dragonspell: (Dean Pretty)
dragonspell ([personal profile] dragonspell) wrote2011-07-28 09:52 am

Swamp Thing | Tentacles/Dean | NC-17 | 3135 words

Title: Swamp Thing
Author: [livejournal.com profile] dragonspell
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Tentacles/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Tentacles. Non-con
Summary: In a swamp, Dean meets an interesting creature. With tentacles.
Word Count: 3135
A/N: Because every fandom could use a few more tentacles. Written for a blindfold_spn prompt.

This was the absolute last time that Dean was going hunting in a swamp. Last fucking time. The people that were getting eaten or whatever by the Swamp Thing that was living in the lagoons could damn well smarten up and move away because this shit just wasn’t worth it. Splotches of brown, smelly goop were staining Dean’s jeans and he’d damn near lost a boot about a quarter mile back. He’d seriously had to consider untying the laces and leaving the boot stuck in the mud before he’d finally managed to pull it free of the swamp’s grasping clutches.

He’d have the burn the jeans when he got home. He didn’t know about the boots.

Dean sighed and turned to squint at a nearby cluster of trees, looking for a sign of the creature that he was supposed to be tracking. This would have been easier with a flashlight considering how the looming trees were blocking out the dimming sunlight but he’d lost that back when he’d almost surrendered his boot.

This was supposed to be just an easy hunt. Dad had called Dean and asked him to take care of it before meeting up with him over in Texas and Dean had cockily assured him that it would be no big thing. “Yeah, no problem. I got it. I’ll see you in Loredo, Dad.” A monster that was menacing the local area but could be beaten back by a group of high school girls with a stick shouldn’t have been this much of a nuisance. Of course, Dean had never figured that it would leave its comfortable small town digs and head into the depths of the swamp once it was aware that he was tracking it.

His boot squelched in the mud again, stopping him in his tracks and Dean swore as he took a minute to free himself again. “Fucking goddamned, slimy son of a bitch—” His boot left the mud and he stumbled backward, just barely catching himself on a tree. “I’m going to make fucking escargot out of this damn slug!”

Dad had assured Dean that this was just a run of the mill giant slug or thereabouts, everyone that it had run into—including the highschool girls—having described it as gelatinous and slimy (which, of course, was just perfect). When Dean got done with the thing, though, he hoped that it would resemble nothing more than a great big pile of ash.

Leaves whispered behind him and Dean whirled to check his surroundings. The endless abyss of the swamp stared blankly back. Dean stepped sideways, finding a spot of surprisingly solid ground in the middle of the bog as he continued to scan the area. When he found nothing, he chalked the noise up to local wildlife and swung back around towards the vague path that he’d been following.

Something wrapped around his ankle and Dean only had half a moment to realize it before he was yanked off balance. He fell backward onto the ground, shouting as his arms pinwheeled, trying to catch himself. Landing heavily, his breath rushed out of him and he blinked up at the tree covered sky. The thing around his ankle tightened. “What the fuck?” Dean said, pushing himself upright. He caught sight of something long and green—like an especially thick vine—before he was yanked forward, being dragged deeper into the swamp by his caught leg and gaining speed. “Holy fucking shit!” He twisted, his hands clawing at the ground in an attempt to slow himself or catch hold of something but the weak grass gave way underneath his fingers.

His shirt rode upward, the cold dirt grinding into his skin as Dean writhed, trying to bring himself around to pry off whatever it was wrapped around his foot. He dug a knife out from his pocket and sat upright in mid skid, stabbing at the vine with the blade.

The vine…protested. Something squealed up ahead, sending a shiver down Dean’s spine as the vine recoiled, the end unlocking from around Dean to jerk around as if in pain. A steady river of green slime oozed out of the wound that Dean had given it and Dean kicked his leg free. “Yeah, you like that, bitch?” he shouted, using his adrenaline rush and a shock of bluster to push away any potentially crippling fear. “There’s more where that came from!” He scrambled backward and pushed himself to his feet, holding his knife ready as he glanced all around himself, preparing for an attack. Whatever the fuck this was, it was going down.

The green vine slithered away, disappearing into the underbrush and Dean pulled a bigger knife out of the side of his boot as he cautiously crept towards where the vine had gone. Leaves rustled and moved. He had this. He could do it.

With an inhuman shriek, multiple vines shot out from where the injured one had disappeared, heading straight for Dean and Dean’s jaw dropped. He’d never be able to fight off that many. He turned on a heel and made a break for it, pounding away, but they wrapped around his legs and sent him crashing to the ground, his fingers losing hold of the blades as he hit the dirt. More and more vines kept emerging from the surrounding area and Dean felt the first beginnings of panic. Where the fuck where they all coming from?

He was dragged backwards again, sliding through the cold muck and he twisted and kicked. “No!” His struggles seemed only to encourage the vines more as they kept emerging and wrapping around various parts of him. Some tangled around his hands, clasping them over his head and holding him there while still others slithered around his waist to help drag him away.

