What Happened Last Night?

Night sky over a sports field with a cartoonish UFO's spotlight illuminating a wegde of grass

When I wake up I’m cold and alone. I push myself up from my bed of damp grass, rubbing my head, trying to focus my blurred vision. Where the hell am I? I look ahead, behind, side to side. Clapped out, wooden stands. Bent goal posts. How the fuck did I end up in the local football grounds? What happened to me last night?

A series of shivers streak through me, so violent my teeth rattle with them. It isn’t until after they fade that I realise that I’m freezing. I can feel grass tickling my thighs. A worm squirming against the sole of my foot. A more pressing question than how did I get here is why the fuck am I half naked?

Pulling my knees to my chin and hugging my legs for warmth, I try to recall what I can from last night. I’d taken a shower. Pulled my boyfriend’s t-shirt on and slipped into bed. I don’t understand. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, nothing strange or unusual.

Except…

Except for the bright light that I’d imagined had woken me up just before dawn. It had been so brilliant. A blue-tinged white that had bleached the colour from my bedroom walls. Wind had whipped the curtains into a frenzy. There had been a coldness to it that gradually got hotter and hotter until I was sure my eyeballs would explode. I’d shielded my face with my arm, sat up and kicked the covers off so I could escape into the hall.

But before I’d even reached the door, the room had been dark and still. I’d peered out from behind my arm, at the closed window and the hastily abandoned bed. Clearly, nothing had happened, it had been a dream. Feeling foolish and so glad that Jonny wasn’t staying over, I’d gone back to sleep.

And then when I opened my eyes again I was here. Lying naked in the middle of a football pitch.

I pull myself to my feet, feeling remarkably spry for someone who’s been exposed to the elements for god knows how long. There’s a pay phone just outside of the grounds. My dad used to use it all the time to call my mother after a match to tell her whether we’d be having a celebration or commiseration supper. My first instinct is to call Jonny, but the police would probably be a better bet.

As I start to walk my eyesight becomes hazy. The shape of the stands come in and out of focus. Images flicker around the edges of my consciousness. Flashes of silver, white, blue. Almond shaped orbs of shimmering black, bobbing inches from my face. The images fade and I’m staring at patchy grass again, but after a few more steps I cry out and collapse.

My eyes are fixed on a metallic ceiling. It’s mostly silver, with hues of purple and black. And it’s…it’s moving. Rhythmically swelling out then back in, out then in as though the room is breathing. Impossibly shaped shadows creep long and thin over the pulsing mass above me as whatever is making them passes back and forth in front of harsh lights.

I’m lying on something solid and cold. My body aches everywhere a bone digs into the hard surface. I want to move, to cry out, to ask for help, but something deep inside me tells me I’d be wasting my time.

Something passes right in front of my eyes. A dry, grey, wrinkled hand with four long fingers and no thumb. I know that there’s terror in my eyes as I stare up at it, waiting for it to blind me or throttle me, but it just brushes lightly over my forehead then is gone.

My aches are gone, too. I’m almost smiling, the sense of peace and serenity weighing my limbs down, slowing my pulse, lowering my blood pressure. This is where I need to be. It’s where I belong for now, I’ll be happy here because my needs are known and will be fulfilled.

The thoughts aren’t mine, but I welcome them all the same. I need them. My mind needs them, because without them I think it might break. I understand that I’m not supposed to be awake, but I am and now they’re going to have to keep me sedated.

Sedated. The very word frightens me. It conjures images of being immobilised, powerless, subject to the whims of other people. Other… things. But the soothing thoughts are telling me that I have no need to be afraid. That they’ll give me exactly what I need.

What is it they think that I need?

Oh!

I try to look down, but my head won’t move. They don’t want me to see. All I can do is breathe and feel. I should probably be angry that something that twists and throbs has encased my nipples in damp warmth. But I’m not. Instead, I’m biting the corner of a smile and closing my eyes so that I can give all of my attention to gentle sucking and light prickling.

Something sharp, almost like the tips of a thousand pins, is ringed around my hard nipples but it doesn’t puncture my skin. I can feel the pressure with every twist, every tug. A softer thing laps at the very tips while the suction pulls them tighter, makes them longer, makes them swell and ache until I feel each and every touch between my thighs.

