There was no time for reflection. The tentacles had slipped in and traced gently along her ankles, up her calves, while she slept. The sensation was pleasant and smooth, and just enough to bring her into consciousness. As she muddled through the in-between state, they went to work, slipping along her landscape, grappling around her plump hips.

"Wha-"

More an exhalation than a real question. The feeling was both erotic and strange. Was this a dream? She tried to lift herself off the bed to check the time, and felt the resistance of her bonds. She looked down and gasped. Purple, veiny tentacles, each looking like an impossibly long, tensile penis, were holding her down. She opened her mouth to scream, and then it struck.

"Fmmgph!"

The leading tentacle, a good two inches in diameter, shot into her mouth and down her throat, bulging it forward noticeably. She began to struggle, but more helper tentacles showed up, and she only began to tire herself out. The main tentacle pulsed, and began to thrust in and out of her gullet, its head dancing lightly along her tongue, which instinctively caressed and licked it.

This had to be a dream.

She was too transfixed on the member in her mouth to notice one more slipping up the bed, tracing lightly along her ankles, calves, to her inner thighs, before dipping into her vagina.

She immediately gasped. All sensation switched from mere surprise to pure eroticism, and her hips buckled in response. Sounds much like gutteral moans slipped from her vocal cords, toning in and out in time with the thrusts of the mouth-tentacle.

To her left, she heard a whimper. Tracing the location of the sound with her eyes, she saw the figure of her roommate, entangled in the same erotic situation, with one key difference: her roommate looked to be seven months pregnant. No, eight months? She watched the tentacles in her roommate's mouth and vagina pulse, as bubbles led toward her. With each bubble, her roommate swelled a little more, and a little more; fabric stretching almost unnoticeably. She realized at once what was happening.

They were being inseminated.

She fought harder, panic settling in as adrenaline coursed through her body. But it was much too late, for as she struggled to pivot against the bed to gain some leverage, she felt the same rhythmic tensing she remembered from blowjobs she'd given before. Bubbles of her own coursed up her tentacles, and all at once, she tasted the load. The first bubble bulged her cheeks out, and when the second bubble arrived a mere second later, the contents had nowhere to go but down. She heard the gurgling slap of sperm in her stomach, and immediately felt a soothing warmness. Fear was once again replaced by a surging eroticism, and with barely any conscious thought, she grabbed the cock in her mouth and stroked it, driving it deeper into her gullet, milking it for every impregnating surge she could.

If she had looked to her left, she would have seen her roommate swollen impossibly plump, her breasts bulging over the top of her once-loose nightgown, and her stomach a soft, heaving orb that pressed her down on her bed, growing ever larger.

But she wasn't noticing her roommate's change. She was too focused on her own. Room 154 was the first to go.

***

Sandra knocked with some annoyance on the door. She wasn't a prude. She enjoyed a healthy dose of sex as much as anyone, but she had a test the next day, and was having a hard time concentrating already. The moans of pleasure were annoying; let alone the obnoxious gulping (because, honestly, who made THAT much noise giving a blowjob?), and while it may have made her a bit of a douche, she DID need to study.

Her knock had no discernible effect. She pressed her ear against the door and listened. The moans came through somewhat more clearly. She paused for a moment. This sounded...different. Atypical. Potentially nonconsensual? She hesitated, wondering whether or not she should intrude.

Sandra knocked once more. No answer. She waited a few seconds, then announced "I'm coming in."

She opened the door, and found a pitch-black room, full of muffled moans and gulping gurgles. It was impossible to see anything. She stepped tentatively inside, wondering, curious.

She opened her mouth to call their names, and her mouth was immediately filled with a pulsing tentacle. A muffled moan escaped her mouth, and the door behind her shut with a gentle click.

Tentacles grabbed her legs and arms with surprising speed and lifted her lazily over the ground, the tentacle in her mouth dulling her yelps for help to a gentle whisper. The tentacles placed her down on the bed, next to some massive pile of pillows or laundry or something. She struggled against her captors, and her hand pressed against the pile to her left.

