Work Text:
Till misses the sweet moments where he could sleep soundly nestled up in his cozy blankets and fluffy pillows, undisturbed and undistressed. He must’ve taken this privilege for granted by hosting all-nighters instead of actually cherishing it, thus his rights are now revoked and plummeted into zero.
He would trade anything he possesses in return for a good night’s sleep, really. Take all of his artistic talent and gacha luck.
“Hngh—not again—” Tears prick at the corner of his eyes, rolling down his chin, as Till spasms from the sudden thrust, curled up like a shrimp. He shivers, clutching tightly onto the bedsheets, mindlessly kicking the air as slick pours from his hole, ruining the freshly changed sheets.
Why must this happen to him?
It’s weird when it first happened. In fact, awkward would be the better term. He can’t exactly recall when he first suffered this ‘syndrome’ but it was a week ago.
A week of losing sleep, tossing in his bed, begging for it to stop. A week of having his prostate milked, squirting from having his ass penetrated by a large, invisible intrusion.
As a self-proclaimed 100%-straight-bitchless-loser-virgin-boyfailure-no-homo-no-men-kissing-male, he would’ve assumed his wet dreams to be the kind where he passionately kiss the girl of his dreams as the sun bleeds into sunset. Something romantic, intimate, soft and tempting. Nothing sexual, more towards soul bonding. The furthest he could go is probably tongue-to-tongue kissing.
So when he wakes up to a weird-alien-invisible-intrusion prodding his ass, an alarm rings inside of him.
Till thought to himself that this is just another foolish nightmare, attempting to soothe his panicked heart–but said heart nearly halts when Till felt an intrusion the size of a finger lodged in his hole. Something was penetrating his rim, caressing his sensitive spot.
He fights his fear, scavenging his remaining courage, his chest heaving unevenly and finally discards the blankets wrapped around him (his final protection from this cruel, wicked world).
At first glance, it was pitch-black, with the occasional chirping of crickets filling in the darkness. He stares into the corners of his room. Typically messy, like how it's always been. There's nothing special aside from the pile of dirty laundry stacked neatly near the bathroom. The door hasn't been unlocked, nor was there anyone hiding in his bathroom.
No one. No intruder. Nothing.
Eerily quiet. He must be hallucinating.
He groans, blaming his migraine and unhealthy sleeping habits for his panic attack.
Just when he's about to toss around in the blankets, the invisible force attacks again. It punches the fight out of Till, catching him unguarded. It slides two digits into Till’s hole, tenderly scissoring his insides. Till whines, biting his turtleneck as the invisible digits pry him open, smoothing his creases and expanding inside of him.
Why is he, a straight male, having his ass penetrated by a random evil entity? Why come after him when there's tons of freaks out there who will gladly exchange to be in his position?
He needs to suppress his moans or his mother is going to be worried. The walls here are extremely thin. He deluded himself into thinking that this is probably just some of a sick revenge his body is playing on him, not like there's really someone out there attempting to fuck his loser ass.
It’s just a bad dream. An awful nightmare. It’s not real.
He changes his position, lying down flat on his back instead of curled up in a fixed position. He closes his eyes shut, trying to ignore the intrusion still playing with his hole. He tries clenching it shut, only for it to abuse him further, sliding in another digit. The more he struggled, the heavier the punishment.
His eyes blinked wide open, drool sliding down his chin, heart pounding rapidly as the intrusion expanded inside of him. He can’t count how many digits have ruined him now. This one is large.
It’s different from before. No longer just a mere finger prodding his entrance. This was something else. It’s hard, heavy, and unbelievably thick. He could feel it heating up in his abdomen, churning his insides like butter.
What kind of sick ritual is this? Is he now someone's personal fleshlight?
He squirms, legs tangled in the blankets as his hips bucked from the sudden thrust, the invisible force prying his hole open and bouncing him on the intrusion.
Metallic rust blooms in his mouth. He's been biting his lip to staple it shut, now blood is trickling.
The creature ignores his attempted retaliation. It slides in deeper, the curve of its tip now jabbing at Till’s prostate. Before Till could even mutter a soft no, it fucks Till open. It shoves itself inside of Till and, tracing over his sensitive spots before purposely jabbing it.
He’s being violated raw by an invisible entity.
That’s his first realization when the intrusion spreads him open.
Till writhes, like a fish out of water, begging for salvation as the intrusion is inserted deeper, so much so Till could see a bulge on his thin belly.
