A couple of lights flash outside the tank, and before Tim can cry out further something blue and neon enough to shine through the fuzzy amber of the stasis liquid funnels down the tube to fill into the mask. He clamps his mouth shut but in his panic forgets to hold his nose, anxious breaths unconsciously sucking in a cool gas that smells faintly of mint.
Instantly Tim feels it numb his throat as he sucks the mist into his lungs, like some tingling analgesic. It doesn’t take long for the substance to spread throughout his body, carried on his panicked blood as his thrashing somehow slows even more. His body floats like it’s half asleep, but his mind remains painfully aware that he’s getting rendered insensate by his captors.
The strange faces that look back up at him from outside the tank seems almost human, but off enough to make him feel even more unsettled than he already does—whether that’s reality or merely a distortion through the fluid and tube, he has no way of knowing, and as soon as something starts to squish and move in the liquid beneath his feet, he really doesn’t care about anything going on outside.
This was just a weird oviposition plot bunny that got out of hand. Basically Tim and Rhys get abducted by aliens and knocked up with eggs, and things spiral from there. The first bit is just some solo!Tim, though there’s preexisting Rhack also and Rhysothy/Rhackothy later on.
Warnings for tentacles, nonconsensual ovi, and also a pretty claustrophobic environment in this one!
Tim already had already known his life was one parade of nightmares after the next.
If it had to pin it down, college would probably be where things had really gone down the drain—college had led to debt had to led to Jack had led to expensive and painful surgery had led to constant dangerous missions on exotic planets and more. He’d grown accustomed to the frenetic pace of his new lifestyle, though, so most things the universe tossed his way hardly phased him anymore.
But he has to admit—waking up in a tube of amber yellow liquid, unable to move—is a new one.
Thanks, universe.
Tim’s vision blurs, either by the fuzziness clouding his senses or the shimmering bubbles drifting up around him, he doesn’t know. He opens his mouth, trying to shout, only to find some kind of mask has been clamped around his lips and snapped tightly around his head. He follows the ribbed pipe attached to the mask all the way up, but loses it in the flat cap of the tube above him.
Tim can move, but only barely, whatever fluid he’s bathing in hampering his movements to a snail’s pace. He can see the tips of his right hand out of the corner of his eyes as he tries to lift it, but no matter how far he reaches he can’t touch any part of the tube’s glassy walls. The liquid clings to him like a heavy jelly, weighing him down as he tries to move his arms around to shield his body out of instinct. He’s still clothed, but he’s never felt more naked.
Floating without purchase starts to make him panic, the mask artificially pushing air in and out of his lungs not helping things. Tim thrashes as best as he can, trying to pull the mask from his face, but it clamps on tight like some kind of alien creature suckered onto him. The muffled sound of his own struggling cries sound distant to him, as if he’s hearing them shouted through the walls of another room.
As Tim writhes, shapes from beyond the bounds of the tube start to swim into view. They stay fuzzy, making indistinct and bizarre movements like abstract strokes of paint as they cluster around the front of the tank. Tim shouts, trying to form words he hopes would reach them, as if his bizarre captors can be convinced to let him go.
A couple of lights flash outside the tank, and before Tim can cry out further something blue and neon enough to shine through the fuzzy amber of the stasis liquid funnels down the tube to fill into the mask. He clamps his mouth shut but in his panic forgets to hold his nose, anxious breaths unconsciously sucking in a cool gas that smells faintly of mint.
Instantly Tim feels it numb his throat as he sucks the mist into his lungs, like some tingling analgesic. It doesn’t take long for the substance to spread throughout his body, carried on his panicked blood as his thrashing somehow slows even more. His body floats like it’s half asleep, but his mind remains painfully aware that he’s getting rendered insensate by his captors.
The strange faces that look back up at him from outside the tank seems almost human, but off enough to make him feel even more unsettled than he already does—whether that’s reality or merely a distortion through the fluid and tube, he has no way of knowing, and as soon as something starts to squish and move in the liquid beneath his feet, he really doesn’t care about anything going on outside.
