Work Text:
Holding a small box, Barbara wheeled to her kitchen for a pair of scissors from the junk drawer. She cut the tape quickly. The sender was D. Songbird from Star City— Dinah, if she wasn't mistaken (and she rarely was). Dinah hadn't mentioned that she was sending anything, and normally… Well, she knew that Barbara was not a fan of surprises. Still, she liked Dinah enough not to be mad.
Inside the box was a small purple object, round and metallic with an almost otherworldly sheen. Some sort of technology for Barbara to analyze? She adjusted the small box on her lap and reached in delicately to pick it up. A small note was at the bottom. She picked it up with her other hand, examining the scrap of paper.
You need to relax. - D
Barbara scoffed and tossed the note back before setting the box on the counter. That told her basically nothing about the object, though it told her plenty about Dinah's motivations.
The object vibrated, then seemed to shift.
"What in the world?" Barbara murmured. The texture was smooth as she'd expected, but it didn't feel like metal. It felt almost pliable, strangely soft. So gradually it felt like it wasn't happening, the thing grew a small feeler, which traced up Barbara's wrist. She hummed as she turned it in her hand, looking for any markings or indication of its purpose.
The feeler flailed blindly as she tugged it away, but then sought out the closest patch of skin. Still her wrist. Was it heat sensitive? Some sort of detection device? It grew another feeler, this one curling around her index finger. The tentacles were the same metallic color as the rest of it, though they grew faintly pink at the tips.
One of the tentacles slid up the sleeve of Barbara's hoodie, and, finding heat, the rest of the object slid in after it, flattening itself down to fit. Barbara was curious to see where this was going, though she went ahead and rolled herself over to her desk, just in case she needed to contact Dinah.
For now, she pulled open a text document, writing some quick notes about the possible origins of the object as well as its observed functions. It continued sliding up her arm, remaining cold despite the skin contact.
Not thermally conductive despite appearance, Barbara wrote.
It made it to her shoulder, twining and stretching around her. It seemed to gain mass while growing, but Barbara didn't notice anything missing from her hoodie or her body. She reached up and poked at it beneath the thick fabric, and it shivered.
Doesn't seem to obey the laws of physics— Portal to another dimension? Converting air?
One tentacle curled downwards, cupping at her breast. She hadn't put a bra on, since she didn't plan on going out. Her core would have more heat than her extremities, so this made sense. Still, the way it began to contract and relax, massaging her, had Barbara wondering if maybe this was a sex toy. Given the note… she wouldn't be surprised.
The chill was growing refreshing, and Barbara settled into her chair to work. She pulled up her email, relaxing into the flexible limbs slowly drooping down her torso. They slid gently against her skin, sensitizing it, and seemed to wander around curiously. When one slid up her neck and started to press into her mouth, Barbara gently pulled it off and tucked it back under her collar, and it went with it.
By the time she'd cleared her inbox, the tendrils had curled around her breasts, one sliding against her nipple seemingly incidentally. A few others were poking at her belly button, like they were looking for a way inside to where Barbara was warmest. She sighed lightly and didn't direct them.
Once one passed below the band of her athletic shorts, Barbara had to glance downwards to track its progress. Seeing it shifting beneath the fabric just where her ability to feel faded out was disorienting as well as faintly arousing. She kept her notes open, though she wasn't paying as much attention now. Some tentacles dug into her back muscles, relaxing her.
Barbara checked her feeds next, making sure she hadn't missed any big news during the day (she usually went to sleep during the early morning hours and woke up in the afternoon). Gotham was moving along as usual, though— shambling, crawling, but moving, which Barbara could appreciate.
The fabric of her shorts rustled, and Barbara glanced down again, the tentacle now lewdly thick and bulging. She reached down and stroked the outline, and the whole object vibrated. The tentacle on her right breast curled tighter, kneading at her, as the tentacle on the left seemed to open and begin sucking.
Definitely a sex toy, Barbara put in her notes, rolling her eyes affectionately. Dinah thought Barbara should be working on trying to have more orgasms. Barbara thought it was too much work for too little reward (and too frustrating when she failed).
This, though, Barbara found she didn't mind. Just enough to keep her in this mild state of arousal without distracting her too much from her work. She wondered if Dinah would like to do something like this together some time, although she was pretty sure Dinah would get sick of sitting still pretty quickly. Maybe if Barbara tied her up first?
A slick sound filled the air, and Barbara realized that a tentacle had slid inside of her. She leaned back awkwardly, trying not to slide too far, and tugged the band of her shorts up, but the angle made it impossible to see anything. The squirming feeling in her gut was entirely imaginary, but Barbara still enjoyed it. She stroked the tentacle with one hand as she straightened, rubbing it back and forth like a fidget.
The sounds grew louder, sucking and squelching. Her nipples were peaked and goosebumps covered her skin. Barbara felt her face growing flushed and threw her hair in a quick, messy bun as she began typing up a report. Occasionally, she'd see movement from the corner of her eye or a tentacle would slide a sucking mouth over a particularly sensitive part of her chest.
Something shifted inside. Barbara's hand dropped to her stomach, and she shivered as she felt the tentacle moving beneath the skin. Was it that big? It shifted again, and she flinched as it grazed something deep inside.
Then the object began to buzz, and Barbara realized her concentration was shattered as she read back over the last few sentences in the report. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, considering whether or not to wheel over to her bedroom. But the tentacles weren't stopping. They writhed around her, the ones inside vibrating against what she realized now was her cervix. Her fingers curled as she grabbed onto her desk, sweat beading at her brow. Her glasses drooped down her nose
"Ah!" Barbara couldn't help but shout as they shifted and pushed, like they were trying to force their way impossibly deeper. Would she feel them if they made it into her womb? The thought was more arousing than she'd like to admit.
Something slid into her ass— Barbara clenched around it, feeling it only faintly. God, was it going to stretch her there, too? She panted, curling forward. She saw purple below through her somewhat blurry vision and blinked away the haze to see that the tentacles had twined around her legs and were pulling them apart, pulling her wider.
The tentacle in her ass pushed upwards and then suddenly pressed into something that felt so good. It started vibrating, too, the tentacles alternating as they stimulated her cervix directly and through the thin wall separating it from her rectum.
Barbara punched the desk, then slammed her palm down, then collapsed forward, her face pressing into the keyboard uncomfortably as she was thrown over the edge. Sweat dripped from her face and her whole body lit up. Keys and the frame of her glasses dug into her face, and the edge of the desk was digging into her chest and the thing was sucking at her tits and rubbing gleefully against her most sensitive spots, outlined through her skin. She wailed, writhing with the force of her orgasm.
When she finally came back to herself, the sweat had half-glued her to the desk and keyboard. Peeling away was unpleasant, leaving her feeling like she'd been in a car on a hot summer day. The object had collapsed into itself, landing in the lap of her soaked shorts with an innocent gleam. It was faintly warm.
Still trying to catch her breath, Barbara reached over blindly for her phone and opened the camera. Switching it to selfie mode, she examined herself. A red line was just visible below her the collar of her hoodie, one of the places the tentacles had held her. Drying sweat was all over her face, and loose hairs were plastered to her brow. The shapes of keys were outlined on her flushed cheeks, glasses askew, and her eyes and lips glistened.
Smiling dryly, Barbara snapped a picture and sent it to Dinah.
I wouldn't call this relaxing, she sent right after, though the tension she'd been carrying in her shoulders was gone. No need to make things too easy.