But there's no one around him. Nothing was there.
His hole is just spasming around nothing. Almost like someone pumped air inside of his body, except this intrusion was stirring his insides and flattening his walls. No matter how much Till wriggled, jumping out of the bed, It’s still going on, fucking him at a slow pace.
Even if he did managed to lie flat on his stomach, it made easier access for the monster to fuck him brutally.
He’s turning into a sex toy. Some bastard’s sexual relief outlet.
Fear blossoms in him when he glances down at his whimpering dick. It’s leaking with precum, trickling as the thrusts increase. He’s getting hard from having his ass penetrated by a large intrusion. Even his body is betraying him.
He’s actually experiencing an orgasm from an invisible limb stretching lewd hole open.
Is this some sort of a joke? It must be, Till’s begging for this to be the case.
He eventually succumbs to drowsiness, the fat intrusion still lodged inside of him, breeding him full. He reaches his climax, thighs sticky with his own cum, hole twitching and dribbling with slick.
He wakes up to a puddle of his own cum, hole still gaping and wet.
He tries sleeping early the next day, forcing himself into deep slumber. It's barely 9pm and he's already tucked in bed with his eyemask on. It feels pathetic sleeping through it, but there's no other reasonable option to go through. He's lethargic, and so, so tired.
The worst part? He's fucked awake. The fast-paced thrusts were so brutal he can’t even sleep without bucking his hips. It's not gentle anymore. At least, compared to yesterday, the thrusts today felt desperate. It spared no time preparing him, merely treating him like a bitch to breed, a toy to fuck.
“S-stop. Stop!” He calls out to the void, who swallows his pleas and indulges in his suffering. It silences him by entering deeper, playing with his bundled up nerves. His toes find purchase onto the bedsheets, his legs part wide, still foolishly hoping that the intruder would stop.
He has no one to confide in. Not even his mom. They'll just think he's a freak who imagines himself getting fucked by monsters. They won’t believe him at all. He can't even demonstrate that there's an intrusion shoved up his ass every night.
“N-no, please. Please!” He begs, biting into the pillows as the intrusion slowly drags along his walls, teasingly drawing circles on his prostate. Till doesn’t get to escape before it shoves itself deep inside in places Till would never dare to explore. To think this creature is more familiar with his body than he, the true host, is.
His pathetic dick weeps, and he reaches his orgasms without stroking his length. Again, the second time, he reached his climax from the thought of being violated by a monster.
His muscles are weak, as much as his will to retaliate. It's simply too much. He slumps down flat on his stomach, tears, snot and whimpers buried deep into the pillows as his body trembles with each thrust. He didn't even realise how lewd this position is, ass facing the intruder for easier access. He bucks his hips, steadying his breath, losing his temper when the intruder decides to toy with him by suddenly removing the intrusion.
Silence.
Till gasps for death, thinking this is finally over, only for the intrusion to remind him who's actually in control.
He’s limping while he's hard, grinding the bedsheets as the intrusion once again fills him to the brim.
Before sleeping, he checks the mirror the next day. It's a long body mirror fastened onto the wall.
He recognises the ‘attack’ pattern of said invisible force now. It only affects him during the night. He's completely (or at least temporarily) safe during the day. As long as he could figure out the cause, he should be safe. Maybe this weekend he should visit a shaman to cleanse his bad luck.
He turns around, back facing the mirror, arching his back slowly and using his phone camera to zoom into his reflection.
His abused rim is reddened and fortunately only gaping subtly. It's not as loose as he imagined. Still, his face burned with embarrassment at the sight of his puckered rim. He contemplates spreading his hole open for a closer inspection, but decides that he's not a professional colonologist. He really, really shouldn't have taken a closed up picture.
When he finally laid onto the bed, he began counting sheep, awaiting his terrible fate.
As usual, the invisible intrusion strikes again.
This time, Till is prepared.
It’s humiliating when he recalls the interaction, but he made a trip to the sex store today, and made his first ever purchase—an anal plug. Although the staff looked at him weirdly, he nevertheless left the store with his items intact.
He holds the silicone plug in his palms, and sighs dramatically. Although the height of the plug only reaches his palm, it's fat and heavy on the bottom, shaped like a teardrop. It looks harmless, honestly. He manages to squeeze an exaggerated amount of lube on the toy before slowly penetrating his hole, the reddened rim immediately puckering around the anal plug like instinct.
