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Slug Orgy

College co-ed has otherworldly, taboo sexual encounter on a dark, sultry night in the middle of Tokyo...

By Made in DNAPublished 3 years ago 22 min read
3

It was my freshman year at university; around late August. The night air under a moonlit sky had that heavy, intoxicating smell of festivals, high spirits and the onset of fall. Officially the obon season was finished and school activities were in full-swing once again, yet there was a pervasive recklessness that would not allow itself to be contained–as if our ancestors were still drunk from all the sake offerings left at family alters and gravesides.

Being a weeknight, I was on my way back to the university off-campus dorm from my tutoring job, dressed in skirt and light blouse reminiscent of my high school uniform. Only four months into the school year, I guess I hadn't completely overcome the daily routine of dressing in blouse and skirt for the previous six years. I had even gone as far as rolling the waist up into several folds so that the hem teased my slender, fair thighs.

I walked through the dead of the business district to a large park, where on the opposite side, I would catch a bus to the dorms. While the district around me was quiet, the interior of the park was still quieter. I often enjoyed my silent walks through it despite my mother's worry-wart warnings of perverts. It was true that there had been an incident or two every year, but volunteer neighborhood patrols had reportedly brought incident numbers down. I was hardly concerned.

With nearly thirty minutes before my bus, I walked along one of the many whimsically-winding, narrow, concrete paths through the tree-laden park. Despite the heavy presence of their sprawling limbs, the moonlight through the branches was as bright as any of the scarce lamps along the path. It created a very stirring effect for lovers, who did on occasion take advantage of it.

The entrance to the park well behind me, streets and tall buildings around me obscured, I spied, some meters ahead, a shimmering stream of reflective silver. It lay across the path–with a width almost that of the path itself–and disappeared into the tall, unkempt grass hemming the trees on the other side.

Curious, I stepped closer to inspect it. Two steps, three; still, I could not make it out. The shimmering, which I could see now was an effect, distorted something almost intangible below. Four, five, six–I felt like a little girl playing hopscotch, my steps becoming great bounds. Until... a great gust blew through the park forcing me to close tight my eyes and hold down the front of my skirt; a feat not easily accomplished as it whipped through the trees, tickling my thighs and firm buttocks from behind with a devilish caress for what seemed several minutes. Very usual for this part of the city as the park was boxed in by towering corporations.

When it had finally passed, I dusted myself off, stopped at the edge of the stream–the tips of my sneakers dipping into the waters–and squat down to examine it. Behind my fashion glasses, my eyes widened and an amazed gasp softly escaped my full lips: slugs! Hundreds, no, thousands! of slugs sliming their way across the park path. Where on earth had so many come from? And where were they all going? Were slugs migratory, and did they always migrate in such numbers? I did not know and, honestly, I did not care... I was fascinated none the less.

To say that I had never been a fan of any kind of creepy-crawly in my life was an understatement. By all normal accounts, I should have leapt up right then and there and screamed bloodcurdling epitaphs. But I did not. No. I wanted those slugs. Wanted? Yes... wanted.

How very odd that I should think so. But there... the thought had taken shape in my mind, as if conjured not by myself. Yet, it seemed so natural, and I felt I had no cause for alarm.

I was simply quite satisfied to be engaged by the stream of gastropods. So much that, in fact, I straddled that stream and reached out to touch the wriggling little creatures in their struggle to cross what must have been a vast expanse of cement lifelessness for them.

Their epidermis was transparent and thick with the slick excretion that enabled both their protection and mode of transportation. I did not see the silver-metal reflective touch that had drawn me to them initially. Rather, as I was now blocking the light of the moon above, I could see within them bizarre skeins of red, blue, and green. I held my breath in excited fear, as if the sound of my breathing might frighten them away. I was completely entranced. I knew it, and I cared not.

As they wriggled under my poised fingertips, they gave off a delightful warmth. I swept my hand over them again and again each time with a desperate desire to feel more of them with more of my own flesh.

