Xander kicked, twisting away from the grasping appendages, but not quickly enough. One of them wrapped itself around his waist, and pulled him down. He barely had time to take a breath before it pulled him underwater, his arms and legs held tight against his struggles. One of the… Okay, he was going to have to go with tentacles, here. Xander found himself reluctant to even say it, but there were tentacles holding him under the water. He was being sexually assaulted by a tentacle monster. Or more likely here on the Hellmouth, a tentacle demon.
His head felt light, and his lungs were near to bursting, but just as he felt the air bubble out of his mouth, one of the arms of the thing pushed him up, until his head was out of the water. He took a deep breath of air, gasping thankfully as he bobbed in the water that lapped against his chin. The tentacle that had wrapped itself around his cock squeezed rhythmically, and his hips bucked with that same rhythm, as if they had something to rub against. He hadn’t intended to do that, it was just too difficult to concentrate on not doing it; his hips moved of their own volition.
He didn’t seem to have any control over his body right now. That’s how he’d gotten into this fix in the first place. Spike had been acting all furtive and sneaky lately, and Xander knew it was something important, but without proof, they all seemed reluctant to accuse him of anything. He knew the bleached menace was up to no good, but when he’d found the note with directions to this underground cavern in Spike’s leather coat, he’d decided that it was best to check out the cavern on his own, before he told the rest about it.
The cavern had seemed empty, just a cave with nothing but rocks, and a pool of water to one side. He’d looked around, to see if he could find any evidence of what Spike was up to, and that was when he saw it – the water in the pool was bubbling, and bright silver sparks shot rapidly through it. Xander had never seen anything like it. It was stunningly beautiful, and he knew he had to find out what it was. He crept closer and closer to the edge, captivated by the streaks of sliver that flashed through the clear water. It had only taken a moment for the thick, silver cable to shoot out, wrap around his arm, and drag him in.
Whatever it was had ripped his clothes off in seconds, and that was when Xander started panicking, because he knew how this went – he’d seen dozens of anime videos on the subject. The heroine gets grabbed by tentacles that shoot out of nowhere, her clothes miraculously disappear, the tentacles simultaneously force themselves into every orifice in her body, and she gets raped within an inch of her life.
There were two problems with that scenario: one – he wasn’t a fifteen year-old Japanese school girl in an almost nonexistent flippy skirt, and two – you couldn’t really call it rape when it felt so good that as long as the tentacles weren’t going to drag him under the water again, he was more than happy to not put up much of a fight. He had to admit that he’d had more than one fantasy about tentacle monsters, especially after he’d discovered the joys of his prostate. Next to his penis, his prostate was his single favorite body part ever.
When Xander felt the first slender tendrils slide between the cheeks of his ass a shock raced through him. He wasn’t sure he was ready for this. Imagining tentacles in his ass was one thing, actually experiencing it was another. However, it didn’t look like he had much of a choice in the matter. One of them wiggled its way inside his ass, and he felt it curl up inside him as more and more tentacle slipped inside. It wasn’t long before he felt the first nudges on his sweet spot, and his head fell back as he moaned, helplessly. He ended up with water in his ears, which was always gross, so he shook his head, and did his best to keep his head up, even when the second strand forced its way in next to the first one.
The two tentacles started moving in tandem – one pushing in as the other pulled out – synchronized with the two or three wrapped around his cock and balls. They moved in and out of his ass with a steady, pulsing drive that mirrored his heartbeat, the blood in his veins humming to the same lub-dub, push-push that drove the tentacles. It felt as if his heart would stop beating if the tentacles wrapped around him stopped the subtle dance they performed.
And it was a dance. The strands twined around his cock twisted in opposite directions, while a slender one flickered over the head of his cock, occasionally prodding the slit at the tip. There were more wrapped around his balls, squeezing and releasing, moving sinuously around and back again. A steady stream of bubbles rose between his legs, tickling and teasing his sensitive skin. Other tentacles fluttered around his asshole, sliding up and down the crack, and teasing the wrinkled skin without interfering with the glide in and out of the two main tentacles that probed his ass. There were slender tentacles on his chest as well, sliding smoothly across his body, flashing silver in the light, and twisting around his nipples.
