Sucker My Dick, or: (Consensually) Pounded In The Butt By A Sapient Alien Giant Squid
reupload, originally from 2016
“Stanley,” intones Ford, ushering his brother to take a seat at the Stan O’ War II’s kitchen table, which a bemused Stan proceeds to do. “We need to talk.”
Stan’s never liked those words.
Ford takes a seat opposite him and threads his fingers together in front of him. His brow is furrowed, and he swallows hard. Stan can see the cogs turning behind Ford’s eyes, but he doesn’t know what kinds of thoughts are being conjured up there. Did he do something wrong? Is this one of those dumb talks where Ford wants to apologize for everything again? He doesn’t know. An awkward silence ensues, one which Stan is quick to break.
“Ah. Yes,” Ford says, seeming as if he’s been jolted from a trance. He clears his throat. “How do you feel...” He pauses, looking away. “How do you feel about tentacles?”
Stan gives his brother an absolutely blank stare.
“Uh,” Stan says. How do you begin respond to a question like this? “No opinion? Why?”
“Never mind,” Ford says, waving a hand. “It’s not important.” And he stands up abruptly.
Stan reaches across the kitchen table and grabs him by the sleeve, frowning now.
“Then why do you sound so friggin’ grim about it?” Stan asks.
“I don’t sound grim,” Ford says, tugging his arm away.
“What about the tentacles?” Stan presses. “You cookin’ octopus for dinner tonight or what?”
“No,” Ford says. “Not exactly. Or... even remotely.”
“Okay,” Stan says, drawing out the vowel. “Then...”
“Really, Stan, just forget it--”
“No, I’m curious now. What about the tentacles?”
“Nothing about tentacles,” says Ford.
“You said ‘we need to talk’!”
“Siddown, Sixer,” Stan barks. “Before I shove your ass into that seat.”
“Sexually!” Ford exclaims, and then his face flushes red. He slumps into the seat. “I meant... sexually.”
“...Oh,” is all Stan manages to get out.
“It’s--not an uncommon interest,” he says defensively. “Though typically it’s relegated to the realm of fiction...”
Here is where Stan wises up. He crosses his arms, raises an eyebrow, and says, “You found a real octopus to fuck, didn’t you?”
“It’s sapient!” Ford clarifies, flustered. “It can consent! ...And it’s a squid,” he adds.
“Simply both being cephalopods doesn’t mean they’re identical, Stan,” Ford chides.
“Fine. I suppose you wouldn’t.”
“Don’t look so put out over your nerd trivia,” says Stan. “Tell me about the squid.”
“...You’re not turned off?” Ford asks, in equal parts surprised and hopeful.
“Nah,” says Stan, shrugging. “Not really.”
“Fantastic!” says Ford. “I mean. Good.” He folds his arms behind his back, slipping into his educational mode. “The creature in question is an Architeuthislut. It’s roughly forty feet tall, possesses up to thirty tentacles, and derives no greater pleasure than from, well, pleasuring others! A remarkable creature, really.”
“Kinky,” is all Stan has to say.
“That doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Ford says with barely disguised glee. It’s sort of cute to see him this excited about something, even if that something is an apparently perpetually horny tentacle monster.
“So where can we find one of your squid friends?” Stan asks.
“According to their migration patterns, we’ll find them if we head due east for approximately three miles!”
“And how’re we gonna communicate to 'em that we want to bang?”
“They should be fluent in English.”
“I’m not gonna question it,” Stan says.
“Shall I steer us towards the Architeuthislut colony?” Ford asks.
“Eh, why not? Let’s do this.”
The sea, vivid and blue, churns gently, fragments of light sparkling on the surface of the waves. Fluffy white clouds populate the sky. The sea breeze is cool against Stan’s face. The sand of the small islet they’ve landed on crunches beneath his feet. A bright, eager smile is gracing Ford’s face. It’s brilliant, thinks Stan. More brilliant than the view he’s afforded here, though he’d never say something so sappy aloud. At least, he thinks he wouldn’t.
Ford calls out to the sea, and the sea calls back. The waves ripple and pulse, and a massive, squid-shaped figure emerges from the water, casting a long shadow over the two old men.
“Look at it, Stanley!” cries Ford, his beaming grin only widening.
Stan, however, takes a step back.
“Don’t be afraid,” Ford reassures, placing a steadying hand on his brother’s shoulder.
"I'm not afraid." Stan huffs and shoves Ford, but not hard enough to dislodge his grip.
“O magnificent Architeuthislut,” Ford calls, facing the behemoth. “We’ve come to seek your services!”
“That’s what we’re calling it, huh?” Stan asks under his breath.
“That is acceptable,” replies the squid creature in a booming voice, its raised tentacles undulating. “Approach when you are ready.”
With dexterous fingers, Ford eagerly begins to unbutton the shirt stretched across his broad chest. Stan would be soaking up the sight if he weren’t so distracted by the creature waiting on them. He’s not going to say it’s intimidating, because hell if he’s going to ever admit to being intimidated by a damn squid of all things, but he’s feeling apprehensive.