Pressing my hands down upon them flat to the cement, a shudder ran through my spine as they squished and popped under my weight. I grabbed a handful and the goo ejected from between my long fingers like dollops of gel. Undeterred, more slugs took the place of their mashed comrades as the silver river continued its mad race to a place unknown.

Under me, despite the loss of direct moonlight, their glow returned and strengthened a hundred-fold until they illuminated all, from the sweet flesh of my thighs up to the curves of my vulva–which had become swollen and now pressed urgently against the light cotton panties I wore. The heated curves of the entrance to my pussy begged to be free, their outline clear in the silvery glow.

Confusion as to why I would be so turned on, only heightened the pleasure of it.

Slamming my hands down again, I squashed more and more slugs, pounding against the ground like a petulant child who knows she cannot have her way. In response, the illumination intensified and a heat rose up out of them.

My head began to spin as the heat consumed me. I closed my eyes and raised my head slightly to soak it in. The heat rippled up my legs to my thighs and finally to my pussy where it redoubled. Sexually agitated and dizzy, I fell back onto my firm ass splattering more slugs, staining and wetting my buttocks in a creamy flow. I wriggled my ass in quick, short bursts that made me laugh.

When I could stand it no longer, I reached down with my slime-drenched hand to masturbate myself to oblivion. It was then that I discovered the truth of the intense heat and pleasure. The slugs had made their way up the whole of my lower body; wriggling and sliming over me as if I were part of the natural course of their path.

My hand plunged into the tote bag I used to carry my tutoring supplies and pulled out a pair of scissors. Pulling the crotch outward until the fabric strained, I slashed my panties, shredding them along with several more slugs which popped over my hands and face. The slugs swarmed over my pussy in the moments after, and began working a magic that was indescribably orgasmic.

I surrendered myself, no longer concerned with anything more than the heat of the moment. Leaning back, I placed my arms behind me, my hands deep in slugs, and exposed my slender throat to the moonlight above to enjoy their lecherous intentions.

My breathing increased, becoming a frenzied panic on the edge of destroying my sanity when the silvery outline the size of a very large dog began to take form in the trees in front of me. I watched from half-opened eyes as my very breath strengthened its form with each desperate pant until it was as solid as the oaks behind it.

The slugs had incensed my engorged, pink clitoris to an insensitive level from which there was neither relief of orgasm or anticlimax of falter. Quite literally my hips and abdomen quivered in a permanently agitated state. I do not know if I could have broken free from that state even if I had had the power, as I would have happily spent eternity in pre-orgasm limbo.

But my fate was not to be such as the form slithered out of the darkness and over the river of its children–the god of slugs. This knowledge came to me via the orgasmic rhythm channeling through my body, which connected me to a non-space beyond dimension, a realm of gods and devils, ghosts, goblins and saviors. By straddling the river, I had crossed a boundary that humans are not allowed to do so without consequence. Such were the things that the slug-god whispered in my mind along with sweet desires, ideas and understandings.

But I was beyond caring, and I resisted not as the mollusk slimed up my body, its weight heavy, yet not impeding or unpleasant. It was a weight that spoke of both ability and intention. I blushed with the recognition of our intertwined desires.

The buttons on my blouse burst and my bra too was negated from the equation as if it had never existed. The slug-god's heat raced up my torso and lit fires in my petite breasts, to which my nipples flared like beacons to ships lost on the sea of lust. Bullet hard, they became the slug-god's toys as it reached out with tentacle extensions of its body to play with them. It tweaked, twisted and pulled at their dark brown forms, sometimes gently, sometimes in crude carelessness until I thought it would tear one from me. But no matter how frightening, the pain that shocked my system was pure aphrodisiac. I grunted and panted in throaty exhalations.

The beast finished mounting me, and slithered a tentacle into my mouth and another under my head to cradle it against the rough of the path. My tongue teased the tip of the tentacle, the slime a sweet honeyed spice that I swallowed with relish until it began to flow with such volume that I could not ingest it fast enough. To top it off, the tentacle pressed inward, down passed my uvula and into my throat proper invoking my natural gag reflexes. I began to choke and cough. Panic filled me as my windpipe was closed off. My body struggled beneath the form of the slug-god yet, in lieu of abating, the tentacle disgorged a spectacular amount of slime until it filled my lungs.

