The Blob Chapter 1: Boy meets Blob 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 millions of years ago, updated as the passage of time required.
The story depicts males in sci-fi sexual situations with other males, oh, and with 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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"I swear to fucking God," Gary told himself, "I will never take that shortcut ever again!"
Sure, the sign said not to go through the loading zone between the biology and chemistry buildings, but nobody paid attention to that. They did it all the time, and so had he. It was perfectly safe, and on top of that it was first summer session. This meant there weren't more than a couple thousand people on campus. Today, though, after he'd slid between the hedge plants, they (whoever they were) were on him like yellowjackets on mountain dew. They crammed a bag over his head, strong armed him across a few feet of concrete, and tossed him onto the floor of a van. Then they piled on and incapacitated his wrists and ankles with zip-ties. After that the van growled to life, and they sped away. At first Gary wrote it off as some prank, either his friends or some frat boys playing a joke. A half hour later when the van screeched to a halt, however, he began to worry. The doors opened, and the college boy smelled jet exhaust. The airport? Why would they bring him here?
They strapped Gary into a seat, and mere minutes later the plane leapt into the air. Okay, this whole Mongolian goat rodeo was looking far more serious than the college boy had first imagined. When he tried to protest, they gave him a smack on the side of the head and the admonition to "Just sit there and keep your yap shut". At first that was easy, but as minutes turned into hours, Gary was starting to get frantic. Then he felt the telltale hints they were landing--wherever.
Transferred from the plane to another van, Gary tried struggling against his bonds again, but a kick in the ribs and the order to "quit it" put an end to that. He tried to talk to his captors again, but the bag muffled his voice and made hearing what they said in reply next to impossible. For the last bit of the trip, the van bumped over a rough road, and Gary got tossed around, landing once or twice on the ribs that whoever it was had kicked hours ago. They still hurt. Ouch goddammit.
Once the van finally arrived and came to a complete stop things happened fast. They (whoever his captors were) cut his feet free from the zip-ties, hauled Gary's ass out of the van, and started him walking--blind.
"Hey, fuckers," Gary growled when he tripped over—well, god alone knew what it was he'd tripped over, "I could do this easier if I could see where I was walking."
"I dunno," said a low voice on his right, the first voice Gary had heard clearly, "Iago, whadda you think?"
"Sure, Hugo, why not," a higher crisper voice said. "It's not like there's anywhere he can run after all."
A heavy hand pulled the bag off Gary's head, and he waited for his eyes to adjust before looking around. That didn't take long because one) the light was low and two) there wasn't much to see. He was in an underground parking garage with maybe a dozen other unmarked vans and twice as many (at least) men in black suits and sunglasses.
"MIBs," Gary thought, and, "Shades? Why the fuck are they wearing shades underground?"
"Look," Gary said. The MIBs were marching him towards a large, armored door, and he figured why not try to stall. "I don't know what it is you think I've done, but I didn't. I'm just your run-of-the-mill student at Enormous State University. Sophomore. Biology. Intramural cross country. You know, like totally innocent."
The MIBs grinned, but they didn't react to Gary's protest. They kept hustling him along, and he kept on talking, getting more and more frantic as they approached a large security door.
The door guard, when they got there, stared the babbling Gary up and down and said, "Shut him up" before holding out his hand for the MIBs' IDs.
Hugo, the big guy, slapped a ham-like palm across Gary's mouth, silencing him while the guard ran the IDs. When the agents' bona fides had been established to his satisfaction, the guard turned his attention back to Gary and gave him a once-over. Not a quick once-over, no, this guy looked at him like he was sizing up a steak at the butcher shop. Freaked out, Gary tried to ignore him, and the MIBs, and turned his attention to a dark window set in the wall alongside the door.
Gary guessed it was one-way glass and that someone (or more than one) on the other side was watching the whole proceedings, but the glass also served as a sort of mirror. Gary got his first look at himself since his morning shower. Even though he was roughed up and disheveled, he was still young, handsome in a Midwest all-American boy sort of way. He owned a thatch of fine wheat-blond hair and sported the beginnings of the slightly darker mustache that guys were starting to wear again. His trim fit cross-country body was covered in jeans and a polo shirt in ESU's school colors. He didn't fit any DHS security profile he'd ever heard about, and yet here he was.
The door guard nodded at last, turned to the panel beside the door, and slid his own card through the reader before also presenting his right eye for a retinal scan. The door slid apart like in a sci-fi movie, and the MIBs were about to push him into the corridor beyond when the guard stopped them.