If he were going toe to toe with it, it’d be one thing. But fucking it? Getting fucked by it? That’s an entirely different story. These are waters he’s never sailed.
“Stanley, would you care to help me with my...” Ford starts to ask playfully, shirt now discarded (though folded neatly on the sand, because he is a goddamn nerd). The smile on his face promptly disappears as he sees Stan’s making no move to undress. “Are you uncomfortable?” he asks. “We don’t have to do this.”
“I didn’t say anything like that,” Stan says defiantly. “Maybe I just wanted to watch you undress first.”
Ford chuckles. “I could believe that, but be serious.”
“I’m not backin’ out,” Stan replies immediately. “I just need a second.”
“Well... alright,” Ford says, uncertain.
Stan doesn’t like that hesitant, uneasy expression his brother’s wearing, so he grabs him by the sides of his face and shoves his lips onto Ford’s. Ford blinks in surprise, and then wraps his arms around the back of Stan’s neck, inviting the kiss. Stan drops his hands; they slide down his shoulders, down to trace his torso, resting at his hips. Stan pulls away to speak.
“You still got your pants on.”
“Astute observation,” Ford says, a slow, sly grin spreading across his face.
“Think I’ll help you with that after all,” Stan says. He reaches down and unbuttons Ford’s trousers. They drop to the sandy ground. With Ford in his boxers, Stan spies the bulge of a half-hard erection. He’s eager to see the full thing.
Stan whistles. “Someone’s excited.”
“It’s rude to stare,” says Ford, betrayed by his smirk.
“Yeah?” Stan asks, rubbing his chin. “Is it rude to touch too?”
“Yes,” says Ford, raising a finger. “It is. But if you did, I think I could find it within myself to forgive your poor manners.”
“Good to know,” Stan says, and he reaches down again to cop a feel. Even in his old age, Ford’s cock responds immediately to the attention -- maybe for the sole reason that it’s his brother who’s doing it. They’ve been together long enough that these intimate touches no longer evoke quite the same illicit thrill, but nevertheless, Stan is attractive to him in a way no one else is, or ever will be. Stan makes sure to give his balls a good squeeze before pulling back his hand.
“I could go first,” Ford says. “Show you how it’s done.”
“Have you fucked one of these things before?” Stan asks, raising an eyebrow.
Ford coughs and stares pointedly at a nearby palm tree, folding his arms neatly behind his back.
“Not the Architeuthislut specifically,” he says. “I encountered similar creatures over the course of my travels.”
“Yes, Stan, I had sex with them,” he says in a matter of fact tone.
“I can’t believe it,” Stan says. “Cheatin’ on me with a buncha cephalowhatevers.”
“Really, Stanley?” he asks, unimpressed. “If you recall, we weren’t an item at that time.”
“An ‘item’,” Stan repeats, making air-quotes.
“What’s wrong with that word?” Ford asks.
“Sounds too flowery,” says Stan.
“What should I say instead? Boyfriends?”
Stan shudders. “Not boyfriends. We’re not sixteen.”
Ford looks smug. “Then...?”
“Heck, I dunno. Together.”
“We’re together,” Ford repeats slowly. “Yes... I suppose that’s all we need to say.”
“S’all we need to be,” Stan says. “...Now let’s get this crackin’ before I have to say any more sappy shit.”
Ford chuckles. “Fair enough. And it’s cephalopods, Stanley.”
“They’re called cephalopods.”
“I’m gonna leave your ass on this island. Just gonna get in the boat and sail away.”
“Ha. Not without my navigational skills, you won’t.”
Ford is smiling. Stan, despite himself, cracks a smile too.
“Now,” Ford says. “As I was saying. I think you might enjoy a demonstration of what the Architeuthislut has to offer. You’ll get both an idea of what you’re getting into and quite a show.”
Stan strokes his chin and ponders on the mental image forming in his head. “You tangled up in a giant squid’s tentacles... All sweaty and helpless...” He nods to himself. “Yeah, I think I could get into that.”
Ford’s cheeks redden but he remains poised. “I’d hoped so,” he says. “I...” He stammers. “I want you to enjoy this. Even if it’s simply by watching me.”
“Gimme a good performance, Ford,” he says, lightly punching his shoulder. “But first...”
Stan runs his fingers over the elastic band of Ford’s boxers and then with a swift motion yanks them down.
“And my boots, Stanley?” Ford asks.
“Take ’em off yourself,” Stan says. “I’m not into feet.”
Ford stifles a chuckle and removes his own boots and socks, leaving them beside the pile of his clothes.
In Stan’s eyes, Ford is not attractive “for an old man”. He’s attractive period. Ford is fit, muscular even, from his years spent traveling the multiverse, fighting and running and surviving. Impressive battle scars litter his naked flesh. Endearingly, he still retains some chub in his stomach area, which Stan loves to pinch and tease him about, all in good nature. He knows, after all, he’s the one with the real gut around here.
