Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

Darien's Tentacular Adventure	By : Renfield Category: Sailor Moon > General Views: 19855 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Darien woke to another morning in his cell in the pocket dimension, in as much as he passed from a state of unconsciousness to wakefulness in the constant grey half-light. Some part of him seemed to have sensed a visiting presence, but at first glance there was no one standing outside his cell. What had he been alerted to?
The "presence" was on the ground. A shock of wordless horror went through his body at the sight of the male vines, at least thirty of them, waiting patiently around his body in a wormy green carpet. Some of them raised their heads just as he raised his--it was like something from a horror movie, part of him reflected inwardly.
"Oh, god," he muttered. Frantically, he tried to scramble away from the crowd, and the vines rose up in a writhing green wave and took him.

Because was working in the residence at the time, the Brother heard none of the screams. Instead, he was alerted to the emergency by the actions of the drone guards, and teleported himself down to the human's holding cell just as the guards were taking him out.
Male vines scattered underfoot like vermin. The whole floor of the cell was awash with green mucus, as well as most of the path around it. The slave himself was completely covered in it, and did not appear conscious of his surroundings as the guards held him upright. His eyes had gone completely white, his breathing was labored, and his entire body trembled. The slave's skin was pasty-white, paler than Brother had ever seen it, and veins stood out all over, particularly on the human's genitals, which were very dark and more grotesque than usual. His nipples stood out erect and dark, and his lips had turned a dark color, as well.
"Take him to the baths immediately, and get out as much slime as you can," the Brother told the drones, "Bring him to me as soon as he's clean." He teleported back to the residence, and dispatched a small janitorial crew to clean out the cell on the service path. Then he pressed the button that carried his voice to his sibling.
"Sister, if you have a moment, I'd like to have a word with you in the residence."

Darien was moaning weakly when he came to. He was kneeling, suspended from something attached to his wrist cuffs, and tepid water played over his body. Apart from the wrist cuffs, he wore only his collar, which of course was quite wet.
It was very dark, wherever he was, and even when his eyes adjusted he could only make out tiny glints of light as it shone off of the water, or the drones washing him. He knelt on what felt like fine sandstone, and a current of cave-temperature water washed about his knees, and it was all sweet comfort compared to the effects of the slime.
Internally, his body smoldered, although the flashes of hot and cold were beginning to taper away. His heart still pounded violently, his nipples stung, and the ache in his testes was sharp and unrelenting. There were no words for the merciless demand of his erection. He felt as if it threatened to leave him in impatience, to crawl off on its own in search of satisfaction. His body still twisted and thrust reflexively as the guards cleaned him, but even if they understood his torment, they could have done nothing for it.
He cried, finally, as quietly as he could, while the drones washed his hair and poured more water over him. Hands and tentacles together gently scrubbed him clean, and again he felt his buttocks parted. A few tentacles slipped into his anus, gently easing him open. A small hose was inserted, and he felt warm water gushing into his bowels, displacing the loads of slime. Darien simply wept.
When he was quite cleaned out and being rinsed one last time, the hose was withdrawn, and he felt a touch on his face. The drone pointed him upward, and he felt something touch his lips in the darkness--the feeding udder. He took it eagerly in his mouth and began to stroke the fleshy shaft with his tongue and cheeks, teasing the aperture at its tip, until it swelled enough to begin spurting chowder into him. This time the guards did not take the udder from him after the usual ration, but let him drink as much as he liked. Once it began to disgorge the nutrient soup, however, he could not afford to let his attentions slacken, or the flow would taper away. The salty soup was soothing to his stomach at the moment, so he continued to squeeze and lick the shaft as he sucked, fellating the tube until his jaws ached.

