WARNINGS: lol oh god. Contains tentacles, non-con and lots of it. Also, a suprise twist at the end. If you're not a complete sick, twisted fuck, then turn back now.
"Dude, this is gross," Dean said, kicking some raw sewage at Sam.
"I know it is, but we've got to do this, before more people die," Sam replied, sounding slightly weary. A rat scampered along a pipe nearby and he grimaced.
"Doesn't mean it has to be so nasty, though. Also, what the fuck is the deal with monsters and sewers? They're always in the goddamn sewer. Like, in every horror movie ever, they go hide in the fu-"
"Dean?" Sam was examining something on the wall intently. He took a UV light from his backpack.
"Yes, Sammy?"
"Shut the fuck up, please." Sam shone the light on the wall. Something glowed green, along with other stuff he didn't want to think about.
"That's trippy." Dean ran a hand over the wall. "And disgusting."
"It's like some kind of slime." Sam touched the goo, and it stuck to his finger.
"Maybe it's -" Dean started, but Sam cut him off.
"Don't you dare say it." Sam gave his brother a warning look.
"Spit. I was going to say maybe it was like, saliva or something. Geez, dude, get your mind out of the gutter." Dean grinned and Sam rolled his eyes. "Hey, since we're -"
Sam raised his hands. "Dean, if you make a 'we're in the gutter' pun, I swear to God, I'm going to-"
"No. I was just gonna say, since we're down here, and all alone, we could..." Dean trails off, finishing his sentence by groping Sam's crotch. Sam's eyes widen in shock.
"Dean, that's fucking disgusting."
"We've had sex in worse places."
"No, just no. Now shut up and let's find our monster. Our slimy, sewage-covered monster..." Sam looked slightly ill.
They continued down the long, dark tunnel. The only sound was the sloshing of their boots. It echoed, making the whole thing seem more desolate. Somewhere far ahead, a faint dripping sound could be heard. God damn, it was dull.
Sam pulled the wrinkled, slightly water-damaged map of the sewers out of his jeans pocket. Shit, in the movies they made it look easy to get a hold of one of those things (actually, now that he'd thought about it, Dean was right about monsters and sewers. What the fuck was up with that? He vowed to think about it more in-depth later). None of the heroes had ever had to promise oral sex to the shifty, greasy guy working at town hall. Oh well. He'd gotten Dean to do that part of the deal, anyway.
Glancing at the map, he realized that, by now, they should be close to the place where all the people (sewer workers, mainly, dear God, there was a horrible job, even without monsters) had gone missing. He stopped, and looked at his surroundings. Yeah, they'd just turned that corner, and were unmistakably in the zone on which Dean had carefully drawn a frowny-face on and a voice bubble that said "AVENGE ME PLZ" in thick red marker.
Dean noticed Sam had stopped, and looked at him inquiringly. "Well, this is it," Sam sighed, looking at the ceiling.
There was total silence, aside from the sound of water trickling somewhere. "So...we just...like...wait?" Dean asked.
"I guess so," Sam replied dubiously.
"Alright, then," Dean looked at the wall. Sam got out his UV light and shone it around. More slimy-stuff.
"Look," Sam said, unenthusiastically.
"Oh. Slime," Dean concurred, sounding equally bored.
"Yeah." Sam turned his light off and sighed.
Dean rubbed his face, wishing they'd brought some cards or something. Maybe he could've convinced Sammy to play strip poker.
Sam was fiddling with his phone, staring intently at the tiny screen. Dean leaned over to see what he was so interested in. Sam looked up. "No signal. But then, I didn't expect there to be," he explained.
"Ah." Dean nodded, chewing his bottom lip anxiously. Fucking monsters. Why did they have to be so elusive? With all that hissing-and-fleeing they did, and hiding in dark crevices. Why couldn't they just attack, and get killed, and everyone's time would be saved?
He made a snap decision. He turned to his brother. "You know what, Sammy? I've had enough of this dick's passive-aggressive bullshit." Dean craned his neck, trying to see better in the darkness ahead. Raising his voice, he shouted "Hey! Douchebag! Yeah, you big slimy-ass motherfucker. Last night? Your mom -"
Sam was frozen, wide-eyed. "Dean? I don't think you should -"
"Seriously, Sammy, shut up. Dude's too much of a pussy to attack us." Dean was openly smiling now. But Sam was sure he could hear something, something moving and squelching, a little farther down. It sounded loud. Maybe it was just the echo, but he was sure...he angled his flashlight down the tunnel, cutting through the pitch blackness like a knife through butter. Still, he couldn't see anything yet, but he was sure he could hear something -
"Yeah, he or she is definitely a pussy. Hear that, bitch? You're a stupid, shitty excuse for a monster. I'm sure all those people you killed actually died laughing at your utter pathetic-ness -"
"Dean? Really, you should stop -" The sound was real, very real, and it was getting louder.