(Ford also has that tattoo, but they don’t speak of it on days Stan hopes he’s getting laid.)
A fully undressed Ford approach the patiently waiting Architeuthislut once more, the waves lapping at his bare feet.
“I’m prepared to begin!” he says. “My brother may or may not be joining us.”
The creature inclines its large head in acknowledgment, apparently unperturbed by the incestuous nature of their relationship.
The creature extends a hefty tentacle towards Ford. It thumps against his shoulder and then slides down his chest, leaving a thick liquid trail and faint sucker marks behind. Another tentacle reaches for him and hooks around his left arm -- another hooks around the right. Two more wrap around his thighs and lift him into the air, maneuvering him so he’s facing Stan.
Stan already gapes at the sight of his brother prone, left completely to the monster’s whims. Yet more tentacles emerge dripping wet from the water, wrapping around Ford’s waist, massaging him. A tentacle creeps tantalizingly close to his dick but does not touch it. Another strokes Ford’s fluffy gray hair, mussing it up; the viscous, semi-translucent substance drips from the tentacle into his hair and down his face.
What it resembles does not escape Stan. He can feel his dick throbbing in his pants.
“Looks like someone jerked off all over your face,” he says huskily.
“You, ah, put it so eloquently, Stanley.”
“I think I’ll do just that next time,” Stan continues. “Put you on your knees, grab you by the hair ‘n come all over your nerd glasses.”
“You wear glasses t--” Ford’s voice catches in his throat, the feeling of the suckers over his nipples taking away his breath. Gooey tentacles slide up the sensitive skin of his thighs, making him shiver, and finally one curls around his dick and begins to slowly pump it. The other fondles his balls with slithery motions. Ford has no pretense of composure. He writhes in monster’s grasp, sweat dripping down his body.
Stan drinks in the sight; it’s getting him hot. This was a good idea. But should he content himself with the show and rub one out on the sand, or should he participate...?
He’ll watch for a little while longer, he decides.
“Hey squid,” he says. “Spread his legs a little.”
The tentacles wrapped around Ford’s thighs slide down and secure themselves around his ankles. They pull his legs wide apart.
“And how about you tie his wrists together?” Stan adds, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
The tentacles on Ford’s arms latch onto his wrists instead and pull his arms high above his head.
“How d’you like your new position?” Stan asks.
“It’s -- ah -- acceptable,” Ford says, squirming as if he wants to rub his thighs together.
“How long’ve you been thinking about this?” asks Stan.
“I bet you had this on your mind last night,” Stan says. “I heard you jackin’ it to something.”
Ford’s face could not possibly get any redder, but somehow it does.
“It wasn’t to -- to this. Not quite.”
“No, it was -- to you. And this. And...”
The tentacle on his leaking dick slows to an agonizing speed and Ford whines. A shiver runs up Stan’s spine at the sound.
“Me,” says Stan, trying to ignore how he’d like to rip Ford from the monster’s grasp and take him in the ass right then and there, because he’s got a different plan in mind, one Ford should enjoy just as much. “Getting fucked by one of these. Right?”
“Guess I oughta make your dreams come true. What kinda brother would I be if I didn’t?” He smirks at his own words and then rolls his shoulders, cracking the muscles there. “I got an idea, squid-guy. Strip me.”
Ford’s focus is solely on Stan now.
The monster begins to strip Stan, ripping open the buttons on his coat and trousers.
“Hey, careful with the merchandise!” Stan exclaims, staggering backwards.
“Apologies,” rumbles the squid. It gently grabs his glasses and places them on the sand, and Stan lifts his arms into the air so the squid can pull his shirt, damp with sweat, off over his head. It pulls his boxers down, and Stan’s hard cock springs forth.
Ford can’t take his eyes off the sight -- and Stan can’t take his eyes off Ford.
“This is ‘cause of you,” Stan says, taking his dick in hand.
“Stan,” Ford says, drawing out his name.
“Don’t go thinking about coming just yet,” Stan says. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
“P-please,” Ford stammers.
“Please, Stan!” Ford cries, so desperate with lust he can set aside his pride.
“I’d make ya get on your knees and beg, but...” He hums to himself. “Actually...” He stares up at the behemoth. “Put Ford on his knees in front of me.”
The creature complies. Ford’s spread knees hit the sand -- not roughly -- and his arms are bound behind his back, trapped in a tentacle’s strong grip. Stan walks up to him wearing a smug expression and bends down to grab Ford by the chin. He tugs his face a little to the left, then a little to the right, as if carefully examining his features.
“You’ve sure got a good-lookin’ face,” he says. “Never seen anything so handsome.”
“We -- we have the same face, Stan.”
“Yep,” Stan says, grinning shamelessly.
Ford tests the strength of his bonds as he replies. “I... must say, Stan, I’m -- I’m impressed by how you’ve... ah, that you’ve taken the initiative.”
It’s difficult for him to keep his composure when there’s a tentacle still slithering around his dick and he’s on his knees, naked, before his brother.