One of the mid-sized tentacles had been exploring his neck for some time, and that was slightly worrisome, since he could feel the strength of it as it wrapped itself around and around. When he found it rubbing across his lips, he couldn’t help but lick them; it’s an ingrained habit. The flavor was salty and tasty, with just a touch of sweet overtones. It was delicious. Xander licked again, and his tongue slid wetly across the tip of the tentacle. The flavor was stronger there, bursting upon his taste buds and making his mouth water. When the silver tentacle pressed against his lips, he opened his mouth eagerly, sucking it in.
He’d never had anything like it in his mouth before. It wasn’t like a finger, it was bigger, and blunt, and it wiggled and squirmed as he sucked, pulsing with the same beat that thrummed through his body. He ran his tongue along it, and it pressed down against his tongue, as if it liked the sensations. When it started to pull out of his mouth, he shouted a muffled “No!” Then it surged back inside again, and Xander realized it wasn’t going anywhere, it was just getting more stimulation.
That was when he made the connection. The tentacle was the same shape as a cock. That disturbed him, ‘cause despite the fact that he enjoyed a little prostate stimulation, and had even been willing to allow Anya to experiment with her “Bend Over, Boyfriend” strap-on, that didn’t mean he was gay or anything. But sucking on something rather penis-shaped and thoroughly enjoying the way it shoved in and out of his mouth, while two tentacles reamed his ass, might be considered slightly gay.
And he wasn’t gay! He started to struggle against the tentacles holding his legs and arms, but they were damn strong, and all Xander managed to do was wear himself out. Even worse - he was so damn horny! When he’d started struggling, all the tentacles had stopped moving, and if he couldn’t get out of this, the least the tentacles could do was help him out. Right?
But they just sat there, doing nothing. Even the steady stream of bubbles had disappeared. He had an idea of what it would take to get them to move again, but his manly pride had been sorely dented when he’d run head first into the wall of his sexuality. Okay, maybe dented was the wrong term. How about crash and burn? The thing was he liked women. He was a big fan of the boob. And he was positive that vaginas were a benevolent god’s greatest gift to mankind. If Anya was still around, he’d never have been bored enough to go snooping through Spike’s duster, and he wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place.
The problem was that he got the feeling that this god’s other greatest gift to man was the prostate. And god couldn’t have objected too much over gay sex, if he made it so very enjoyable. And it was. Very enjoyable. He’d never done it with a man, but that realistic strap-on dildo of Anya’s had been one of Xander’s favorite toys. He’d had more than one occasion to regret that she’d taken it with her when she left. So okay, maybe he was slightly gay. Or more than slightly. Half-gay. That was about right. He was half-gay.
They called that bisexual. He could be bisexual. If he was bisexual, that meant he could enjoy the tentacles up his ass. As well as the one in his mouth. The one lying on his tongue, just begging to be sucked. He wanted to suck it. He wanted the ones on his cock to start moving again, and he was willing to admit that he wasn’t going to be happy until the ones in his ass started giving it their all.
So he sucked. He ran his tongue along the tip of the tentacle, flickering against it, trying to imitate the slender tendrils that had teased him while the thicker ones drove him crazy. He hoped it worked. He needed to be driven crazy again. He needed it badly. He moved his arms and legs, his torso twisting and undulating in what he hoped was a pleasing manner, and prayed that this was enough, ‘cause he didn’t know what else to do.
He had a sudden flash of insight and realized that this had to be induced somehow. Maybe the tasty lubricant-like substance on the tentacles was addictive? Why else would he be willing to float in a pool of water, getting tentacle reamed? It didn’t stop him, though he thought he might regret all this later, if he lived, that was. Even that thought didn’t stop him. He was held in limbo, and his cock hurt so badly that he was afraid it might break. He had to come. He just had to. No matter what happened after that.
Finally, the tentacle in his mouth gave a slight jerk, and he sucked harder, desperately using his tongue to stimulate it as much as he could, humming and moaning, hoping that might encourage it to come back to life, and – he was man enough to admit it – he wanted it to fuck his mouth. He pulled his head back, to get enough distance to play with the tip again, but it jerked, and launched itself at the back of his throat. He gagged, and it slid out again, and started the in and out moves it had been doing before.
