FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Sleep is a rather peculiar thing. Blissful oblivion for the anxious, revitalization for the weary, a welcome pause for the busy, its absence cursed by the insomniacs. Leo was part of the latter group, unable to even remember when he'd last gotten more than a few fragmented hours of rest. Just barely enough to exist, but not to live. He was at the point where everything started to feel scary, alien thoughts produced by some malfunctioning region of his mind tormenting him, persistently stuck in that deep, inky black 4 AM state of mind. The short naps that his nights consisted of were feverish, a constant bombardment of fractal garbage data, as if his brain was rushing, desperately, to dump all the collected useless input it'd received over the last few days.

So there he sat, the mustelid with a lion's name, at the kitchen table, staring emptily at slight distortions in the wallpaper. That was another one of those things that he would've found interesting in a more rested state, how the senses all begun to produce errors if they weren't recalibrated by sleep. It was further proof for the dreadful suspicion of being merely a machine, however organic.

Of course, Leo wasn't normally the type to dwell on morbid ideas like that. Quite the opposite, on the average day; he was a rather cheerful ferret, almost to the point of vapidity, easily distracted by shiny things like most of his kin. The acute insomnia had quickly eroded all of that. The doctors said it'd pass and prescribed sleeping pills, but those didn't really give him rest, only temporary oblivion. Dreamless, dark oblivion. Better than nothing, of course, but he'd quickly built up a tolerance, and it'd be a few days before he could ask for something else.

It was a miserable condition. There was no chance to be productive, and he was pretty sure he was at least a week behind on his studies. There was an essay he needed to write, problems he needed to solve, and absolutely no way on earth of actually doing so. Not with this little energy. Not even with the liters of murky coffee he had every day, which was barely enough to keep him from collapsing where he stood. The studies simply had to wait. At least the professors were aware of his condition, so they'd know he wasn't simply being lazy. He usually got a few extra weeks for each assignment.

At least he lived alone in his student apartment. Having a roommate would probably end in violence, or a psychotic break. The relative silence was soothing, if nothing else; it helped him tone out the world, existing as if in a trance, passing time until he'd be able to sleep again. Silence, at least when the radiations weren't banging. Leo had absolutely no idea how they even made that sound - weren't radiators just full of warm water? - but they did it regardless. The world had stopped making sense a few days ago. Now it was a collection of strange, arbitrary shapes and sounds that didn't mesh with each other, gestalt psychology be damned. Everything was only its constituent parts, with no greater whole to be found. Even he, himself, felt like that. He had limbs, certainly. He had fur, and he had a beating heart, but they all existed_separately._

Of course, he wasn't so far gone as to think those thoughts reflected on any sort of reality. No, the ferret knew them to be illusions and delusions caused by his inability to sleep. It didn't stop him from seeing shadowy things flitting along the walls from in the corners of his vision, twitching each time it happened. He'd been sleepless for long enough that he was familiar with the condition, but if he didn't actually manage to sleep soon, it'd get worse. Those vague shapes that were easy to brush away as hallucinations generated by a tired brain would coalesce into semi-coherent beings. Then, presumably, he'd die. Or was that merely catastrophic thinking, also spurred on by the insomnia?

He got up and stumbled to the shower with his eyes closed. Maybe a warm shower would help. He knew the apartment well enough that he could follow the wall into the bathroom, and so didn't need to put in the effort of keeping his eyes open. He locked the door behind himself and turned on the water, finally forced to raise his weary eyelids to adjust the water to be suitably hot. The water was a little rusty as usual - old pipes and all that - but feeling it cascading onto his slink body at least made Leo feel a little more relaxed. Not mentally, perhaps, but the constant tension slowly bled out of his muscles. He closed his eyes and felt like he might fall asleep right then and there, standing up in the shower. He'd undoubtedly break his neck or at least sprain a few joints, but right now, that felt almost preferable. Instead, he sat down, leaning against the wet tile wall, simply letting the water lull him to sleep. The water bill could go fuck itself, if this was how he'd manage to finally sleep, he'd take it. The white noise of the shower drowned out the tinnitus, and the warmth soothed his body, and simply resting somewhere that wasn't his bed, mostly associated with endless tossing and turning, was doing wonders to relax his body as well. Just a few more moments. He felt his consciousness finally slipping, thoughts wandering to things other than the stress of studies and the anxiety over being unable to sleep. Right then and there, nothing could've felt better. Not a million dollars, not a needy male raising his tail, nope. He wouldn't get up for anything.

