Work Text:
“Thanks for coming in, have a nice day,” Chilchuck lilted as the last of his customers left the shop. The door closed with the soft tinkle of the bell hanging above it.
Chilchuck yawned and scratched the back of his head as he went to change the “open” sign to “closed”. He fished the key out from his keychain and locked the door before crossing the floor to take inventory.
Golden hour light poured through the window as he meticulously counted and scratched each good off his list. The sun was barely peeking out from over the hills when he finished.
Still, he had yet to return home; there was another side project he wanted to revisit tonight.
He approached a curtain near the back that most customers assumed was extra storage and tended to ignore. There were those annoying few who would ask him to check the back for extra stock, in that case he tended to disappear behind the curtain, silently scream, and then return to the show floor. He glanced over his shoulder to look out the shop window as one last assurance that nobody was going to come by while he was busy. Finding nobody there, he disappeared behind the curtain.
Behind the curtain was a small room that indeed, stored some small items. There was a table and chair that he picked up cheap from the market. Inventories and other paperwork were strewn about the surface next to the remnants of a used candle.
Chilchuck struck a match against the rough brick wall and lit the candle. He carefully lifted it from the table and brought it over to a wooden door. With one hand, he deftly retrieved another key from his keychain and unlocked the door. It creaked as he pushed it open, revealing a stone staircase that descended into darkness. A normal tall man would only be able to see about thirteen steps down, but Chilchuck’s keen sight revealed about twenty steps’ worth of light.
He descended the staircase until he reached a narrow corridor. The corridor led deeper into the underground: the entrance to a dungeon. But Chilchuck wasn’t here to go spelunking.
On his left was a small room sealed with another door. A third use of his keychain granted him access into the room, and he shut the door behind him.
Inside, there were two work tables scattered with bottles and small pots. He had set up a small fire pit to boil water over, which the dungeon often provided via a water fountain. Shelves stocked with more bottles with hastily-scribbled labels lined the walls. To anyone familiar with this kind of setup, it was easily recognized as some kind of alchemy lab.
Two things stood out in the room among the usual alchemical supplies. In one corner, there were metal racks where orange and white-striped sheets were hanging. Under these sheets were metal pans. A cloudy goo was pooling in the bottom of the pans. Not too far from this rack was a deep crevice in the wall where something was peeking out: a domesticated tentacle given to him by Senshi had been safely transferred into the wall back when it was just a — sapling? A baby? He knew that tentacles were more closely related to plants, but he wasn’t sure if “sapling” was the correct designation for a young tentacle.
He had found this little room on the first level of the dungeon and set up his lab. Luckily it wasn’t so deep that he had to risk his life just getting down there to work. The skins drying on the rack were those of giant frogs, the only monster that could resist tentacle stings. He paid adventurers to go down into the dungeon and kill giant frogs for him in exchange for the skins, which he had been trying to craft into gear that adventurers and picklocks like him could use to bypass tentacles entangled in traps and doors.
He’d been working on this project for months and was getting close to a solution. The problem was that the frog skins lost their sting-resistant properties once they dried out. To remedy this, he attempted to perfect a kind of oil that could coat the outside of a picklock’s gloves and provide the same protection.
During the course of several months of work, he had found that potion-making and cooking weren’t dissimilar. And at least he’d had Marcille and Senshi’s guidance at the beginning, although alchemy was a little too close to magic for his comfort. Still, he figured it was necessary work, and he had a lot of time on his hands when he wasn’t running the shop.
Chilchuck rested the candle on one of his work tables and reviewed his last attempt. He hadn’t had a chance to try it out before he forced himself to rest for the night.
He slipped off his glove, letting the well-worn leather drag against his skin. Those gloves had protected his hands for probably ten years of adventuring.
He reached for a bottle on the table with a narrow neck, sealed with a cork. There was a label pasted on it that numbered this attempt as number sixty-nine. He was not lost on the possibility that this attempt could very well finally lead to success.
With his nimble fingers, he popped the cork out of the bottle. He tipped it slightly, just enough to let the elixir bead at the mouth and fall into his palm. He worked it best he could with one hand. It was room-temperature inside the bottle, but the moment it made contact with his smooth palm, there was a pleasing, radiating warmth. The consistency changed too; it ran like an oil into the lines in his skin.