If he hadn’t had his mouth full, he probably would have cried out his thanks to whatever saint kept an eye on men getting fucked by tentacles. Was there a gay saint out there? There must be. Saint Bruce, maybe. With a sudden jump, all the tentacles started moving again, and he’d never been so happy about anything in his life. He sent up a prayer of thanks before he lost track of all his thoughts, and surrendered to the rhythm that pulsed through his veins, and sent him flying into the atmosphere, floating in St. Bruce’s arms while air bubbles rose to the surface and churned the water.
It wasn’t long before he felt the first tremors, his body shaking and straining as the tension that pushed him higher and higher built to a fever pitch. His hips bucked, and the tentacles on his cock twisted faster in tempo with his racing heartbeat. The ones in his ass rubbed across his prostate in a continuous cycle, and Xander gasped shallowly, his nostrils flaring as every part of his body trembled on the edge of orgasm.
Out of nowhere, the tentacle stimulating the tip of his cock opened like a flower, and surrounded the head, gripping tightly around the edges as it sucked greedily. That extra stimulation pushed Xander over, and his entire body spasmed in Old Bubbly’s grip, his vision whiting out as he jerked and writhed. He felt himself losing consciousness, and wondered if he’d ever wake up again.
There was a noise in the back of his mind, small and soothing as he floated through space. Or maybe not space. He didn’t think you could hear anything in space, not even a scream. Opening his eyes, Xander realized the sound was the slight lapping of water against his skin, calming and comfortable as he floated. He was in water, but he wasn’t dead, and some part of him was surprised about that, but he couldn’t remember why.
Sparkles ran through the water, and Xander wondered what they were. He reached out to see if he could touch one, but his arm wouldn’t move. Neither of them would move. Huh. That didn’t bode well for his future. Looking up, he saw the reason why. His arm was stretched out above him, and out to the side. The other one was, too. He probably looked like a clock, with his arms at ten and two. But that analogy didn’t work, since his feet were pointed straight down, at six, and he’d never seen a clock with three hands. At least his feet weren’t chained.
His arms were somewhat sore from being held above his head, but since most of his weight was buoyed up by the water, his shoulders weren’t straining too much. The water lapped at the bottom of his chin, and that stirred a memory. He closed his eyes, trying to focus, and something slid by him, gliding through the water to wrap around his waist. A stream of bubbles broke on the surface of the water.
His eyes popped open as a cascade of images rushed through his head. Tumbling into the water; his clothes disappearing; his body surrounded by silver tentacles that writhed against him; bubbles sliding past his balls and cock, and making him shudder with pleasure; sucking on the tentacle in his mouth; coming so hard that he blacked out as a tentacle sucked on his cock. He was still in the water, and he struggled against the chains and the tentacles that wrapped themselves around him, holding his head securely above the water and stroking his body in sinuous waves. Slender tendrils wrapped around his cock, and he was stunned to realize that he was already hard, and aching for their touch.
Thick tentacles pulled his legs apart and held him open as more tentacles twined together before slipping down to rub against his asshole. A large part of him waited eager for the touch of a tentacle against his prostate, but at the same time, another part of him screamed.
“No! Not again!”
A blunt tentacle took the opportunity to thrust itself into his mouth, writhing against his tongue, and he found himself sucking on it, and moaning as the first tentacle breached his ass. It went directly to his prostate, nudging it. His body jerked and writhed, his intense need bursting through him while his terror pounded against his ribcage, and sent his mind reeling.
As the second tentacle rubbed against his sweet spot, his body arched in need. Xander wondered if he would ever get out of this pool alive. Even more importantly, would he be glad if he did, or would he be so addicted to the overwhelming pleasure Old Bubbly gave him that he’d never want anything else again?
Xander opened blurry eyes, trying to focus. He’d been drifting in and out, floating in the water, wondering when the monster would be back. Not wanting to jinx himself by admitting that he thought it might be gone. He did, though. He thought it was gone. Not that there was anything he could do about it. His arms were still chained at the wrists, even though the chains were now loose enough to rest his arms on the water. There was no way for him to try and pick the locks, though, even if he knew how to do that.
