Work Text:
“Twelve gold pieces for the deluxe package,” said the smartly dressed clerk at the entrance to the not-exactly-legal massage parlor.
Basil almost took a step back. “I…I can’t afford that!”
Ned, Basil’s childhood friend turned casual acquaintance, placed a hand on his waist and grinned. “Easy there, Bas, I’m paying.” He passed the clerk the unreasonably extravagant amount of money.
The clerk nodded.
“That’s my month’s salary!” Basil scolded him half-heartedly when they were allowed past one of the fancy-looking wooden doors and Basil was sure the clerk couldn’t hear.
The writhing carvings of…plants? animals…? gave Basil the creeps.
They walked down the narrow stairs.
“That’s why I keep telling you that you should change jobs.”
Basil grit his teeth.
Ned had no right to talk about jobs since he technically didn’t have one. Basil didn’t know—didn’t want to know—what Ned did for a living, exactly, but legal employment it was not. He suspected it had something to do with smuggling magical contraband in and out of the city, and that this parlor was involved somehow; probably why they got admitted so easily. Basil once heard his own employer talk about this place. The prim Lord Cholteron had said the mage guild had tried to shut it down repeatedly—with their usual excuse about unregulated magic being a danger to public health—but without much success, so someone here had to be really well-connected. Of course, nothing was wrong on the surface, and all the clients were keeping their mouths shut, so in the end no one could do anything about it.
Illegal, invitation-only, and demanding exorbitant fees, and still this parlor had a supposedly three-month-long waiting queue.
“If you won’t change jobs,” Ned said, “then you need to at least relax. That man is running you ragged.”
“Lord Cholteron isn’t that bad,” Basil protested weakly.
“Oh, so that’s why you collapsed yesterday? Because of his damn generosity and compassion? Or was it maybe from the accumulation of nerves and the constant lack of sleep?”
Basil couldn’t say anything to that, so he stayed silent. Hearing Ned’s impassioned speech made him uncomfortable. It proved that Ned still thought that nothing had changed between them, that they were still as close as when they were kids. Like the gradual widening of distance—in money, in choices, in priorities—had never happened.
And, okay, fine, Ned was—somehow, a tiny bit—right. Being a personal steward of an important lord was demanding, but—
“Before today, when was the last time the bastard gave you a day off?”
“I…don’t remember?” Basil said quietly.
“Ha!”
They entered a windowless corridor, low and reminding Basil of lord Cholteron’s wine cellar. It was lit by a multitude of round magic lights attempting to imitate sunlight, although the thick stone walls and a low ceiling made it blatantly obvious you were deep underground.
Another servant waited to greet them.
“The usual service?” he asked Ned.
“Yes, yes,” answered Ned before Basil could open his mouth. “But not for me this time.”
The servant nodded.
“Okay then,” Ned patted Basil’s back. “I’ll be leaving him in your capable hands. Oh, and Bas is my friend, so be sure he’s served extra well.”
“Of course, sir.”
Ned frowned.
To be honest, he wasn’t certain what the normal service here looked like. While not exactly legal, this place was coveted and famous, but the actual details of what you could expect were scarce. There were grins and whispers and innuendos, so Basil suspected sexual—and okay, he could do sexual—but there had to be something more to it.
You didn’t get on the mage guild’s shit list just for serving clients naked girls.
Also, Basil suspected not all the clients were led down narrow stone stairs, right into the deepest bellows of the building.
When Ned had suggested Basil come here to unwind, Basil had acted like he’d known what that entailed to appear worldly; now he was starting to regret that.
“Okay, Bas.” Ned slapped Basil on the back. “See you in four hours. Have fun.”
“This way, sir.” The servant gestured down the corridor.
Frowning, Basil followed him.
The man led Basil to a discreet door, then down another claustrophobic, this time dimly lit staircase.
The deeper they went, the more anxiously Basil’s heart beat. His hands began sweating.