"Dracula, now, there's a monster, he certainly knew how to scare those innocent victims -"
"Oh God, Dean, I think -" Getting closer...the flashlight slipped out of Sam's grasp, plopping into the liquid beneath him. Everything was dark. He immediately plunged his hand into the sewage, fishing desperately for their only source of light...
"You're just an inept bag of cock custard!" Dean finished triumphantly, beaming widely.
There was silence. Total silence. Sam had managed to retrieve the flashlight, frantically shining it in front of them. Suddenly, the passageway before them was illuminated.
Sam and Dean both froze.
"Deeeeeeean?" Sam said, drawing the word out slowly.
Dean said nothing.
Before them, completely filling the tunnel, were tentacles. Lots and lots of tentacles. The long, fleshy appendages filled every inch of the sewer, undulating and twisting, each one seeming independent of the others. Appendages of what, however, they had yet to see. It didn't seem to have a face or body. Just tentacles, of all sizes, both in length and thickness.
You know how when survivors of a car crash or whatever recall their tale, they talk about time moving very slowly? Well, it did. For about a few seconds (which seemed like hours). But then, everything moved very fast.
One long, slimy, feeler shot out, knocking Sam and Dean apart, making them lose their footing. Sam dropped the flashlight. And if he thought things were dark then, well, one knock to the head later and he was proved wrong.
"Ughh." Light. Bright light. Bright, shiny, natural light filtering down through something and wait what the fuck wasn't I in a sewer and oh god ow my frontal lobe.
Sam tried sitting up, his hand clutching his aching head. It took him a few moments to recognize his surroundings. Well, he recognized what they were, but they weren't at all familiar.
He was in some kind of a damp, concrete room thing. It stunk. Badly. Above him, there was a grate of some sort. Indeed, sunshine was pouring down through it. Blinding, unforgiving douchebag sunshine that wasn't helping his headache any.
Blearily, he noticed Dean lying in one corner. He crawled unsteadily over to him, and gave him a rough shove.
"Dean? Wake up!" He hissed, glancing furtively around the small space.
Dean threw his arm over his face. "Fuck off."
"No, seriously, wake up! We're, like, trapped or something. In a weird sewer thing."
"What?" Dean opened his eyes and sat up slightly, looking around.
"Yeah, I dunno, either. But seriously, we've got to try to escape. That grate looks pretty tough, do you think we could...what?" Dean was staring curiously at something on Sam's cheek.
"What's this?" Dean touched Sam's face lightly. The gesture went straight to his crotch. Dean's hand came away sticky. "Did we...get freaky last night or something?"
"I don't think so. No."
"Then why are we all slimy?" Dean wrinkled his nose, looking at the copious amounts of mucus coating his body. Sam was the same.
The two hunters looked at each other uncomprehendingly. Then, realization clicked in. At the same time.
"Oh shit -"
"That fucking tentacle bastard!"
"You're okay, aren't you?"
"Yeah. Gooey, but okay."
"Fuck." Sam stood up, gripping his hair in frustration.
"But why would it leave us here?" Dean asked, uncertainly.
"I don't know. But we've got to get out." Sam glanced up to the iron grate.
And then, as if on cue, a slurping noise sounded and plenty of tentacles began to pour down through the bars.
"Shit!" Sam yelped, jumping back slightly. Quickly, a tentacle wrapped around his middle, effectively pinning his arms to his sides.
"Grab something! Where's your fucking backpack?" Dean asked, as another tentacle did the same to him.
"I don't know!" Sam yelled tearfully. And then, almost mockingly, a small tentacle appeared above the grate, waving the backpack gleefully.
"You son of a bitch!" Dean screamed at it. Yet another tentacle bitch-slapped him across the face. "Ow! Shit!"
"The fucker took my phone, too!" Sam cried. An apologetic tentacle patted him on the head, almost lovingly. "You stupid whore, that slime better have conditioning properties!"
More and more of the wet appendages slithered down into the small cubicle. Some began to undo Sam and Dean's belts, and others go to work on removing their pants and underwear. The two incestuous brothers exchanged a look of horror.
"This better not be going where I think it is," Dean warned.
It was.
Dean's Spiderman boxers were casually tossed aside, along with Sam's y-fronts and their jeans. Sam giggled helplessly, despite the "Oh dear god shut up" looks Dean gave him.
Thankfully, the monster seemed to take pity on them. The tentacles it seemed to be intending to use for penetration were quite small. At least they're naturally lubricated, Sam thought, feeling one feeler (hurr) push between his supple buttocks. Dean let out a squeal of disgust as he was breached, but a tentacle was quickly stuffed into his mouth, gagging the young man. Sam laughed at Dean's expression, and soon found a tentacle triggering his own gag reflex. Biting down didn't seem to help. It was a determined bugger.
Despite all the restraining it was doing, the tentacle monster was indeed quite the gentleman. He (or possibly she? If so, a perfect lady) aimed for their prostates, jerked off their hesitant-but-indeed-there erections, rubbed their nipples, fondled their balls and even gently stroked their faces, wiping away their tears, with the smaller tentacles. Either way, monster sodomy was fairly enjoyable, if a little on the messy, smeary side. Our heroes came quite quickly.