There was also no way for him to touch himself. He desperately needed to touch himself, because if he didn’t come soon, he was sure he would explode. He’d tried floating, to get his cock up to his hands so he could jerk off, but he’d come close to drowning, so that didn’t work. He’d also tried pulling his thighs up to rub against his cock, which surprisingly, wasn’t raw or painful, despite the vast number of times he’d come in the last… however long he’d been here. Even more surprisingly, his ass didn’t hurt at all, and that was just plain miraculous.
He badly needed to come. His cock ached, and he hated to admit it, but he’d prefer Old Bubbly to this desperate need that slowly drove him crazy. If he wasn’t there already. How many times could a guy be fucked by a tentacle monster, and not go crazy? Maybe he should ask the heroine of one of those anime videos. It happened to them all the time and they didn’t seem… Oh, wait. Actually, they did seem crazy. All of them.
Xander’s head shot up as he heard the call. He had no idea what a Gadarsen was, but the voice sounded human, and that was definitely of the good. Of course, it would be difficult to explain what he was doing chained up in a pool, but if he offered them lots of money, surely they’d be willing to find Buffy or Willow – wait – neither of whom he wanted to see in a situation like this. Giles. He could get them to find Giles. And Giles had money; he could afford to pay this person to show him exactly where Xander was.
He didn’t want Giles to see him, either, but he had to draw a line somewhere. He wasn’t going to stay in this pool forever, simply because it would be too embarrassing for him to explain what had happened. He had to take this opportunity.
“Gadarsen! Bloody damned Meusseg had better be here. He owes me fifty bleeding quid!”
Xander froze. Or not. There were some opportunities that simply weren’t worth it, and Spike seeing Xander like this was definitely not worth it. No. Fucking. Way.
Spike walked into the cavern and shouted loudly. “Gadarsen, you great bloody squid, where the hell are you?”
He scanned the large space, and Xander tried valiantly not to move, thinking that maybe Spike wouldn’t notice him if he stayed really, really still. After all it was fairly dark in here, and if he wasn’t paying attention he might miss the chained up guy floating in the pool of water. Right?
“Harris? What the hell are you doing in there? You know this is a Meusseg Demon’s lair, don’t you? You need to get the hell out of that water before the bastard comes back and…” Spike stopped, taking in the chains holding Xander’s wrists right on the surface of the water. “Bloody hell. He’s already been here, hasn’t he?”
Well, fuck. “Oh, hi Spike.” Obviously he’d figured it out on his own. Xander might as well take advantage of it, since he’s here. Dear St. Bruce, but this was going to be painful. “Think you could help me get out of here?”
Spike smirked at him, sauntering over to the pool, and taking a puff off his cigarette. “Have a good time, did you? He’s gone then, isn’t he? Too bad, now I’ll have to hunt down his new lair. I’ll bet he had this planned all the time, just to skip out on his debt. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
His eyes narrowed, as he took in the chains that stretched away into the darkness at the top of the cavern. “How’d he talk you into this? I can’t imagine you being willing to volunteer for a Meusseg’s Departing Ceremony. They usually try to get someone with more stamina than a human, if you know what I mean.” He wiggled his eyebrows, grinning salaciously.
Xander shuddered. “Don’t tell me. You’ve volunteered for this?”
“Hell, yeah! It’s a ride and a half, ain’t it? Nothing like a Meusseg Ceremony when you’re feeling randy.”
He stepped over to the side of the pool that was closest to the wall, and started tapping on the rock with his knuckles.
“What the hell are you doing, Spike? I need to get out of here before he comes back.”
“Oh, he won’t be back.” Spike didn’t bother turning around as he spoke. “He must have gotten enough sperm outta you to baptize his new lair, or he’d still be here sucking you dry.”
“He’s using my sperm to baptize his lair?” That sounded damn gross, if you asked Xander. Although no one had bothered asking him anything.
“Yeah, he’ll be sprinkling your come all over his new lair as we speak.”
