A Slippery Revenge part 3 (Twisted Tug-of-War)

Natalie blinked against the dim, pulsing glow of the cocoon's inner walls, her body still humming from the endless violations of the past two weeks. The tentacles that had held her suspended from the ceiling finally released their grip, but not in mercy—instead, they sucked her downward onto a series of strange, bulbous protrusions that emerged from the fleshy floor like perverse docking stations. Her bare skin, slick with dried remnants of milk and semen from yesterday's ordeal, pressed against the warm, yielding bulges. One settled firmly against her ass, another teasing her pussy, and a third nudged at her mouth, but for now, they just held her in place, back-to-back with Emily.

Emily's breath came in ragged bursts behind her, their naked forms aligned so closely that Natalie could feel the heat radiating from her rival's swollen belly and engorged tits. Tentacles snaked out immediately, wrapping around their torsos like living ropes, cinching tight just below their heaving breasts. More coils bound their arms to their sides and their legs together at the thighs and ankles, immobilizing them in a upright, pressed-together stance. At least their mouths were free this time—after yesterday's devastating pump of thick, endless loads down their throats until they retched it all up, the creature seemed to have learned something about limits. Or maybe it just wanted to hear them scream.

"What the fuck is this now?" Natalie muttered, her voice hoarse from disuse, twisting her head as much as the bindings allowed to glance over her shoulder. The bulges beneath them pulsed rhythmically, vibrating against their holes without penetrating yet.

Emily let out a weak chuckle, her body trembling against Natalie's back. "It's playing games again. Remember how it started with that stock setup last week? Locked us in those pillory things and just... pumped us full until we couldn't think straight? This is tug-of-war. The monster's programmed for it—opponents compete in sphincter strength and thrusting power. When the tentacle wriggles in, you squeeze it down. The one who holds weaker gets punished, and it favors the winner in the next round. If it starts pushing forward into your guts, you thrust back hard to shove it out."

Natalie snorted, her mind flashing to the petty revenge that had landed them here—Emily's "gift" of that slime-filled test tube, the creature bursting out and devouring her apartment before dragging them both underground into this hellish cocoon. "You're a fucking bitch, why'd you even invent this thing? If it wasn't for your twisted imagination, we wouldn't be shackled like this, covered in your cum-vomit revenge fantasy."

Emily's laugh was ironic, edged with strain as the first tentacle began to probe at their asses, slick with some internal lubricant. "Hey, that's just my imagination running wild. But get this—it's programmed to keep us going for five to twenty years, conservative estimate. We've been here two weeks already, so yeah, irreversible shit incoming."

"That why our stomachs are bloated like we're pregnant with alien dick, and our tits have ballooned out like udders? Our pussies, asses, even urethras raped raw a dozen times a day—not deformation enough for you?" Natalie shot back, gritting her teeth as the tentacle at her anus thickened, pressing insistently.

Emily hissed, starting to clench her jaw, moans slipping out. "A comPLEEEte traaansformation reQUIres tiiime and reAH AH sources... fuck, it's starting."

The tentacles plunged in without warning, thick and ridged, stretching their assholes wide as they burrowed a few inches into their rectums. Natalie gasped, her body arching against Emily's, the back-to-back contact making every twitch shared. The intrusion burned at first, then settled into a full, invasive pressure that made her sphincter spasm instinctively. "Shit, it's thick... okay, squeeze, right? Don't let it win."

Round one kicked off with a wriggle—a deliberate, teasing undulation inside them, like a snake trying to burrow deeper. Natalie bore down hard, her ass cheeks clenching as she focused every muscle on gripping the invader. The tickle of it against her inner walls was maddening, sending sparks up her spine that mixed pain with an unwelcome throb in her clit. Emily whimpered behind her, their bound bodies rubbing sweat-slick skin together, nipples hardening from the friction.

But Emily faltered first. The tentacle in her ass fragmented suddenly, dissolving into a swarm of smaller, hair-thin tendrils that tickled and teased her sensitive ring, fluttering against the stretched flesh. "Oh god, no—it's splitting, tickling my fucking hole!" Emily bucked, her laughter turning to desperate moans as the tiny ones danced inside, probing nerves Natalie could feel echoing through their pressed forms.

Natalie clenched tighter, her own tentacle starting to mimic the trick, but she held firm, sweat beading on her forehead. "Fight it, you idiot—squeeze!" The smaller tentacles in her ass writhed, brushing her prostate-like spots, making her pussy drip despite the horror. But she won the round, the main tendril in Emily's ass surging forward as punishment, inching deeper into her intestines while Natalie's held steady.

"Ha... I got you," Natalie panted, a grim satisfaction cutting through the ache.

Round two ramped up. The tentacles reformed, thicker now, penetrating deeper into their guts—past the bend, coiling like hoses filling them from the inside. The pressure built, a bloating fullness that made their bellies swell further against the torso bindings. "Push it out—thrust!" Emily gasped, her voice muffled by the effort, hips jerking futilely against Natalie's ass.

Natalie concentrated, bearing down with all her strength, feeling the tentacle slide back a fraction as her sphincter pulsed. It was like shitting in reverse, every contraction sending a jolt of humiliated pleasure through her core. Emily's efforts weakened, the tentacle in her winning ground, slithering another inch while hers retreated. Their moans mingled, raw and animalistic, bodies grinding back-to-back in the shared torment.

