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Patreon Compilation – Fic#304 – Bernheim/Tentacles – King's Raid – monsterfucc; male lactation; tentaclefucc – No Rest For The Wicked
🕑 Added 2024-09-25 06:16:51 +0000 UTCBernheim/Tentacles – Bernheim is just trying to relax for once and immediately gets roped into shenanigans again. He hates it... until he really really doesn't. And his stupid demon sword definitely won't let him live it down. Ever.
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Bernheim is, in general, not someone for idle vacation resorts and to spend his time lounging around doing what essentially boils down to… nothing.
Having Targarios at his side means that he usually has to be on guard and that he is battling with his own demons, constantly thinking and obsessing over things that could have been had he not…
Well.
Right now it hardly matters. The hammock he has found must have been left in its place years ago by some equally lonesome traveler as him. It looked so dilapidated that he had doubted it would even carry his weight but after shaking off some debris from the palms it was hanging from, he found that it remained in rather good condition.
Targarios is lying in the grass besides the palm. He can hear him occasionally pipe up with one of his sharp tongued little barbs but Bernheim has become rather skilled at simply ignoring the chatter of the demon.
Even sad, tortured existences such as himself need a vacation every now and then. The wind is balmy on his skin and the sound of the waves rolling in below him is lulling him into a light sleep; until something cold and wet touches his calf.
Bernheim startles almost upright. The hammock he is lying in shudders precariously and he clutches at its sides, trying not to get toppled right into the water some three feet beneath him.
The splashes can in no way have reached up to…
Right in front of his dismayed gaze, a long, black tentacle lifts up from the depths below.
“What in all that is…” he mutters and glances down. Below him he can see more tentacles reaching up from the water. Underneath its surface he can see a… huge dark something, hiding away just enough to not let him get a good glimpse at whatever monster it actually is. Seeing it makes his skin crawl, his nipples tightening into small, sensitive peaks within two heart beats.
He looks up again, about to slip out from the hammock and grasp Targarios in a defensive stance, but the tentacles are already on him. One is curled around his ankle and two others are slipping around his upper arms.
Without fanfare, Bernheim is lifted out of his hammock and high into the air.
“Well would you look at that! And here I was thinking you would try to bore me to death with this little vacation idea! This looks like it could be fun for once!”
Bernheim bares his teeth at Targarios’ belligerent taunting but doesn’t really have the wherewithal to answer him, struggling against the tentacles as he is.
They seem to be rather… single minded in their approach. His other ankle that had still been free is getting gripped and his arms and legs spread until he is hanging in the air in one large, luxurious X. He can feel the tentacles trembling as if in excitement about his predicament.
One smaller appendage is gently rolling itself across the front of his tight speedos, feeling up his cock underneath the thin fabric. Sweat breaks out across Bernheim’s brow. He bites his lip, trying to keep the noise down to a minimum as to not give Targarios even more of a show. He can already tell that the bastard won’t let him live this down.
Is there no indignity that Bernheim is to be spared? Has Lady Luck completely forsaken him for one single mistake? More tentacles appear in his vision. They are small but they seem to possess… mouths. Their ends open up and one tiny, incredibly long tongue slithers out of each of them.
Bernheim shakes his head wildly. He attempts to throw himself back and forth in his assailant’s grip to try and wriggle himself free, but the little tentacles are on him before he can manage to do… anything, really.
They suckle onto his nipples, one for each, just the perfect size to torture him as if the creature down below has any idea of what his dimensions even are–
The small tentacle that had been rolling across his cock and curling around its shape through the spandex of his bathing suit has apparently grown tired just to play pretend and is slipping underneath the fabric.
Bernheim closes his eyes. He must be dreaming. Honestly, there is no other explanation for this disaster – heat rolls through his body and he can swear that there are tiny teeth ringing the tiny mouths suckling on his nipples because occasionally there is a little tweak that makes him break out in sweat and has his cock jumping into action despite himself.
His body is absolutely starved for the contact. He would have never imagined- never dreamed-
The waves beneath him are gently crashing against the cliff. Targarios is, as if through some miracle, quiet for once. Maybe he is simply enjoying the show, ogling the way Bernheim is hanging in the clutches of the monster, once again rendered into a helpless pawn.
The little tentacle that has slipped into his underwear is as impatient as the ones sucking on his nipples and driving him insane. He feels a sharp sensation against his hipbone and hears the tear of fabric. A second later, his erection is bobbing freely in the warm Summer air and getting assaulted by the tentacle wrapping around his proudly throbbing shaft.
His body is betraying him left and right. He is gritting his teeth, throwing his head back, muscles bulging as he fights against what the monster is doing to him- but it is playing him like some kind of instrument.
His pecs start to tingle, almost to the point of itching. He is sweating, the drops rolling down his body until his muscles are glistening. He writhes against the tentacles holding him aloft, trying to drag his chest away from the tentacles suckling on his desperately throbbing nipples-
They suddenly pull away. A soft cry is ripped from Bernheim’s throat. Soft and needy and entirely too humiliating. He grits his teeth, feeling even more sweat dripping down his abs- no. Not sweat. His chin hits his collar bones and he stares with fascination and dismay at his own chest.
The pecs look more swollen than they had just earlier, his nipples almost grotesquely plump and an inflamed red. From the fat little buds of his teats there are white drops gathering, growing quickly big and fat under his panicked gaze and then dribbling down over his abs just like the drops before them.
He is… lactating. Whatever toxins this monster has injected him with, they have caused his body to react in the most curious manner. And it is not done with him. It just… it carries on as if nothing had happened, the mouths once more suckling his plump nipples into their depths while the tiny tentacle that had been playing with his cock is insidiously gentle in slipping into his piss slit. The resulting burn and impossibly swollen feeling accompanying it is almost enough to distract Bernheim from yet another tentacle unceremoniously pushing itself into his flexing, desperate hole.
His mouth falls open, eyes feeling like they should rightly be popping out of his skull. Another tentacle. This one pushing into his mouth and fucking down his throat. He is nothing but holes and milk and throbbing cock for the beast underneath the waves. Just a willing doll for it to play with. And oh… oh has he become willing.
In the blink of an eye it feels like his whole body is alight with need. He can’t even remember the last time he’s been able to pump out a nice fat load and this creature is all too talented in touching all those sensitive, needy little spots…
It cannot be that Bernheim once again is the plaything of a demonic creature and yet here he is, his balls feeling swollen to the size of grapes, pulling at the base of his cock and veritably driving him insane in conjunction with the massive tentacle pumping into his guts and the tiny one slip-sliding through his piss hole-
He’s going to come. He has to come. Either that or he will lose his mind. Maybe the creature has mercy with him; it pulls out the tiny tentacle. In its place, is put yet another mouth-like appendage pushing over his cock and starting to undulate like a sucking, greedy mouth.
No, no, no, he thinks desperately as he clenches his eyes shut; but the second the tentacle fucking down his throat pulls out with a deluge of cum and spit accompanying it, what falls off his trembling lips is: “Yes! Yes! P-Please more! Gods, please more!”
And in the background he hears Targarios, howling with laughter. He will absolutely treat Bernheim to a replay of this afternoon at a later time. And there is nothing Bernheim can do about it.
He is eternally suffering. It’s just difficult to think of it that way when he can finally pump out a massive load into the more than eagerly waiting maw of a beast.
It almost makes him stop worrying about whether his tits will stop leaking milk by the time he gets back into civilization…
