The Blob Chapter 6: The More the Merrier Evan Andrews 2021
This set of stories is a change from what I've written before in that it is not a fan fiction. To be honest, it's based off a fantasy I concocted back in high school, updated as the passage of time required.
The story depicts males in sci-fi sexual situations with other males, oh, and an alien. If this offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is illegal where you are please stop reading now. Thank you.
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Gary lay back on his "bed", shut his eyes, and let this mind wander out of his cell to the chambers where the MIBs had just tossed another "recruit" to the excruciating delights the blob gave its victims. He had no idea how he was managing to do this; he just could, as could the rest of his imprisoned brothers. And watching the show was better than just lying around in his fucking cell bored stiff.
This was the fourth guy the MIBs had brought in this week, and truth be told the more the merrier was Gary's take on it. The more guys in the Managerie, he reckoned, the less often any of them would be called on to feed the blob, which just showed what an incurable optimist the blond stud was.
The first guy (He'd later given his name as Tweet, nothing more, and he'd volunteered nothing else about his life outside the complex) was clearly a runner like Gary, but with enough heft to him that the blond was certain Tweet must have played some football in high school. Tight brown curls topped Tweet's head, and he had what one of Gary's girlfriends had called "dreamy eyes," but he was otherwise rather plain looking compared to many of the crew. Not ugly, but comfortable instead of striking. Tweet's introduction to the blob was the standard fare they all (except Paul who was still getting his ass pumped full of cum before every session and subsequently plumbed by a tentacle) had long since gotten used to.
The second and third guys came in together, and they turned out to be brothers. Boasting wrestlers' or swimmers' muscles, Randy, the older, and Joey, the younger, had been taken at the same time, and they were chucked into neighboring chambers for their introduction to the blob. The guards, sadistic bastards that they were, had also shared an audio feed between the two chambers, so the brothers could hear (and cringe) as the other was overwhelmed, stripped, and subjected to the same violation he himself was currently undergoing. "A fucking stupid thing to do" was Gary's take on this. The trick didn't make the brothers any more compliant; if anything it made them more resistant than they might otherwise have been. Sharing that initial violation had given them an ally to hand, a wingman of sorts, so they balked at everything they were asked (or told) to do. This resistance proved futile and detrimental. The brothers ended up strapped over benches as Paul had been, and, when they (inevitably) refused to eat the food they were offered, they too got force fed piss and paste gruel. (It was seeing this that finally convinced Paul to submit, becoming a "good" prisoner.) The next time a group had gone to the blob (They always went in gangs of six, and the blob got its treat three times a day) the brothers, still strapped to their benches, were included (as Gary was not), and he imagined they both got their butts filled with a double dose of guards' sperm before being tossed into a chamber. (The looks on their faces when they were returned confirmed Gary's supposition.)
Today's guy had a basketball physique, but, again, with more muscularity which meant he was an all-around jock. His physique was enhanced by head of thick, dark (almost black) hair and a face that, Gary guessed, was used to flashing a BMOC grin all over the place.
As Gary "watched", his hand started to stray towards his desperately hard dick with the intent of living the experience alongside his new brother. However, he pulled himself together sufficiently to pull back at the last moment. (Several of his brothers didn't, and he could hear the squelch of their hands spreading cock-drool over their shafts as they stroked their erections.) Gary had no idea that the crew's food and water was laced with drugs that enhanced sperm production; instead, he labored under the idea that if he failed to provide the one thing he'd been nabbed for, well, who knew where he might end up. Better then devil you knew. Especially if all the devil demanded was to bring you off once or maybe twice a day. There were guys back in the dorm at ESU that would have given their left testicles to be in his predicament.
Without warning, the chamber door opened again, and Gary "saw" another guy tossed into the chamber where the blob's tentacles had just finished restraining and stripping the first guy. This second dude had straight honey brown hair and one of those general second-string jock bodies, and he took one look at what was going on and leapt fearlessly onto the mass of tentacles. Dark Guy redoubled his own struggles now that he had an ally, and between the two of them they managed to get Dark Guy free. For the moment in any case.