He dozed off, at least for a few moments, but an interruption in the flow of the water stirred him away soon after. He woke up in time to see the showerhead vibrating, and then shaking, as if he'd ran out of water and it was just pushing out air. Leo groaned, standing up again to turn it off. He realized that his fur felt oily, as if the water had been dirty, perhaps full of minerals from the bottom of the water tower. He hadn't been there for long enough to drain the entire city, had he? That wouldn't even be possible anyway, they had safeguards for that kind of thing. It did smell kind of... oily, however, and the vibrations didn't case immediately. Oh well, he figured. It'd be fine next time he wanted a shower.

Leo went back to bed, fur still moist even after drying himself, and immediately collapsed into it for another hour of vivid dreams.

In the darkness, a voice called out to him.

"See us," it whispered.

"See us and release us," another voice continued.

"See us, release us and join us," a third murmured.

Each was like the voices you hear as you're falling asleep, hallucinatory speech that contains no meaning beyond what your brain decides to imbue it with. Loose, incoherent syllables that never make sense anymore after they jolt you awake. The strangest thing to Leo - who felt more lucid in the dream than he did in reality right now - was that he wasn't afraid, despite having the voices of nightmares echoing in his ear. The dream was foreboding, perhaps, not scary. Gradually, the landscape became illuminated, despite no obvious light source. He was in some kind of alien forest, with crawling seaweeds stretching and floating through the air, growing from the twisted remains of black trees that laid shattered on the ground, each torn limb from limb with eerie precision. None of it meant anything, of course, Leo surmised, as he walked through the vegetation like a man out for a casual stroll in the afternoon.

The ground was soft and fluffy, and covered in soft, squishy roots that presumably belonged to the seaweeds. Leo resigned to thinking of them as that, because that's exactly what they looked like. Giant kelp trees, entirely too soft to actually stand upright in thin air, with yellow seed clusters, and the occasional snake or perhaps slug crawling along them before disappearing from sight. Leo realized that he was naked when one of the roots collapsed with a wet popping sound as he stepped on it, the gooey juices seeping into his fur and between his toes, feeling cold and slippery. He hoped he hadn't hurt the ecosystem any. Then again, it was a dream, and it'd all be gone by the time he woke up. On the other hand, he hoped he'd get to spend at least eight hours here, and should therefore be at least be a little bit careful. If he disturbed things too much it might turn into a nightmare, and then he'd be awake again, undoubtedly unable to sleep again. Besides, he was lucid; lucid dreams were never scary.

He came upon a "clearing", brushing kelp off his shoulders. Although there was nothing here and the clearing was simply a bare spot, where none of the dream-kelp had taken root, he knew that it was significant. Extremely significant, even, like the end of a war or the dissolution of a nation. So he stood there, proud that he had discovered such a monumentally important location, taking it all in. The roots on the grounds twitched, as if asleep, before suddenly roaring to life in a flurry of action. Two whipped towards him, wrapping themselves around his ankles. Despite feeling soft, cold and slimy they held the ferret in place as he tried to move on. He felt like he was losing his lucidity, like the dream was twisting into an out-of-control nightmare. Two more tentacle-roots secured his arms, coiling around them all the way from his wrist to his armpit.

Leo took a deep breath. He could force himself awake, he was sure, but if he did he'd have to contend with the damn insomnia again. So he resisted, trying to calm himself down. What was the worst thing these tentacles could do in this place where nothing was permanent and pain didn't exist?

"See us," the voices echoed again.

More tentacles slithered along his body, halfway between limbs and living creatures in their own right, now. He shivered with how cold they felt, and realized he must've fallen asleep without a blanket. One bumped into his ballsack, pressing against his sheath as it continued. The ferret felt like he was being violated, although it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"Male," a whisper came, and several others reverberated through the air, overlapping and difficult to hear. "Can't breed," one said. "Not yet," replied another. "Reshape him," a third whispered. "Better this way," one repeated several times. Then, they seemed to switch to a future tense, discussing potential different versions of the poor ferret. "Breed her with hybrids," one said, apparently referring to a future where they'd reshaped his body into a female one. "Fill him with eggs," replied another, suggesting a different future. The tentacles lashed at each other over this. It was disconcerting, though more in the same sense that one might be scared by a picture of a spider, not true fear, seeing as how none of this was real.

