haunches, my hands pushing me up as Tattoo held in one vice-like grip a pair of my panties, another tentacle coiled around my blonde hair, tugging my neck back. He shoved the panties into my mouth, letting me chew on the lace as he began spanking me.

His thick rod-like appendage thudded against my rump over and over, leaving the imprints of suction cups all along my ass as she spanked me again and again. I twisted and writhed, until his arms closed around me, holding me perfectly still as he caned me until each buttock burned with the heat of anticipation.

Only then did he let the panties fall from my lips...

My mouth was open, lips trembling, ready to accept his tentacle.

Begging for it...

Tattoo entered me all at once, a feeling that satisfied me more emotionally than physically. Trying to take him always proved a challenge, but there was something to knowing that my alien found me so irresistible that he needed every hole at once.

Airtight, Tattoo pounded into me, extra tentacles curling and squeezing my breasts, cutting off the circulation as he coiled tightly around them. His feelers still held my hair, pulling it back and forth as he rammed his cock into my mouth, my tongue tasting the familiar divets in his squishy flesh.

He swelled up inside of me, going slowly as each cock grew almost to the size of a fist, taking me to the limit of what was possible. My pussy spasmed and clenched in the first of many climaxes as he drove into me, keeping me held firmly in his clutches.

But he didn't need to...

I was already his.