FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Tapeslugs - One Step Too Close To a Fleshnest

By Rix Writes

Curiosity is something that pretty much all cats have. For some, it can manifest in idle interest that leaves one's reason intact. For others it can lead to making some poor choices that the feline in question will end up regretting. In the case of a young lion named Fyacin, his thought processes when something intrigued him had often found him in a great deal of trouble. As he'd reached his mid-twenties, he'd come to realize that he rather enjoyed the predicaments he'd fallen into in the past. Sure, some of them had been uncomfortable, or even unpleasant. One had been particularly humiliating but intensely pleasurable. It had come to the point that he'd begun to seek out such experiences, always trusting that something would get him out of it in the end. As such, it was only a matter of time before he got himself into a situation he wouldn't be able to get out of. There's a bit of irony in the fact that the day that he met his ultimate fate, he hadn't been looking for any kind of trouble at all.

Fyacin drew in a deep breath, taking in the fresh air an letting out a soft mewl of contentment. The last six months had been a gruelling slog in a stifling office doing mind-numbing data entry, six days a week for over ten hours of the planet's twenty hour day. The company he'd worked for had absorbed a local company that still worked with physical files, and his job had been to transfer all the tens of thousands of files to the company's internal quantum network. He'd tried to protest, to say that it wasn't in his job description, but his manager had sweetened the offer with two incentives he hadn't been able to pass up. A hefty bonus that nearly doubled his usual pay for the six months of the contract, and an offer of a month of paid leave afterwards. A month he was now taking advantage of by setting off with little more than a portable tent, a small replicator, his wrist terminal to warn him if he was going somewhere truly dangerous, and a desire to satisfy the wanderlust that had him exploring every chance he got.

He hadn't seen another soul for at least two days since leaving the hunting lodge. It had been a two hour shuttle ride to get to the lodge, a rustic old building made of real wood imported from the inner systems. They'd claimed that the building had been made from actual Earth oak, but there was no way to be sure. Regardless, it had been just what he'd been looking for. Nobody telling him what to do, no more buildings within sight, and best of all... no files.

As he made his way down the trail, he checked the map he'd been given. It wasn't a complicated or dangerous trail, listed on the lodge's 'Green' list meant for the less experienced hiker, but that didn't mean it was exactly easy to follow. By the time he'd been on the trail for a couple hours, his heart was beating rapidly, his feet ached, and he felt wonderful. As he crested a small rise, he took a moment to pause and take in the sight of the forest laid out before him. It was trees as far as the eye could see, with purples and yellows and the occasional flash of blue, the typical colours of the natural foliage on this particular planet. "Beautiful..." he murmured to himself.

He checked his wrist terminal to make sure one last time that there was nothing predatory in the local fauna, and then decided that the small flat clearing where he was made a good spot to put up camp. He slipped his wrist terminal off and set it on a flat rock nearby, then set it to take a picture of him. After a few moments a holographic display showed him the picture. "Weird without makeup," he said speculatively. "Nice though."

Gone were the eyeliner and mascara, and his deep orange-red mane had been gathered back into a short ponytail with no attempt at any styling. He grinned at the way his slender frame still lent an air of femininity despite being dressed in little more than a loose t-shirt and gym shorts. The fact that there was still an air of ambiguity to his gender even when he wasn't actively trying for it made that grin even wider.

A flash of pink and purple on a log behind him in the picture caught his attention. Stepping close to the display, he gestured at it to zoom in. His eyes widened when he identified the oddity in the picture. "Holy shit," he whispered. His heart started to beat rapidly in his chest at the same time that a thrill of excited curiosity washed through him. When he turned around to face the log, the flash of colour was still there.

The creature was about a foot and a half long, with a slightly rubbery hide of brilliant hues of purple and pink. It was a creature he recognized from his fantasies and a handful of videos he'd seen: A tapeslug. He quickly went back to his wrist terminal and slipped it on, then approached the slug carefully. "Where the hell did you come from, huh?" he half-whispered. There hadn't been any warnings about the parasitic creatures at the lodge, nor were they considered native to the planet. There were probably a couple slug farms, given how nutritious the things were and how they could be fed on just about any organics and even some plastics, but usually the farmers were incredibly careful that they didn't get loose. And yet, here was one just crawling along on a log not more than two metres away.