“Less talkin’, more beggin’.”
“Begging requires -- requires talking,” Ford points out, capable of being a pedant even in the situation he’s in.
“You know what I mean, Ford,” Stan says with a groan. “Now d’you wanna see me take one of those tentacles up the ass or not?”
“Yes,” Ford says breathlessly. “Yes, please, I do, Stan...!”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Stan says. “But I dunno if I’m convinced.”
“Stan, for the love of all things holy -- ”
“How bout you kiss my shoes?”
“H-how about I what?” Ford repeats.
“Yeah,” says Stan, nodding to himself. “Kiss my boots. The squid didn’t take those off.”
“That isn’t sanitary,” he points out.
“The Architeuthislut is a -- ah -- a hygienic creature.”
“Sure, whatever. Boots. Kiss. Now.”
Ford glares at him and for a second Stan thinks he’s gone too far, the expression on his face falling.
“Look, never mind, just forget it --”
But Ford leans forward, gooey and disheveled hair falling into his face, and kisses the tip of his left boot, and he doesn’t stop there; he drags his tongue over its length. He pulls back and licks his lips, smiling roguishly. Then he bends down again to repeat the process on his right boot.
“Damn, Sixer,” says Stan, wide-eyed.
“Have I begged sufficiently?” Ford asks, masking the waver in his voice.
“That was hot,” says Stan, which more than answers the question.
“However, I thought you said you didn’t like feet?” Ford asks, amused.
“Eh. I’m flexible on the subject.”
“Duly -- ah -- duly noted.” Ford can’t resist squirming a little against his bindings once more as the tentacle rubs the head of his dick.
“Maybe we oughta take a break from the tentacle-on-dick action,” says Stan. “You’ll come early.”
“I suppose -- suppose you’re right,” Ford says, and the tentacle on his cock slithers away. Ford grits his teeth and stifles a frustrated groan at the sudden lack of contact.
“Good boy,” says Stan in the most aggravating tone he can manage, and runs a hand through Ford’s sticky hair.
“Go to hell, Stanley,” says Ford.
“Language,” says Stan. “We’re gonna have to wash out your mouth later. With my dick.” He grins cheekily.
“Of course,” says Ford. “That makes perfect sense.”
“You know you’re dying to suck my dick,” Stan says.
“You can suck mine,” replies Ford drily.
“Nah, I gotta get fucked by a tentacle monster first,” says Stan. “All right, Arky. I’m ready for whatever you’ve got up your sleeve. Or tentacle, or whatever.”
“Yeah. ‘Cause it’s an Architeu...whatever.”
“Would it kill you to try and remember how these names are pronounced?”
More tentacles emerge from the sea and reach for Stan. The first thing he notices as they wrap around his bare arms and legs and lift him into the air is that they are surprisingly gentle, as if aware that he’s an old man with old bones. The appendages are slimy, and it makes him think of slugs. He tries to not think of slugs, because they’re the opposite of sexy. The next thing he thinks is that their gooey secretions will make for good lubricant, and then has to laugh at how his mind is in the gutter.
The tentacles haul Ford up into the air as well and position the both of them so they’re facing each other. Ford’s cock (much like this face and neck) is flushed; it must be aching, desperate for pleasure yet being denied. Arousal pulses through Stan’s dick. He wants to bend him over and fuck him senseless, make Ford Pines, PhD., so helplessly turned on he gasps, whimpers, goes mad with lust. However, today the honor of doing that falls to the giant squid. Stan’s not normally content to share -- he is a selfish man, and that extends to the bedroom -- but he’ll make an exception just this once.
Stan feels vulnerable in the monster’s grasp. He is keenly aware that it could tear them both limb from limb, drag them down and drown them in the depths of the sea if it wanted to. But Ford trusts the creature, and Stan trusts Ford. They wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t.
A monster’s touch shouldn’t be this sensual, Stan thinks as two pairs of tentacles spread out his arms and legs and another slithers up his thigh to tease his cock. The texture of the suckers against his skin is unusual, but not unpleasant. Despite the tender touch, the sucker leaves marks on his skin that he can’t help but compare to hickeys. It gives him an idea.
“H-hey, Arky, go suck on Ford’s neck. Leave a little somethin’ that says ‘giant squid was here’.”
“Only if you do the same to Stanley,” says Ford.
The tentacles press against the side of their necks, not hard enough to hurt -- only enough to leave them feeling some pressure as the sucker mark is made. Ford probably loves this, Stan thinks, probably wishes things could go further, for the tentacle to wrap itself around his neck and squeeze. He’s always had a thing for choking. Stan’s not into it, but he indulges his brother on occasion. Relationships are give and take, he’s found. He’s a greedy man, but he’ll give when it’s Ford. He’d give him the world and more.
“You look like a slut,” says Stan.
“Speak for yourself,” says Ford.