“Um,” he said to the servant’s back, “isn’t four hours a tad excessive?”
‘For a massage,’ he didn’t add.
“The usual service is one,” the man answered without turning.
The way he accentuated the word ‘usual’ made uneasiness curl in Basil’s belly.
“The four hours we only offer to special clients,” the man continued. “We don’t own many specimens capable of that.”
Specimens?
“Here we are.” With a screech, the servant opened a heavy wrought iron door before Basil. “Undress and place your clothes in the case.” He pointed at a simple steel box half-embedded in the wall.
Basil stared at it, then at the sleek, black basalt of the room—cave—curving all around him in shining waves.
The knot in his belly tightened.
“Maybe this—”
The door snapped shut behind the servant.
One by one, the locks turned.
“—wasn’t such a great idea,” Basil finished quietly.
Was this really how they did a massage here? Weird cave-room aside, there was nowhere to sit or lie on.
He tried the door, but it didn’t open. There were no more exits, just expanses of polished stone—the floor seamlessly becoming walls, then curving into dark, shadowy waves of the ceiling.
He didn’t undress.
When the masseuse came, he’d just tell her he had changed his mind.
A minute passed.
Two.
Basil heard a shlicking sound.
Above him.
Something…something…black spilled into the room like thick molasses.
Basil fell on his ass and scrambled back. “Help!” he yelled. “S-someone! Is someone there?! Get me out!!!”
The black mass spilled in his direction, glistening wetly in the strategically dimmed mage light. Its slowly writhing tentacles left a slimy residue on the walls and the floor, and when it rolled towards him, Basil’s stomach roiled.
What the hell was that?! Why the fuck did they leave him here, with this thing?
What the fuck had Ned been thinking?!
The monster reached him, and Basil found out why the iron case for the clothes was necessary—the slimy appendage touched his pant leg, there was a hiss, then smoke wafted towards the shadowed holes in the ceiling, and the material dissolved.
Basil shrieked.
It was mostly from surprise. The touch wasn’t painful. Very warm but not burning. Basil tried to kick it off, but after the initial recoil, the tentacles lunged towards him with renewed vigor. Long tendrils embraced his legs and waist, destroyed his belt, then slithered under his tight white shirt, ripping it apart like wet paper.
Basil tugged at the thing and tried to wriggle out of the moist, gentle but unyielding grip, but the squirming mass was too slippery to grab properly.
In a long roll, it slid between his thighs—over his groin—and Basil whimpered.
Something prodded at his hole.
“No. Oh no!” He tried to reach between his legs, to stop it, but he was already engulfed waist-down.
Whatever it was, penetrated.
“Fuuuck!”
Tears filled Basil’s eyes.
Slippery warmth filled his ass.
Toes to head, he shivered.
The tentacle in him heated.
Moved.
All the fight left Basil’s body.
He moaned.
Then, he sobbed.
Meanwhile, the monster enveloped him whole. It lifted Basil, naked now and completely limp, on top of its quivering mass.
Basil hyperventilated. Only after a long panicky while did he realize the thing left his nose free. It sneaked into his ear canals and kept smearing a warm tentacle along the seam of his mouth—Basil gritted his teeth for all he was worth—but it hadn’t yet attempted to fill his nostrils. So he could breathe. Barely, lungs burning, but at least he could breathe.
He counted while he inhaled and exhaled, trying to calm down.
This had to be deliberate. People paid for this.
For this…this…
Monster.
His stomach gurgled and cramped as more of the creature filled him. The heat inside him was excessive. Not painful per-se, not burning, but close. All of the creature was warm, but the parts that breached Basil’s body were noticeably hotter. He could feel them, moving. They made him shiver from the inside-out.
One of them was in his cock.
He tried thrashing again when he realized. How could he not have felt that?! It distended him, invaded, soft and warm and there.
Bloody insidious thing.
He felt himself harden around it.