"Here," the guard said as he handed Iago a ball gag. "This should free your hands so you can keep him under control, AND it should be enough to keep him quiet. After all, we can't upset the eggheads with any reminder of what they all know perfectly well goes on down here."
"Yo! Dudes! Wait! I can keep my mouth shut!" Gary tried to protest, but Hugo found the right pressure points to force the blond's jaws open, and Iago crammed the rubber ball into his mouth before slipping the strap behind his head.
"Okay, quiet-boy," Iago said as he ruffled the now gagged and silenced Gary's hair, "Let's go."
Seething with indignation, Gary took pains to pay attention to his surroundings as they marched him through what seemed a mile of reinforced concrete tunnels. If he ever escaped... But the corridor was monotony cubed. They were alone in the hallway, and none of the many security doors cut into the walls on both sides had signs. (The easily-upset eggheads must be in there, Gary thought. Doing what he wasn't sure he wanted to know.) Finally they came to a stop in front of yet another unmarked door. (The shades, Gary guessed, must allow his handlers to read some otherwise invisible signage, so he'd need to get hold of a pair...) Iago slid his card through this door's reader, and it, too, slid open.
Beyond the door things were brightly lit for a change. Surface lighting. Gary winced before his eyes adjusted. A reception desk that reminded him of a hospital or doctor's office nurses' station dominated the lobby. At least he guessed it was a lobby. There was furniture, and even coffee-maker and snack vending machines. Crap, Gary realized, how long had it been since he'd eaten last? To the left of the desk a hallway led to offices, and one to the right led to what looked like examination rooms. The fuck?
A South Asian man in scrubs behind the desk looked over the desk at the young blond captive and said to Iago, "New recruit?"
"Yes, sir," Iago said. Gary noticed the man didn't ask for any more information.
"Okay, let's get him processed. Take him along to Chamber 4 and shut him in. I'll alert Intake we've got fresh meat."
Recruit? Processed? Intake? Meat? Gary was positive he didn't like the sound of any of those words (especially when they were used together like that to refer to him) and he started to struggle against Hugo's meaty grasp.
"Boy," the big MIB said harshly, "Don't make me incapacitate you, because I will."
Gary didn't know if Hugo was trying to save him a beating or save himself the trouble of administering one, but considering the alternatives, the blond forced himself to calm down—or at least to stop fighting an unwinnable battle. The MIBs hustled their captive through the medical side, past maybe a dozen medical exam rooms (several of which had closed doors) until they came to the end of the hall. Gary had been wondering how a "chamber" differed from any other room when they came to another metal door. Unlike the previous security doors, though, this one slid (Yeah, bonus points for sci-fi ambiance) open as they approached without the MIBs needing to scan an ID. Beyond the door, the bright lights of the office gave way to a dim that was dimmer than the rest of the complex. This dim was also tinged with a reddish hue. Apparently what they did in Chamber 4 was not meant to happen in the full light of day, and Gary was liking this whole thing less and less.
The new corridor ran horizontal to the one they had been in, and his handlers pushed Gary towards the right-hand branch. A couple of dozen yards later this too ended in another lobby, or maybe it was just a wider part of the corridor since it held no furniture. Obviously people didn't stay here long enough to need seating. In the left wall, six metal doors of the kind Gary was sure he'd seen in supermax prison and insane asylum horror movies. Fuck. So much for any hope of due process. And he still had no clue why he was here to begin with. Could it be he had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time?
Iago opened the fourth door, and Hugo manhandled the once-again struggling Gary up to the dark opening. With a quick snick from a multitool blade, Iago cut the zip-tie that bound the college boy's wrists behind his back, and Hugo immediately shoved the blond in the dark room where he fell onto his face. The door slammed shut before Gary could spring back to his feet and make a break for it. Instead he tore the gag out of his mouth and pounded on the door.
"Let me out of here!" the blond yelled. "Let. Me. The. Fuck. Out!"
Gary hoped he sounded like someone to be dealt with, but he was afraid he was sounding frantic instead. If Hugo and Iago were still standing out there, they were ignoring him. Because of course they were. Frustrated, Gary turned to explore the chamber.
That didn't take long. The room was rectangular, with the door set into one of the short walls. It and the two long walls had been painted an uninspiringly dark industrial grey. The far wall, however, unsettled him. It glowed a rich green (colors not found in nature) and provided to only light in the room, if you wanted to call this gloom light. Gary gave the grey walls a manual once over, hoping he'd missed something, like maybe a loose stone that could be pushed aside to reveal a handy escape tunnel, or maybe a message scratched in the wall by a former prisoner. Nothing. Naturally.