A greater shape emerged from the oily ground, like a snow sculpture melting in reverse. It shaped itself into something vaguely equine, but blurred, out of focus no matter how hard Leo tried to look at it. Everything else, he could see sharply, but the humanoid made his eyes tear up when he tried to. It stood there, perfectly still, with no discernible eyes, but the ferret knew it was studying him regardless. The tentacle-roots would merge into or split away from it, seemingly at random. That was the first time Leo felt fear, as if the creature emanated an aura of dread that warped the surreal dreamscape into a nightmare. Perhaps it was a nightmare, although Leo could see what appeared to be a massive sheath on its naked groin.

Finally, it spoke, its voice like the rumble of thunder. But Leo couldn't understand anything it said. He bit his lip, hard, and then opened his eyes to find himself in his own bed, his body shaking slightly and his lip bleeding. He felt... not rested, exactly, but somewhat less exhausted than he had before. What a strange dream that was, he told himself, and yet despite the aftershocks of terror, he found himself very erect, still feeling the gooey caress of the strange black tentacles on his fur.

He had enough energy to sit down and do some of his assignments. Some of them, at any rate. For a few happy moments he felt as if he'd at least slept in the last twenty-four hours, which he supposed he had. Just not very well. It was after he finished writing the second short essay that the tiredness began to creep back in. A dreadful sense of the waking world slipping away again, but not entirely. Rather, it was as if he was half asleep, one foot in a dream and one in the real world. Like he existed in a bubble. The words he'd just written began to blur, their meanings separating from the words themselves. He wrote down "insomnia", and considered it. The word was there, and the meaning was in his head, but there was no distinct connection between the two.

Leo sighed and stood up. Yep, it was about time to try to sleep again. Not much else he could do. He walked past the banging radiators. Gonna have to see the landlord about that. What time is it anyway? He pulled out his phone, and assuming his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, it was closing in on midnight. Maybe there was enough time for a shower. Even if he didn't fall asleep in it this time, the warmth would at least help him relax. The whole apartment was ice cold thanks to the radiators doing their improvisational musical number rather than their actual job of providing heat.

He entered the bathroom, peeled off his clothes with entirely too much effort, and got into the shower. The floor was still slippery after his previous shower. How long ago had that been? Leo resigned to the fact that he'd have to piece together the days once we got those pills and finally managed to sleep. He couldn't figure out why the floor was so... nacreous, though - his fur wasn't that oily despite being a ferret, and yet the thin layer of what seemed like oil shimmered underneath him. Maybe there had been a leak from some refinery. He was too tired to worry about it, even though he knew he should have.

He turned the knob on the shower, and the pipes visibly shook, squealing as if terrified. A surge of adrenaline went through Leo's body, and he covered one ear with a paw while trying to turn the water off again. Before he could manage, a black, oily goo - just like in the dream - began to spew out over him, and as he tried to shield himself from it, cursing loudly, he slipped and fell onto his back in the strange substance, more and more of it coming down on him, some running down the drain before blocking it and then beginning to flood the room. And it moved, with clear agency. Leo stared in terror as strands of the goo reared up, like tentacles, quickly coiling themselves around his limbs despite the ferret wildly flailing, trying to fend them off. Did I fall asleep again? None of it felt like a dream, but somehow the plumbing had unleashed something terrible that couldn't possibly exist.

A particularly thick tentacle wrapped itself around his neck and_squeezed_, the ferret wheezing for air. Immediately, with the flow of oxygen to his brain was reduced, his vision began to darken, but painfully slowly. He couldn't breathe, and not having had the opportunity to take a deep breath, the effect was immediate. He slumped, limply, against the wall as the squeezing sapped all the strength from his muscles, then his mind. Little dancing, glowing stars filled what remained of his eyesight, and the last thing he thought of before his inevitable death was at least I'll sleep well. Then, the rubbery creature - or appendage - relented, as if satisfied with showing him how helpless he was. Leo fell to the floor, gasping for air, greedily and desperately inhaling as much as he could. The sensation of life returning to his limbs was amazing, even though they were still securely in the thing's grasp.