Brother looked up sharply at the sound of a pair of drone guards approaching. The slave was with them, still dripping wet, but more meek than the Brother had ever seen him. He was bent forward at the hips in the appropriately submissive posture, one guard holding his collar at waist height, and the other holding his testicles, but now his head was bowed and his legs quivered as he walked.
"Ah, good. Sit him on the table, please, then you may leave us," the Brother directed the drones. They left the slave just where they were told, his legs dangling over the edge of the table, and his knees spread to accommodate his swollen genitals. His nipples and penis were still very dark in color and impressively erect, and his scrotum appeared somewhat bloated. His wrists had been fastened behind him, but he slouched as if exhausted.
On examination, Brother noted that the slave's skin had returned to a normal color, his breathing was less labored, and fewer of his veins protruded. With normal blood flow restored and the coating of slime removed, however, the scrapes and abrasions he'd sustained during the struggle with the vines begain to turn pink and bleed. Humans were so delicate!
"Are you awake, slave?"
The slave nodded. His head was still bowed, and most of his face was hidden by his hair.
"I've had words with my sister... she insists the vine attack you suffered was an accident, so I have sent her to practice control drills. I don't believe her entirely, but if she had endangered you deliberately, I would have had to send her home. Inconvenient, at best." With one hand, he lifted the hair hiding the human's face, and with the other he brought a slender flute of some clear liquid to the slave's lips.
"Drink this; it will calm your heart," he instructed, and was gratified to see him take the solution quietly and with no resistance. With the liquid medicine out of the way, the Brother turned to the jar of salve he'd had to concoct for this emergency. It was an old remedy, and one he'd never thought to bring along on this expedition, because it was used mainly for doctoring the owies of injured larvae. Humans had thicker skin than larvae, but it still amazed him that they were just as tender.
He lifted the slave's face again and brushed his hair aside to apply the ointment. It did not sting, apparently, as the human simply stared past him with unfocused eyes.
"Looks like you had a hard fight," the Brother commented, to no reaction. The strange silence bore on as he worked his way down the slave's body, anointing the scrapes on his chest, shoulders, arms and hips. Thin trails of blood trickled down from the worst of the lacerations, on his knees and genitals, but the heart-easing medicine would take effect before blood loss could become a concern.
"Something troubles you," the Brother intuited, halting in his work. It was rare indeed for him to detect the mood of anyone other than his twin. Had a drone been present, he would probably not have mentioned it.
The slave drew a shuddering breath. "...I need," he began, in a tired, choked voice. "I n-need... I need to come," he finally admitted, hiding behind his hair once more.
"I don't understand," said the male twin, as he began to carefully clean the blood from the human's penis. His frenzied thrusts under the influence of aphrodesiac poisoning had done enough surface damage to evoke sympathy pains in a member of an alien species. The Brother took another daub of ointment from the jar, applied it to the head of the slave's cock, and began to smooth it down the sides with a stroking motion.
Darien gasped sharply at the jolt of sensation. On the surface, his skin stung, but the rest of him was desperate for the stimulation.
"Did that hurt?" Brother asked quickly.
"My balls," the slave gasped, finally facing ahead. He spread his legs a little wider as the Brother reached down and pulled the scrotum forward.
"I don't feel any damage," he said, rolling the testes within the sac as the slave moaned and squirmed. "Are you bruised? Does it hurt when I do this?"
"Uhhh. It.. it hurts my penis," the slave admitted. Blood seemed to have flowed to his face, for some reason.
"Let me just finish with the salve. If it's too much pain to bear, say something," the male twin told him, and resumed rubbing ointment into Darien's erection. Some of the cuts were deep, especially on the glans, and the salve worked best at the bottom of a wound.
Darien gritted his teeth and tried not to move his hips. The skin of his cock smarted sharply, but as the squeezing and caressing continued, he felt an orgasm build quickly.
The slave tensed suddenly, and with a short cry he ejaculated. Brother recoiled as a milky white fluid spattered across chest.
"What the--" he started. The slave's head was bowed again, his face deeply red. His organ remained erect, slick and glistening with salve, but small spurts of white issued forth from it for a little while. The smell seemed oddly familiar... so much that the Brother dared to taste a fingertip's worth of the liquid.
"My god. It's soup," he realized aloud. "Humans excrete soup. I have to write this down!"
Darien sat on the tabletop in his own semen as the male twin rushed to take notes. His balls still ached fiercely, and his cock stood as resolutely as a monument. It had not even offered to soften after the orgasm, and now it glowed with heat from the handjob. Tears welled up in his eyes once more.
"It didn't even help," he muttered softly.