Fyacin felt his sheath filling out at the sight. The colour of the critter indicated that it was looking for someplace to lay its eggs. He'd seen a video once of a ewe being swarmed by them, crawling into her ass and vagina, even slipping down her throat, and she'd been left unable to stop them by the mild paralytic in their slime. All the while, she'd been bleating and gasping in pleasure. The sight of her taut belly moving, of the tail end of them disappearing into her, had been incredible. It had turned him on so much that every night for almost a month he'd pawed at himself watching it.

"It's just one..." he murmured to himself. There weren't any others in sight, and this could be an opportunity to feel just a smidgen of what the ewe had obviously been enjoying. Before he could consider what he was doing, he slipped his pack off. Soon after, he was slipping his hiking shoes off, followed by his shorts and his shirt, then drew a deep and steady breath. Despite seemingly being eyeless, the little critter seemed to sense him and had turned to face him.

As he moved close to the slug, he knew that if he gave it a place to lay eggs, he'd have to ride out the infestation. He thought the things were cute and mostly harmless, and if they were found out here there would be an outright hunt for them. It would mean weeks, if not months, of higher appetite, random erections and orgasms, an insatiable desire for semen (or rather, specific proteins in it), and every couple weeks having to deal with a bunch of them being 'born'. Not being entirely in control of himself or his body was part of the allure. There was something truly erotic about the idea of having some part of him taken over like that.

He drew a deep, steady breath. It was only one. He'd be able to handle the infestation, not going crazy with the desire. Sure, some of it would be inconvenient, but he had to see how it would feel. His cock jutted out of its sheath, a tiny bead of pre forming at the slit. With one last moment to think about what he was about to do, he sat on the log next to the slug.

The slug's reaction was almost immediate; with surprising speed, moving almost as fast as a snake, it slithered toward him and up onto his leg. "Holy crap... oh holy crap..." he whispered. He could feel the slime on its underbelly soaking into his fur and coming into contact with the skin beneath. A soft warm throbbing sensation spread from that point, growing more intense but not at all unpleasant as more soaked into his skin. The slug made a beeline for his cock, and in seconds it was wrapping itself around its length as it explored.

Fyacin let out a low, pleased yowl as he felt it slide over the sensitive flesh, flexing and squeezing. He tried to lift his arm so he could pry the slug off of his flesh and give it a place to crawl into, but found that his muscles wouldn't respond. "Sho... fashht..." he slurred, barely able to consciously form the words. The radiating pleasure was growing more intense as more of the brightly-coloured slug's glistening slime was absorbed into his skin.

The lion thought he would never be able to describe just how incredible it felt, feeling the body of the slug squeezing and gliding over his erect cock, making him absorb more and more of the chemical-laden slime with every passing second. To his surprise, his body wasn't actually paralyzed; it was more like the toxin, or chemical, or whatever it was in that slime was allowing instinctive things like balance and involuntary motion to function, while keeping him unable to control what his body was doing. As such, he felt his hips bucking up against nothing at all as the slug continued to explore.

He was only dimly aware of slipping off of the log to the soft, warm soil beside it. He watched the slug poking its head at his sheath. Another yowl spilled from him when it pushed its head in, stretching the skin uncomfortably. Still, it was an utterly unique sensation, having it poking and slithering itself around inside. After a few more moments, it withdrew its head and began to slither lower, past his sack and to his perineum. Oh god, it's really going to go in! Fyacin thought, eyes widening.

The moment the slug's head started prodding at the tight passage, lower half still wrapped around his cock, he let out a howl of ecstasy and his cock began to pulse and twitch, sending out long spurts of semen that spattered onto the ground. There was somehow much more than usual, and a tiny part of his mind wondered if his body had produced more than normal because of the slime. The warm, throbbing pleasure began to radiate from his rump as he felt the slug starting to pry him open so it could slip in.

Laying there with his back against the log, Fyacin panted, excited as he felt the body of the slug release his now-softening cock and press further into him. It was only a few moments though, before he realized something was wrong. There were two more of them now, wrapping around his legs. He felt something on his back, too, wrapping around his tailbase.