Fear struck, and my instincts kicked in as I forced myself to try and take a deep breath. A calm filled me as I found I was able to breathe with the ease of the wind through the trees.

Relaxing into the warmth of the god engulfing my body, the trees and the park dissipated. The universe opened like a carnation until I floated down into the brilliance of the center and the vibrant leaves of each end of the universe folded upon me.

The slug-god slipped the lower half of itself under my firm buttocks and buzzed with a cicada-like rhythm that kneaded them with expert attention. A tingle spread through the lower half of my body, from my abdomen to my toes, and deep into my womb where it resonated with primal instinct. My pussy ached and quivered as it lubed itself–waves of desire secreting from my vaginal walls, flowing outward, thickly coating every inch of my love canal.

My mouth full, I could neither voice my pleasure nor eschew a scream if I had needed. The slug-god held complete power over me. Had it wanted to destroy me, I could not have resisted. I would have happily suffered any fate under it. So I rode the wave of slime which poured over and in me, filling my mouth until it overflowed and dripped off my cheeks where it spit and sizzled like cold water splattered on a hot surface as it hit the cement.

Then, finally, nay, expectantly, it favored me with a hot, firm tentacle that shot straight into my aching pussy with a controlled force no man could dream of. My body convulsed tautly upward like the bows I practiced with in archery club at university. A muffled mewling was all I could manage. Tears of ecstasy mingled with the rhythm of its rock-hard, pulsating member. We synchronized; slipped in and out of time and that non-space until I was integrated into the silver aura which was realm to that which humans cannot understand.

It pulsed inward, rushing to cram full my deepest crevices and then magnified its girth to accentuate the titillation of the trillions of microscopic cilia that tickled the walls of my pussy.

My back continued to arch upward, until I thought it would snap cruelly, leaving me broken.

I exploded with the energy of a thousand suns…

...and would have fainted from the sensation, if not for slug-god's channeled energy through the gel-slime it excreted into my mouth and lungs. It undulated ocean-like over me, fornicating with both my body and mind. It's orgasm followed mine, shooting its load deep inside me. The resulting shockwave of its wad bombarding my womb, sent me into reciprocal clutchgasms.

Somewhere in that tangible ecstasy, consciousness was lost to me.

I awoke cradled in deep, soft grass just the other side of the light woods off the path where I had discovered the river of slugs. There was no testament to the existence of the god or its children save for a faint silver glow along the path. It faded dreamlike into the ether of time.

It was dark and very late. I remembered my bus and panic-stricken, wiped my dripping pussy with a pack of pocket tissues, removed and stuffed my scissored panties away into my bag, and straightened my clothes as best as possible.

An anxious glance at my watch revealed the time. Relief washed over me as I realized I still had six minutes to make the last bus, I started off toward the stop with all due haste.

If that had been the end of my sexploitatious adventure, perhaps I would have never chronicled it, relegating it to the tricks gods play. But I hadn't made it very far when an elated squeal pierced the cooling night air. Instinctively I slipped behind the great truck of a tree that dared to disturb the flow of the path.

Human voices. Peeking out from behind cover, I spied a couple just barely visible in the shadows speaking in hushed, excited tones. The man leaned over his sitting paramour, his hand visibly stroking her knee. I smiled at myself feeling silly and relieved, and began to plot a way through the park so that I might not disturb their enjoyment of the evening.

I was unable to take more than a step when the woman gasp-moaned. The desire in her voice sent a trance-inducing shockwave through me; an overwhelming urge to watch them overcame me. Turning back toward their forms, I strained my eyes, bringing their silhouettes into focus against the remaining moonlight. The man leaned over his woman, his hand sliding lasciviously up her dress. She murmured a half-hearted admonishment decidedly meant to encourage his lecherous behavior.

Her legs parted slightly and his hand reached its destination. She moaned... long, throaty, and lustful. It washed over me with the force of an ocean tide. I felt myself drowning in it, simultaneously wishing to let myself fall back into it and pull myself ashore before it engulfed me.