The one protruding from the drain itself spasmed, regurgitating a vivid, yellow, rubbery sphere onto the mucky floor. Even with the bathroom's lighting, Leo could spot something wiggling around inside of it, preparing to burst through. An egg? It looked just like the seed clusters in the kelp forest. Were those these things' eggs, rather than those of the dream-kelp? He didn't have much time to think about it, because the same tentacle quickly recovered - contracting back from its dilated shape - and began to experimentally prod at Leo's furred crotch, jabbing into the opening of his sheath only to retract and trace its way down his testicles, exploring his body as if it was blind. Maybe they were looking for a female? He remembered the nightmare he had. Even if these were the same creatures - which was, of course - impossible, maybe they wouldn't be interested anymore. But rather than recoil when it rubbed into his taint, finding no welcoming hole, it seemed to twitch in excitement, the strange, uncanny movement resonating through the others, which rhythmically squeezed around his limbs. It burrowed between the ferret's fuzzy cheeks, and he watched with growing terror as it convulsed again, one of those squirming egg-things causing it to bulge as it moved upwards. There was no doubt about what it was doing to do.

Leo clenched his ass as tightly as he could as the slippery tentacle prodded against that bare opening. It didn't help much; one contraction, and it sprayed some of the black oil, seemingly the same fluid the squirming thing itself consisted of, against his hole. It wasn't only slippery, but it made his muscles relax, against his will, as it seeped into his skin. The terror was rising in Leo's chest; that disgusting thing would be inside him soon. And yet, despite the fear, he realized he was fully erect, his musteline length excitedly sticking out of its sheath. He told himself that it had to be a dream, that there was no way any of this would turn him on, that it was just the physical sensation, but he was so tired that he found himself fantasizing of being defiled by this filthy thing, of being pumped full of is eggs. And then? He didn't know, What would happen when they hatched? Would he give birth to them, or something worse?

He was interrupted by feeling the slime drip into his ass rather than merely on it, and realized he must've been gaping open like some well-fucked slut. The tentacle barely had to exert any pressure at all, the slimy tapered tip easily pushing into his loosened body. While his muscles might've been paralyzed, the black goo seemed to intensify every other sensation. He was acutely aware of the slick, cool creature slowly wiggling its way into the warm comforts of his body. Those sensations, stretching and almost vibrating, were getting to him, too. It couldn't just be - no, it was like those emotions were invading his mind - images of himself looking nine months pregnant, kept in eternal bliss and pregnancy by those disgusting things, used as a broodmare. But not any_broodmare, he'd been their _queen despite his gender, every creature of nightmare catering to his every whim in exchange for the chance of getting to pump him full of its eggs.

Leo squirmed. It felt like there was a meter of tentacle inside him. The egg-bumps along the shaft weren't moving, as if it was looking for a suitable place to plant its offspring. He strained against his living bonds, and yet, despite what he told himself, it wasn't purely out of a desire to escape. No, it felt amazing to squirm with that thick penile appendage filling him so thoroughly, the aphrodisiac slime warping the output of every nerve in his body, and so he found himself trying to wiggle more, his sleek, pink ferret cock hard as rock. His thoughts were beginning to feel submerged, the panic drowning beneath an ocean of black goop, leaving only a sense of contentedness and pleasure. A warm fuzziness even as he watched and felt the thing claiming his spasm, the first egg beginning to move, slowly and inexorably, towards his vulnerable, gaping hole.

And so, utterly relaxed, he fell asleep, and time stopped.

He was somewhere else, now. The same above-water kelp forest, but this time it felt familiar, like a childhood home that he was revisiting. There was nothing there, of course - it'd take time for the nightmares to find him, even if he was in their realm - and so, Leo could simply appreciate the beauty of it all. The sky was a jagged swirl of clouds in teal, purple and grey, the occasional rumble of dream-thunder filling the air. The kelp swayed gently in the wind, which was picking up. It was soothing. Alien and strange, but soothing, somehow. Then, he took a step, a slick _root_almost tripping him, and lucidity set in.

He was dreaming, again, while the tentacles ravaged his body. His mind cleared up. He was about to be filled with squirming nightmare eggs if he didn't wake up, if he wasn't already. How would he wake himself up and then save himself? His real self was far too exhausted and relaxed to wake up easily, it'd take a miracle to stop what was happening.

He looked around himself. There was nothing but kelp for miles upon miles around him. Far in the distance he could see crooked, twisted mountains, like a shark's teeth, rising black against the eerily lit sky. He'd never make it there, and why would he? He didn't know, but it did feel like they were calling to him. They wanted to chew him up and spit him out.

