Strange Water

Erotic short. Day 1 of Monstrous May 2025: Tentacles. 

Rating E, trans M/M, 2.2k. Doctor Avex Neres is playing with Pel once again — with some tentacles this time. Multiple penetration, implied overstim, some strange alien mimicry, lots of fun and exploration. 

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“Ah, Pel,” says Doctor Albright as he comes into the building, and Pel adjusts his satchel on his shoulder. “Here for Avex, are you?”

“Yes, Doctor,” says Pel, passing him the folders he’d brought over from the archives on the other side of the campus, and Albright’s eyes light up as he takes them, immediately cracking the top and reading down the page. “Can I help you with anything else before I go up?”

“Mm, yes,” Albright says, not looking at Pel at all as he slowly wanders down the corridor, reading over the top page of the documents he’d copied from the dragon files, and Pel smiles faintly and continues the other way to Neres’ office.

“Ah, Pel,” says Neres as he knocks on the slightly ajar door and pushes it further open, then crosses the threshold and comes inside, hanging up his satchel on the door hook and beginning to strip out of his clothes. “Are you ready?”

“I’m never ready for what you do to me in this office,” Pel mutters, and then feels a shock of anticipatory fear flicker through his body at Neres’ answering cold expression. “Sorry.”

“Mmm,” Neres retorts, not sounding as though he believes Pel at all, and Pel toes off his shoes and pushes them into the corner, his bare feet on the floor as he looks over Neres’ office.

Neres has laid out a mat in the middle of the room, and resting in the centre of it is a dark stone pool that shines on the inside with polished smooth crystals, pale pinks, lilacs, and blues that catch the light in the room and reflect off the ceiling. He doesn’t see anything else in there but water, although it’s not still. The surface of it is regularly shifting like a natural pool might, the water swelling and splashing against the sides.

“How did you get this in here?” Pel asks. “Isn’t it heavy?”

“Not so heavy as it appears,” Neres says mildly, making a dismissive gesture with one long-fingered, grey-green hand. “Two of the Cultivators were good enough to carry it over from the Arboretum Library once it was delivered – it’s grown a bit since then, of course.”

“Grown?” Pel repeats, unable to hold back his curiosity, and now naked, he slowly approaches the stone pool, looking askance at Neres to make sure the other man doesn’t tell him to stop, but Neres gives him no such order. Leaning back against his desk, he folds his hands neatly over his lap and watches as Pel leans over the pool and peers inside. “This is living rock?”

“One might call it that,” says Neres mysteriously, and Pel presses his lips together.

“Are you this cryptic when you teach?” he asks, and Neres laughs quietly and coolly.

“No, and you should know that, boy, having been in receipt of one or two lessons from me.”

The telepathic push punches through Pel’s chest: Pel leaning back against Neres’ chest, nearly sobbing as he learns to ride his own fingers, pull at his own cock, the mirror in front of them steaming with Pel’s sweat as Neres murmurs instructions in his ear; Neres laid on his back as Pel straddles his middle and rides the too-big prosthetic that curves out from his crotch, groaning as it fills him too deeply, as Neres orders, “Lean back, boy, let it catch that part of your insides that makes you… Mmm, just like that…”; Neres barking, “Stand up straight, Pelagius Sanctus, and see that I don’t attach a rod to your spine!”

That last one hadn’t been while they were having sex – Pel had just been standing aside on the Dusk diamonds and having a quick smoke of his pipe before the students finished their classes for the day – but it had made him wet and eager as anything, and Neres knows that.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Pel mutters, rubbing at his temple with his thumb.

“If you would put appropriate time and effort into your telepathic shielding,” Neres says in uncharacteristically saccharine tones, “it wouldn’t matter if I attempted it or not.”

“Is that what this is for? Training my telepathic shielding?”

“You tell me,” says Neres, again, cryptically, because he’s the worst.

Pel exhales, giving the older elf a look. If he told most people around the colleges that Neres was like this, he doesn’t think the majority of them would believe him. As far as he’s witnessed, Neres with his students and colleagues is cold and painfully collected – he’s hardly less cold in personality with Pel, although there is a certain element of play.

Pel doesn’t know how they fucking stand it, all these academics spending all day in dusty libraries and archives, all their time inside sniping at one another and squinting at blackboards – Pel primarily cultivates plants and mushrooms across the university campus, and he does it because his mother did it, and she did it because her mother did it. None of them ever went to university, and the only reference book he ever learned from didn’t have words in it.

“As I recall, you’ve copied many of those diagrams and labelled them yourself,” Neres says, and Pel gives him the finger, making Neres laugh dryly as Pel puts his hands on the side of the stone bath. It’s not as cool under his palms as he would have expected from real stone, is very slightly warm to the touch.

It’s dark grey on the outside, but deceptively smooth, and Pel hesitates before he slides his hands further inside, feeling the warm water lap against his fingers. It’s slightly thicker than it should be, the liquid clinging to his fingertips, and when he scoops a little from the surface of the water he sees the drag and pull of it, a film forming on the water that doesn’t break.

There’s a delicate magical pulse running through the liquid that he wasn’t able to feel through the stone, similar to the one that runs through larger fungal systems, and he spreads his palm and presses down into it. There’s almost no physical resistance at all despite the consistency, and he looks with fascination at the walls of the dip in the liquid he’s created, the walls slowly closing in toward his arm.

