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Sasha was late, which was fine. She was busy, probably, and he wouldn’t be the kind of one-night-stand-turned-best-friend who got possessive. But he’d been standing there for nearly a quarter of an hour, and the boredom was eating him alive. They were going out for lunch, and Tim was waiting for her near the door to artefact storage. Maybe she was waiting for him inside? He couldn’t remember exactly what they’d decided, and his phone was dead.
He slipped inside, and was faced with the kind of clutter he’d only ever seen at his grandparents’ house. There were things absolutely everywhere. Books, old doors, toys, vases, and- what was that thing?
Tim looked closer. It was some kind of plant, maybe, but it looked like it belonged in a different world. It was huge, from the floor it came up all the way to his chest. At the base of the pot it rested in were these round, white things that looked a bit like if ostrich eggs had skin instead of a shell. He didn’t know whether to be disgusted or intrigued. It looked properly sci-fi, and had red tentacles with black speckles along what he struggled not to think of as its belly, bursting out in all directions, kind of like a starfish that had been tipped over. He toyed with the tip of one of the tentacle-looking things, finding it slightly damp to the touch, and with the other hand he flipped over the tag dangling by one remaining bit of clear tape. It read “Devil’s Fingers Fungus - DON’T TOUCH”.
Ah. Tim snatched his hand back, but it seemed like he’d already disturbed the thing. It started moving, and Tim decided that he’d officially had enough of that. He turned to run, but something grabbed his ankle and yanked him to the floor. Bloody stone floors.
Then something else slid up the inside of his other trouser leg, tight jeans straining. At first, Tim was frozen in shock, but a slippery touch against the edge of his pants startled him enough that he sprung into motion. Tim kicked and scrambled to get away, having seen enough porn to know that this wouldn’t end well. He knew he had a bit of a reputation as the office slut, but even he had his limits. In the end though, he lost the fight. In his defence, the plant (because it had to be the plant) was stronger than it seemed. Out of some misplaced sense of pride, Tim struggled a little against the grip despite knowing he was beaten. Still, the tentacle around his ankle had no trouble dragging him closer.
The one in his trousers had made its way under his pants and was wriggling against his hole. It probably shouldn’t have made him keen and moan, but there you had it. Tim wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself about what he liked, and he wasn’t about to start now. Still, he’d have preferred not to have this happen here, where anyone might walk in. Where Sasha was already supposed to have met him. Where the hell was she?
More tentacles wrapped around him, sliding up the hem of his loose t-shirt and pushing it up and off of him. At the same time, others crowded inside his jeans, more and more joining them until Tim couldn’t quite breathe. He tried to reach down to help them undo his buttons but a pair of tentacles shot out impossibly fast, encircling his wrists and pulling his hands up above his head. Tim couldn’t think of a more humiliating death than being accidentally choked to death while being ravaged by a sentient mushroom on the floor of Artefact storage. Hot tears rushed down his face and he thought of his father, all alone in an empty house.
Then, just as he was starting to feel lightheaded, there was an explosive sound as the fabric of his jeans tore apart and the mass of tentacles retreated. He could breathe, he could see, he wasn’t dead. Looking down, Tim could tell that he was now completely naked, apart from his shoes and the remains of his trousers that still clung to them.
The touch that had been rubbing against his hole this entire time grew more urgent, and the thing seemed to be deliberately squeezing some slippery, water-y substance all over him. Any secret thrill he might have been feeling earlier was comprehensively extinguished now. Tim wasn’t in the mood anymore, anger boiling through his veins as he bit and thrashed and got nowhere.
But once again he failed to escape and now the things were pushing inside him, stretching and pulling and teasing him. The rough texture of the tentacles felt entirely alien against his sensitive skin, even with its slick coating. A much thinner one circled his cock, which was starting to perk back up, to his annoyance. Then it started pushing against his urethra, slowly working its way in.
That was, unfortunately, Tim’s number one bulletproof kink. He loved sounding (when it wasn’t being done to him against his will by sentient fucking tentacle creatures), and had several different rods he’d either bought for himself or had gifted by some of his more generous flings. Tim watched ravenously and wished he had someone to share the moment with. He gasped and strained against the limbs restraining him, trying to thrust his hips up or down, desperate for the thing to either let him go or get on with it. But he was held tight and all he could do was shudder as the tiny little tentacle sank as deep as it could go. A second, slightly thicker one slid up beside it and Tim had a good moment to hyperventilate before it slid back down and wrapped around the base of his cock, then his balls. The grip was tight enough to be painful, but really it was nothing compared to the agony of what he’d thought had been about to happen.