Lucidity. He looked at his wristwatch and saw only garbled lines rather than numbers. It was entirely too easily to lose all agency in this place. All too easy to slip into instinct and automated function. He had to keep reminding himself that he was awake, even as he was dreaming.

A noise like bubbling tar distracted him, and he knew exactly what was going to happen. There was nothing he could do, of course. Even fully lucid the dream would quickly degenerate into an outright nightmare if he ran. So he stood there and took a deep breath even as the roots came to life. They seemed in no hurry to ensnare him when he didn't run, and instead slowly slithered around his body, almost_affectionately._ They'd have to try harder than that. If he didn't work himself into a frenzied panic, they'd have no hold on him. He could even find a measure of enjoyment in feeling their cool, leathery texture against his fur, some moisture soaking into the skin beneath.

He felt a presence behind himself, but refused to turn around. He knew what it was, regardless. The equine-like thing that he couldn't focus his eyes on, the titular nightmare. Leo forced himself to think of warm summer evenings and relaxing rainstorms, of going out swimming with friends. The dream seemed to respond to those pleasant images, colours and contrasts growing more vivid.

"Wake up," spoke the nightmare, in a husky tone that seemed to change with each sound.

"Why?" asked the ferret. "I'm just fine right here. I'm not afraid."

"You will be bred, in your realm. You will be awake for this," the creature replied, circling the ferret. For a horse-like thing, its gait was oddly predatory, almost feline, and it made no sound as it seemingly hovered just barely above the ground. It was perfectly in the uncanny valley, moving almost like a real, living thing, but just a little too weightless, a little off, like a badly animated character, or a ghost.

"We are between your mind and reality," the nightmare rumbled. "Your sleeping mind can only see us in dreams. Your awake mind cannot see us in reality. In between, you see us." it continued, caressing the curve of Leo's short muzzle. What it said made no sense, except it did, perfectly so, to the ferret's sleeping brain. Of course dreams didn't exist without a dream. So in real life, he was sleeping in the shower again, clean and unmolested, which was a relief. It was what the creature said next that terrified him.

"As you give birth to our kind, they shall gain permanence. But we cannot breed you while you sleep, as without your mind to give us flesh we do not exist," it spoke. "So you must wake up."

"Why- why would I ever want that? To make nightmares into a reality?" Leo stammered, struggling against the fleshy bonds. Now he did want to escape. No, he had to calm himself. As long as he was here, nothing bad could happen to his physical body.

"None of us would dare harm the one that brought us into your world. You are to be our revered father-mother, and need only concern yourself with the bliss of being bred, every need catered to. Others would be the ones suffering," it smiled, it's blurry equine muzzle full of sharp, needle-like teeth. "Nightmares are shaped by the mind of the dreamer. For you, we will be wonderful servants, sacrificing everything to pleasure you."

"But how about the others? I don't want everyone else to suffer," Leo cried, thinking of his friends and relatives.

"Oh, but you think dread and doom. We would only take our share. Without happiness, there are no nightmares. If everything is a nightmare, nothing is," the creature burbled. "And we would melt away like any other dream in the sunlight."

"But how do you decide who... take? What gives you the right?" replied the ferret.

"The same nature that gives you the right to devour, to fuck, and to dream," the nightmare answered. "Come now, wake up before the morning. I will assist you..."

"You can't hurt me here," Leo protested. "Just let me sleep."

"I can't hurt you. But I can pleasure you. You'll wake up with a sticky belly and our tentacles ready to fill you with eggs," it replied, and ten moved closer. It had an oppressive aura, like a humid heat that smelled like rotting kelp. It'd be a miracle if that thing manages to make me cum, Leo thought to himself. Yet there was something exotic about it, the bizarre dreamy eroticism that'd make no sense in the waking world, an undeniable desire to let this creature have its way with him. Leo focused his will on the environment, remembering that it was his dream, after all, trying to force the dreamscape to warp before the inevitable arousal built up too much.