Gary looked at the glowing wall again, wondering if he should search it too, but the very idea of touching its gelatinous surface creeped him out. He had no idea what he thought might happen if he made contact with the eerie green, but he was sure he was not up to finding out. At least not yet. Instead he turned back to the door and pounded on it some more, yelling. This meant that Gary had no idea that five tentacles had protruded out of the wall and were reaching towards his unprotected back.
"Let! Me! Out...!" Gary's rant was cut short when one of the tentacles grabbed him around the neck and started to drag him back towards the green wall.
"The fuck!?" Gary gasped. The tentacle around his neck made it hard to get enough air in his lungs to say anything more.
Gary's arms flailed ineffectually but finally he grabbed at the unearthly flesh dragging him to his fate, using what he knew of wrestling to break the choke hold. Instead a second tentacle grabbed his right wrist and spun him around to face the glowing wall. A third tentacle grabbed his left wrist, and the fourth and fifth caught his ankles. Slowly, with a strength Gary couldn't resist, tentacles two and three disengaged his hands from the neck tentacle, and then, all together, they spread-eagled him. Jesus fucking God almighty!
Held fast this way, Gary could only scream in terror as a sixth tentacle exuded itself from the wall and reached towards him. He'd once or twice "accidentally" seen tentacle porn on the internet, and he had no illusions about what was going to happen next. He clenched his jaw and tightened his sphincter, but all the things seemed to want was to touch him (for now) which made him shudder all over. The vile appendage made a careful tactile examination of the blond's entire body, from the fine hair on his head down to the toes of his tennis shoes, which it pulled off his feet. At least it was stayed outside his clothes. Thank God. Gary wasn't sure he could handle the alien thing doing the same thing with his raw flesh, though he had a terrible premonition he might have to.
The examining tentacle worked its way back up Gary's right leg and began an exploration of the mound in his tight jeans. The blond winced and damned whoever decided men need their jeans this tight this year. This pair was leaving nothing to the imagination. The examination focused on Gary's cock, still flaccid with fear, and then slid up, under the waistband of his polo shirt onto his belly. Gary screamed again as it made a disconcerting tent in the knit fabric of the shirt and slid north over his tight abs. Another tentacle joined number six, and at the top of his ribs they separated, heading for his nipples.
"God damn whoever it was that invented tentacle porn!" Gary thought as the two unnatural stalks of flesh began to tease his tits. Fuck.
An eighth tentacle slid under his shirt then and slid up to the neck. It did something, Gary didn't think it cut anything let alone tore anything, but where tentacle eight touched his shirt the fabric gave way. More tentacles (Sweet God, how many of these things were there?) reached out and tore away the remains of what had been a rather expensive shirt, leaving nothing between his torso and the now insidiously exploring monstrosity. As tentacles brushed over his exposed skin, the ones that had been busy teasing his nipples left off that, developed mouths that attached themselves to his nubs, and began to suck away on them.
"Oh, fuck," Gary moaned. This shit, what? His tits were tightening up. Was this violation starting to feel good?
When Gary wondered that, he suddenly knew that his cock was getting plump too. God damn it! He should have ignored his coach and jerked off more often! Like maybe three times last night? Then maybe he could resist... But he couldn't.
The new tentacles explored down his chest and belly towards the waist of his jeans. They stayed there for a while, trying, Gary guessed, to try to figure out the difference between his skin, the elastic of his designer briefs, and the denim of his jeans. Eventually they figured it out, and two slid down to make a detailed survey of what was hidden under his jeans. When they made it down his legs to his ankles, they pulled the same trick tentacle eight had with his shirt. Now he could tell they were exuding some sort of slime that degraded the fabric until it failed and split. The backup tentacles then tore the remains of his pants away leaning him naked except for his tighty-whities.
A new tentacle reached towards Gary's now definitely distended briefs and ran over his hard but still hidden meat. Whatever was behind the tentacles had learned a trick or two somewhere because it didn't just examine his shrouded hard-on, it teased it from balls up the shaft to cockhead, further inciting his raging hormones.
"Oh fuck," Gary moaned as the tip of the stalk teased his hidden frenulum. "Fu..hu..hu..uck!"
Apparently satisfied with the reaction, the tentacle slid up to Gary's waist and wormed its way under the elastic in pursuit of the raw flesh of his cock. He felt the warm raspy flesh connect with his own and cried out.
"Fuck!"
The thing somehow engulfed Gary's junk, both his hard cock and dangling balls, and the insidious slime began to dissolve the final guard to his dignity, the pouch of briefs. When it was gone and the clean-up tentacles has stripped him totally naked, the tentacle that had hold of his junk began the horrible and inexorable task of pulling him towards the wall.
