Strange Sketch (Part 2)

WARNING: Still super weird!


I got lightheaded and stopped tugging; the harness relaxed, but the jock didn’t stop milking me. It felt…good, I’ll admit that, but that sure as hell didn’t stop me from freaking out on the inside. I tried to call for help, but each time I tried, the harness would squeeze shut before I could even get a scream out, like it could read my fucking mind. So I stayed there, huddled in this dark, tiny bathroom, my cock being milked by an autonomous jockstrap. Then, I heard footsteps, and a distant voice. The voice didn’t sound like words, or if they were words, it was like the words made by someone choking on something. He crossed in front of the doorway, and I gave a breathless scream when I saw him in the light of day…

The uniform…it was squirming, rippling up and down his body as he walked. His legs were thick, the knees had popped and were bent backwards. The boots…they weren’t shaped like human feet anymore. The boot toes had split into three and had bent out, like their own toes. His cock–fuck, that thing–it was at least a foot long, but didn’t dangle–it drooped, and then arced back up, like a fucking prehensile arm. Shiny black rubber, looking like it should have been pulled tight against the skin, but no sign of veins or anything normal, just a swollen head leaking something black onto the floor as it looked around, like an eye on a stalk. The jacket–his chest looked caved in, his back hunched and too big–he was the same height, so he must have grown taller…but his fucking face…he did have a hood on, or what might have been a hood once, but perfectly smooth, like his cock. No nose…no eyes, no brow, and the hood–it looked like it was digging in under his skin along the line of his cheeks, black tendrils shoving their way down into his jaw around his mouth…and out again. From a distance, they may have looked like a full, long beard, but they writhed and wriggled and…and it was alive somehow, and it was speaking, but it was clear why it couldn’t do so well–it’s tongue was growing and extending out of his mouth. It sounded scared. It sounded like it was in pain. The cock and beard swung towards me, and I wondered if it was looking at me somehow, and then it kept going, pacing, moaning and choking.

It would check on me regularly, cock and tendrils inspecting me, a few more times. I was feeling hungry–or what I thought was hunger…then I started throwing up some strange, grey slime. I tried to spit it out, but it felt like it was coating the inside of my mouth and throat. Then, it came back past, surveyed me, and stepped into the bathroom. I tried to crawl back, but there was nowhere I could go as it came closer, the strange beard worming it’s way over my face, pushing it’s way into my mouth, each tendril with more strength than I thought possible. I tried to bite them, it was like chewing plastic. They forced my mouth open…and it stretched. It stretched wider than I thought possible, like my bones and tendons had gone to jelly. The tendrils gripped my teeth and began tugging them out–they came away so easily, and I heard them bouncing as they hit the floor below me, and I heaved. I heaved, and something came up from inside me, pushing it’s way up through my throat. It felt massive. I thought it would kill me, but every part of me just stretched, as the thing, a strange, goopy ball, hauled it’s way free of my mouth…and then crawled back up over my face, sticking below my eyes and stretching over my entire scalp to the back of my head. There was a sharp pain, and I couldn’t feel my body anymore. I could hear the thing inside my brain, and I fought, I’m still fighting, but I don’t even know what it is.

It was easier when I could still see. For a while, the thing was stretched thin and clear, like a dirty window over my eyes, but it began to darken soon. I thought it was just turning black…but something tells me what I witnessed was actually my eyes simply…dissolving away underneath it. I can’t smell anything. I can’t hear. I can feel–the thing is still with me, and my body is…moving. I just can’t control any of it. I’m just a passenger now, and I don’t think I’ll be that even for much longer either. No, I think…I think I’m going to be…a womb. The thing has been fucking me for a while now–it’s cock is so big…but I’d feel so empty without it inside me, at this point. It kissed me for a while as well–or I thought it was kissing me, but it was shaping my mouth, reforming it into a tunnel, and now it’s burrowing deeper, opening me up even more. The thing holding me to the wall, the web–either it’s tighter, or I’m lighter, because I’m suspended in the air now, tied to the wall where…where I belong. Yes, the seed it’s filling me with, I can feel it. I’m heavy with it, and…I…I can use this. Make more, more…eggs. More eggs for the master. I can’t do anything else, so I will make eggs for the master.

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