Chilchuck carried the bottle over to the crack in the wall and knelt to it. He reached out, and his fingers trembled. Why was he so nervous? He’d spent the last six months developing this formula. It’d taken at least 20 giant frogs and he’d endured at least a hundred times that in tentacle stings. Still, it never got any easier to withstand, especially since he usually had to douse himself in vinegar to prevent more cnidocytes from firing into his flesh, and then had to do his usual walk of shame to Marcille or Falin to receive healing.
His shaking fingers brushed the stone next to it, and he knew the tentacle sensed his warmth. It was dormant, but Chilchuck could sense the creature’s anticipation. His fingertips barely grazed the tip of the creature’s arm, and it flinched slightly with the stimuli. It curiously reached out and explored Chilchuck’s hand. Giddy excitement bubbled in Chilchuck’s core as he realized there was no burning pain, but instead a pleasant tingle.
As the tentacle’s arms explored his hand, it crept up his wrist. He went to pull away, but the grip around his hand tightened suddenly, like the slipknot on a noose. It had the strength of a tall-man packed into just a few inches of its body. Being stung was one thing, but a tentacle had never tugged on him. He huffed and attempted to wrest his arm free, but the grip tightened again. Chilchuck could feel the creature’s muscles contract on his oil-slicked skin.
“Stupid thing,” he muttered.
He set down the frog skin elixir and went to reach for the glass spray bottle of tentacle repellent on the table nearby. The pads of his fingers had barely grazed the side when suddenly, a green streak flashed across Chilchuck’s vision. The bottle was knocked away, landing on the stone floor (thankfully without shattering) and rolling away. Clear fluid leaked from the nozzle onto the floor.
“Fuck!” Chilchuck hissed.
He attempted to stand up and drag the tentacle with him to retrieve the bottle, but another green streak shot toward his ankles. It wrapped around him and yanked him to the floor.
Chilchuck’s cheek hit the ground hard, and his head throbbed. Pain shot through the fabric of his pants as his ankle swelled up. He went to reach for the spray bottle of vinegar, but a third arm shot out and wrapped around his other wrist. It burned as the cnidocytes fired.
He barked out a half-foot curse, one that was particularly nasty in the way it referred to the tentacle’s mother. Did tentacles even have mothers? Laios would know. Laios would also know how to free him from this stupid thing.
He gritted his teeth as his fingers flailed for the ointment. His skin felt like pins and needles, but with a sharp heat like the sting of chili peppers. His clothing wouldn’t protect him, and would only get in the way of the oil if he was able to reach it.
Fortunately, Chilchuck had grown quite skilled in removing his clothes one-handed. He shimmied out of his shirt and hiked his pants and undershorts down the best he could while restrained, but his shirt dangled awkwardly on his arm by the sleeve, and his pants and undershorts were bunched down around his captured ankle.
He tried again to reach for the elixir. His wrist and ankle were scalding now, and it was made worse by the grip the tentacle had on him.
He inched as close as he could, his fingertips barely grazing the glass. He stretched his arm out and the tentacle slipped lower onto his skin, sending shooting pains through his forearm and elbow. He cried out just as his swollen fingers closed around the bottle. He thumbed the cork stopper until it popped out and rolled across the floor. Then, he jerked his arm back as much as he could. The elixir gushed out, spilling onto his head. His hair fell into his eyes.
His body already ran hot, but with the added adrenaline, the mixture quickly turned to oil and ran down his body in thin trails. He writhed in the mixture as much as he could, letting it chafe greasily against his skin. For extra measure, he swiped the pan out from under the drying frogskins and dumped it out, letting the unrefined frog slime coat the floor. In a desperate attempt to work the slimy mixture into his – lower regions, he rubbed his pelvis against the floor awkwardly. As he desperately humped the stone, bits of rock scratched against everything in front. It was preferable to a tentacle sting right to the dick, though. He flipped over best he could to work it onto his ass, too. The hair sprouting there became wet.
The creature seemed to grow agitated with all of his movement, and more tentacles came out of the wall. Chilchuck could’ve sworn that it hadn’t had this many arms the last time he tested the elixir, and the mana was relatively low at this level. The arms snaked up his legs and up his thighs. Luckily, the slime and elixir had spread enough where instead of white hot sting, he only felt the warmth charged with electricity, like the buildup between his fingers and the door handle after building up static across the rug.