Is it a crazy idea to block the intrusion for barging in? Yes. Is this measure appropriate? Till doesn't have a choice, only creative experiments.
If it guarantees a good night sleep, he could be shoving a dildo there or whatever. Not like he's gay, of course, he just wants to sleep unbothered.
This is the secret he will take to the grave.
He thought the invisible force had finally given up on him, moving to the next victim.
Next thing he knows is that despite the butt plug, the intrusion thrusts without a care like it's chastising Till for daring to fool it just because he has a few tricks up his sleeves.
“Hnghn-ahnn—” Till moans, hand reaching to shove the butt plug deeper, as if that would prevent the intrusion from exploring further. He nearly screams when the intrusion vibrates inside of him, like it's giving Till a second warning.
Till tugs on the plug, attempting to pull it out, only for the intrusion to thrust it deeper, colliding with his walls. The two objects drills inside his hole, and Till nearly vomits from the sudden pleasure.
He’s lost in this lustful haze as the intrusion works in tandem with the plug, torturing Till with precision. They slid in slowly, gradually increasing the pace, before scissoring Till open and milking his sensitive prostate.
He knows his mom would nag him for ruining the bed sheets again. He sighs, spasming from the two objects, ejaculating ropes of cum, losing his patience to fight with this invisible enemy anymore. He really shouldn't have bought the plug, it just ended up becoming an aid for the intrusion. Now he's just ruined and spent, writhing for forgiveness.
He wakes up with the butt plug still lodged inside of his hole.
He's going insane. He must be.
He tests out if he is still a normal, functional man the next day. He doesn't know how he will cope if he is reduced to a bitch who can't orgasm without toys inside of him.
Stroking his dick languidly, he starts picturing images of those 18+ comics. He groans softly, eyes clenched shut, lips quivering with shame as he starts pumping his dick with more force, his warm palm wrapped around the sensitive length, thinking he would finally come.
He didn't.
His dick is half hard, the best he could go is dripping with precum. The tip is red and glossy, and his hole twitches with want.
He's screwed.
He can't even masturbate like a straight male anymore.
Tears escape his eyes and Till finds himself pathetically crying at the realization.
Said sobs is replaced by a gut-wrenching scream as the familiar intrusion thrusts inside of him again. Now without the plug, it enters Till with ease, adamantly slotting inside of him.
Thankfully his mom is on a business trip so he can finally cry his eyes out.
He’s beyond frustrated. There's nothing he could do but bucking his hips in submission, accepting the pleasure.
How has it become so loose? He could practically insert 4 digits inside his hole while the intrusion shoves deeper.
Is this his life now? Humping the pillows while the large intrusion fucks him stupid? Squirting cum from his useless dick while his bedroom reeks of sex? Begging to be forgiven only to be bred and knotted?
It’s a routine at this point. Till treats it as his new hobby. Whatever label if that would help him pass through this hell.
“Hbgh–!” He moans, hole twitching with want, the familiar heat spreading from his face to his body.
It has gotten worse now.
“Cumming–” Till exclaims, tongue lolled out and eyes rolled to the back before rutting into the pillow, his reddened dick now bruised from the constant humping of the pillows.
A mindless, desperate slut.
What is he now, really? A free use cumdump for anyone to enter? A public glory hole exhibited to the freaks? A generous cockwarmer who keeps pleasuring his owner?
What purpose does he serve, and why him?
“S-slow down–”
Squelch.
A loud, wet pop.
The object slides out of his rim with ease, and Till collapses to the bed, his hole. It had been so thoroughly run through it became a slit looking shape, confirming Till’s concerns.
If there's anyone else he could confide in, that would be his best friend. Then again, Ivan is a bastard who will make fun of him instead of actually providing guidance, so Till kept his lips shut instead of prodding further.
“Are you going to eat it straight out of the packaging?” He interrupts his train of thought, watching as Till unravels the saran wrap of the kimbap before biting it whole.
“No, Ivan, I'm going to use it to make kimchi fried rice before feeding the orphans.” Till replies sarcastically, coupled by his anger from previous ‘ghastly’ encounters, his patience is already grounded into fine power.
“Don’t bite like that, rice is spilling”
“Mmrf,” Till doesn't even flinch when Ivan extends his palm over to wipe off the grain of rice that frames his lips, “I don't care.”
“You greedy hamster.” He comments snarkily, merely describing what he’s seeing in person.