Between one second and the next, Fyacin's enjoyment turned to alarm as a crack formed in the dirt under his legs. He caught a glimpse of a glistening, pink passage of flesh lit by a soft glow somewhere far beneath. He realized then that the new 'slugs' were holding onto him from somewhere down the tight passage. The crack spread open even more, and he felt himself starting to fall into the passage. Left unable to do anything but watch with a horrified sort of fascination as he was drawn downward, Fyacin realized that his curiosity had finally gotten him into a situation he couldn't get out of.

The walls of the tube were tight but soft and slick, and the lion felt new things wrapping around his ankles as he was drawn further down, though the weight of his body was more than enough to have him sliding downward. He looked frantically around, but wasn't even able to make his head move, and there was nothing he could grab on to. A fleshnest. How in the hell had there been enough of the slugs to make a fleshnest?

Inch by inch, the helpless lion sank deeper into the tube, pulled along by the mass of tapeslugs that lived in and were part of the nest. As his view of the clearing faded and he sank into the wet, pink warmth he felt the sides of the tight passage stroke his spent cock, even as the tapeslug that lured him to this fate began to wriggle again, slipping deeper into him. Despite the fear that threatened to overwhelm the induced haze of pleasure, Fyacin knew that he would, at least, not have to worry about his safety. No, a fleshnest had much more interesting purposes for his body. Above Fyacin, the opening of the tube sealed itself and retracted. Soon the clearing was completely empty, with only an abandoned pack and partially set-up camp to show that anyone had been there.

The soft glow from beneath the lion grew brighter as he slipped deeper and deeper underground. He could feel the first tapeslug squirming inside him, wriggling deep and prodding places he'd never felt something moving before. He'd been ready for the uncomfortable months of the infestation of its eggs, but he certainly hadn't wanted a permanent part in one of their nests!

Suddenly, Fyacin felt his feet slip into a wider chamber. He'd heard of the fleshnests, but never truly known what happened in them. He'd been planning on a tour-trip of one of the slug farms to find out, but it seemed like he was about to get a much more intimate education on just what those chosen to become part of one.

Soon, his body dropped with a wet squelch into a small pod, the back wall of which was a pulsing mass of pink and purple flesh. The rest of the pod, though, was a nearly transparent film of skin through which he could see a huge chamber. There was a strange soft glow throughout the chamber, and he could see other pods there just like his. He focused on the nearest one, and felt his stomach churn in horrified disgust and fear. Inside that pod was a bobcat, her amber eyes glazed over and unseeing. Her wide hips were spread open wide, with her feet sunk into the fleshy back wall. Her arms were similarly pulled behind them and firmly stuck within the wall. Her belly was swollen beyond what should be physically possible, and Fyacin saw motion underneath the skin. Her muzzle had been enveloped by a purple extrusion from the top of her pod, presumably to keep her from drowning in the liquid that filled her pod. Her breasts were huge as well, and the nest had attached tentacles to those as well. As he watched, a fully-grown tapeslug slithered out from beneath her belly, but he had no idea if it had come from her rear or her vagina.

That's going to be me. I'm going to look just like that. Oh fuck the look in her eyes, Fyacin thought, a lump of dread forming in his stomach. There was something more though, something about the bobcat that teased at the back of his mind. In the next moment, it was as if his blood turned to ice. He recognized the bobcat! Back at the lodge, on the bulletin board, had been a missing poster for a girl named Sammie Eintuit. In the picture, she'd been smiling and vibrant, wearing pink arm warmers and an exercise outfit with watermelons printed on it. Fyacin remembered hoping that the people looking for her had found her, because the date she'd apparently gone missing had been over two years ago!

If Fyacin could have screamed, could have fought and beaten against the side of the pod, he would have, because that bobcat's presence told him all he needed to know about his hopes for rescue. He'd heard that there was a sort of collective intelligence to tapeslugs. They'd been known to hunt in packs, and some of their farmers had said they had to stay on their toes to keep them from getting out of their enclosures. If the bobcat hadn't been found in years, if the nest had that much of a collective intelligence that it had deliberately hidden itself from discovery for that long, there was not a chance in hell that he would be rescued either. Fyacin was never going to leave the fleshnest.