The actual body of the tentacle was wet and slimy. The muscles underneath the skin contracted and squeezed him, sending shivers down his spine.
While he sat in the puddle of oil, it worked its way into the crack of his ass and just barely glazed his hole. A curious arm began to prod underneath him, sending first that hum of electricity across his skin, followed by the chill of the tentacle’s body.
“What the fuck?” He nearly laughed at the absurdity.
As he watched it, something horrific stirred inside him. As it lapped against his asshole, a shiver danced along his spine. He hissed out a curse and blush bloomed on his cheeks and averted his eyes.
I’m worse than Laios… He thought, He only wanted to eat monsters. At least, as far as I know…
He thought for a minute about how he hadn’t really gotten any action since — well, he couldn’t remember the last time he got any action. He certainly hadn’t gotten any during the months he had spent in the Merini dungeon with Laios and the gang. Unfortunately, he was starting to get humbled by a new desire coursing through his veins.
He snapped out of his desire at the realization that, if that tentacle were to enter him, the pain would be unimaginable. His eyes darted around the room for a solution. He could coat the tentacle in what little slime he could scoop off the floor, but there probably wasn’t enough. His eyes fell upon the frog skins hanging on the rack.
He reached out toward the frog skins and pulled one off the rack. He silently prayed his efforts would work, otherwise he’d have to do his best to wrest himself free. He stretched it around the tentacle as a sort of prophylactic, and he found that the skins had developed some kind of elasticity and almost snapped tightly against the tentacle. Mucus oozed out of its pores as the tip of the tentacle was pushed through. The stretched skin reached only about a quarter down its length, but that was more than enough that could safely go inside him.
Wait, what am I thinking? Am I seriously considering letting myself get fucked by a damned tentacle?
He didn’t have much more time to think about it as the tentacle gripped him harder and suddenly pulled, forcing him onto his knees. The appendage prodding his ass was now pushing against his hole.
It suddenly occurred to Chilchuck that he’d never tested if the mucus coating of a giant frog was safe for ingestion, let alone absorption. He sent out another silent prayer.
The mixture of slime dripped between his ass cheeks and down his balls. He shivered as the tentacle lapped at his hole, almost savoring the entrance to a new, excitingly warm hiding place. He felt pressure against his entrance and he bit his lip.
Please don’t let this be how I die…but if I do, if any adventurers find me and revive me, please let it be someone who doesn’t ask too many questions! Chilchuck begged.
The tentacle forced its way inside, and Chilchuck cried out so loud it echoed off the walls. His face, already feeling like a flame had ignited under his cheeks, now felt like a raging inferno. He braced himself for any stings on the sensitive skin between his hole, his ass, and his thighs, but the frog skin worked well to protect him.
It pushed deeper inside, and Chilchuck felt the creature deep in the pit of his stomach. It brushed against his prostate and he threw his head back in a brief flash of ecstasy.
This is so fucked…but it feels so fucking good…
He felt another tentacle prodding his balls, and he reached over for another frog skin sheath. He awkwardly lowered himself so that his face cheek was scraping against the floor and his arms were somewhat free to slip the sheath over the tentacle. He realized that the tentacles wrapped around his arms and legs weren’t completely restraining him, just holding him in place. Still, he couldn’t quite wrest free, especially not with a tentacle in his ass.
The tentacle inside him undulated, sending waves of pleasure rippling through him. His knees trembled and he squirmed to support himself with his arms. The tentacle restraints softened to allow him to adjust. The creature was strong, no doubt, but almost gentle. Chilchuck wondered what the reasoning behind this could be, and he realized Laios had rubbed off on him more than he’d care to admit.
Ha, rubbed off…I wonder what that bastard would think if he saw me like this, Chilchuck thought as the tentacle toying with his balls entwined around his cock and pumped it.
Chilchuck panted as the tentacle writhed inside him. Another tentacle, a long one judging by the way it curled around Chilchuck’s hips and waist and climbed up his back, draped itself over Chilchuck’s shoulder and poked his cheek. He reached over to the drying rack a third time for another skin and slipped it over the new tentacle. Then, he parted his lips and let it fill his mouth and throat. His eyes rolled back into his head as the tentacle pleasantly gagged him.
