by Alyha
The shaft of its cock slid between his legs. Something foul and musky dripped down onto his face, its scent different than the saliva, deeper and more primal, masculine. Sticky. It ran into his eyes in stinging runnels, poured into his nostrils, trickled into his mouth, choking him; he coughed, struggling to breathe, shaking his head and fighting to clear his eyes and his airways.
And wholly unprepared for the moment the beast jerked him downward and rammed him onto its cock, impaling him brutally on the head.
He’d never felt anything like it: as if someone had shoved a branding iron into him hot from the forge, its red-burning tip carving him open, the constant wetness leaking from the tip doing nothing to save him, to ease its passage. His flesh stretched and tore. The beast’s cock-head forced into him in a single hard blaze of masochistic pleasure, erotic agony, and before he knew what was happening his own cock twitched and throbbed and erupted with a flooding burst of cum, as if it had been shocked out of him by the sheer raw intensity of pain searing through him. He could hardly feel the pleasure for this torture, white flashes erupting against his eyelids, his cock pulsing with echoes of tight-spurting sensation as that cock-head worked inside him in slow, grinding circles.
And then lodged there, going no farther.
Itsuki hung limp from the beast’s grip. He couldn’t even close his legs, not when that thick, rigid shaft thrust between them, so wide his thighs remained spraddled out to either side of it. He couldn’t think. He was burning from the inside out, dying of fire and pain and this strange pleasure he shouldn’t be feeling, as much of a forced violation as that cock-head grinding and scraping and pushing against his insides. This shouldn’t feel good. The pain had broken him, it had to have, confused his body until it crossed signals and retreated somewhere where agony became ecstasy if only to keep his mind from breaking while his body shattered again and again.
He barely had a moment to take a breath before the beast’s grasp tightened on his body, and with a mighty grunt its body flexed around him, thrusting its cock hard against him. A scream tore from his throat, ragged and cracking, as another bare inch forced into his body, the beginnings of the shaft’s length burning into him, printing hot flesh and the pressure of a fleshy, hard ridge against his inner walls. Relentless, the beast tried again, a guttural, growling groan spilling out as it rolled and pivoted and twisted its body, working its cock inside Itsuki like it was stirring him up, liquefying him until he was nothing but a boiling, sloshing mess inside.
Again. Again, tearing him open and filling him up one terrible inch at a time, pushing up inside his ass until his insides were practically rearranged, and he screamed and screamed and screamed but it wouldn’t stop, that hard hand locked around him used to twist his body as if the beast could screw him onto its cock, agony grinding and grating and scraping. He could feel the monstrous cock pushing his body out from within, forcing his flesh to make room, and the beast’s grip loosened on him as his belly stretched. No—no, that couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t, but with that looser grip he managed to drag his weakened arms up to press his hand over his stomach.
And screamed again in sheer horror.
The beast’s cock-head was imprinted on the flesh of his stomach, flat smoothness gone to warp and mold around the shape of that depravity’s cock. It deformed his belly into a sick pseudo-pregnancy, the shaft making a mound all the way down his stomach, his pelvis, to his sore, dripping cock. Itsuki couldn’t stop screaming, the sound almost automatic, horror breaking his mind. Yet his screams only seemed to inflame it further; it answered them with a snarling cry and rammed into him harder, fluid gushing from its cock to splash and roil and slither inside him. He could feel it oozing, somehow finding a way to squeeze past the cock-shaft plugging his body shut to drip out of him, running down the crack of his ass and trickling down his inner thighs.
More. More. Deeper, as the beast dragged him down on its cock and his body strained to accommodate. There was no way he had taken it all, but it must have gone deep enough to satisfy it—for its grip tightened on his body, holding him in place, as it drew back, its length dragging inside him and slipping halfway out, leaving him with an awful cavernous emptiness even worse than its tongue had created.
And then it rocked into him again, plunging deep and carving new furrows in him along the channels it had already made, filling that emptiness and stretching his flesh all over again.