It worked, at first. The forest of seaweed blinked out and he was in his apartment, although things were subtly different. He looked at his alarm clock, looked away, and then looked at it again, the numbers changing. It'd reinforce the lucidity, which was threatening to fade at any moment if he didn't keep reminding himself that he was dreaming. The nightmare was left behind at first, and Leo promptly forgot it existed until it began to bleed over into the new dream, beginning as a slight darkening in the air, like a cloud of dust or toxic fumes, gradually growing more solid. There's be no use running, and working himself into a panic would either wake him up or abandon the lucid state, that much Leo knew from experience. As an insomniac, he was rather familiar with strange, vivid dreams, something he was trying to use to his advantage.

Before he could focus on changing the environment, a blurry, black hand cupped his crotch, oddly warm despite what it belonged to. The same lewd groping that his ex had loved to do at one point in time. He let out a happy churr before recoiling as he remembered what was_actually_ going on. The nightmare growled, pushing the ferret back into his bed. How much longer would it be until morning? The creature had said that their manifestation couldn't survive in the real world outside of the small hours, not even a sleep-deprived mind to sustain them. But it could be anything from eight hours to eight minutes, with how rubbery and stretchy time was in the oneiric realms. He'd just have to resist as long as he could.

Within moments that soft, seductive hand was on his crotch again. The ferret couldn't suppress his body's reaction to that, no more than any male could. The sensual squeezing and rubbing quickly had blood start filling his cock, both in real life and this other place, and soon he was sticking out of his sheath. The creature rubbed little circles around the bared cocktip with his finger, little feathery flicks and touches that immediately sent jolts of pleasure up his spine, which only made him swell faster. With how experienced this thing seemed to be at this erotic endeavour, Leo wondered if he wasn't mistaken. It might be an incubus, rather than a mere nightmare. Then again, one being could probably be both. His hips twitched, thrusting his erection through the tight squeeze of the equine's grasp, and he gasped. His fingers felt just like the tentacles, but warmer, perhaps with the ferret's own body heat. He couldn't deny that it felt amazing, like his cock was being massaged, every inch of it, and the dreaminess only enhanced those sensations. It felt just like his boyfriend's, with lube, warm heat enveloping his whole needy length. Leo felt himself slipping, as if his cock was drawing all the blood from his brain. His lucidity was fading, His ex had occasionally woken him up by riding his morning wood, and with how tired he was feeling, that must've been what was going on.

He struggled against the otter's arms pinning him to the soft, warm bed. Not that he didn't love the sensation of the mustelid milking him for his seed with his wonderful ass, it was just too early. He was dead tired, the alarm hadn't even gone off yet. But it was all fine, he loved that slinky water weasel, loved the feeling of his warm fur rubbing into his, tired and bleary-eyed as he was. He grunted, giving into the sensations, thrusting upwards and deeper into his wonderfully hot body, lube dripping wetly onto his balls. There were worse ways of waking up, that much he had to admit. He felt like he was forgetting something, though. It couldn't be that he was late for work since his alarm hadn't gone off, but there was something...

His mate gyrated his hips like a dancer as he impaled himself onto the ferret's twitching, throbbing hardness over and over again, squeaking and chirping as he took what he wanted. He'd get it soon enough, a load of sticky musteline cum to keep him warm and horny all day at work. Leo had never really understood why he liked it so much, but it was almost a tradition of theirs. Every morning, they had... did... Huh, something felt wrong, like he was still dreaming, but at that point his body was effectively moving on its own, the typical, mindless breeding instincts having taken over a while ago. All that mattered was the tightness sliding up and down his length, the receptive otter hungry to be pumped for full of cum, and his loins ready to give him just that. He sighed, letting his head fall back onto the pillow. Huh, even the pillow was wet. Had he been drooling on it again?

He was already aching for release, with his heavy balls feeling rather tight, moaning and sighing as he thrust into his mate. The ache of that nagging feeling that he was forgetting something, that he shouldn't let himself orgasm, was overshadowed by the primal urge to give in, to let go, to spill and plant his seed deep inside the otter's body. Just a few moments longer and the pleasure would overwhelm him.

But why was he feeling so uneasy despite the supremely sexy situation?

He drew a deep breath as his climax hit him, the otter's warm ass finally bringing him over the edge. His cock throbbed, and then, he...

...he was laying on the shower floor, extremely hard to the point his belly was probably more soaked with precum than clean water, teetering just on the edge of orgasm. He ached for release, particularly with the thrusting sensation in his ass. And that pressure was just building and building, like a canine trying to pop his knot inside him, struggling despite how relaxed his hole felt.