She froze. That wasn't laundry. That was flesh.

All at once, her eyes became acclimated to the dark, and she realized what she was looking at: the body of an impossibly large pregnancy, of massive, milk-laden breasts and belly swollen with young and fat. The tentacles pressed her face against the belly, and she felt its tightening softness. With every gurgle, her face was pushed away. The hand belonging to the belly grabbed Sandra's arm, but it wasn't a grip of fear. It was a grip of orgasmic bliss.

The tentacles lifted Sandra's shocked body forward along the bed, across her belly, and up to her bulging breasts, which had grown to the size of heaving cantaloupes, and had burst free of her nightgown a long time ago. The tentacles were gentle, almost compassionate, but were firm in their intention. A surprising burst of seed swept from the tentacle in her mouth down into her gullet, and the effect was immediate: her fear melted away, and erotic curiosity took hold. Her belly, breasts, and hips also bulged very slightly (it being only a single delivery of seed), but she didn't notice.

She was fixated instead on the body of her floormate (Karen? Sarah? She was too aroused to bother guessing). The tightening belly, the warmth of her skin, the plump tightness of her hips, her heaving, leaking breasts.

Sandra's nipples began to harden. All she wanted in the world was right in front of her. The milk. The breasts. These gently-swelling mounds, testifying to all that was beautiful and right in the world. Her mouth traced lightly over their fullness, her tongue divoting the warm flesh, circling toward a nipple. With an erotic sigh, she grasped the nipple in her mouth and sucked, and was rewarded with a stream of sweet milk. She drank deeply, gasping with every swallow, losing herself in the sheer bliss. Each swallow settled with a loud glump in her stomach, and before long, the alien milk began to affect her body. Her body began to thicken quickly, with a new pound of flesh spread across her curvature with each swallow. Her breasts spilled forward causing her bra to whine as flesh bulged between the straps. The button on her jeans snapped and zipped off. Her belly rose like bread dough, but the flesh settled mostly on her breasts and hips.

The tentacle pulled her mouth free after five minutes, and her body was utterly transformed. The hem along her jeans' waist had split long ago, as the curves of a fertility goddess had burst free. Her bra laid lazily along her breasts, the clasp broken long ago; a stiff wind would drop it to the floor. She whimpered for more milk, eyes closed tight as her hands explored her new landscape, kneading her breasts, dipping in between her legs and finding them drenched.

Now prepared, the tentacles swept into her mouth and vagina, finding a perfectly willing, pliable host. She smiled as the first bubbles spread her lips wide and settled in her gurgling stomach, as the soft dough of her belly began to rise and tighten.

Ashley stared at her screen, the dull blue glow from her monitor lighting her face as she parsed line after line. It was only meant to be a simple paper, but as she had sketched out her outline, she became more and more interested. The words had flowed smoothly over the last two days, with barely any effort at all, until this point: the paper was finished. Twelve pages of involved, coherent argument. She read through until she hit the footnotes, then smiled and cracked open the mini-fridge. It was time for a post-paper celebratory beer; Blue Moon. She twisted the cap off into her shirt and set it on the desk, then tilted back on two legs and took a swig. Bubbles rose up in her cheeks and she gulped down the carbonation with a contented sigh. She almost felt guilty for being so relaxed. Saturday night, and with this, her work was done.

She stretched her arms back behind her, and as she made a contented groan, a pair of pliant tentacles drifted down from the vent in her closet and silently eased open the door, twisting lazily over the thin carpet. Over the course of the next two minutes, they used the slightest environmental noise as an excuse to drift forward. An e-mail notification, two inches forward. The ringtone of her phone, two feet. They curled quietly along the bottom of her chair, tensed back in a coil of potential energy, then sprang.

