Impregnatable Structure

The dungeon was an old structure, long-abandoned by its arcane architect and looted to within an inch of its life, and the only reason it was back on the bounty board was because over the past six months almost a dozen people had gone missing in its vicinity, and if there was one thing folk knew, it was that people vanishing around magical megastructures did not bode well for the safety and security of the local area.

Marez and his crew had been exploring it for three days, and so far they’d come up with squat. Lingering magic, yes, and where they found pockets of it festering, Beiyarus swept them clean with a crisp celestial incantation, but beyond that—and a few collapsed hallways—nothing dangerous at all.

“There’s nothing down here disappearing people, I’m telling you,” Anthy complained for the umpteenth time. Anthy’s predominant personality trait was complaining, however, so Marez ignored her, as did Beiyarus and Xei. “Why are we still bothering with this? We could be downing beers in Kudri by lunchtime if we left now!”

“There are two more recorded levels to clear,” Xei said. She bent closer to a marking on the damp stone wall and scribbled something in her notebook. She wrote in human characters Marez couldn’t read, all crammed together in columns of tidy little square nests. He’d tried to get her to teach him, but she always said it was too complicated. He suspected she just liked being able to write whatever she wanted in plain sight with no risk of the orc, the elf, or the goblin in the party understanding it.

“Two empty levels,” Anthy huffed, tufted tail twitching lines in the dust.

“Marez,” Beiyarus called, “come and take a look at this, would you?” He was examining the wall opposite Xei, tapping along it with the gnarled end of his staff. From what Marez could make out in the torchlight, it was a perfectly blank wall.

“Hidden door, you think?”

Beiyarus flicked his pointed ears; the elven equivalent of a shrug. “Something is off about it. If it isn’t a door, it might be a structural instability.”

Which was one of Marez’s specialities. He put his palms on the wall and reached out to the earth, drawing on the magic that ran through him and all his family back countless generations. Worked stone—granite, local but old; true earth, but not much of it; a hollow space, something beyond it…

Marez yelped as his hands sank into the wall. He fell forwards, plunging headfirst into what was now a gaping hole. Beiyarus grabbed for him, but it was too late, he was through. Not far through—the hole was small, and he himself was plenty wide, so he fairly effectively stopped it up. A good job he did, too, for there was a fair drop on the other side, down to a dark chamber he could only just see the bottom of. He let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m alright,” he said, as hands tugged at him. “Get off me, the lot of you, let me get out of this.”

He shuffled back—and stuck. He frowned. Shuffled some more. Wriggled. Heard, on the edge of his more arcane senses, the faint whisper of a giggle. Ah, fuck.

“Ah, fuck,” he said aloud. “It’s enchanted.”

Beiyarus and Xei cursed simultaneously. Anthy was still yanking his leg. He shook her off. He could vaguely sense movement behind him; feel, through the earth, hands on the walls and feet on the floor and the dim presence of other magic. A muted glimmer of celestial—that was Beiyarus—and the other-room penscratch of scribing—which was Xei. It amounted to nothing, and at the end of their efforts he was still stuck in the giggling wall.

“There’s a chamber on the other side here,” he called back to his companions. “See if you can find another way into it. I’m too high up to reach anything, but maybe there’s something down there to deactivate this.”

“Anthy, find us a path,” Xei said, in her usual take-charge way. She was probably re-tying her hair into an eye-watering bun, the way she always did when she needed to focus.

A small goblin hand smacked Marez on the ass. “Hold tight, big fella! Anthy is on the case!”

Marez huffed through his tusks as they departed. Hold tight. Not like I can do anything else.

Silence fell. Dungeon silence, which, when you listened, wasn’t really silence at all. The shift of air, the hum of empty spaces, the distant drip of water—Marez had listened to variations on it in dozens of dungeons, large and small, inhabited and abandoned, and each and every one produced a totally unique composition, which was the kind of thing he only said out loud when he was in his cups. Didn’t make it any less true, though.

He hummed to himself, counted minutes, struggled against the grip of the wall at random intervals as if he could surprise it into letting him go. Eventually he gave up and lay there awkwardly, trying to ignore the growing ache in his back and knees. Was this what had happened to the missing people? Were their bodies trapped in similar walls somewhere lower in the dungeon?

Something moved behind him. The sound was almost inaudible, but Marez had an earth sense, a preternatural awareness of the space around him that made him difficult to sneak up on. It annoyed Anthy to no end, and had saved his hide more than a few times. He tensed. “Who’s there?”

A soft shhff. No footsteps, and the size impression didn’t match any of his companions. Large and small at the same time and somehow…numerous.

Not good.

Marez strained, trying to push himself out of the hole by sheer force. The orcs of Kudri were big, strong bastards to a one, and he was no exception, but all his renewed efforts earned him were a throbbing vein in his temple and a breathless tightness in his chest.

Something curled around his left ankle. Cold fear shot up his spine. “Alright, enchantment or spirit or whatever you are, you’ve had your fun. Let me out.”

The wall tittered darkly. He could practically hear it smirking. The thing around his ankle slithered up his leg. Long, flexible; snakelike, but he knew snakes and this was no snake, which meant a tendril or a tentacle of some kind, and those were always attached to trouble. Marez kicked, but the tentacle refused to budge, continuing its climb up to his thigh. Another latched onto his right leg, and by the time it had reached the same height as the first, several more had wrapped themselves from his feet to his knees, holding him firmly in place.

