Cursed bed
Okay, I was younger when I wrote this. >_>
It's not perfect... but at least I wrote it.
This story contains non-consensual stuff performed by furniture :3
He didn't know the bed was cursed when he brought it home from the furniture store... though he should have. The store clerk he bought it from was the mysterious, shadowy type, and for a week after using it, he'd woken up with the matress wet with semen. The dreams he'd had using the bed were extremely erogonous ones.
He discarded it as a problem with puberty... his mistake.
On the sixth day, he was quite wary about going to bed that night. It was giving off a musky smell, and the wood on the tall posters seemed to give at his touch... or was that just his imagination? He couldn't stay awake all night, though. He eventually had to get under the covers once more. They seemed a bit heavier than usual, like the bed was hugging him.
Once again he awoke with quite the stiffy. With an annoyed grunt, he reached down to take care of his morning wood. Or at least he tried. His body wouldn't pay attention to the commands he was giving it.
He thought it was just the paralyzing amenos that the body secretes in sleep hadn't worn off yet. After a few more tries, he found he couldn't move anything below his neck whatsoever, except his fingers and toes... his vocal cords still worked, but just barely.
He tried desparately to move. He felt like he was going to die, his erection still not going down from the dream. It was spurred on by a strong scent. He felt something drip on his face.
Swivelling his eyes upward he saw that the bedposts... had turned into four giant phalluses. They were real, too... dripping preseed and giving off a warm musky scent that drove him wild. They towered imposingly over him, pulsing along with a disembodied heartbeat.
Stranger still was the pillow he couldn't lift his head from. It was a giant, undulating scrotum! Its scent was stronger than the one from the posts that were still dripping their copious amounts of pre on him. Even the mattress he lay on seemed to be fleshy and warm, its pulse matching the rest of the bed.
He grit his teeth as the untended pleasure in his member suddenly began rising, as if he were being stimulated from the inside. He gave a moan. Despite his odd situation, it felt good. He murred, being reminded that he couldn't move when he tried to thrust into the blanket.
The "pillow" began undulating as his pleasure continued to ascend. It seemed to swell and envelope his immobile head a bit, giving him a stronger nosefull of spunk. The cocks being the bedposts began to swell further as well, dripping more and more pre on him. The cocks apparently included knots, for as his own began to expand, the bed began to rise off the ground a bit like something under the four posters was growing.
He moaned louder still as his phantom stimulation brought him to what was usually the peak for him... it just rose right past that and kept going, making him give a tiny yelp and grip the sheets. The whole bed beat with the pulse of his own heart.
He felt the seed begin to rise from the depths of his member as he hit an even stronger orgasm than the strongest he'd ever had. The pillow began to undulate quickly, throbbing as the testicles inside did thier job. The four cock-posters flared suddenly, tensing up... all at once they started pumping, shooting thier seed at the ceiling at the same time he did his blanket.
He would have howled in pleasure had he been able. He whimpered in joy instead, as it was his only other option. It was so odd... because it seemed like pure stimulation. No friction felt like it had been applied to his throbbing foxcock.
The orgasm got to its highest peak... his bed was quite wet by now. He could see a wet spot in between his legs.
It seemed to not care about peaks... he kept pumping his seed, along with the bed. He whimpered. "~whiiiiine~" quite pitifully... a puddle began to form on the ground... yet it still came shooting out of his cock. He couldn't move, else he would have been thrashing around.
He could hear the seed actually glugging out and pouring onto the floor. He whimpered and pressed his face into the pillow, which seemed to expand and accept his head a bit.
It had been five minutes and he still couldn't stop, try as he might. He was beginning to get scared, though the pleasure he was feeling was slowly overriding that...
It had been five hours! He could only claw at the blanket and whine.... there wasn't a single dry spot left on his blanket, and his pants and underwear were completely ruined. The whole floor was covered in his seed. The bed had stopped pumping its own spunk a while ago, but he couldn't shut down the flow.
Three days later he was -still- in this situation. The bed hadn't released him, and the pillow had expanded so far he couldn't see past it, lacking the ability to turn his head even though he felt he had plenty of energy to move his neck. He was wondering if he'd ever be let go.
Meanwhile, back in reality, the fox's kidnappers was watching his sleeping body. "So... how long have we kept him here?" Asked one of the grunts, a bull with several genital peircings.
"Just five minutes... he's already creamed his pants. Heh... that drip must work quite well. I hear the dreams that you get are strange."
"How long do you think he's experienced in his dream world, boss?"
"By now? Heh, for him, a month."
"And we're keeping him here a whole year?"
"The experiment won't work unless we do. Hehe, sleep tight, foxy." He stroked their sleeping captive's face. "Sleep tight."
Umm.. the end. :3