To the slave's chagrin, the male twin insisted on bandaging his erection. He'd left an opening in the end, to permit urination, but the bandage around it was fastened against the skin with a sterile adhesive, and the bandage at the root end was wound around the base of the human's nutsack. There was no shifting it, and his cock throbbed within its bindings.
Once he was done playing doctor, the male twin took Darien by the collar, and led him (in that inconvenient bent-forward posture) to a smallish room with only three walls. It was lined with smooth black stone and lit from above, as if awaiting an art display. The Brother led him out under the light, reached up and attached a lead of some kind to his collar. Two more clipped to the restraint cuffs on his wrists.
"You're going to stay in here until your skin heals. I don't want to risk you rubbing it on rough outdoor stone again," the Brother chatted, and began to buckle Darien back into his harness and cuffs. He fed two more leads through the wrist-cuff loops, wound them around Darien's arms, and attached them to the harness at his shoulders. In a similar manner he fastened the slave's legs to the ceiling, with a single lead at the small of his back to take some pressure off the spine.
"When your skin's healed, you can go back to your cell," the twin told him, almost cheerily, before leaving.
Darien found himself suspended facedown, spreadeagled three feet above the floor and unable to move. He faced the back of the room, so his field of vision included that wall, the floor, his arms, his chest, and his bandaged erection, which throbbed all the worse. He wondered for a moment why he felt less like crying. Endorphins? No, it was something about the new situation....
The prolonged bondage had begun to atrophy his limbs; that was why walking had grown difficult for him. Although he had even less freedom of movement in this new cell, his arms and legs were extended, instead of folded up and bound, and he could flex them. He could lift his own weight. He could regain some of his strength. He smiled a very small smile to himself.
There was another advantage to suspension, depending on perspective. Perhaps two days later (who could tell, really), not too long after the male twin judged it safe to unwrap his penis, Darien began to feel the chemical effects of the gang rape wearing off. It was his precious fantasy of a hope that being bound hand and foot might warrant a reprieve from enforced priapism, but not long after the first sensation of his erection softening, he saw a male vine slither into the room beneath him.
It stopped in his shadow and reared up until he felt it touch his abdomen. He tensed automatically as its bulbous head began feeling along his body, leaving a cool trail of slime. The blind thing seemed to recognize his genitals, to judge from the way it nudged at his scrotum, then slid behind it. He felt it push against his perineum once, twice, then extrude its phallus between his buttocks.
He was suspended too far off the floor for it to rape him. The vine could get no purchase. Darien laughed at it when it finally gave up and left.
When the next vine visited him an hour later, he did not laugh: it was a grandfather vine. His heart pounded as he watched it rear up beneath him, perhaps seeking his body by its heat. It brushed against his dangling cock, making him flinch, then pushed directly up against his hips. With steady pressure of its slimy melon, the vine parted his buttocks. Darien could not help but groan as the incubus' wide, rigid phallus slowly entered him with a circular boring motion. It was most likely attributable to their age that the grandfather vines sometimes took as much as two or three times as long as normal male vines to ejaculate. The slave almost preferred the younger vines, which left him feeling somewhat less weary and humiliated. As it was, he was forced to actively fuck the vine, to move his body against its thrusts to lessen the strain on his limbs. There was nothing to brace himself against.
At last it came, and he cried out as it filled him with an absurd quantity of thick, jellylike slime. As the incubus retracted its phallus (always so slowly), the slime poured speedily from the slave's anus and down his perineum. His penis was rigid again, as his masters insisted, and his head bowed with exhaustion. The grandfather vine left him with its ejaculate dripping from his swollen genitals, and some other secretion--watery, salty, and clear--running from his eyes.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Darien's Tentacular Adventure