He was barely a doll in its grip, helpless as it used him like a cock sleeve, alternately ramming into him in massive, powerful thrusts and dragging him down to impale him on its cock, practically masturbating itself with his soft, broken body. He didn’t know if he was screaming or moaning in pleasure, his voice mixing with the beast’s frantic, rutting, monstrous grunts and the wet, smacking slap of flesh against flesh. Itsuki hardly felt it when he came again, constant pressure on his prostate leaving him delirious, spinning, fucking high as if he’d been drugged on the opium of these twisted, fucked-up, deeply sick orgasms. He couldn’t stop. Some deep part of him was ashamed, horrified, terrified, but he was broken. So, so fucking broken, and every time that cock surged into him he saw white as pleasure exploded and seared his nerves to ash.
He felt everything. Without his sight he felt everything, every ridge and flare of the beast’s cock-head stretching the ring of muscle in his anus, every pebbled texture of its flesh scraping him inside, every wet sticky splash of drool against his chest and face, every volcanically molten rush of pre-cum pouring inside him, every painful distention of his belly, every strain of his abused thighs, every rush of blood to his cock as it bounced against his stomach with each violent thrust and nudged against the beast’s belly each time it dragged him down. Every sensation was turned up to psychedelic intensity, hyper-erotic and overwhelming. He had to love it or he would hate it.
He had to give himself over to it, or it would kill him.
He felt whorish and sluttish, as he ran his hands over the writhing cock-shape pushing his belly outward. He felt less than human, as his cock twitched into another spurt of come, an ache ripping from the base to the tip and spilling again and again as if he’d sprung a leak, this fountain that couldn’t shut off, his body abused until nothing could hold his cock in check, the controls shut down. He was covered in his own come, covered in the creature’s bodily fluids, and still he screamed and came again as that cock-head ground inside him and turned his innards inside out.
Rough fingers snared in his hair, dragging his head back. He barely had the warning of rancid breath washing over him, drawing close, before the pulpy slime of the beast’s tongue thrust against his face, squirming, seeking, finding his mouth and then plunging inside. He gagged, choking as the writhing muscle filled his mouth, forcing it as wide as it had forced his asshole, cutting off his airways and leaving him thrashing, jerking, still so helpless.
The tip of the beast’s tongue rammed against the back of his throat, then forced down, burrowing down his throat and filling it until he was plugged end to end. With every thrust of the beast’s cock its tongue thrust deeper, fucking his mouth and throat like a second cock and making him take it again and again. Even his throat was sensitive, that rapacious sensation, that feeling of being used, of his consciousness hanging in the balance as he struggled to breathe, his mouth full with the heavy reeking taste of it … even that left him moaning, whimpering, his body livid and hot and squirming with a voracious need for more.
No cheap one-night fuck could ever measure up to this. This was the feeling he’d wanted when he’d thought about mounting wrinkled disgusting Fujita, about those greasy hands on his body and that dirty diseased cock worming inside him. This was the feeling he craved when he sucked strange men off in back alleys and let them come in his hair, let them spill down his throat and all over his face until his lips were coated in it and it dripped between his legs while he fondled himself until his boxers were sticky and soggy and clinging to him. He was a dirty, filthy, disgusting beast being used by
a dirty, filthy, disgusting beast, his body just a tool for this monstrous creature’s pleasure.
As if the beast had read his mind, it stiffened, those plundering thrusts pausing—before with one last mighty, savage thrust it buried deeper than ever before, spiking pain through Itsuki’s body, before something inside him unfurled. He felt flesh expanding, the cock-head splitting open like petals, something licking out from inside.
Before a violently exploding gush of fluid torrented into him, searing hot and bursting in floods as the creature came inside him with a roar than rang in his ears and drowned out his own weak, pathetic, half-muffled whimper, his body twitching and jerking of its own volition, his cock spurting endless jets of sweetly painful cum and his belly, oh gods, his belly swelling out under his helplessly grasping hands as the beast filled him with more of its seed than he could handle, more than he could hold, reshaping him into a receptacle to be fucked, used, and tossed aside.