Despite himself, knowing that there was no hope of rescue, there was a morbid sort of excitement and curiosity that was rising in Fyacin. He imagined his belly swollen beyond what should be possible, the strange attachment covering his face. Tapeslugs darting in and out of him, a constant and unending cycle, a permanent source of nutrients for growing young with no release.

For a single moment, he felt hope when he remembered his wrist terminal, still attached to his arm, but he was deep enough underground that it would likely have difficulty connecting to the colony's local network, and they didn't last long submerged in liquid in any case. For a few moments, he tried to think of a way, any way that he could find a way out of his predicament, but it truly was far too late. There was a strange gurgling sound and a torrent of that glistening slime began to fall into the pod from above, soaking Fyacin and pooling at his feet, and he knew that the process of his integration into the nest was about to begin.

It was only when the slick fluid reached his knees that Fyacin realized that there were tapeslugs emerging from the rear wall of the pod. He whimpered as they began to wrap themselves around his legs. They seemed to be part of the nest itself, and began tugging his legs toward slit-like openings in the wall of the nest, positioned so that his knees were bent. He felt his feet slipping into those holes, enveloped in tightness and warmth. It feels like a woman's... oh god... All the while, he felt the one inside him start squirming around energetically. The motions of the creature and the increasing helplessness made his spent cock start to firm up again, the length jutting out from its sheath.

As new parts of the fleshnest grabbed his arms and lifted them up, guiding them to similar prisons of flesh, the lion wanted to be able to fight, to resist. Sure, he found things like what was happening fascinating, even sexy, but he'd admired them from afar. This went far beyond anything he'd ever wanted or even really desired. He wondered how he might have fought, had he not been affected by the substances in the slime. With his legs bent the way they were, his knees were free, but even that had been taken into account, for new tendrils of the nest wrapped around his thighs to hold them spread apart.

All around him, Fyacin could feel tapeslugs squirming and wriggling as the pod began to fill up with more of the slime, now fully past his belly. He gasped in surprise as one of them wrapped around his cock and then slipped back off. They were all exploring, prodding. He whimpered when he felt one find his tailhole and press in, spreading the tight ring of muscle effortlessly. His eyes focused on the bobcat in the other pod, and the thought of 'that's going to be me' came again. This time, knowing there really was no hope of rescue or release, he felt his cock ache.

How many times had he imagined this happening? Sure, it wasn't something that he'd ever choose to do, but now that it was inevitable, the captive lion knew that there was some part of him that had hoped for it. When a third slug started crowding against the second, whose body wasn't yet fully inside him, he groaned as it somehow managed to pry him even wider. He knew that inside him, the first one was laying its tiny eggs in his bowel, and soon even more would join it.

Before Fyacin could process it, there was something moving toward his muzzle, or rather multiple somethings connected to one large extrusion from the roof of the pod. Small tendrils slithered their way into his muzzle, the substance coating them tasting vaguely like a lemon candy. Whatever was on them made his mouth tingle with a spreading warmth. They prodded and teased all over, and a few seconds later a thicker tendril pressed at his lips. This one didn't explore, though, it simply slid to the back of his throat and beyond, the tapered, fleshy tip pressing downward.

Fyacin felt new alarm wash through him as his gag reflex was triggered, involuntary retching and gagging trying to dislodge the fleshnest's tentacle to no avail. Though he was aware that the nest needed him to stay alive, and would thus find a way to keep him supplied with air, his body didn't. It was with some measure of relief that he felt two of the smaller tendrils pressing into his nostrils. He'd expected that to hurt, but there was a worrisome sort of giddy happiness that was forcing its way into his mind, one that he knew he shouldn't be feeling. With unsettling wriggling sensations in a place he'd never thought to have something penetrating, they made their way through his sinuses and into the back of his throat, pressing in uncomfortably next to the one already there. None of them were very thick, but all together, they felt like they should be causing an agonizing ache.

Moments later, there was a searing pain in Fyacin's chest, and he felt his lungs being filled with air. He wanted to be afraid, he wanted to be able to scream and buck, but it didn't seem to matter to him as much anymore. There was no stopping it, so why even worry about it? There was a pulsing of the central tentacle in his throat, and a slight swelling before he felt heaviness in his stomach. The giddy pleasure that threatened to overwhelm his conscious thoughts only deepened when he felt the nest begin to feed him a thick substance laden with chemicals, hormones and full of nutrients that his body would need.