In the mess of it all he’d forgotten that he was also being fucked in another way as well, until a sharp jab against his prostate sent him howling. There were several of them in him, stretching him better than he’d been in what felt like a long time, and they were moving out of sync, meaning he was never left empty.
The rough treatment sent him higher and higher,and he tossed his head back in a moan. The overhead lighting was brutal, all cold and fluorescent. On the nearest wall hung an eerie portrait of Jonah Magnus, and the sight of those cold grey eyes reminded him where he was. He felt watched but he didn’t care, not when he could feel orgasm drawing nearer by the second. He was breathless and his teeth felt fizzy, but no matter what those wonderful tentacles did he couldn’t come.
Tim remembered about the tentacle squeezed around his bollocks and only barely caught himself before letting out a scream of frustration. It wouldn’t do to bring attention to himself, no matter how badly he wanted to be let go so he could get himself off. He was so aroused he’d hump the floor if he could, anything to relieve the immense pressure inside him.
Instead of edging him to insanity, the tentacles suddenly pulled out of him, leaving him bereft and abandoned. He could have cried. In fact he was crying, he realised, probably hadn’t stopped this whole time. Even the two tentacles in and around his cock pulled away, and Tim would have come right away if any one of them had had the decency of stroking him even once. Only the ones holding onto his arms and legs remained. Tim vowed to find a way to destroy the fucking thing.
Then he saw that all of them had simply been making way for a much bigger, strangely lumpy-looking tentacle, that now rapidly approached him. It was bigger than anything he’d ever taken in his life. Having long since given up on shame and dignity, Tim spread his legs in invitation.
The large tentacle pressed inside him slowly, filling him to his core, but even in his state of hair-trigger arousal, it wasn’t quite enough to bring him off. Then it pulsed once, and the lumps began to shift. It was obvious that there was something moving through the inside of the tentacle, and Tim tried to shy away. As fucked out of his mind as he was, he didn’t want to trust his life to one of the institute’s artefacts.
There was no doubt in his mind that those lumps were eggs, and he didn’t want to know what might hatch from inside them. He’d seen Alien, and his last girlfriend had been well into anime. He knew what was about to happen. Two of the slimmer tentacles from earlier reappeared to pry his legs apart, others reaching under him to lift him clear off the floor.
The first of the eggs started to stretch his rim. Doing his best to relax, Tim tried to take a few nice, calm breaths, bringing the air deep into his stomach like his therapist had suggested. His erection was already flagging, but whatever happened next he would survive this too. He would.
The eggs felt even more enormous than they’d looked, and when the tentacle pushed them inside the bite of pain was unavoidable, no matter how he tried to ease the process. But once the first one was inside him, and the next was already opening him back up, it pushed past his sweet spot and Tim saw stars. Seconds later it happened again, and again, and Tim was back to the edge of orgasm.
With nothing touching his cock it took a while before he got there, but the eggs kept pressing into him, stuffing him full.
His stomach was visibly straining against the massive size of the eggs. Tim broke and pleaded with the thing to let him fucking finish. The thing didn't respond, but neither did it stop. Tim was certain he'd lose his mind to the rhythmic pulse and stretch. He arched his back and rocked wantonly against the huge tentacle. Tim couldn't move very far, trapped as he was, but it had to be enough. He begged and moaned and cried, feeling both liberated and fundamentally broken. A few eggs later he came hard enough that he lost time. Then he just hung there, in the tentacles’ unsafe grasp, letting the last of the eggs milk another few drops of spunk out of him.
Once they were done with him, the tentacles lowered him down to the blessedly cool floor, and then retreated back into their pot, shrinking until they looked like they had when he walked in. Tim scooped up some of the come from his stomach and lazily licked the finger clean, waiting for the world to piece itself back together. He felt like wrung-out washing, in the best way.
Artefact storage was the best part of the institute, he decided. Tim was so full of endorphins that he might even be in love with that weird mushroom thing. Then he noticed Sasha standing there in a puddle of spilled coffee, holding a roll of clear tape. She didn't meet his eyes, too busy staring at his torn jeans and his oddly bulging stomach, all lumpy and covered in come. God, they were going to need to talk about this, weren’t they? Tim sighed and felt the eggs jostle inside him. The pressure on his prostate shifted along with them and he let out an undignified whimper. Right, first they should probably figure out how to get rid of all those eggs.