Life With Tentacles
Life With Tentacles
Contrary to what you might expect, life with tentacles in your tail is not all that it's cracked up to be. Simple day to day activities get to be quite a challenge when you have something distracting you.
Perhaps I should start at the beginning with who they are and how they came into being. From what I can surmise they are a mass of tentacles that are collectively intelligent. The Tentacles, as I refer to them, are very inquisitive, curious, and shy things. This is because I believe they are me in some way, at least in part. The event that brought them into being, a lab experiment that went awry, infused them with a flash of my subconscious. So all my desires and even a bit of my personality was imprinted upon them. Of course, they are now quite independent of myself, which always gives me someone to talk to, whether or not I liked it.
As to where they are currently, The Tentacles occupy their own extra-dimensional space, to which the only way in or out is my long brush of a fox tail. If you were to draw your fingers deep down into the fur they would encounter a moving mass of gooey tendrils, warm to the touch, each usually about twice the breadth of your thumb. They do vary in size to suit a particular task, down to as fine as a strand of fur, and upwards of triple that width. Usually the squishy surface is as far as one will reach, as they are rather wary of intruders. I am not certain just how large their space is, but have come to the conclusion that it is incredibly vast. On more than one occasion another fur has been pulled inside entirely. What more, there seems to be no limit to the number of tentacles that can emerge.
The slime they produce is semi-transparent and somewhat thick, like runny honey. It has an incredibly slick feel, and clings to everything. Threads as long as your finger will stretch between your pads as they are pulled apart before breaking. This all makes a terrible mess when they really get into things, but oddly enough cleanup is a breeze, rather literally. After about twenty minutes exposed to the world it starts to break down and vanish, leaving no trace of their presence, even if collected in a sealed container. More often than not the vast majority of it will be on, or in someone. In this case it is absorbed and metabolized as any other fluid.
In everyone, but me, that had an encounter with The Tentacles, this slime created a tingling sensation of pleasure wherever it touched, though localized entirely to that spot. As an area is further exposed the feeling grows stronger and stronger, to the point that it is an erogenous zone to rival any other on the body. Of course, when applied to a place which is already sensitive this effect is magnified greatly. When ingested, the throat and stomach are the first things affected, followed minutes after by the rest of the body.
Communication with them is pretty interesting. Though I can hear them in my head, they cannot hear me unless I speak aloud. As much part of myself, they are still a separate entity. Of course, to an outside observer it would appear that I was having a one sided conversation with my tail. To get them to do something is akin to convincing a cat to go somewhere, they'll likely end up there eventually, but only when they think it's a good idea, and only after they've left a spot on the furniture.
As for why they're hard to live with, it's their diet. Pleasure. They seem to sustain upon it in the same way that plants do sunlight. While they do, on occasion, collect fluid samples from others, the only interest they will usually have for it is research. Encounters such as this are few and far between, and even then only with someone they know and trust. Now, I am their constant companion of course, so any time they feel like a little meal I'm the one they turn to. To site a specific example of what they often do.
I was at work, an open office space. This was a place where you had no privacy to speak of, rather you sat face to face, back to back with coworkers, with enough space to move around behind the chair. At the time I was seated in front of my computer with my tail curled around under the desk, and settled over my feet. Thankfully, they let me get to my quota before they began.
Their usual point of invasion is right at my tail-base. Small tendrils snaked out from there in several directions, and I felt them vividly as they slimed their way through my fur, slightly under the surface to keep their vibrant goo from touching my clothing, A loose button-up shirt and slacks, cinched in place. It started with a tickle up my sides, just enough to make me rise in my seat and shiver very slightly. I knew what they were up to and there was little I could do about it.
Tiny tendrils snuck up to my nipples and ground over them in a tight circle, while another trailed along my front, under the fur of my neck, where it stroked, squeezed and rippled over a particularly sensitive area around the base of my skull. Though, the real distraction was the activity below my belt. A trio of tentacles snaked down into the cleft of my rear. One simply slipped right into my bowels at an agonizingly slow pace, while the other went onward to tease around a change they had made in my body, an oviduct.