The squirming and pressing at the helpless lion's stretched tailhole lessened, and he knew that the second of then tapeslugs had passed into him. That helpless stretching was only briefly alleviated, for a fourth began to press in beside the third. Their squirming and pressing against his prostate brought little waves of pleasure that were amplified by whatever was in the air he was being forced to breathe and the heavy goop that was already beginning to make his stomach ache.

The thin slime that had begun to fill the pod had reached his neck when he felt something tight and slick begin to envelop his cock. Fyacin tried to moan or even gurgle, but he couldn't even make a sound as the delightful, lightly ribbed interior of something slid over his cock. The part of his mind that was trying to be alarmed, the same part that wanted to escape, to not spend the rest of his life in this monstrous fleshnest, was growing ever quieter. He wanted to buck, to hump against whatever was attached to his shaft, a thing that began to rhythmically massage his shaft. Even the ache of his spread tailhole was diminishing to be replaced with waves of near-orgasmic pleasure that radiated from his loins.

It was hard to remember the fear he'd felt on falling into his pod, and even harder to remember why he'd been so afraid. When he felt two thin tendrils sliding into his ears, a bit of that fear returned, but they seemingly only went in deep enough to plug them. What he didn't see were the dozen incredibly thin tendrils that sprouted from each. The ache as they sunk into skin and flesh while seeking a pathway to the brain was muted by the increasing stimulation of his cock, but even if he had known what they were doing, he wouldn't need to worry about them for long.

Just as the pod was filled completely with the thin slime, the invasive tendrils found their pathway, the muting of sound coming more from the puncturing of his eardrums than the liquid covering over his head. The last thing he saw before the liquid covered his eyes was the bobcat bucking and squirming as she began to birth two fully grown tapeslugs. The blank and glassy look in her eyes shifted to a different, familiar expression, one that Fyacin had seen on many a lover in his life. It was the look of utter, astonished bliss that comes from a powerful orgasm.

Fyacin wanted more than anything to whimper or moan, was desperate to be able to buck and squirm. How many eggs were the things laying in his bowel? He hoped that he could have as many as the nest would give him. He'd be a good breeder for the nest, a good incubator. He felt a growing pressure in his loins at the thought, and the more he thought about it, the more his pleasure grew. It was only after a few moments of unthinking bliss that he realized that he was being made to feel and think those things. He knew full well he should feel violated and scared that the nest had started to directly affect this thoughts and emotions, but he simply didn't feel that way anymore. I'm going to be like this forever, the nest keeping me until there's nothing left. At those deliberate words, spoken in his mind, he gurgled helplessly as an unexpected climax washed through him with dizzying suddenness.

For a half minute that seemed to stretch out into an eternity, Fyacin felt his cock spurting into the waiting tentacle, his seed greedily gobbled up by the nest. Soon he'd be inured to the relaxant that had left him unable to move, but by then the nest would have claimed his mind. Then he could thrash and buck all he wanted while he happily served the fleshnest. He could just enjoy this (sudden pleasure nearing orgasm) until he was eventually rescued (sudden deep sense of abandonment, shame and regret).

Those negative feelings were enough to make tears form in his eyes. He'd never before felt that sort of emotion, and he wanted to avoid it as much as possible. But just to test it, knowing that while the nest seemingly couldn't completely control his conscious thought, only send suggestions, he formed the words in his mind. I'm going to get out of here and destroy this nest. Almost immediately, the lion was 'rewarded' with a crushing sense of utter and complete despair, shame and fear.

After composing himself, aware that the emotions didn't come directly from him, he thought I want hundreds of eggs, I want to be the best incubator the nest has ever had. Predictably, he was given nearly overwhelming waves of joy and a sense of belonging and safety. Fyacin knew what he wanted, and in that single moment, he surrendered himself to the nest, allowing himself to only think about how good everything felt, how the feeling of a slug pressing out of his rump, having laid eggs in his bowel, was a sign that he was where he needed to be. In that moment, the lion lost all sense of time, and he became one with his nest.