Gotta go... I knew that if I did not leave now, I would not make the last bus–if it was not already too late. A voice in the back of my mind bade me to let it go. None the less, I tried to stand, but my legs would not cooperate, and before I could pour anymore strengthen into my effort, a phantorgasm clutched my groin. The implosion immobilized and weakened me. Deep within my young body, an ache built once more as I watched the couple work themselves into a slow, yet impassioned liaison. Hands, lips, and tongues mingled in desire.

Each moan, giggle and lascivious plea worked to further erode my resolve to do any more than pleasure myself as I watched them. I was trapped between worlds, slipping between the crack of reality as I had with the slug-god. Was it calling me back? Had it not just finished with me? Was I now a slave? Nothing made sense. My head spun in the confusion of my own conflicting desires and the couple's sexual tryst.

The bus… I let go of my physical self and concentrated on the bus hoping the reality of its scheduled presence would anchor me, allowing me to pull myself back and escape.

An echo of the slug-god resounded through the park and lighted my body with an overwhelming desire. …Stay. Touch. Pleasure yourself. Pleasure us. Worry not. Relax. Stay...

Spellbound, my hand reached under my skirt to touch my pussy. Residual heat radiated from my youthful mound, eager to regenerate as my fingers teased the curve of it. Anxious to please myself in tandem with the couple, I began to work a finger between my labial folds, rubbing the sweet wetness I found there over every part of my pussy.

As the moments passed, the couple grew aggressive–passionate kisses morphed into roaming hands that grasped and fondled. Without ceremony, the women pushed him back, unzipped his trousers and took his engorged member in mouth before he could utter anything more than a pleasured gasp. Slow, precise mouthwork coupled with her hand that reached under him, gripped his balls for a squeeze and then returned to his shaft to play with it.

Mimicking her lust, I slid my index finger down to the puckered opening of my anal sphincter and rubbed along the ribbed opening. Although familiar with masturbation, I had never experimented with anal fingering of myself.

Working my hole in slow, tight circles, I massaged it with my slick pussy juices until I coaxed it into a slight yawn and probed up to my first knuckle. The sensation was one of awe and excitement. Though it was not the same as having a finger in my pussy, it was bewitching. Slowly, I twirled my finger in circles, feeling the soft flesh of my inner ass... I bit my lip.

Still afire and growing eager for attention of its own, my pussy tingled with anticipation, which in turn enhanced my lusty desires. Keen on continuing with the experiment, I reached down with my other hand, engaging my clit with my middle finger.

Gone were thoughts of breaking the enchantment, replaced by the growing pleasure of my ministrations. Pressing my back against the tree, I anchored my feet in its sprawling roots to give me position and leverage while my hands remained preoccupied. My ass wiggled in the crook of two large roots that ran the length of my legs. A wet, smacking splurk-splurk accompanied my rhythm. The juice that spilled out over the ground would undoubtedly give birth to dreams of an unearthly nature to any fortunate organisms lucky enough to be caught in the torrent.

On the other side of the tree, the couple had traded places. He now sat on the bench she had previously occupied, she on his lap, his face buried between her smallish but pert tits. Her head back, neck exposed, her cooing moans soared through the moonlight, searching for passage through the branches, so they might kiss the night sky.

My rhythm had reached a steady confidence that promised orgasm the very moment I decided to release myself from the bittersweet edge of bliss. I was ready to take myself home. Sliding my index finger into my pussy, I nearly wept as an electrified sensation gripped my groin. I must have more. I twirled the fingers in opposite directions, whipping up a frenzy of froth. I needed this. It would set me free. Whispers promised me so.

Pressing deeper, an icy jolt of fear-laced bewilderment struck me. The aura of the slug-god wavered and then morphed into something very dark and different.

A penetrating chill bore into my cunt and ass! The slug-god– no. Someone… something else. Something cold and devious. Something dangerous. An overwhelming impression took hold in my breast: if I brought myself to orgasm here in this park, I would cease to be.