Standing back to back, the two studs, one clothed and one buck-ass naked, put up their dukes, wary and ready for the next attack.
"What the fuck?" Honey Guy said.
"Hell if I know," Dark Guy answered. "The damned thing grabbed me while my back was turned and overpowered me in no time flat. Then it tore my clothes off, but not fast. It took its time like it was enjoying the whole thing, like it was toying with me, and I may be wrong but I'm not sure it wasn't trying to turn me on too."
Honey Guy turned his head to stare.
"That's fucking sick, dude."
"Tell me about it. But that's what it felt like. I'm Tom."
(Gary wondered where and when Tom had found himself powerless in the hands of someone trying to turn him on so as to have a comparison. Maybe it had been a frat thing. Gary had heard about frats hazing, and Tom did look like prime frat fodder.)
"Tony. So what now?"
"What? You think it's not going to try again? Look at those fucking tentacles!"
The tentacles had divided up and were trying to flank the guys, slipping up both walls. Caught in the act, they waved assessingly, as if the blob were considering its next move, and provided the perfect distractions. Tom faced one lot and Tony the other, which is why they both missed it when the attack came from above. Tentacles fell down on them from the ceiling, and one of the wicked appendages immediately concerned itself with binding the boys' upper arms to their chests. A separate tentacle got itself around the boys' throats. The blob could have choked Tom and Tony out at once and had it way with their unconscious bodies, but apparently it really preferred playing with its food. Having a foothold (of sorts), the blob now slowly and surely got control of the boys' arms and legs, and turned them to face one another.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" screamed Tony as he fought his restraints.
Tom now got a free show (not realizing that ten other guys were vicariously enjoying the same show) as the tentacles slid all over Tony's clothed body, exploring its contours before insinuating themselves beneath and inside.
"Jesus Fucking Christ! Tom, do something! Help me!" the honey blond screamed as the green pseudo-flesh ran over his muscles.
"Wish I could, bro," Tom said with gallows humor, "But I'm kind of tied up myself."
With infuriating restraint, the blob slowly divested Tony of his jeans and tee-shirt, weakening the fabric and tearing it away, before contenting itself with teasing the hard-on that tented the guy's briefs.
"Jesus Fuck!" Tony cried as the tentacles discovered the small stain of precum on the fabric covering the head of his dick and did their version of sucking it up. "Fuck!"
Tom just shook his head. He'd been in exactly that position not too many minutes before, and he had an idea what Tony was feeling. It was wrong, and disgusting, and you almost prayed it would never stop.
One tentacle slid under the waistband and slithered its way up the length of Tony's rod, wrapping itself around the blood-stiffened flesh.
"Fuck!" Tony howled when the tip of the tentacle flicked his frenulum.
Ooze flowed out of the tentacle, and the fabric of Tony's strained briefs weakened visibly before giving way entirely. His dick sprang out free (well, except for the tentacle enveloping it), and the boy looked at Tom in shock.
"Fuck!" he gasped, a sound mixing horror with unholy desire.
(Gary mused that Tony seemed to have a limited vocabulary, though he used it to great effect.)
"I know," Tom said. "It's un-fucking-real."
(Tony's limited vocabulary was also apparently contagious.)
The tentacle currently wrapped around Tony's length put out a second spur that reached out towards Tom's still-erect dick, enveloping it as well.
"Ah!" Tom moaned as the blob's chemical stimulants started to work on his shaft same as they were now working on Tony's.
"Fuck!" Tony replied with a moan.
Gary was tired of the second-rate dialogue and was ready for the blob to pull the guys to the wall and extract their cum. Instead, he was in for a surprise. The tentacles instead pulled the boys together: face to face, chest to chest, belly to belly, cock to cock. Tom's hard nipples grazed Tony's, and the honey-colored stud's nubs responded in kind.
"Fuh," Tony moaned.
"Yeah," Tom gasped.
"And your dick. I can feel it alongside mine. It's – fuck – almost skin to skin. Oh shit! I never! I never thought...!"