Tim can hear some faint, mechanical whirr through the muffled density of the fluid, but before he can detect what direction it’s coming from something touches his foot and he’s screaming into the mask covering his face.
He mashes his chin to his chest in a desperate attempt to look down but he can barely adjust his body well enough to get a proper glance at what can possibly be below him. But he can feel it—oh god, oh god—he can feel it as it winds its way up his legs like some bizarre, spongy plant except its flexing like blood pumping through an artery and it sends sick fear spinning up into Timothy’s stomach. He kicks out numbly—more a jerk of reflex than anything—panicking as the appendages continue to wrap around him, undaunted and uncaring for his struggles.
The tip of the thickest tentacle pops his fly open as deftly as a hand, slipping inside and immediately diving underneath Timothy’s taint and back towards his ass. The double’s thighs shake, desperately trying to clench together and push the appendage away even as it shoves its way up between his asscheeks and towards his tight hole.
Tim has never taken anything up the ass without a healthy dose of lube, and even the spongy texture of the appendage doesn’t help ease the way as it pushes itself inside of his body. He grinds his teeth, spine twitching painfully in a last ditch attempt to push away from the thing inside of him, but with the syrupy fluid weighing him down and with nowhere to go, it proves futile.
The appendage pushes further up inside of him and he feels like throwing up, mind dizzy with shock as it struggles to process the fact that he’s being fucked and he can’t even see what’s doing the fucking or tell it no or even fight back. All he can do is hang there, suspended in this tube, letting whatever is below him violate his body.
The inside of the oxygen mask fogs as Tim pants faster and faster, breathing strained as the tentacle inside of him suddenly shudders, writhing so violently that Tim fears his insides might rip. This lasts for only a second, and briefly relief washes over Tim, only for the tentacle to start to swell to an unthinkable size right outside of his hole—and worse, push into him.
Tim’s hands squeeze into the fluid in a desperate grab for purchase as a round bulb pops inside of him and pushes along the length of the tentacle, working its way up into him through a nightmarish contraction of muscles that undulate against Tim’s sensitive insides. He can feel his cock harden in his pants, sensitive head bathed in the warm liquid as it pokes out from between the teeth of his open fly.
Fluid shoots out against his insides, the flesh of the tentacle porous as a sponge as it contracts in a wild peristalsis. He feels the tip of the appendage burst inside of him, pushing whatever’d been traveling along it out into stomach cavity. His abdomen twitches, twisting around the foreign object now rolling around inside of him. Tim gazes down at his stomach, eyes wide as if he has any hope to see what exactly is going on within his body as more of the orbs start to press inside of him.
Soon Tim can feel his middle start to strain as if he’s eaten a large meal, but instead of satisfaction he feels only a sick sense of arousal as the tentacles pulses against his insides, continuing its steady rhythm of brief swelling and sudden contraction. He wants so badly to just pass out, to hope this was nothing more than a sick dream, but the oxygen flooding the mask and the arousal swimming in his loins keeps him painfully awake and aware of the increasing pressure in his ass and stomach as this thing unloads whatever horrible shit its got into him.
Tim can see his stomach start to push out against his sweater, bloating rounder as the tentacle continues to pulse its load inside of him. His insides strain, clenching around the sudden mass, trying to drive it out and adapt to its presence at the same time, leaving Tim in a sick quandary as he stares helplessly down at his steadily swelling form.
The bulbs continue to press inside of him, so many that they start to build up in his ass, pressing up against his prostate and keeping his cock almost painfully stiff. He pants harder into the mask, tongue hanging out of his mouth as the appendage thrashes suddenly inside of him, trying to jostle the bottleneck of eggs forward. Spittle flies from Tim’s lips as he cries out, body unbearably hot and uncomfortable and aroused as his hips jerk forward, cock spasming with an orgasm as the rest of the bulbs suddenly shove all the way into his stomach with a last gush of thick, hot fluid.
Strands of his own cum, oddly suspended like beads of oil in water, are the last thing he sees before he blacks out completely.
TheSpaceCoyote 