Similar in location to a female's passage, but not quite the same in structure. It is just a somewhat easy to miss orifice that is aligned just on the other side of my prostate, behind my ballsac. The sensation from it is always intense, always pleasure. So when the tapered tip of the second tentacle dove inside I was forced to focus on nothing but maintaining my composure, a skill I'd had plenty of time to develop. There was no rapid thrusts, or pounding, they were in no hurry.
The last of the trio pressed forward and looped around my ballsac snugly, enough to pull on them ever-so-slightly, then finally pressed itself flat around my sheath. As a final touch another tentacle had made itself around my hip and coiled itself around my shaft firmly right down to, but not including, the knot.
I should explain that, in these instances, their goal is simple, to induce pleasure. During these little sessions at no time will they ever allow me any sort of climax, though they know how to get me incredibly close.
So, as they teased I had to sit and pretend I was still working. Even as I felt ripples trail up and down my shaft, and endured my prostate squeezed and thumped from either side. Soon they get me to a point that it's everything I can do to not just hump at the air in my chair. Worse yet, I never know how long they'll go. Sometimes as little as few minutes, or in this case sixteen hours.
The ride home on the train got me a few odd looks. I had to sit there for half an hour and just stare at the same page in my book, through it all they kept up the torment, even going so far as ramping it up the closer I got to our stop. When the station was announced the pair of pistoning tentacles slowed to a crawl. I'd climbed from my seat and gave a nervous smile to a lion that was giving me some particularly cross looks, I suppose she didn't appreciate the soft moans I'd been letting slip. As soon as I stepped off, and the train's horn blared, The Tentacles sprang back into action, making me jump in place and nearly yelp. Walking home was just as bad, they made it a game to thrust into my ass every time my left foot struck the ground, and slammed right to the back of my oviduct with the right.
No matter how I walked, nothing helped the matter. I tried going double time from the platform, but I was seeing stars and panting by the time I got to the end. Next I went at a slower, calmer pace, but that just felt all the more maddening.
Actually at home was little better, because they knew that, since I no longer had to hide anything, they could ramp up their efforts to the point that they have to muffle my cried with another tentacle wrapped around my muzzle. Tormented to exhaustion I finally passed out in the wee hours of the morning, still with no release. All through the night they kept up their game, and by morning I awoke on my stomach humping down at the bed.
At no time did they let my shaft free of their hold. Instead they kept it bound in place, just a quarter of the tip free, encased in a semi-transparent blue corkscrew. The constant pressure of my sheath around my knot was what got to me more than anything. They know now that at this point I don't really have any measure of self control, so allowing me to touch myself at all is out of the question. This will usually result in me laid out on the bed, arms above my head, bound together by a tentacle, and my eventual sleep, wrought with erotic dreams.
They can be a bit mean at times, but only in good ways, and only because they know that, deep down, I like it. They will have me worked up, as they usually do, and get me hard as anything. Full out of my sheath, knot swollen. They'll even let me stroke myself, though only with a thick layer between my paw and shaft. Of course I never quite reach that final stroke, because the moment I'm about to get that release I've been acing for, they solidify around my shaft entirely, to the point that I may as well be stroking a large vulpine dildo. It's maddening.
Another prime example was when we discovered that they, on occasion, will produce eggs. Of the two of us, I think I was the more surprised one. It was late in the morning, and I was an hour out of bed. It was little more than a month after they had consumed my laboratory down to the foundation in their thirst for knowledge. The Tentacle's appetite had been increasing readily over the past week, and as such I'd been kept in a state of constant arousal the whole while, though with my sheath and balls encased in gooey tendrils. They never let up, never let go, even in the shower. They simply would not allow me to feel the area at all.