Then he finally remembered what exactly was happening. He clenched down as hard as he could to stop that strange egg from being deposited into his body, and succeeded in stopping it, at least for the moment. Falling asleep had apparently cleansed those strange paralytic toxins from his muscles. He was so close to actually cumming though - the dream had left his cock and balls heavy and swollen, ready to burst with sticky ropes of seed at any stimulation - that it was hard to focus on anything. In fact, he begun to imagine that disgusting egg, about the size of a kiwi, pressing over his prostate as it was stuffed inside him. How good it'd feel to just give in. To let the creatures use his body him as their broodmare. And he was tempted to just let it happen, to let himself get filled with their slimy eggs, and trade his average life for perpetual erotic bliss and being treated like royalty. All he had to do was relax his ass and the first one would slip right inside him, deposited god knows where deep inside his body. There was a fair bit of fear mixed in with the arousal, because he didn't know if he could trust the nightmare or not. He didn't even know why he was seriously considering any of it to begin with. But it did feel good. Too good.

"Let us breed you," a gurgling voice oozed from seemingly both Leo's head as well as the drain beneath him, echoing as if his bathroom was much more spacious than it really was.

"Let us pleasure you," it continued. Another tentacle whipped out, violently tearing out the drain cover and part of the tiling surrounding it. It hit the wall, more tiles cracking under its immense strength. And yet, as it oriented itself, sniffing out the bound ferret, it was surprisingly gentle, even soft. Yet it wrapped itself around his bare neck and squeezed; not as roughly as before, but hard enough to begin to choke the otter. Maybe this was just how they showed affection, Leo found himself thinking, his thoughts moving on their own as he struggled to breathe. It didn't seem to want to harm him - and he knew that it couldn't, if it wanted him as a host for its eggs - but nonetheless it coiled harder and harder around his neck, squeezing. And the worst part about it all was that it was bringing him dangerously close to climax, the slow asphyxiation somehow enhancing the pleasure even further. He felt himself throb, the wet splatter of heated precum into his fur, a growing ecstatic ache in his loins, and just as he began to fade, no matter how hard he tried to fight it, he lost the struggle.

He erupted in a series of massive spurts of his warm, thick musteline cum, spraying over his chest and belly. He gurgled with joy at the pleasurable spasms shooting through his body, feeling like every single muscle in his body was singing with ecstasy even as he approached the point of passing out. As his release gripped him, he clenched around the tentacle, and then relaxed, unable to do anything else, and with a wet squelch and a sense of immense pressure pushing into him, the first egg slipped in, and the tentacle around his throat relaxed its squeeze. He could finally breathe again, but his orgasm left him limp, and he had no more energy to fight. Instead, he shuddered with aftershocks of his climax as the first of the eggs bumped over his prostate, a few drops of cum drooling from his wilting cock. And then, another pushed through his loose pucker, deposited into his guts with a splatter of warm fluids from the very tip of the tentacle, somewhere deep inside. Somewhere it could hatch, and be born as Leo's own offspring.

The slime it was pumping into him must've been heavy with hormones, if not outright toxins, because it made him feel even more relaxed, warm, and fuzzy. Another egg was left inside him, and he barely felt it. He laid there in the shower, letting the creature finish filling with its eggs, like a proper jill. He felt almost motherly after perhaps half a dozen eggs were finally inside the warm confines of his body, and the tentacle withdrew with another spray of its strange slime, leaving him gaping. He cradled his belly, the eggs big enough leave it somewhat swollen. It felt oddly right, and he instinctively felt protective of his nightmarish offspring, _wanting_it to grow within him. It might've been parasitical right then and there, but when it was born it'd be just as much his as it'd be the nightmare's.

Somewhere inside his broken, subdued mind, his reason was screaming at him to go see a doctor, but the part that was in control told him to enjoy this. He'd finally be able to sleep, and then his kits could breed him again. More eggs, more babies. He wondered what they'd look like. Shadowy ferrets, perhaps, with squirming, sexy tentacles. Just wonderful, he was sure.

And then he finally fell into a deep, deep, dreamless sleep, dwelling on those fantasies, and for the first time in ages, he slept soundly for a full eight hours. Whatever awaited him in the future would have to wait, he thought as he drifted off, covered in cum and gooey slime, listening to the plumbing whispering to him of a world of black goo, nocturnal terrors, and the ferret himself as the queen-king of it all, resting upon his throne of pleasure.