The squid pumps Stan’s cock relentlessly; it needs to prepare him before it takes him. He bites his lip to keep from crying out, but he can’t hold back his desperate gasps and little exhales. The creature toys with his nipples and strokes his balls. The influx of pleasure is almost overwhelming. He squeezes his eyes shut and nearly thrashes.
“Are you all right, Stanley?” asks Ford.
“Havin’ the time of my life,” he manages to choke out. “Seriously,” he adds, knowing his tendency towards sarcasm might distort the meaning of his words. Ford nods to himself, relieved.
Concluding that the both of them have been sufficiently stimulated, the (fully lubricated) tentacles poke at their assholes. Stan jolts in surprise, and the tentacle tentatively withdraws. Ford does not share his reaction; on the contrary, he’s been waiting for this part.
“Look at me, Stan,” Ford says. “Watch me and decide for yourself if you really want to do this.”
“All right,” says Stan. Whatever happens, this is going to be the damn sexiest thing he’s ever seen.
Ford then addresses the monster. “Once you’ve prepared me -- your thickest tentacle, if you would?”
“Oh, sure, let it tear your ass apart,” Stan says.
“Don’t worry about that. It’s as I said before; I have experience with tentacle monsters.”
“Remind me to buy the biggest dildo I can find when our internet connection starts working again.”
The squid dips Ford down so that his ass is in the air, and his arms are still bound behind his back. One tentacle teases his anus; another prods at his mouth. Ford opens his mouth wide and the tentacle slides inside, almost too deep. Ford sucks it like he’s sucking Stan’s own dick. The tentacle at his ass then slowly, slowly begins to push its way inside. Ford gasps around the slimy appendage that looks like it must be hitting his throat each time it re-enters his mouth. He’s never had an issue with deep throating, Stan muses. He wonders if his apparent lack of gag reflex has something to do with his sexual escapades on the other side of the portal.
All that time he thought Ford might be dead he was probably busy sucking alien dick. Bastard.
The tentacle in his ass moves at a steady but leisurely pace, in and out, in and out. Ford breathes in time with the thrusts. The speed makes Stan impatient. He wants to see his brother fucked hard and thoroughly. But Ford likes a slow build-up, says it makes the release all the more powerful. Stan can’t disagree with that, but he’s never been fond of waiting, either.
The pace on both ends gradually increases. Sweat glistens on Ford’s body. His muscles ripple. Has there ever been a more attractive man? Surely not in this universe or any other, Stan believes. Ford’s cock (which an undulating tentacle is coiled around) is straining with sheer need -- and so is Stan’s.
He’s considering letting the monster take him too, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to distract himself from the delicious sight of Ford’s ass getting pounded. This is a sight he’d pay to see. He’s damn lucky he’s getting it for free.
The tempo increases again and Stan can hear the muffled sounds of Ford moaning his name.
“L-lay off me for a sec,” Stan stammers to the squid. “I gotta -- gotta use my voice.”
“Whorin’ yourself out like this, Sixer,” he says. “I always knew you were a show off, but this is a whole new level of shameless.”
Ford shudders and groans something incoherent -- but said groan is cut short by a particularly forceful thrust by both tentacles. For a moment, Stan worries he’s going to choke on the one in his mouth, but he doesn’t. Drool mixed with the lubricating substance is dripping in globs down his chin.
“You’re even drooling like a dog,” he says when he’s confident Ford is able to take what he’s getting. “A horny hound dog.” Stan grins. “Lemme hear you howl like one.”
The bulky tentacle fucking Ford’s ass twists inside him and by god, Ford howls. It’s a sound more erotic than anything Stan’s ever had the privilege of hearing before. All the porn in the world wouldn’t compare to his brother’s voice crying out, loud and uninhibited and fueled by such intense arousal. Stan regrets that they didn’t think to record this. What he’d give to replay this scene over and over again! But he can’t, so he must live in the moment and engrave this experience into his memory for future use.
“I betcha you can take more!” he tells Ford.
Ford says something back, but it’s indecipherable. The monster obligingly removes its tentacle from his mouth so he can speak. A line of spit trails from the tentacle’s tip to Ford’s mouth.
“Another tentacle?” he asks.
“I just meant harder,” Stan says, and then shrugs. “But that works too.”
“I’m not -- not one to back down from a challenge,” says Ford. “Give me what you’ve got, Architeuthislut! Don’t -- ha, don’t go easy on me.”
Stan is amazed he’s still able to say that name correctly given the position he’s in.
A second tentacle slides up next to the first. He’s not even entirely sure Ford can take it, but Ford’s not backing down. It presses up against his entrance, where the other tentacle is buried -- and buried deep. It pulls out completely, presses up close against its partner, and then the two tentacles push against Ford’s entrance. Ford inhales deeply, and the two tentacles thrust inside.
Ford’s jaw goes slack and Stan can all but see his thought processes grind to a screeching halt.
“How’s it feel to be stuffed full?” he prompts him.
Words fail Ford, which is a rarity.
“Can’t be as great as my dick, but it’s got to be good, right?”