One tentacle immediately jostled down her throat, causing the gag reflex before Ashley could even think to cry out. She instinctively sprang to her feet and pulled away, but the second tentacle wrapped itself around her torso in two gentle, but firm, loops. She tensed against the tentacles, using her free hands to peel whatever she could away, as she finally found her voice and gave as gutteral a groan as she could manage with her vocal cord so thoroughly stuffed. Her efforts were partially successful, managing to whip off the torso tentacle and twist out of it, as she lunged for the door. The second tentacle was quick, however, and wrapped itself around her torso again, this time rather tighter. Her fingers lunged and fell just shy of the doorknob, as she hung suspended for a half moment, then was pulled back by the tentacle around her torso.

There was no success in her resistance now. Her center of gravity was long imbalanced, and another pair of tentacles were already pulling up to secure their prey. Her arms were twisted back behind her, and though she wrestled against her bonds, she was hopelessly entangled within another sixty seconds. The tentacle in her mouth, now well-supported, went about its work.

All was going to its primal plan until the doorknob shuddered. Locked, but the sound of keys in the hallway indicated it wouldn't be for long. In one smooth movement, the tentacles pulled their prey into the capacious closet and deftly closed the door behind them. Almost immediately, the worm in her mouth tensed as bubbles coursed along its shaft.

===========================

Lis opened the door quietly, as was her way, and closed the door quietly. She hung her keys on the hook next to the door and made her way to her desk. She paused next to Ashley's desk, picked up the chair and replaced it. Not unusual; Ashley was occasionally prone to impulse. She pulled out one earbud and let it hang lazily below her subtle chest; muted, tinny strings and a clarinet filled the air. She threw her bookbag on the ground, laid back on her bed and closed her eyes. It was rather too early to sleep, but she was exhausted. Busiest week of the semester so far. She dozed lightly, drifting half in and half out of consciousness.

She heard a faint creak.

She pulled herself up and glanced around the room. The creak maintained itself, pulsing lightly, faintly; barely loud enough to figure direction. The edge of the closet door caught the monitor light. Groggily, she got to her feet and went to close it firmly, to keep the fan from playing off it. As she put her hand up to close the door, she found it wouldn't budge. She immediately realized it was pushing back against her hand, firmly.

She opened the door and gasped at what she saw. 500 pounds of Ashley, eyes closed, throat bulging with muted gulps from what looked like a massive penis spasming in her mouth. With every spasm, Ashley's throat sprung forward an inch, then collapsed back. Her shirt was barely hanging on, covering her massive watermelon breasts, but leaving her enormous and tightening sphere of a stomach exposed for all the world to see. Lis fell back in shock, but before she could cry out for help, four more tentacles found their place, taking her on the floor. One tentacle for each of her hands pinned her down, one found its way up her skirt, the other burrowed into her mouth and down her throat. Almost immediately, the two fucking her came, and within seconds, her sweater was stretching; breasts, first, jumping two cup sizes in fifteen seconds. Belly, second, entering third term in the same amount of time. Her body gurgled as it reorganized itself, pelvis widening, hips and ass widening, even her arms and legs gained a bit of plumpness. The flurried insemination happening with the nearby tentacles only brought the other tentacles that much closer to the brink. It took the creature some time to build up, but once that critical threshold was reached, the insemination would go far quicker. Until then, secrecy and stealth was a virtue.

Down the hall, both beds in Room 154 collapsed simultaneously, their occupants far too large to be held by them. Unbeknownst to the creature, the floor of 154 was rapidly reaching its limit. In twenty minutes, it would collapse through to the floor below, crushing and killing a freshman and her boyfriend, prompting the fire alarm and a mass evacuation of the building. Twenty minutes was not enough to finish the job.

But twenty minutes was more than enough to start it. Behind closed doors, bellies continue to tighten.

this.. is amazing

agreed. I hope the tentacle creature visits other rooms and does it all over again

I hope there's a sequel. Troma should direct a movie like this story.

Nicely done!