They pulled him into a cluster of trees, Dean sliding underneath the interlocking branches, and Dean came face to face with the monster that he was supposed to have been tracking. Large, green, and gelatinous, he could vaguely understand why people had likened it to a slug though he had to wonder how they’d missed all the damn tentacles that the thing was waving around. Now that Dean could see where they attached, he realized that what he’d been thinking of as vines weren’t vines at all. They were part of the creature’s mass and there were hundreds of them.

Dean took a quick breath and heaved against the tentacles that held him tight, his body straining with the effort to try and free himself. The tentacles responded by writhing and tightening their hold on him. Green slime, not unlike what had oozed out of the first one when Dean had stabbed it began to secrete from hidden pores and Dean grimaced as it gooped against his bare skin. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he snarled, twisting in his organic bonds.

The tentacles pulsed against him, moving over his body. They wrapped around his legs, traveling up his calves and knees and thighs while others slithered underneath his shirt to encircle his chest, still oozing their green gunk. A wave of vertigo washed over Dean and he winced and shook his head, trying to will the feeling away. He felt light-headed, dizzy.

And impossibly turned-on. Dean stared in dismay at his own crotch. His dick throbbed nearly in time with the tentacles gyrations, all set to sit up and beg and he’d known that he had kinks that were a little out there but this was not the time. Dean was about to be eaten by a slug monster from the black lagoon and his dick thought that it was time to play. Where the fuck were his priorities?!

Dean bucked against the tentacles. He had to free himself and he had to do it now. He was running on borrowed time already and who knew how much he had left before the gigantic blob in front of him opened up to show long rows of pointy, shiny teeth?

Try and he might, however, there was just no place for him to go. The more he struggled, the tighter the tentacles got, more and more joining to writhe along his skin, spreading more and more of the green goo that made Dean’s head spin. A loud rip echoed through the trees and it took Dean a few moments to realize that it had been the sound of the tentacles pulling at his shirt. The ruined piece of clothing slid off Dean to flutter to the ground as the tentacles lifted him up into the air. More of the writhing tentacles inserted themselves up his pant leg or down the waistband, obviously searching for entrance and Dean felt his eyes go wide.

Oh no way. No fucking way. “No. Fucking. Way!” He’d seen this once—on one of those porn channels that specialized in the freaky—and this kind of shit wasn’t supposed to happen in real life. This was only supposed to happen to drawings of big-eyed, big-chested supposed fourteen year old Japanese girls who looked more like a legal twenty-five in school girl uniforms. Dean fought back hard, kicking as best as he was able but all it got him was his jeans sliding down his hips before the tentacles managed to rip those as well, digging at the seams and yanking them away. Dean heard his pants land on the ground with a sodden thud, followed by the shredding of his underwear.


A shudder worked its way down Dean spine but even with his head spinning like it was, he knew that it wasn’t a shudder of fear: his dick was throbbing hard and heavy between his legs and a few stray tentacles were tentatively slipping over it. Just the few touches, eased by even more slime, left him gasping and trembling.

Dean knew he didn’t have a chance. The thing in front of him might as well eat him now because in a few minutes, he wasn’t even going to want to get away.

More slimy touches were slithering over his chest, flicking at his nipples in a way too deliberate to be accidental, and making him cry out as his back arched helplessly, supported only by the writhing mass behind him. Warm and wet, a few more tentacles slipped around his neck, tightening their hold enough to make him see stars before backing off and letting him gulp for air while the ends feathered over his face, leaving more wet trails.

At the first touch of a tip to his lips, Dean struggled again but quickly surrendered to the insistent push inside, his tongue licking at the invader as he swallowed more of the ever present goo. It quickly filled his mouth, spilling out over his face and down his chin and forcing him to swallow or choke. He sucked hard at the writhing tentacle, trying to free his mouth long enough to gulp more air but the harder he sucked, the farther in it pushed. Dean’s vision blurred.

The tentacles wiggled against his hips, gripping his dick much more firmly, a few tips poking at the slit, stroking upwards and swiping up the bead of precome that Dean had started to leak. The appendages slithered against his inner thighs and, when they spread his legs wide, Dean didn’t even bother to resist. He was floating high on a rush of adrenaline and arousal and he could barely even tell which way was up any more let alone consider fighting back. He squirmed and struggled but it was no longer to get away—it was to get closer.

Slimy touches teased along his ass, slipping into the crack and spreading his cheeks and Dean whimpered at the feeling of being so exposed, his legs already held out wide with no hope of closing them. A tip pressed against his hole, tickling the sensitive skin as it slowly began to wedge itself inside, lubed by the ever-present slick slime. It tingled across Dean’s nerves, the goo sending tiny, trembling shivers along his spine as he panted around his tentacle gag. His eyes were open but he still saw nothing. All he could focus on was the smooth glide of tentacles around him and inside of him.