Ford just takes in shallow breaths, and before he can orient himself, the tentacles draw back out and plunge back in. Ford closes his eyes and grits his teeth. A ragged, guttural moan rumbles out. Ford blinks once or twice as if tears are prickling at the edges of his eyes.
“You okay there?” Stan asks, looking Ford over. It was inevitable it would be somewhat painful, but he doesn’t want Ford to get pushed past his limit.
“Am -- I’m -- fine,” he manages to say. He inhales shakily, close to overwhelmed but hanging on anyway. “Need to get -- get used to it.” He hisses through his clenched teeth as the tentacles draw out and push into him again.
Stan can’t imagine how it must feel being spread open so impossibly wide; it’s clearly a strain on Ford as he tries to endure it. But he’s tough, Stan knows. If any old man can take two giant tentacles up the ass, it’s his brother.
Ford is probably the only person who would take that as a compliment, he thinks. That’s one of the many reasons Stan loves him.
The tentacles make wet, gloopy sounds as they rhythmically fuck Ford’s ass, keeping pace as if a metronome is guiding them. He can manage not even a scant sense of decorum. He makes little, pathetic noises as the tentacles slide in and out of his anus.
“P-pleasurable,” he says.
“Yes,” he adds. “But I’m not -- it’s -- it’s -- ” His entire body shudders violently with pleasure. “Acceptable.” He forces out the words. “Necessary -- ahh -- evil. Not worse than the l-lion beast of d-dimension -- dimension -- I -- Stanley -- !”
Ford’s stammered words go straight to Stan’s burning groin. This erection might actually kill him, he thinks, especially now that it’s not being attended to.
“Say my name again,” Stan says.
“You’re gonna have to tell me about that lion beast, by the way,” he says.
“Barbed penis,” Ford blurts out.
“Yeah, actually, that’s all I need to hear.”
The tentacles probe Ford’s insides and he wiggles and squirms, unable to keep still. He’s making noises Stan thought his pride would never allow. Tears are definitely forming in his eyes. Gooey lubricant is dripping from his asshole and down his thighs and Stan swears it looks like someone’s come a bucket-load inside his brother.
The squid decides to finally pay some attention to Ford’s neglected cock. One of its tentacles starts by circling its head, then spirals down the shaft. It spirals back up and repeats the process. At the same time, the two tentacles in his ass increase their pace with each push inside. Stan’s never seen his brother this out of sorts, so desperate and needy and lustful. With the hardest thrust yet, Ford starts to whimper.
“Sheesh, you sure are noisy,” Stan says, grinning. “How ’bout you shut him up, Arky?”
A tentacle in his mouth obviously isn’t going to shut him up. Stan just wants to hear the sound of muffled whining again.
One of the tentacles presses against Ford’s lips once more and he allow it into his mouth again. It doesn’t hesitate to start pumping into him and Ford groans shamelessly around the appendage. Now he’s getting fucked in the ass, fucked in the mouth, and jerked off at the same time. Stan can’t take his eyes off the downright pornographic sight.
The pace grows relentless, and finally, it’s all too much. He hears Ford cry out and he comes hard, his whole body shaking. Come splatters onto the tentacle attending to his dick, and it ruthlessly milks him for all he’s worth, eliciting a drawn-out, husky moan garbled by the tentacle pounding his mouth. As he’s squeezed of his last drop of come, the tentacles ease up on him at last. The tentacle on his dick removes itself first, followed by the one in his mouth, and then the two in his ass. Ford’s exhausted body goes limp like a rag-doll, and he just tries to catch his breath.
“All in all, how was it?” asks Stan.
“...Incredible,” says Ford.
The squid gently sets Ford down on the sand. He slumps to his knees, knuckles grazing against the warm sand. He lifts his head to look at Stan, who is still bound in the air and yet to orgasm. Ford rises to a kneeling position and then up onto his somewhat unsteady feet.
“Architeuthislut, bring Stanley down here,” he says.
“Whatcha thinkin’, Ford?” asks Stan as the tentacles lower him close to the ground. His toes just barely touch the surface of the sand. The tentacles holding up his arms bring them down behind him as if he’s been handcuffed, and a thick tentacle wrapped around his torso helps support him.
Ford, awash with pleasure and affection, threads his fingers through Stan’s hair, wearing a warm smile. He then returns the kiss from earlier (though more gently), tilting his head and pressing his lips to Stan’s. He lets it linger, and unhurriedly draws away.
“You’re bein’ pretty romantic, considering how degenerate this is,” Stan points out.
“Romance and degeneracy, as you put it, are not mutually exclusive,” Ford explains, folding his arms behind his back as he tends to do. Stan would think he’s sick of that pose given how he’s been bound this whole time, but apparently not. “There’s a place for both in the bedroom, so to speak.”
“All right, all right, I get it. You like perfume and rose petals with your giant squid monster sex.”
“Giant squid aliens appreciate a romantic atmosphere as much as any human does,” says Ford.