He sobbed again, and it gently licked his tears from under his eyelids.
The tendril in his cock heated until it matched the temperature of the one stretching his ass and belly. Then it moved—in, in—until it filled every space. His bladder ached, his muscles straining to expel it, but the desperate clenching only caused his holes to shift around the invasive, hot slipperiness. The stimulation caused him to whine through his still thankfully unoccupied nose—while the creature hadn’t even done anything yet, just entered, then stayed still.
Soon, that changed.
Once it was seated all the way in, once there was no space in him left, it started undulating. In, out, to the sides, thinning, then thickening—it pulsed inside him like a preternatural…pump. As far as he could tell, it didn’t fill him with anything aside from itself, just moved and throbbed, sometimes heating to the point of almost burning in sudden quakes.
And, oh gods, it felt good.
Basil didn’t want to admit this to himself, but—aside from this happening completely against his will—he’d never felt this good in his life. He was held all over in a warm—if slimy—embrace, and pleasured forcefully. Thoroughly. Oh gods, so thoroughly. He’d never had anything inside him before, ass or cock—definitely not cock—but he was warm, and floating, and nothing hurt.
If he could only relax.
People came here and paid for this.
Oh gods, Ned had said four hours!
He tried struggling again, but the pressure around and inside him intensified. Slow waves of it rolled against his skin and against his inner walls. Even his ears weren’t spared—the creature thrust in and out of them until the unnatural, invasive sensation caused him to gasp and shiver all over.
The thing took advantage the moment he opened his mouth.
His balls seized as it slid down his throat. Something exploded in his belly—not an orgasm but close; a weird, all-encompassing sensation he wasn’t familiar with. He gagged, choked, but then the warm thing was in—all the way in—and somehow he still could breathe.
It just lay there, in his mouth, his throat, filling him.
The tendrils in this ass and cock moved. Now that he was completely helpless, completely filled, they became bolder. Basil trembled as they slid in and out, his every twitch swallowed by the unyielding yet gentle pressure all around.
After a while he realized it must be because he had relaxed after all. Because his muscles were loose; he just hadn’t noticed. Information about what his own body was doing registered with a delay—sensations took precedence.
The creature took precedence.
It massaged him, all over, in and out. The hot pulse in his groin intensified, tightened, and Basil came again in that weird, unfamiliar, all-encompassing way, without spilling a drop—because he was blocked, because there was no way for him to spill. Then it continued. Basil lost time. He was a body without a body, all warmth. His mind blanked, the whole-body not-cumming constant now.
He stopped struggling. Stopped thinking.
He forgot who he was.
An eternity after, he blinked his eyes open and cringed at the low light.
“Hello, Bas,” Ned said. “Welcome back.”
“Ngwa?”
“Yes, I know. It’s quite something, the first time.” Ned paused. “Come to think of it, the second time also. And all the times after.”
“Nnnn…”
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Ned carefully stepped towards him, then tried to lift him off the still weakly pulsing, warm mass splayed all over the floor, but Basil’s muscles were mush and refused to respond.
Ned snorted. “What am I saying. Of course you enjoyed yourself. Your clothes aren’t in the box. You didn’t take them off?”
Ned stroked Basil’s slick lower lip with a thumb. “Silly you.”
Basil shivered.
A weak stream of thick, accumulated cum spurted out of his cock.
Ned chuckled. “You didn’t know, did you?” He helped Basil sit, then took off his own light coat and wrapped it around him.
Basil whined when the wool touched his skin.
“I knew you didn’t, sorry.” He lifted Basil gently. “If you knew, you would’ve never agreed. And, no matter what you said, you needed this. You so fucking needed this.”
“You’re a bastard,” Basil whispered.
When he swallowed and his sensitized throat contracted, he came a bit more.
Ned chuckled softly. “And that’s news to you—since when?”
Basil closed his eyes. “I fucking hate you.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Cradling him close to his body, Ned carried Basil out of the cave.