“Fuck,” Marez growled. “Fuck. Shit. Beiyarus! Xei! Anthy, I know you hear everything with those big stupid ears—I could use a little help here!”

The dungeon responded with silence. The tentacles responded by tearing his trousers off.

This was really extremely not good. Marez struggled with the wall again, this time trying to force himself forwards. His family were known for having thick damn skulls in a very literal sense, and surely a little head trauma was better than whatever this creature was about to do to him.

Chill air prickled the thick hair on his legs. A tentacle, coated in some slick, ripe-smelling secretion, slid between his thighs. The scent wormed its way into his nose, and he relaxed with a sigh—then started in alarm. Creatures possessed of emotional and mind-altering powers typically used them on prey. Stars, he didn’t want to be devoured feet first.

He tried to kick again, and the tentacles tightened their grasp, pulling outwards, spreading him wide. The pair that had climbed his legs wriggled into his underwear—ripping it in the process, the bastard things—and squirmed over his cunt, working their secretions into his sex, and Marez hung, helpless, as his body went pliant and limp.

“Shit,” he whispered. “Shit, shit, shit—ah!”

A tentacle breached his entrance, sliding in with barely any resistance at all. Marez shuddered at the hot thrill that spread through him. The ripe smell intensified; earth after rain, bodies after sex, a musky miasma of desire. His head swam as the tentacle probed his cunt, moving slowly, as if it were searching for something. As it did so, a second pushed at his already-occupied hole. Marez sucked in a breath, but there was no pain as it forced its way inside, only fullness and petrichor and goosebumps of pleasure rising all over his skin.

Double, triple, quadruple not good.

But he didn’t want to fight it. The predator had subdued its prey, and he hung there, whimpering through his tusks, whilst the tentacles made room for themselves. His mouth fell open, tongue lolling out, a moan rolling from his throat as they writhed inside him, faster and deeper with every thrust. The ones around his legs stroked tenderly up and down, and yet more slid over his belly and hips, streaking his skin with their intoxicating fluids.

It would be, he thought hazily, pretty also not good if the others returned now. They were friends, sure, but not such close friends he wanted them to see him getting reamed by a tentacular beast.

Inside his cunt, the tentacles began to swell. Marez groaned. He’d never had any particular preference for large partners, but stars above did the stretch feel incredible. Probably it looked incredible too: clit swollen stiff above his tentacle-stuffed hole, stretched wide around whatever colour tentacles were buried inside it. Bright blue, maybe. That’d be a nice contrast to his skin. Blue went well with green, just ask a river.

Marez shook his head. What was he thinking? He needed to get out of this before anything worse happened.

He tried to summon a reserve of strength, but there was nothing there. It was like when he woke up half-asleep to find his limbs heavy and unresponsive; he could feel them, could move them if he concentrated, but it was so much effort for so little reward. And fuck, it felt too good. Fat tentacles dragging along his inner walls, a mass of them toying with his thighs and stomach and clit, the intense, wet sounds of penetration—it was impossible to focus on anything else. His cry echoed in the dark, orgasm shuddering from the soles of his feet to the back of his throat.

This, apparently, was what the tentacle creature had been waiting for. It thrust faster, shaking his belly with the force of its insistent motions, working its way deeper and deeper into parts of him nothing should ever have penetrated. Worse, the tentacles felt like they were getting even bigger, only this time the swell of them was uneven. Lumpy. Like a string of fist-sized beads being dragged in and out of him.

“Ah—ahn—wha…?” he panted. Spongy but firm, the bump of each bead over the stretched rim of his cunt made his eyes roll back in his head. So fucking good. But what use did a predator have for putting beads into its prey, that made no—

Oh, quintuple fuck.

Just as Marez’s fucked-out brain put two and two together, the tentacles deposited their first eggs. He felt them drop into his womb, and it should have been awful but it just made his clit throb. He clawed at the wall, whining pitifully as egg after egg piled up inside him. He grew heavier and heavier, fuller and fuller, and with each monstrous impregnation a new height of pleasure engulfed him. He came and kept on coming in endless waves that poured like molten rock through his abdomen, gasping for breath, cursing and begging mindlessly for more.

At last, when his eyes blurred and crossed, and his belly felt three—no, four—times the size it had been at the start of the day, the tentacles finally slowed. They gave one last squirt, then paused, as if regaining their energy, before falling out of him in a sloppy wet rush. A moment later the wall released him and Marez toppled backwards, borne down by the weight of his egg-swollen belly.

He’d barely landed when he heard footsteps and familiar voices approaching. He didn’t look up, too busy marvelling at himself.

Dozens of glowing orange spheres bulged beneath mossy green skin. If he looked closely, he thought he could make out the shadowy curl of a tentacle inside each and every precious one. A handful slid from his gaping cunt to splatter on the dungeon floor, but that didn’t matter. He had more than enough to spare.

“Oh, stars—what happened?” Xei cried.

Beiyarus made a choked sound of disgust. “We need a cleric—Anthy, you’re the fastest. Run to Kudri, hurry!”

Marez settled back, palm on his stomach, feeling the life already sparking within him. “No need for a cleric,” he said, voice thick and dreamy. A blissful smile crossed his face. “I always wanted to be a father.”