“I don’t need a lesson on giant alien squids,” Stan says. “What’d you want me down here for besides sappy kisses?”
“You love sappy kisses,” says Ford, a knowing smile on his face.
“Shaddup!” Stan grumbles.
Ford leans in and kisses his cheek and a pink hue blossoms on Stan’s face. He then unfolds his arms to grab Stan by the shoulders. He lowers himself and brushes his lips against Stan’s chin, feeling the stubble there. He lowers further, pressing kisses down Stan’s neck, including over the “hickey” mark left by the monster’s tentacle. Stan swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing, and Ford kisses that too.
“I love you,” murmurs Ford, resting his forehead in the crook of Stan’s neck. “Because of my foolishness, I lost out on so many chances to tell you that.”
“If you get all weepy and remorseful now I’ll punch you right in the kisser,” grumbles Stan.
Ford chuckles, briefly closing his eyes.
“‘Sides,” says Stan. “I was dumb too, so we’re even. Now let’s stop thinkin’ about the past forty years and get back to havin’ some fun.”
“Good thinking,” says Ford. His bittersweet expression fades away, replaced by a confident, even playful smile. He reaches down, takes Stan’s stiff cock firmly in hand and begins to pump. The hand not on Stan’s dick clutches his shoulder instead. He’s still worn out from the thorough fucking he received.
“Damn, that feels good,” Stan says. “But I think I can make this even better.”
Stan turns his neck to look at the squid monster and says, “Alright. I’m ready for ya.” He turns back to Ford. “I mean, I made you beg and everything. I gotta hold up my end of the deal.”
Ford removes his hand from Stan‘s cock momentarily and frowns. “Stanley, there’s no obligation.”
“Bah! I’m not doing it ‘cause I’m obligated or whatever. I’m doing it ‘cause I want to. Trust me, Sixer.”
“...I trust you, Stanley,” Ford says, bumping their foreheads together. Stan harrumphs like this line of conversation is too sappy for him, but the corners of his mouth are upturned. Ford’s hand returns to Stan’s cock and the squid presses a tentacle at Stan’s entrance for the second time.
“Glad you’re lubed up,” he tells the beast with a snort. The tentacle (larger than the average dick, Stan soon realizes) pushes inside his ass in a slow, singular motion, and he can feel it going in deep. He inhales.
There’s pain, but the pleasure of the wriggling tentacle and its suckers stimulating his prostate is immense; that combined with Ford’s six-fingered hand on his dick -- it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. No wonder Ford kept hooking up with these things.
“This is -- wild,” Stan says, craning his neck so he can see the tentacle fucking his ass. He hardly knows what to make of such a surreal sight. The only thing he knows is that it’s hot.
Ford taps him on the shoulder and he turns back to face him. Ford, not letting up on his cock, leans in once more, his warm breath ghosting over Stan’s ear. Stan shivers, goosebumps dimpling the skin on his neck.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Ford whispers, circling his thumb over Stan’s slit. Stan leans his head back and groans, but Ford grabs him by the chin and tugs his head back down, though not harshly. “Watching a monster penetrate you.”
“‘Fascinating?’” Stan echoes. “You’re such a -- such a nerd.”
“I’m the nerd who’s going to get you off,” says Ford. “Unless...”
He releases his grip on Stan’s dick and Stan glances down in surprise, then up at Ford.
Ford gives him a smug smile.
“That monster can fuck you all it wants. I know your body, Stanley. You won’t come if nothing’s stimulating your dick.”
“Ford,” Stan says, drawing out the vowel. “C’mon.”
“I don’t know,” says Ford. He gets close again and whispers into Stan’s ear. “Maybe if you beg me.”
Stan groans in frustration. He knows that if he asks the tentacle monster to jack him off, it’ll do so, but there’s no fun in that, and Ford would probably be disappointed. He decides he’ll play along.
“You cocktease,” he says, the word punctuated by the tentacle slamming into his backside.
“Ah ah ah," Ford says, stepping back and wagging a finger. “I don’t think that’s how you say please, Stanley.”
“It -- rhymes with it,” he mutters.
“Not good enough, I’m afraid.”
“I didn’t quite catch that.”
“Actually, I think it rhymed with ‘cocktease’.”
“Please what?” Ford repeats, clearly getting a kick out of this exchange.
“Please fucking jack me off!”
“That’s not polite enough. Try again.”
“Please stimulate my penis,” Stan says flatly. “There, I even -- even used, ngh, nerd-speak so you could understand.”
“I can do this all day, Stanley.”
“O g-great genius with twelve PhDs Ford, will you p-please get me off?”
“Sarcasm isn’t appreciated.”
Stan gasps as the tentacle strikes particularly hard. “F-ford, please...” He feels it twist and curl inside of him, he feels how it’s stretched him open, how he’s been filled to the brim. “G-get me off, I’m beggin’ ya.”
“Since you asked so nicely, I think I will,” Ford says, and he gets down on his knees. Stan blinks in surprise. “You told me earlier to suck your dick. I’m going to do just that.”