By round three, the tickling returned, worse than before. The tentacles splintered again into dozens of fine, vibrating filaments that teased their inner walls, flicking at raw spots and making their holes quiver uncontrollably. Natalie's thighs trembled, slick with her own arousal leaking down, but she locked her muscles, ignoring the urge to laugh and squirm. Emily broke, her body convulsing as the tickles overwhelmed her. "Fuck, I can't—it's in my guts, tickling everything!" The penalty tentacle dove deeper, punishing her with a relentless push while Natalie's held the line.

Rounds blurred into a grueling marathon—four, five, six. Deeper penetrations alternated with tickling assaults, the tentacles pumping in and out in teasing rhythms, forcing them to contract and thrust in a perverse anal workout. Sweat poured off them, mixing with the slick ooze from their stretched holes. Natalie's ass burned, raw and gaping slightly between rounds, but she outlasted Emily each time, her sphincter stronger from sheer spite. Emily's cries grew hoarser, her body slumping against Natalie's back, the punishment tentacles coiling further into her bowels, bloating her stomach obscenely.

Finally, after what felt like hours of clenching agony and forced ecstasy—orgasms ripping through them from the prostate stimulation alone—Natalie emerged victorious. The tentacles in her ass withdrew abruptly, like expelling a massive, knotted turd, the ridged length sliding out in a rush that left her sphincter gaping and twitching. Relief flooded her, an incredible, shuddering emptiness after days of constant filling. She gasped, nearly collapsing in the bindings, her pussy clenching on nothing as aftershocks made her squirt a thin stream down her thighs. "Holy shit... I feel like I just pooped the biggest load of my life. Fuck, that was... relieving."

As reward, the tentacles loosened their grip on Natalie. For the first time in two weeks, her arms and legs were free, the coils retracting with wet slurps. She staggered to her feet, legs shaky, her deformed body—belly rounded and heavy, breasts swollen to twice their size, leaking faint milk—protesting every movement. But god, it felt good to stand, to stretch, to walk the few paces around the cocoon's pulsating chamber. The air was thick with the scent of sex and fluids, but freedom, even this limited version, was intoxicating.

Her gaze fell on Emily, still bound back-to-back where she'd been left, tentacles now swarming her in punishment. "Emily," Natalie said, circling to face her. The other woman's eyes were wide, pleading, as thick plugs sealed every orifice: a girthy one in her pussy, pulsing with internal pumps; another in her ass, deeper than ever; a thin tube in her urethra, trickling irritants; her mouth gagged with a bulging tentacle that forced her to swallow convulsively; even her nipples, pierced by needle-thin invaders that suckled and injected. Fluids poured in relentlessly—creamy semen analogs, nutrient slimes, all bloating her further without release.

Natalie smirked, the memory of Emily's laughter while she vomited up loads of cum two days ago fueling her indifference. Tubes descended from the cocoon's ceiling for Natalie, dripping with collected milk—harvested from their own swollen tits over the weeks—and sweet, fruity liquids that tasted like mango and berry mixed with something synthetic. She grabbed one, sucking greedily, the cool sweetness washing away the bitterness in her mouth. Another tube offered a sample from Emily's gag, thick white spurting out. Natalie dipped a finger in, tasting. "Ugh, what rubbish. They feed us worse than dog food here. Kinda feel sorry for you, Emily, but not enough to forgive your ass for getting us trapped."

Emily tried to retort, her cheeks bulging around the gag, words garbled into wet mumbles. More fluid gushed in, forcing her to swallow or choke, her throat working visibly. Displeasure burned in her eyes, but Natalie just turned away, exploring her brief liberty.

She wandered the chamber's edges, the fleshy walls undulating softly, remnants of their past torments visible in dried stains. The creature had evolved, feeding on their reactions, their shared history of revenge turning into this endless game. Natalie flexed her fingers, tracing her bloated belly, feeling the faint kicks of whatever the pumps had done inside her. It was fucked up, but after winning, a strange calm settled.

Hours ticked by in the cocoon's timeless void. Emily's punishment dragged on, her body jerking with each influx, muffled moans echoing as the plugs pumped her full—anal stretches, pussy gapes, forced swallows of thick, salty loads that made her belly distend like a balloon. Natalie ignored it, sipping from the tubes, even dipping into a stock of preserved fluids that tasted like honeyed cum, her body craving the calories after the exertion.

By the twelfth hour, Emily was a wreck, fluids leaking from overstretched seals, her eyes glassy from the overload. The tentacles finally retracted from her, leaving her slumped and leaking, but Natalie barely noticed. The creature, as if sensing her exhaustion, shifted. A cluster of appendages formed a makeshift bed from the cocoon's softer inner lining—cushioned, warm, almost inviting. Headphones dangled from a tendril, playing faint, soothing pulses that drowned out Emily's whimpers. Glossy magazines materialized, pages filled with explicit spreads: women in bondage, asses plugged and pumping, group scenes of tentacles and flesh entwined.

Natalie sank into the bed, legs spreading naturally, her hand drifting to her still-sensitive pussy. The creature had evolved enough to read desires, granting her carte blanche. She flipped through the mags, the images stirring her despite everything—detailed shots of anal creampies, squirting orgasms, throats bulging with swallows. Slipping on the headphones, the vibrations synced to her touch, building her toward a slow, solo climax.

For the next half day, Natalie relaxed in delirious delight, fingers working her clit while tentacles occasionally brushed her skin in gentle massages, offering more sweet feeds. Emily's faint protests faded into the background, the winner's perch a twisted paradise. Who knew revenge could end with such a witty twist— the monster, in trying to break them, had accidentally given Natalie the upper hand, turning torment into her private spa of filth and release.