“I’m not!” Till argues, stuffing his face full.
“Okay okay,” Ivan chuckles, “hungry rabbit.”
He ends up spending the night at Ivan’s. Who knows? Maybe his room is haunted and Ivan’s freakiness will ward off the evil spirits here.
Laid back on the couch, leaning next to Ivan, they end up watching a boring movie as Till slowly dissolves into the conversation.
“I'll be back soon, I need to get my sketchbook.” He finally gets up from the couch, almost forgetting the most important task at hand—art assignment worth 80% of his final grade. He needs his sketchbook before his ideas start fading from his consciousness.
“M’kay,” Ivan nods, shooing Till away, his eyes glued onto the glaring TV screen. Till scoffs, flipping him off, running up the mahogany stairs in search of Ivan’s room. Between his lewd body and blood-curdling assignment deadline, he supposed sickness could wait.
The door opens with a soft creak, and Till is immediately blinded by the bright ceiling light. Ivan’s room was too cozy, like a mini suite instead of a prison cell. Comfortable mini sofas, snacks cabinets, achievement boards, mini fridge, gaming setups, photo wall and a large, luxurious bed. Till could go on, grinding his teeth in envy, but he needs his sketchbook now, fast.
He starts rummaging the drawers, his eyes scanning over the neatly arranged stationery and perfectly indexed reading materials, careful not to crease the pages. He may be jealous, but he’s not an asshole. That’s the main difference separating him from Ivan.
He halts his searching when he hears a small thud, followed by a heavy object rolling down the smooth floorboards. Till assumes it's one of Ivan’s many trophies again, and he must’ve knocked it down unintentionally. Sighing, he bent down and crawled underneath the bed, retrieving the foreign object. He would’ve just put the strange-fleshlight-looking object back into place, yet on closer inspection his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. His blood runs cold, body stapled in place, adrenaline spiking up his veins as he carefully handles the faux trophy like a ticking time bomb.
The attention to detail around the reddened rim and realistic creases is terrifying, just like an imitation of a real glory hole. There's slick gushing out of the slit in the middle of a plump, flesh-like cushion. Soft, warm and welcoming. Begging with want. It’s still dripping wet, and Till nearly screams when an opaque, thick liquid trickles down the handle. The lubricated hole vomits with more lubricant and cum, tainting Till’s virgin hands.
His face heats up with embarrassment, ears fuming like a kettle, knowing that he had unfortunately barged into Ivan’s private sexual relief outlet. That stupid loser’s disgusting, vile, horrific stash. That same humiliation is soon replaced by dread as his gaze shifted to the label engraved on the jelly-like flesh.
Till’s Pussy ♡ – Completion Rate 99%
What does that even mean?! Is Ivan thinking about him when he ruts into this toy? Is he trying to knock him up with his cum? Most importantly, what does the numbers indicate? Please just let this be a stupid ‘gotcha’ prank instead of an actual pussy simulator. He doesn’t know how to cope with the fact that his best friend uses him as his cocksleeve.
“Till, what’s taking you so long? You missed out on the entire movie, don’t tell me you’re backing off now, you scaredy cat.” He didn’t even realize that Ivan had already made his way upstairs, leaning next to the door frame with a bag of chips in his hand, licking the seasoning off the fingers and humming in delight.
Till screams, dropping the object, his feet now coated with sticky semen. He winces, eyebrows twitching involuntarily, watching the tube roll towards Ivan’s direction.
“Ivan…what is this?” Till asks, trembling with confusion, like a lost fawn being cornered by a hungry predator—maybe he should've kept quiet, remained ignorant, or brush it off like it was just a nightmare. Now that he has unraveled the pandora's box, he must deal with the consequences. Heartbeat hammering heavier with each second, he finds himself losing balance, collapsing onto the soft bed, panting with desperation. He writhes, beads of sweat rolling down his skin, as if it’s a honeyed-glaze.
The familiar heat rises up his groin again, and his hole twitches in ecstasy–
He understands the roots of his past ‘nightmares’ now.
“Till!” Ivan calls, his eyes widening with shock, and hurries over to check up on Till's condition– but Till merely gazes at him, his expression blank and his mouth parted open, heart-eyed pupils boring into Ivan’s soul.
“Till…?”
The teal haired boy is already gone. His hole throbs, a wet patch forming on his pants. He blames the 100% indicator on the fleshlight.
“Ivan… you jerk ♡”