He couldn’t stand anymore. The last thin thread holding him to consciousness snapped, promising at least some respite from this onslaught, this pain, this need, this madness.
Itsuki passed out, choking and gagging on the tongue brutalizing his throat, spread open on the tree trunk of the beast’s twitching, spurting cock, his bloated body a heavy thing that no longer felt his own.
2
HE WOKE TO A FAINT sound like whispering, crystalline music, at once strange and familiar enough to chill his blood.
Music, and the sensation of something cool and slick slipping into his sorely abused anus, lapping at his torn, swollen flesh like a liquid tongue.
Itsuki cried out softly, then choked it back with a pained sound as his raw throat protested; the cool sensation probed intimately, teasing at inner crevices in a searching violation, as if mapping his insides. Whatever was inside him was slender with a faintly bulbed tip, but it was thorough, delving and caressing. He tried to move, to squirm away, but his limbs wouldn’t respond, locked in a paralytic state. That beast. That beast must have him again, and it had probably broken his spine, left him immobilized so he couldn’t stop whatever it meant to do to him next. Sick dread hollowed out his stomach.
He couldn’t take that cock inside him, that tongue.
Not again. For maybe a moment he’d wanted it, pleaded for it, but that had been a brief slip into insanity if only to protect his mind from what was being done to his body. He remembered that now, now that the haze of it had passed. He’d … he’d …
For a moment he’d welcomed it, mentally begged, probably would have begged aloud if that tongue hadn’t been throat-fucking him so deep.
Oh, gods.
What was wrong with him, really?
Out of instinct he opened his eyes, though he knew it was futile—yet when he did, he hissed and immediately slammed them closed again as light seared his retinas.
Light?
Singing lights.
Slowly, he opened his eyes again, first one, then the other. He was lying on his stomach, pressing down painfully on the swell of his overfull belly, and surrounded by dim fluorescent lights; not particularly bright, but painfully blinding after eons of pure darkness. The lights ran along the edges of strangely shaped bodies; he couldn’t quite make them out even with the dotted bioluminescent markers, but they seemed to float, bizarre stingrays bent with their wings downward in an upside-down U and several long, trailing tendrils hanging down, tipped in subtly swollen bulbs that pulsed with a faint glow. He couldn’t make out much more than that; only that the dotted bioluminescent spots ran in different colors, cycling and shifting through pale blue, green, pink, red, purple, yellow, seeming to modulate with those whispered, crystalline sounds.
Several of the creatures floated around him, occasionally brushing his limbs or his cum-filled stomach with their tendrils and he could sense the warmth of one hovering over him even as that probe searched deeper, making him whimper, lying there in a wet puddle while cum dribbled out of his ass and poured over his inner thighs each time the hovering creature twisted the probe inside him.
They must have injected him with something, or were holding him frozen some other way, forcing him to lie on the ground immobile while they explored his torn, destroyed inner walls. Humiliation on top of injury, and Itsuki gritted his teeth and told himself to just … just deal with it. He felt like a specimen in a lab, and gods, these things …
They’d taken him, hadn’t they? He’d thought he was in hell, but these were no demons he’d seen in mythology or legends. He’d never even seen anything like this in a hentai. They didn’t … they didn’t belong on Earth. He probably wasn’t even on Earth anymore. He hadn’t been dreaming those lights while drunk. They’d been in his room. They had kidnapped him and shut him in with the beast like they were some kind of experiment. They’d probably watched like watching animals in a cage, just to see what they would do.
And now they were poking and prodding at his body, humming over him like he was a lab rat, naked and exposed and restrained while they observed and catalogued the results.
He wondered if the lights were how they communicated. If that was why it was so dark, because they needed darkness to see each other speak. If they could even see at all, when for all he knew they didn’t even know their own light patterns and were blind, communicating by sound alone.