Tony was really panting now. He'd never been turned on by guys in general, but having his dick up against Tom's, well, fuck, it felt too damned good. What was this fucking thing doing to them? Was he turning into a fag?
With escape impossible, the guys instead attempted to fuck against the flesh of the blob, but there was nothing to fuck against, no source of friction. Once they realized that that didn't work, they thrust hard, trying to reach the other other's meat thinking they might get the stimulation their cocks needed there—again to no avail. The blob refused to allow the boys any actual flesh to flesh contact. Their dicks were under its control and its alone.
"Oh Jesus!" Tony screamed, his meat throbbing with need and his balls churning with pent-up jizz. "Please, fuck! Please! I need to cum!"
Another tentacle slid between the Tome and Tony's faces now, and those holding their heads still pressed so that in short order the boys' lips met the slimy growth. Other tentacles forced the guys' jaws open. (How did it learn about those pressure points, Gary wondered.) The open-mouthed boys' eyes widened in horror as the tentacle they were all but Frenching grew two glans-shaped puds which slid into incredulous gaping mouths. After that, the young jaws were forced shut about the fake cockheads. Gary knew that an insidious slime was now starting to fill the boys' mouths, and that that goop was so intoxicating that neither one of them would be able to do more than register sluggish shock when alien flesh sounds penetrated their shafts. Which they did.
"Erp," Tom sighed when he felt the mini-tentacle slither its way down the inside of his prick.
At this point Gary said to hell with it, and, wrapping his hand around his slimy pole, flogged his meat for all he was worth.
"Fuck, yeah!" he sighed as he slid a thumb over his frenulum.
Tom and Tony writhed in their tentacular bondage, moaning with increasing passion as their balls got closer and closer to spitting sperm.
"Holy fuck!"
It was Mark who cried that – though every prisoner in the Managerie felt the same way.
"Fuck," Mark cried again. "I want to cum, but I have to hold it so I can jizz with Tom and Tony!"
Gary was holding himself back, too. And Greg. Fuck, all ten of the crew were on the edge of blowing their loads, but resisting finishing themselves until they could all splooge with their new brothers. They didn't have long to wait.
The chemical teasing that was driving Tom and Tony into a sexual frenzy at last proved too much. The boys in the chamber screamed around the fake cockheads in their mouths as their shafts pulsed, firing out hefty doses of man-goo, and, although they couldn't hear it, their screams were echoed in the Managerie as twenty churning balls parted with their own liquid treasure.
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In the observation room, two men in different uniforms watched the video screens.
"Ah. I'd say the blob has taken a shine these two new boys," the one in the white coat said. "I wonder what made the agents put two recruits in the same chamber, though."
"Of course the damned thing did; has it not liked any sperm it's consumed? And you can rest assured I'll be giving the agents that pulled that stunt a royal chewing out. But I'm more concerned about that!" the one in the military uniform said. He was pointing at the screen showing the Managerie, fill with spent, exhausted captives.
"What?" White Coat Guy said, confused. He'd been more concerned with the boys in the chamber.
White Coat Guy was clearly not interested in the day to day aspects of the project, only in the results of the blob's feeding. Uniform Guy, on the other hand, had a more all-around appreciation of what was going on. A paranoid state of mind had made him the perfect person to oversee this part of the project, and he was going to do it right, even if it gave him a stroke.
"In the cages," Uniform Guy said. "They were all except one jacking off, and they all came at the same time as the two in the chamber. Even the one that was just lying there."
"Charlie? Yeah the keepers tell me he's got this Zen thing going on. Meditation and stuff like that."
"And he still came with the others. You don't think that a dozen simultaneous orgasms is something we should worry about?"
"It's a coincidence, sir. It has to be. There's no other way to account for it."
"So you say," Uniform Guy snarled, "But I can't accept that. I want them all scanned again with everything we've got. If that alien horror is trying to play a trick on us, I want to know."
"You watch too much sci-fi," White Coat Guy said, his eyes all but rolling.
"Or maybe I watch just enough. Do it, doctor. That's an order."
"Aye-aye, Captain," the doctor sighed.