"No!" Gary screamed and fought, but in short order he felt his body pulled up tight against the green gelatinous surface, all except for his cock and balls that was. Those got sucked inside the now pulsating wall of whatever this thing was.
Gary squirmed; he tried to pull out, but the suction, or whatever it was, holding his junk inside was too strong. He wanted to beat at wall, but his fists and feet, hell his whole body was immobilized. All he could do was use his words. He yelled, screamed, begged, and threatened, but to no avail. He was caught here like a rat in some perverted glue trap, at the mercy of this monster.
Suddenly Gary felt something. Something was happening to his cock. He had no idea how or why, but his hard cock was getting harder still, and his balls got the idea too and began to pump out the hormones. Nothing was physically manipulating his sex, so it had to be chemical. Whatever, it was doing a bang-up job at not fucking him while still getting his cock harder than he could remember it ever being when he was buried in a mouth or vagina. Harder, and harder still. The sensations were flooding through his mind, through his whole body. His conscious mind tried to exert control, but the sheer pleasure pounding at the gates of his psyche was taking the blond over body and soul, making him crazier and crazier, and more and more desperate to blow a load.
"Gotta cum!" Gary screamed, to whom he had no idea. Himself? The wall? "Oh fuck! Gotta! Please! Cum!"
Gary tried to see if he could fuck the jelly to bring himself off, but in the same way that nothing physical was manipulating his dick, he could find nothing physical to fuck against. What else could he do, though? Heinous as the idea would have been not many minutes earlier, he threw himself against the wall trying every trick he could think of to get himself off. He thrust, even though he knew that didn't work. He tried to get his right hand through the shimmering barrier so he could jerk himself off (but the barrier refused him). He even kissed the wall and didn't vomit with the gelatinous flesh under his lips kissed him back. Gross! But wait, was the kiss pushing him closer to cumming? He'd never been that introspective to take stock of the steps his body went through before cumming, but...
The pseudo-lips kissing him momentarily grew, well Gary had no idea what you'd call it. Maybe this was what a cockhead was like when it was in a gay dude's mouth. The thing (Gary decided it was a pud) forced itself only an inch or so past his lips, which Gary supposed he could handle. (It wasn't as if he had a choice). When he relaxed, the pud released a flow of some sort of fluid into his mouth. Surprised, he swallowed automatically. The pud then started to feed him a constant flow of goo. Some of it he swallowed, some of it leaked from his mouth, running down his chin to drip onto his chest. Not that he cared any more. The more slime the pud fed him, the calmer Gary got, and the more accepting of this unnatural fate. And though he didn't notice it, the closer he got to feeling his sperm to the monster.
What Gary hadn't realized was that fate was about to deal him another twist. Something out of the green probed his piss-slit before proceeding to work its way down his urethra. Fuck! The blond didn't know the word "sounding", and he would have been revolted by the very idea, but the pud-sap had him in its spell. Gary didn't even notice when the sounding tentacle implanted something in the inner workings of his sex. The feeling inside his dick was unlike anything he'd ever imagined. Gary's conscious mind wanted to freak out like Daffy Duck, but his doped-up mind was down for the whole thing. Especially if it helped him get off. As the sound exited the blond's hard dick, the pud shot a new chemical into his mouth.
Gary, clinging to the final shreds of sanity, threw back his head and finally felt the sap run up his recently abused urethra. At last! At long blessed last!
Gary's balls churned, his cock pulsed, and his rich boy-cream shot out of his rod into the enveloping green flesh. And he shot. And he shot some more. It was possibly the longest orgasm the college boy had ever experienced. He didn't know his balls could store that much jizz.
"Thank you," Gary sobbed incoherently as the wall released its hold on his sex. His arms and legs followed, and, exhausted, Gary slid to the floor. He had no idea what came next, and he couldn't manage to generate enough give-a-damn to do anything but lie there. As it turned out, he didn't have to do anything. The door opened and two masked men in green scrubs came in with a gurney. They lifted the college boy off the floor and strapped him down on the gurney before wheeling him back out into the lobby.
Gary tried sluggishly to take in his surroundings again. Same bare lobby. Hugo and Iago leaning up against the wall (Iago was cleaning under his nails). The two goons pushing the gurney. And... and another young man like himself not that long ago (zip-tied wrists, gagged, wearing nothing but green jogging shorts, a yellow string tank-top, knee-highs and running shoes, and an MIB on either side, of course). This place had hot and cold running MIBs apparently. As Gary was rolled away, he thought he heard one of the runner's MIBs say, "Chamber 3, just like the doctor ordered."