“...Have I told you that I love you, Sixer?”
“I could always stand to hear it again.”
Before Stan can finish, Ford grabs Stan’s dick by the shaft and takes the head in his mouth, enveloping it in warmth and wetness. Stan inhales sharply through his nose and Ford makes a noise of amusement. He works the shaft while sucking on the head, and caresses Stan’s balls with his other hand, all the while the tentacle ramps up its speed into a brutal rhythm. He can feel the cool, gooey lubricant leaking out of his ass.
In a bold, swift movement, Ford takes the entirety of Stan’s dick into his mouth, and Stan stifles a gasp.
(Seriously, how many aliens did he suck off? He can’t imagine he had this lack of gag reflex prior to the portal incident. He makes a mental note to ask Ford to give him all the steamy details. He’ll try not to get too jealous.)
The suction combined with the ministrations of his tongue is mind-blowing. Stan doesn’t think he could get any harder if he tried. Ford swallows around his dick and Stan swallows hard too. He can feel sweat dripping down his forehead.
“Y-you look friggin’ -- filthy,” Stan says. It’s hard to even speak coherently. His brain is melting with pleasure.
Ford draws back and releases Stan’s dick.
“I can look filthier," he says, and runs his tongue from the base to the tip. Stan can hardly keep still, though being bound by tentacles helps in that regard. He slides his tongue down the sides all while stroking the shaft.
“Now Stanley, do you want me to swallow your come or do you want to come on my face?”
Stan is amazed by how nonchalantly Ford asks.
“H-hard choice,” he says. “But, u-uh. Face. With glasses. Like I said.”
“Ah, yes, you did say that.” Ford says, and laps up pre-come off Stan’s dick.
“Drivin’ me crazy,” Stan adds.
“Good,” says Ford. “If you want to come on my glasses, you have to be the one who cleans them.”
“That’s all I gotta do?” Stan asks. “Let’s do this already.”
Ford retrieves his glasses and kneels in front of Stan once more. He takes his dick in both hands, and ever so gently rakes his nails over the smooth, wet skin until he reaches the head. He wraps both hands around his cock and places the head in his mouth once more, lips wrapped tight around his member. He takes his time getting to the base, loudly sucking and slurping. He looks Stan in the eye and his eyes are so beautiful, Stan thinks, and then wants to laugh at himself for thinking something so sentimental now of all times. There’s determination in Ford’s face like he’s dead set on making this pleasurable for him and it makes Stan love him all the more.
The heat in his crotch is intense. From the tentacle’s merciless pounding to Ford dutifully sucking him off, he can feel himself getting so, so close.
"Architeuthislut, unbind my brother’s hands.”
The monster complies, and Stan does as he said he would earlier, burying his trembling hands in Ford’s sticky hair, tightening his grip as orgasm rapidly approaches.
“I’m -- I’m gonna, Ford -- !”
Ford gives one last hard suck before pulling his mouth off of Stan’s dick. The tentacle writhes inside his ass at the same time, and Stan is pushed over the edge, come splattering all over the lenses of Ford’s glasses, into his hair and over his lips. Ford jacks him off as he rides out his orgasm, and the tentacle keeps up its pace until there’s no more come left in him. The tentacle pulls out of his ass with a gloopy sound, dripping lube onto the ground. The tentacles place Stan feet-first on the sand, and Ford grabs him by the shoulders as he’s released entirely so as to steady him.
Stan wobbles and clutches at Ford, who wraps him up in an embrace.
“How come you’re not this worn out?” grumbles Stan.
“I’m in better shape,” says Ford, not unkindly. “But I will admit it took a toll on me.”
“You looked fucked senseless.”
“I was. Taking two tentacles at once was a new experience for me.”
“Ya took it like a trooper,” says Stan, and Ford laughs.
“That’s one of the stranger compliments I’ve ever received.”
“The stranger the better where you’re concerned.”
“You know me well, Stanley.”
They stand together like that, bare naked and soaking in various fluids beneath the afternoon sun.
Ford addresses the sea monster. “Thank you for indulging us, O Architeuthislut. We greatly appreciate your generosity.”
“It was my pleasure,” rumbles the beast, and without another word, it sinks back into the water and swims away.
“...You think that was a pun?” Stan asks.
“The Architeuthislut is not typically known for its sense of humor, but... anything’s possible,” says Ford. He lets that sentence linger before he speaks to Stan again. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I... was afraid you wouldn’t,” he admits.
“Life’s all about tryin’ new things,” says Stan. “It doesn’t always pay off in the end, but when it does, you’re glad you took the chance.”
“Well said.” Ford smiles.
“Welp.” Stan goes to pick up his discarded clothing. “Guess we better go clean up. A shower sounds nice right about now.”
“We both need to wash up, but there’s only one shower,” says Ford, collecting his own clothing.
Stan grins. “Looks like we’re gonna have to share.”
“Seems that we must,” Ford says, and gently punches Stan’s shoulder.
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