Oh!

My thighs aren’t pressed together like they were before. They’re parted so wide I can feel the edges of what I’m lying on against their backs. A table? Am I lying on a metal table? Yes, I am. An examiner’s table.

My knees are bending. I open my eyes and see my feet, my ankles, my calves. Two long, think, purple vines snake down from the ceiling. They feel warm when they wind around my ankles. Whatever it is that’s trailing up my leg feels warm, too. Warm, but carrying something cold.

What’s that? The softest of pressures against my anus. It feels like… oh fuck, it feels like a tongue. It feels like what Jonny does when he’s drunk but better. More coordinated, more knowledgeable. Something is licking my anus and it feels so good.

Oh yes! My muscles relax then push out, making it easier for that probe to penetrate. It’s soft yet hard, thin at first but quickly getting wider and thicker until I’m panting and writhing with the need to have it pulled all the way out and rammed all the way back in again.

I hear pleased thoughts floating around my mind. The same thing that’s sucking my nipples clamps around my clitoris and I start to moan as soon as my brain processes the threat of those pin-like tips pressing against my hood. They push it back and rest against my clit, then the thing starts to suck.

Yes, please, yes! Whatever it is that’s inching around the opening of my cunt has my consent, it has my permission, I want it inside of me! Slowly, it inches in. Thick, wet and slippery, slipping deeper and deeper and wriggling as it goes. Its tip touches everywhere, every wall, every spot that makes me shudder.

And slowly, it starts to fuck. Long, slow strokes. The kind that men with big dicks use to make sure you understand just how fucking impressive they are. Slowly out, slowly back in, with a sharp thud when it’s at its deepest.

It feels like there’s more than one thing in there, or that it has things protruding from it that massage all the right places. Hard, constant rocking against my g-spot, deep, fast jiggling behind my cervix, and still those long, slow thrusts.

The praise that fills my mind when I come makes me weep with joy. My fingers curl into claws, my toes point until my feet spasm, my cunt pulses and contracts with an orgasm that feels never-ending. The tendons in my neck ache, I bite my lip so hard I taste blood.

And all the while the thing fucks my cunt, sucks my nipples and clit, and slowly probes my ass. Then I feel it. The first one I’m not sure of, but the second is unmistakable. Something thicker than the thing fucking me just squeezed through the opening of my cunt. I feel it passing into me, feel it settling like a heavy weight. It happens again. And again.

I want to know what it is but I can’t ask. Each time it happens the orgasm starts anew and I’m screaming, sobbing, using what little control I have over my body to move my hips. I’m so full now. I can see my belly. It’s huge, stretched, and covered with fresh purple marks.

The thing withdraws and something else replaces it. Something that has no softness to it at all. It’s bigger than the other thing, and it moves faster. My tits shake, my thighs tremble, I cling to the sides of the table and laugh, cry, moan and yell as I’m fucked harder and faster than I’ve ever been fucked before.

Oh, I love it. Every second of it. I hope this thing can come. I hope it fills me so full it comes spilling out of me, over the table, over the floor.

All at once, it slams so deep I feel something crack. As it throbs inside of me, the suckers tighten. Thousands of pins pierce my nipples and clit. White light, cold vines, an orgasm so strong I choke on a scream and then…

I’m sitting on the edge of the bed in my room, listening to Jonny talking to someone out in the hall. What the hell? How did I get home? And what is this pain between my thighs? I’ve just stood up when the first gelatinous ball pushes out of my vagina and plops onto the carpet.

Oh shit! So that’s what happened to me last night…

Masturbation Monday Logo
Week #205
Prompt by Daddy’s Little Monster

10 thoughts on “What Happened Last Night?

    1. Me tooo! The idea of it attracts and repels me in equal measure, and that kind of double-edged reaction arouses me no end.x

    1. Hey Molly! I think we have some similar tastes, you and I 😀 I totally get those same feels with my ‘creature’ kinks. There’s so much power for me in what can only be described as violation and non-con (imagined, of course) and that features in many of my creature fantasies.x

    1. Yay! Glad you liked it 😀 I adore my tentacles and I’ll be experiencing an ovipositor very soon so keep an eye out for my thoughts on that.x

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