The tip pushed deeper inside of him, growing bigger and bigger the further in it went and Dean felt himself slowly stretched. He moaned in pained arousal, his cock jumping even as he squirmed away from the large presence wiggling inside of him. He couldn’t…

The tentacle moved inside of him, curling and writhing. It brushed against his inner walls and Dean’s entire body shuddered as it slithered over his prostate. As if it knew that it had hit a sensitive area, it repeated the motion, again and again. Dean jerked helplessly, the raw pleasure jolting up his spine, and he felt the goo oozing out around the tentacle to drip down his thighs. He whimpered.

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel—but exist. He was a thrall caught in a web of sheer arousal, a puppet of the creature in front of him, helpless against the pleasure it sent searing through his body. His body moved with each sensual pulse of the tentacles surrounding him, shifting with them as they twisted him about, working his body over and hitting every sensitive area within reach. The tentacles around his cock writhed in time with the ones shifting inside of his ass and Dean followed their rhythm, his hips pumping, unable to do much else. He sucked hard on the tentacle that filled his mouth, his eyes closing as his trapped hands grasped rhythmically at nothing but air. He was going to…

His legs were pulled upward as other tentacles pushed against his already filled hole, forcing themselves in alongside. Dean shouted around his makeshift gag, his eyes opening wide but sightless and his body stiffening as he came. Something warm and wet closed over the head of his dick, suction pulling at the already sensitive area and Dean thrashed from the overstimulation, his body instinctively fighting back against the overload of pleasure as the tentacle creature attempted to suck him dry.

Unable to keep up the frantic struggling and his nerves growing numb from the pleasure, Dean collapsed against the tentacles holding him upright, giving off little panting mewls each time a latent shock rocked his body until they finally stopped, his body exhausted and burned out. Around him, the tentacles paused in mid-pulse. After a beat, they slowly started to move again but in the opposite direction.

Dean felt the tentacles inside of him sliding out, globs of their excreted goo coming out with them and slicking his thighs. He moaned, his dick twitching as it tried valiantly to rise but failed. The appendages surrounding him uncoiled, sliding away from his body and retreating back into the gelatinous blob at the edge of the clearing. They dropped Dean against the cold ground, leaving him naked and worn out in the dirt, sticky with the creature’s slime. The last to leave was the large tentacles in his mouth. They emerged with a wet pop, sliding around to coat his face before retreating.

Dean panted on the ground, his entire body feeling as if were made of jelly even as his ass throbbed in belated recognition of the pain of being stretched so wide. Whining with the effort, Dean rolled onto his side, curling up around himself. A final aftershock of pleasure rolled through him, stiffening his muscles again and Dean gasped. “Fucking A,” he muttered.

At the edge of the clearing, the blob had reclaimed all of its limbs and now seemed to be glowing faintly. And…cooing. Like it was extraordinarily pleased with itself. Dean glared blearily at it. As soon as he managed to summon up the motor control to get to his feet and find his gun, he was going to shoot that thing.

It was just going to have to be later. Much, much later.

When Dean awoke, it was with a writhing group of tentacles inside of him, stuffing him full as they pumped their goop into him, and the tentacles around his dick sucking for all they were worth. Dean didn’t even have a chance to think before he was orgasming all over again, giving in to what the creature wanted and nearly mindless with need.

It took him a third time until he finally managed to snag his gun, dropped onto the ground beside his ruined jeans. He grabbed it up right before the tentacles started in again and fired round after round into the squealing blob in front of him until he emptied the magazine. Around the bullet holes, the creature’s mass turned brown and flaked away, spreading outward until the entire thing dissolved into dust and collapsed in on itself. Panting, Dean sagged against the ground, feeling the tentacles drop away from him.

Fuck,” he gasped, closing his eyes. He shuddered through another small orgasm, brought on by the coat of slime covering him before dropping into a doze.

In Loredo, Dean greeted his father with a cocky grin, leaning up against the Impala. “You handle that hunt okay?” his dad asked and Dean gave him a carefully practiced answer.

“No sweat,” he said easily, not even blinking at the bold-faced lie. “Told you it would be easy.” His father raised an eyebrow, expecting more of a report but Dean wasn’t about to fill him in. He diverted. “There’s a burger joint inside. You hungry?” For some reason or another, his father let the non-answer slide. For the moment.

Dean didn't want to fill his father in on anything, only that he'd handled it. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to tell his father about the mystery behind the creature because it was just too...stupid. After making it out of the swamp, Dean had stumbled to the Impala and felt like he’d needed to sleep for a week. He forced himself to take a shower, stripping off layers and layers of hardening slime—feeling aroused despite himself and those must have been some pheromones packed in that shit—and gone to pay a certain group of girls a visit.

He’d needed to know.

“Oh, yeah,” one of the bottle blondes had said, remembering a detail that she’d forgotten to mention. “I had this bottle of perfume in my bag, Britney Spears? Well I sprayed that thing with it and it just started screaming. Then the girls and I chased it away with the sticks. Guess it didn’t like the scent.”

Dean had gone back to the Impala and banged his head against the wheel. No more swamp hunts. Ever.