He didn’t care. All he cared about was getting away from them, and getting home.
Itsuki strained to rise. Strained to move even the slightest bit, but the only things he had control over were his eyelids and his breathing. He fought his unresponsive body until every muscle ached, until his breaths came rapid and shallow, aching his chest, but he couldn’t twitch so much as a finger while still that probe wriggled inside him.
“Let me go,” he gasped, words scraping past his sore and ravaged throat, barely a croak. “Let me up! You can’t do this to me!”
A chorus of crystalline whisper-chimes answered, lights flickering in color more rapidly. As if the alien knew what he was doing, it shoved the cool probe particularly hard against his prostate, forcing a jolt of sensation like static applied in stinging shocks to his insides, rippling through to his cock, swelling him to hardness in a single painful second. He sucked in a broken, choking gasp, whimpering as he tasted the salt of his own tears dripping into his mouth.
“I … I just want to go h-home … ”
A low, familiar growl answered him.
The beast. The monster. He rolled his eyes as far to the side as he could, and there in the faint glimmer of the aliens’ bobbing lights he could just make it out: a massive, straining hulk of muscle, ribbed and taut sinew against pebbled reddish-purple skin dotted with small black spikes along the backs of its shoulders and arms, more spikes running in a ridge down its spine. Its bulk was mostly humanoid, even if the proportions were off—the shoulders and chest massive, waist strangely narrow, thighs enormous trunks and its arms too long, forearms even larger than its hugely bulky biceps, clawed three-fingered hands almost as large as Itsuki’s entire body, with cruel, punishing knuckles. Its cock—a snaking thing a good three feet long, bloated purple with strange bumps along its length, its segmented head closed—stretched out alongside its body. Its face was bestial, somewhere between a gorilla, a man, and a velociraptor, its two rows of small, glinting red eyes, three per row, hot with helpless rage, lips peeled back from a bristling mouth of needle teeth.
And from the look in its eyes, Itsuki knew: it, too, was fighting with everything in it. Fighting to break free. To rage against the captors who calmly bobbed around it, circling it and touching over its entire body. Their eyes locked. In that gleaming, furious red gaze was a sort of understanding, a helplessness equal to Itsuki’s own, a horror and confusion second only to the desperate need to be free. There was a mind behind those eyes, he realized. A mind just like his own, with thoughts just like his own. Itsuki never thought he would feel a sense of kinship with the beast that had ravaged him with its tongue, its cock, its sick and monstrous f
lesh.
But it was the only thing in the room that looked at him and saw him, and not an experiment to be prodded and toyed with.
If he could, he would have reached out to it. But any attempt to even try was cut off as that probing sensation inside him shifted; he’d almost grown numb to the coolness, grown deaf to the sound of his own faint, gasping, ever-present whimpers, but now that coolness suddenly heated, burning up inside him as if someone had turned on an iron. He struggled not to scream, but it was hard when for a moment his flesh was melting, and even that was pleasure … until pain eased into slow, warm relief, seeping into his body and easy the raw burn of torn muscle. Bit by bit the agony faded, replaced by a deep, pleasant tingle like muscle ointment. Itsuki closed his eyes, whimpering with sheer relief. His flesh felt almost like it was knitting together, though that could be his imagination; he’d be happy for just a simple anesthetic.
Yet he couldn’t be numb, because he felt every inch of that probe slithering out of him, licking at his prostate as it passed and sending another lightning-strike of arousal burning through him. He hissed through his teeth and opened his eyes—and that was when he realized the aliens were drifting away. Withdrawing from both him and the beast lying supine on the floor. Leaving them there, locked and bound with no hope of escape.
But one paused, hovering over the beast; one of its tendrils darted out, a stinger gleaming on the tip, dripping some viscid fluid. The stinger darted into the beast’s flank. Its body jerked. That faint light of intelligence in its eyes faded, glazing over.
And its limp cock began to swell, stretching and hardening, a visible pulse bulging and throbbing in the ridges and veins running down its length.