A sick feeling curled up and hardened in my stomach. My hedonistic mood passed with all expected expedience, and I decided to leave to catch the bus. I did not care for the feeling in this place any more. Betrayal and anger welled within me, springing from the rock of ill already rooted there. I bit my lip to stop myself from crying.

But it was too late. When I tried to pull my hands away, I found I could not. An indescribable force wrested control from me, and ever so subtly increased the pace at which my own hands pleasured me!

"No…" I whimpered and "Stop it!" with venom and fear.

In panicked desperation, I struggled to restrain myself, but my hand continued unabated and I whimpered in horrified desire that threatened to turn into a fit of... giggling.

On the other side of the tree, the couple was well into foreplay. The woman's lusty breaths whored their devices in my mind. My own breathing increased and the sinister, corrupted aura of the slug-god slowly spread down the lower half of my body, consuming me. And though I was sure they were not aware of my presence, and nor did either of us have direct line of sight on the other, I shivered under the man's piercing gaze–a butterfly in his pinned and mounted collection of specimens–as his hands found purchase between his lover's legs.

No, I can't let them; I mustn't allow them; They cannot do this to me, fevered, my brain cried. I rocked madly, desperate to free my hands and escape them. No use; deep inside I could feel a power that was and was not my orgasm intensifying; leeching onto my rhythm like a parasite. With greater speed and precision, I rubbed my clit, while the finger inserted into my tight, firm ass hole began to twist and pump with ever increasing depth.

An image of the slug-god keened through my mind like an ear-piercing bolt of lightning. It called me, pulling me into its world, desiring me to do its unfathomable bidding. It had impregnated me with the seeds of my own destruction! But why!? Why love and then destroy me?

Behind me, the woman's moans grew louder, synchronizing with mine like in an orchestra of deathsex. My horror increased as I suddenly realized my index and middle fingers had slid inside my pussy. I tittered uncontrollably and with increased madness.

Tears streaked my face as I pushed a third finger in and a fourth. A vision of my destruction blossomed in my mind: with the complete insertion of my fist, I would then be sucked into myself scattering my physical atoms over space and time. This was the price of stepping over the path of the slugs and into the non-space, had spun within me.

My last finger... my fis–

"Hey! You two over there! What are you doing!?"

A painful snap in my brain pitched me forward violently, sending me onto the cement of the winding path. I twisted the moment before I planted my face on the cement, striking my temple instead. Auras, chills and the sensations of godlike beings dissipated on the wind. I extracted my hands from my various orifices and made to stand, but never made it up. I don't recall how long I lay there–too frightened to move, even more frightened of staying–but the next sensation I felt was that of someone picking me up.

He was a young man with a serious sense of duty that only comes with being fresh out of the police academy. He took me to his police box where he called my parents to come retrieve me. I was in tears the whole time and spoke not a word.

He cleaned and bandaged my scraped temple, placed a blanket around my shoulders, and prepared tea for me to calm my nerves. He spoke in soothing tones all the while, yet I could not return the words of gratitude I had for him.

When my parents arrived, he asked them not to scold me for I had done nothing wrong. He explained that he believed I had been the victim of proxy sexual harassment. He considered it a serious crime and would gladly conduct an investigation if my parents wanted to press charges against the couple. While the couple had fled, he had seen the face of the man and thought he recognized him from the area. It wouldn't take more than a few days time to track him down.

My parents refused, more embarrassed by the situation than anything else. They hurriedly thanked the officer for his assistance and bundled me off into the family car.

Dutiful to the last, the officer followed us out, bowed to my parents and spoke a few last soothing words to me through the semi-open backseat window.

And as we drove off, he bowed and stood, watching us leave. Stepping into the darkness outside the pool of light in front of his small station of calm in the turbulent night, his form took on an unmistakable silver aura.

****

Originally published on Amazon, but subsequently BANNED for reasons unknown.

Made in DNA (Amazon link)

erotic
3

About the Creator

Made in DNA

The not-yet bestselling, non-award winning author of work you haven't read yet!

Work spans various genres -- scifi, weird, non-fiction, life in Japan.

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