The next flicker of magical energy is stronger, and Pel laughs breathlessly at the way it surges over his skin, feels his hair standing on end in response to it. It’s not as if he didn’t have sex before taking up with Doctor Neres, but he wasn’t as focused on it, as particular about as he is now. Neres takes education seriously, annoyingly so.

When he makes to pull back, the liquid in the stone bath moves a lot quicker, wrapping tightly around his arm, and Pel laughs breathlessly, gripping tightly at the edge of the bath to brace himself.

With a noise that sounds like water in a cave, echoing somehow despite the lack of appropriate acoustics in the room, a tentacle rises up from the surface of what still looks like water, wiggling threateningly before it lunges for him. Pel catches it in a tight grip and laughs again when it wraps around his wrist and tugs him forward.

“What is this, a species of slime?” Pel asks.

“Try again,” advises Neres, and Pel heaves in a gasping breath as another tentacle rises out of the slime, this one thicker, and coils about his middle, pulling him bodily over the wall of the stone well. He expects the thing to pull him under, to engulf him, but it doesn’t – more tentacles rise up from what very much isn’t water, touching his body, coiling around his ankles, his wrists, his middle. They don’t have the defined suckers or mouthpieces he might see on different species of octopus, don’t have additional feelers or strings or whiskers. They’re gel-like and amorphous, never holding a defined shape as they curl against him, flatten against his skin and, what, mirror his temperature?

The liquid no longer feels warm, even as it reaches to touch him, but not cold either – it feels almost as if the tentacles are extending out from his own body, they’re so equal to him in temperature.

“A kind of mimic?”

“Quite right,” Neres says, sounding faintly pleased. “Do you like it?”

“I think it likes me,” says Pel, and looks with fascination down into the stone well – each of the crystalline shapes that form around the edges of the bath is a loose circle, and he realises that several of the tentacles are reaching out from the centre of them, where the colour is richest, darkest. It’s subtle, but he can see the coiled shape of moving slime as it forms an arm with which to reach for him. Pel is opening his mouth to say something else when the first of the tentacles seeks to slide inside him, over his tongue and into his throat, and he moans around it, but doesn’t gag. His eyes are watering at the intensity of the strange sensation, because strangely enough, his mouth and throat are utterly filled and yet he can breathe, the mimic is letting him breathe through it, must be shifting its shape to let a little air through, or even just mimic the texture of his lungs.

It’s the last thought he’s able to think before two more tentacles sink into his arse and his cunt, delving deep inside him, and he groans around the tentacle filling his mouth and then laughs in a muffled way, because the mimic is laughing with him – it tinkles and echoes faintly, sounds crystalline in its sound, but it mimics the cadence of his laugh, its rhythm, its pitch.

He can’t talk, but he doesn’t need to for Neres to be able to understand his question – much as the bastard snipes, he doesn’t really want or expect Pel to put his telepathic shields up for these sessions of theirs. Part of the joy is in the shared sensation between them.

“Less of the bastard, if you please,” Neres says dangerously, but his thin lips are very close to smiling as his eyes flicker slowly back and forth over Pel’s body, lifted over the mimic’s bath and suspended by its many tentacles as they coil and shift around him. Some of them are trying to match the colour of his skin, to turn themselves the same lilac-tinged white that Pel is; others are copying the pattern of his body hair; another tentacle is interestedly stroking the cut in his side from when he had his second pancreas removed after an accident when he was a teenager. He still has to be careful with magic-infused foods, or he has to take a supplement to make sure he can properly digest and break them down. “But no, it isn’t predatory. These mimics aren’t typically found in dungeons or tombs – they settle deeply in cave systems, but like other mimics, they’re quite intelligent. Curious, too, as you can see.”

Pel moans as the tentacles fucking his arse and his cunt begin to mimic the rhythm of his bucking hips, copying him, mirroring him, as best they can – the tentacles glide strangely inside him, lack the friction a cock or even another sort of tentacle might, but they do feel tremendously thick, and he feels so full, and then they start to vibrate strangely and he shouts out a desperate, incoherent noise at the buzz of ecstasy it sends through his body.

“This mimic has some small telepathic abilities of its own,” says Neres helpfully, and Pel shouts out, his eyes clenching shut, as the tentacles thicken inside him in response to his own thoughts, and fuck, but he can’t stop himself, can’t remember how to push out his shields while he’s distracted like this – he thinks of Neres’ fingers tugging on his prick and suddenly a tentacle is mimicking their touch against him; he thinks of Neres’ teeth against his neck and it feels as though he’s being nipped at even now; he thinks of Neres’ mouth on his nipples and they’re sucking at him, they’re fucking both his holes, and once more comes that pulse—

Pel’s eyes water harder as his orgasm crashes over him in a sudden rush, his whole body tightening and then shuddering through each tightening and contraction of his every muscle, jerking in the gentle hold of the tentacles on his very side. Tears are on his cheeks, hot, and the tentacles rush to taste them, rush for, what, more, more of this, more of the sensation?

“It does like you, yes,” says Neres dryly. “It liked that orgasm, certainly – looks like it wants another taste.”

Pel feels dizzy with pleasure as another tentacle seeks to press inside his cunt, and he groans.

“Research purpose?” Neres repeats the thought. “No, not particularly. Although this is rather… elucidating.”

Pel’s laughter rings not from his own mouth but from the stone bath all around him, tinkles like crystals, and his whole body jerks again as the mimic works to wring another orgasm out of him as soon as it can.