He tasted a slight sourness from the skin drying in the dungeon, mixed with the saltiness of sweat on skin. It smelled worse than it tasted, like a mixture of the dungeon (which usually smelled moldy and carried the faint scent of decay) and tall-man body odor. He’d tasted and smelled worse, all things considered.
Chilchuck let his body go slack as the tentacles continued to accost him. His mind swam with thoughts of disgust and depravity. He thought about what his old companions would say if they found out about this.
“You let a tentacle breed with you? You’re so lucky! Tell me everything in exact detail! What did it feel like? How did you prevent yourself from getting stung?” And that was just the beginning of Laios’s annoying rambling.
“That’s disgusting! You’re disgusting!” Would be Marcille’s shrill judgment.
“Well, it’s a shame ye couldn’t use the tentacles for a meal afterward, but at least ye were able to find some use out of them. Don’t know if I would have the guts.” Senshi would probably quip, but Chilchuck wasn’t sure if this was a supportive comment or not.
Izutsumi…well, he hoped Izutsumi had her mind on other things (most likely herself).
Falin? He hasn’t seen Falin much since she was resurrected, but she’d probably be similarly enthusiastic about the details.
He could feel the creature push deeper, unfurling in almost beckoning motions. He let out a low groan and slumped into the tentacle’s wet and powerful embrace. The tentacle wrapped around his cock pumped it faster while the one in his mouth writhed and threatened to cut off his air supply. His breathing grew ragged through his nose, and he realized he was desperately clawing at the ground for a second of relief as the creature pushed him closer to the edge.
Fuck, I’m so close… Chilchuck thought. It was ironic, that once long ago he had consumed tentacles, and now was being consumed by them.
His eyes were rolling into the back of his head with each undulation. His garbled moans were echoing off the walls, and he hoped no adventurers further down the corridor could hear him. His body was alight with the hum of the cnidocytes that weren’t quite penetrating his skin. He barely even registered the original stinging while his senses were being flooded.
The creature seemed to sense Chilchuck’s orgasm building, and it gripped him harder. It plunged deeper inside, and Chilchuck felt hot tears streak down his slimy face. The other tentacle swirled around his cock faster. The arm he was swallowing was the only one that seemed to let up, almost resting between his tongue and the roof of his mouth.
Chilchuck choked out a garbled Fuck as his toes curled. His knuckles were white against the ground. His back arched and he threw his head back. His eyes rolled into his head as he came. White streaks painted the ground below him.
The tentacle rode out his orgasm, pulsating as something filled each frog skin. He could feel it swelling up inside him and around his cock. He bucked against the tentacle’s pulses until his body gave out, and he collapsed onto the slimy, wet ground.
The tentacle finished depositing whatever it was inside the frog skin prophylactics, and then shriveled slightly. The arms that had restrained him fell away and retreated back into the crack in the wall while the ones that had stuffed him fell limp onto the ground.
Chilchuck lay there panting in his own mess, awash with conflicting emotions. While endorphins were flooding his brain and body, the feeling of the tentacle inside him haunted him. The burning feeling of the cnidocytes was returning, too, forcing him to return to his senses faster than he hoped.
He peeled himself off the ground and stood on trembling legs. He braced himself against the table as he glanced back at the deflated tentacle as it slowly retreated back inside its nook. His clothes were soiled with slime, and he kicked the bundle aside to wash later.
There was a pot of water hanging above the unlit fire pit. With shaking fingers, he lit a match and dropped it into the pit. He sat cross-legged in front of the pit to warm himself and wait for the water to heat.
When it was sufficiently heated, he dropped his clothes in and attempted to wash them as best he could. He wrung them out to let them dry, and then took to cleaning himself with a washcloth.
Chilchuck sighed as he finished wiping off the last of the slime and cum. At least the formula worked, but it would take another month to collect enough frog slime to make a new batch, not to mention the skins he had been using were now filled with whatever the tentacle had pumped out.
He worked the sting medication into his wounds, and the scalding pain subsided to a dull, hot ache. He stood up and pulled on his damp clothes for the long walk home.
“This is between us,” he said to the tentacle, only realizing after he said it how silly it was to address the creature.
But as if to respond cheekily, an arm shot out from the wall and slapped his right ass cheek. Chilchuck howled.