I was idle at the time, just in the middle of a game on the computer, made more difficult from the constant undulation up and down inside my delicate sheath, but it's something I'd begun to learn to live with. This was before they explained their actions. So, with little more warning than a sudden shift in the tentacles that ran down between my legs, I was penetrated suddenly into the oviduct they had gifted me with upon the night of their creation. Up until that time I had been denied any access to the area whatsoever. To be penetrated so dramatically, in such an entirely new way, was a shock, to say the least. Repeated incursions under my tail from my blue company I'd nearly grown used to, but the sensations that radiated from this new contact made me lock up in place, ball my paws into fists, and rise out of my chair with my tail rising even faster.
It was just a natural reaction. I could not care less that I'd just run my character off a cliff, because the tentacle that had burrowed to the back of my oviduct had begun to swell. I grabbed for the desk to steady myself, and managed to fling the keyboard to the side in the process. A paw groped down behind my balls to where all this blinding pleasure was building, but I met with firm resistance from a pair of tentacles wrapped snugly around the thick third inside of me. For the moment I just thought this was another of their games, just another way to rile me up.
I suppose it was really.
I managed a few questions between throaty moans, but they replied to none of them. Instead I got to watch as the thickest of the bunch shifted below the fur of my lavish, raised tail. The blue root of it slid silently toward the tip of my tail, lengthening as it went along, until it was a quarter from the white, bushy tip. They seemed intent on a rather large mess that morning, as long streamers began to bunch up and dribble to the floor, onto the desk, and all over the chair. Then I watched an ovoid shape part the matted, blue fur. It stretched the firm tentacle as it slid along inside the gooey length. At least the size of my fist, with a shell that had a little give to it. The lone ball made its way unerringly toward my groin. I attempted to grab in front of it, but the tentacle was far too slick. Even though I kept a somewhat tight grip, my pawpads just slid down in front of it, with a thick wad of slime collecting on my fingers.
A sudden whip from the tentacle put a stop to my attempted interruption though. It started with a curve right by the base, then shot toward the tip. The wave hardly disturbed the egg, but the same could not be said for myself. The motion ripped half the tentacle from my hole, before slamming forward with even more force. It didn't stop at hitting the back wall, instead it coiled to the side and bunched up upon itself, and in the process pressed my belly outward with a slight impression of the thick shaft.
My sharp yelp from this was only muffled by my goo-covered paw. I had managed to hold my muzzle shut, though in the process spread the mess further. Trails of the goop ran between my fingers, matted the fur under my pads, squished between my fingers, and generally got everywhere. I fell to my knees, legs splayed, the other paw still clutched to the desk, and the egg moved ever onward. With my feet settled behind me, the tentacle draped itself across my toes and the warm slime oozed between them. It filled in all the little crevasses between my pads just as the weight of the egg moved smoothly across them.
There was no jerkiness to its movement, only a slow, steady, frictionless flow. The Tentacles made it a point to coil the thick shaft against my thigh so that I would feel exactly where the egg was at all times. The mass moved up my slicked leg, then finally I felt my newly discovered hole stretched anew. I had expected it to slow, to ease it inside, but it just kept on at the same steady pace. My orifice dilated around the ovid as it squelched inside. I stifled another shrill cry as I felt the squishy thing stretch my passage open right to the back, then could only writhe in pleasure as I felt it moving this way and that inside the coiled tentacle. Finally I felt a powerful surge, the egg practically shot free into my body, followed by an eruption of slime. The volume of it all swelled my stomach visibly, and had I been dressed during the ordeal my pants would have been just a bit too tight to wear around the bulge.
After that I wasn't capable of even staying upright. Both paws fell to the floor, and my head soon joined them. Desperate to see something, or to figure out what they were doing, I just managed to prop myself up enough to lay the top of my head against my forearm, body curled to let me look down at my belly and groin, chest heaving as I panted hard.
Sure enough, my sheath was just as inaccessible as it had been for the month, and a pool of blue had collected between my legs. It spread out along the carpet under my feet, and continued to dribble constantly from my hole. I ventured a paw up along the tentacle between my legs, and was allowed to touch the sensitive flesh stretched so snugly around it.
