Dungeon Seedbed
by @foxgloveA silver-rank adventurer, Lyon Ashford finds himself bent over and spread wide by an erotic dungeon trap, his struggles useless as gears grind and something presses against him. With his legs locked open, he can only pray the platinum guard arrives before the dungeon's tentacles turn him into a breeding seedbed.
MEET THE CHARACTERS
EXPLORE CHAPTERS
Gears and Pressure
Lyon's palms scrape against rough stone as the trap locks his ankles into iron cuffs, spreading his legs wide. The dungeon's gears grind to a halt, and he feels a slick, warm pressure nudge between his thighs—a tentacle, cool and deliberate, sliding along his crease. He bucks, but the restraints hold, and the tip circles his hole with patient intent. A low hum vibrates through the stone as the mechanism adjusts his angle, opening him further.
First Breach
The leather splits with a wet tear, and the tentacle's tip presses directly against Lyon's entrance—warm, slick, insistent. He gasps, fingers scrabbling against the stone, as the tip circles his hole with deliberate patience, coating him in something slick and warm. The hum in the stone deepens, vibrating through his chest, and the tentacle pushes—just the tip, just the first inch, stretching him open. Lyon's breath leaves him in a shuddering moan, his hips trying to pull away but finding only the iron cuffs and the unyielding angle of the mechanism.
Something Changes
The tentacle pulses inside Lyon, and he feels it change—thickening, swelling, the fine rings along its length expanding until the stretch becomes a burn that borders on too much. He gasps, hips trying to pull away, but the cuffs hold him fast and the mechanism hums louder, the runes flaring white at the edges of his vision. A second tentacle, thinner and cooler, brushes against his thigh, questing, exploring the skin above his leathers. Lyon's breath catches—he is already full, already stretched, already taken—and the second tentacle slides higher, pressing against the base of his spine, searching for a new place to claim.
Dungeon's Purpose
The stone beneath Lyon's hips tilts higher, arching his back until his weight rests on the cuffs and his chest, his entrance fully exposed. A third tentacle rises from a newly opened seam in the altar, thicker than the others, its tip a slick, translucent bulb that pulses with the same pale blue light as the runes. It hovers near his stomach, not touching, and Lyon feels the heat radiating from it, a deep, thrumming warmth that makes his cock twitch. The first tentacle shifts inside him, dragging across his prostate, and the second pushes deeper, and the bulbous tip descends, pressing against the slick skin of his belly, searching for a place to enter.
A New Presence
Lyon's forehead presses against the cool stone, his body limp and trembling, when he feels something new: a warm, slick pressure brushing against his lips, soft and insistent. He turns his head, but the sweet smell clouds his reflexes, and the tentacle presses closer, sliding along his jaw, exploring his mouth with patient curiosity. The three tentacles inside him shift in response, the first dragging across his prostate, the second pushing deeper, the third pulsing in his abdomen, and the pleasure swells, softening the last of his resistance. The tentacle at his lips presses forward, sliding past his teeth, filling his mouth with a warm, slick taste that makes his eyes roll back. The runes pulse brighter, the mechanism hums deeper, and Lyon feels himself being claimed from every opening, the dungeon remaking him into its vessel.