“Ewww.” Xander fought back a shudder, as he remembered the tentacle that had sucked the sperm right out of his cock, every single time he’d come.
“Ah hah!” Spike must have found what he wanted, because he pressed on a piece of what looked like solid rock wall, and out popped a panel that looked similar to a fuse box. He studied the box for a moment, then flicked a switch.
Xander’s chains started rising up into the air, and in just a few seconds he found himself dangling over the water, his wrists aching as they supported his whole weight.
“Hold your horses, I’m working on it.”
He flicked another switch, and the chains started moving along a track, and Xander swung over, until his feet dangled about a foot off the floor of the cavern.
“Bloody hell, Harris. That has got to hurt!” Spike came over to examine Xander’s hard-on, which was no less angry or urgent now that it was out of the water, and being stared at.
“Well if you get me down from here, and free up my hands, I can do something about it!” Xander struggled with the chains, and ended up swinging his body right at Spike’s.
He laughed as he ducked to avoid Xander’s wildly swinging body. “This is only the first of many, mate. Coming down off a Meusseg’s aphrodisiac is going to take you two or three days, at least.”
“What?” Xander could feel the ache clear to his bones, and he knew Spike was telling the truth. “What am I going to do?”
“Well,” Spike said, casually, “I might could be talked into helping you out for a few days, seeing as you were good enough to let me live with you when the Watcher kicked me out.”
Xander’s overloaded mind knew he was missing something, but he was in shock, and overwhelmed by all that had happened, and he simply didn’t have it in him to try and force it all to make sense. He wasn’t sure he was clear-headed enough to handle this on his own.
“Don’t worry mate, you just trust old Spike. I’ll take care of you.”
He grabbed Xander around the waist, and flicked his cigarette into the water with his other hand. Grinning widely, he wiggled his fingers. “This won’t take long.”
Xander squirmed in his grip, but he didn’t put up as much of a fight as he might have in other circumstances. He needed to come. He really needed to come. At this point, he didn’t care whose hand brought that on as long as it happened, and soon.
Spike wrapped his hand around Xander’s cock, and started stroking.
Xander gasped, lost in the sensations that Spike created. His hand was firm and he knew just what to do. Well, that made sense. He was a guy, after all, and nobody knew what a guy liked better than another guy. Since Xander had discovered his semi-gay nature, he thought he should be allowed to enjoy another man’s hand on his cock – even if that man was Spike. And he did. Enjoy, that is.
Spike was right, it didn’t take long.
Xander barely noticed when Spike lowered him to the ground, the chains falling from his wrists. He wrapped a huge towel around Xander’s shoulders, rubbing his skin briskly to get the circulation back into his limbs.
“Where’d you find the towel?” Xander asked, distracted by the sensation of soft cloth on his skin.
Spike shrugged. “It was just sitting here at the edge of the water. Not surprising. Meusseg are usually gracious hosts.”
“Hosts?” Xander’s voice cracked on that.
“Come on, mate. My car’s just outside; I got it out of impound a couple days ago.”
Spike led him toward the entrance to the cavern, and Xander wrapped the towel around him, holding on tightly. Who would have thought that Spike would be the one to rescue him?
“I’ve got to go back inside,” he told Xander, as he tucked him into the passenger’s seat. “I think I left my lock picks by the pool when I got those cuffs off you.”
Xander looked around him. “Are you sure we’re safe here?”
“Oh yeah, safe as houses. But I’ll lock the doors just in case, right? I’ll only be a tick.”
Spike made a big show of locking all the doors, and he watched closely as Xander relaxed, pulling the towel around his shoulders, trying to be discrete as he palmed his half-hard cock. Perfect. Xander’d be more than ready to fuck by the time they got back to his flat. Spike looked forward to diving into that hot body. He’d been waiting for this for months.
He headed back inside, picking up his tools before stepping to the edge of the pool. He could see Gadarsen’s tentacles flickering in the dim water, and Spike pulled the chit out of his pocket, making sure the Meusseg could see his signature on the paper.
He ripped the chit in two, and dropped the parts into the water.
“Paid in full, mate. Paid in full.”