Then I felt a weight slide over my sensitive paw-pads, and squidge up between my legs. Another egg, identical to the first, simply flowed inside, garnering another throaty moan from me. As I felt it trail back and forth inside the bunched up tentacle I rolled to the side, out on my back, feet planted in the puddle. My hips rose as I felt the release of the second egg, back arched with the second burst of slime. The extra weight proved too much for me to bear long, and I collapsed.
Though, rather than a solid, carpeted floor, My lower back was caught by a loops of tentacles. They drew me back up into the same position and supported me there as it showed off the long tentacle that was so well burrowed in my body. It coiled over my head and torso in a slow writhing display that I could not mistake for anything but pleasure. Before long another sphere was brought over my head and held steady in place as the tentacle slid along around it. I was even allowed to touch it, this time without another whip-crack.
I watched as this third blue, semi-opaque egg was brought down between my legs, then gawked, jaw agape in pleasure, eyes wider than ever as my body engulfed it with a loud slurp, and a burst of goo. This time I watched the mass move one way then the other, stretching the skin of my belly, before vanishing once again below the surface, before finally it exploded free as before. Though the tentacle had me stretched tight, even more cobalt-colored slime oozed free around it.
It was around this point my memory of it all gets a little hazy, I believe I passed out, though that did not seem to deter them, as when I woke up an hour later there were a grand total of five eggs.
Company was quite interesting as well. For the longest time The Tentacles would not come out to see anyone, though when they found out that it was not only my pleasure that they could get sustenance, but others' as well. The first of many such encounters was with a cheetah/fox hybrid by the name of Cotelio "Cooki" Ghramn. He's a bit younger than I am, and quite spotty. Suitable really. Same height though, with a slightly heavier build.
We'd known each other for a little while online, and he finally came over for a visit, eager to know what I'd been so dodgy about. A little lunch on the patio, followed by tea kept company civil enough. Conversation steered back to my tail, and finally I managed to coax one out.
It shied away as the cheetox reached to pet it, but as the blue tendril made contact with his fingers it was love at first touch. The Tentacles were well used to my brand of pleasure, so this new source was somewhat intoxicating to them. It snaked forward and coiled slowly up his arm as Cooki looked on quite nervously, though I think I was just about as uncertain of what would happen next. After a third loop around his arm, the tendril turned toward his head, came up, and ground itself up along his cheek, as though a nuzzle from a cat. A blue streak was left behind, and soaked into his fur readily.
Along his arm the tentacles had continued to undulate, and the increasing sensation made the half vulp moan aloud. He questioned as to just what they were doing, but I honestly couldn't tell him. At the time I thought they were just being inquisitive, as usual. As the blue slime soaked into his skin, the area grew more and more sensitive, and it was not long before he slipped his free arm over to pet down along its side, marveling at the delicious feeling the goo caused. The tentacle responded in kind and curved in along the length of his arm.
Soon the feeling grew more intense than he had expected. He closed his eyes and lost his balance toward the source of pleasure. The fall to the side was enough to rouse him enough to brace for impact, but as his paw sank right past the fur of my tail, down into a seething mass of tentacles, and an intense concentration of the slime. Before I had a chance to stop him his other paw had gone after the first.
Lust-drunk, he dipped his head in toward my tail, and another tentacle came out to greet him. This one acted similar to the first. It nuzzled around the side of his head, down the collar of his shirt, and generally spread blue slime all over the spotted half cheetah. My amused smile at the whole scene flipped in an instant to shock when he dipped his head inside. More tentacles emerged, one after the next, each ground itself against the cheetox, looped, and pulled him along without a fight. If the raging, knotted erection was any judge of things, he was enjoying everything. Not long after he was dragged inside entirely, only to be let out many hours later a gibbering, exhausted mess. He recovered after a day or two, and he still seems to like the tentacles, so no harm done, I suppose.
Though I never did get to cum, not until it was by another fur's paw, though that's another story.
It's not all deviant sexcapades though, they do help out where ever they can. In the end, it's just their nature to bring joy and pleasure to the world.