A few more minutes, and the tentacles released something hot, sticky, and utterly disgusting inside the boys' digestive tracts. A lot of it, too. It was like an enema, except with warm Jell-O. The creature seemed to notice the way its new lovers shuddered, and gently rubbed Dean's inner thigh, and tucked a few strands of Sam's shaggy hair behind his ears. Then, it unceremoniously dumped them on the floor, tired, aching, and covered in slime. The tentacles retreated through the grate.
There was a beat of silence. Sam cleared his throat. "Well," he began, but wait, the tentacles were back. They were holding some things and seeming quite proud of themselves. One pushed a bouquet of roses into Sam's surprised hands. Another shoved a box of high-end chocolates into Dean. Then it groped his ass, before beating a hasty retreat.
There was another beat of silence. A longer one this time. Each hunter fiddled with his gift awkwardly. Then, Sam spoke up again. "I wonder where he got these things?" he inquired. Dean shrugged and started eating his candy. Sam watched him silently for a moment, before getting up and looking around for something to put the flowers in. Sometimes, it was best not to think. At all.
One week later, nothing had changed. At the start, there were a few frantic attempts at escaping, which inevitably failed. They had come to accept their situation, and just go with it. Which they did by totally ignoring it and pretending it never happened. Still though, at the back of their minds, at all times, embedded in their subconscious, was the hope that someone would come and rescue them.
The tentacle monster fucked them about five times a day, each time, using a slightly larger tentacle. Sam and Dean had come to expect and submissively take the rape, and therefore, the monster used less restraints on them each time. After each raping session, they were given a small gift, from God knows where. They had come to acquire quite a collection of knick-knacks and sappy romantic keepsakes. And sex toys. In fact, their little habitation had gotten quite cluttered recently. That was why Sam had decided to clean it. He was wearing a skimpy, see-through negligee that the creature had gifted him. It had also taken away all their clothes. Right now, Dean was wearing a leather corset, stiletto heels, and fishnets. Maybe it saw Rocky Horror, Sam thought shrewdly. Well, it sure as hell watched a lot of rom-coms, he noted, gazing at the mounds of lovey-dovey mementos littering the ground. He sighed, and gathered up an "I Love You" teddy bear, and a ribbed dildo. At least the sex toys were useful, as he and Dean spent most of their free, non-raping times either having sex or jerking off. It kept their minds off...other things. Sam felt that he and his brother had grown closer in the past week.
"Dean, get off your lazy ass and help me."
"Fuck off, Sam. I'm still sore from that last nonexistent thing." Dean looked at him mournfully. Sam rubbed his shoulder sympathetically.
"I'm sorry to hear about that."
"About what?"
Sam smiled ruefully. "Okay, fine, you can sit this one out."
He went back to gathering the various junk to shove in the corner. Dean fiddled with a small radio that had been given to him a few days ago. It was their only connection to the outside world. Unfortunately, the only signal he could get was of a pop music station. He exclaimed in success when he got it working.
"God, this music is fucked up. 'Get your mitts in my oven'? What the fuck does that mean, Sammy?"
"I don't know, Dean."
Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, uh, Sam, I've been meaning to tell you. I think you've been doing really good through all that stuff that isn't happening to us. You're keeping me from going completely insane."
"Thanks, Dean. I feel the same way about you."
"I love you, Sammy."
"I love you too, Dean."
They smiled, somewhat awkwardly, at each other.
Just then, a voice broke the silence. A voice that wasn't Sam's, Dean's, or Billie Q's from 102.8 FM KGJI.
"I hope I am not interrupting anything here..."
Sam and Dean whipped around in surprise. A mixture of delight and relief lit up their chiseled features.
"Cas!" Dean exclaimed.
"You've come to rescue us!" Sam cheered.
After a pause, the angel spoke. "Yes, I suppose I am. In a way. Although, you're not in any danger at all, really."
"Not in any – what about our fucking orifices being violated on a regular basis!" Dean shrieked.
Castiel winced, obviously uncomfortable. "Yes, I am sorry about that."
"You're sorry about it? You dick! You should've come sooner."
"Yes, well, I am sorry. I was busy. You were not in danger of being killed, therefore, not a priority."
"We were only in danger of being dicked to death by a giant fish...thing."
"But the creature itself had no malicious intent, it did not wish to harm you - "
"Guys," Sam begged, "can we please just get out of here? You can argue later."
There was a pause as Dean and Cas considered this.
"Okay," Dean said, "I'm down with that. Cas?"
"Very well," the angel said wearily.
A few moments later, the trio reappeared outside of the motel Sam and Dean had been staying at. Except, all their belongings had been thrown out in the parking lot.
"You did not pay for your room," Castiel explained, clumsily, "I did not have the time to take care of that for you."
"Of course you didn't," Dean mumbled.
"What'll happen to the monster?" Sam wondered.
"I will deal with it later."
"Can you get my stuff back?" Sam inquired anxiously.
"Certainly."
"Um, thanks."
Everyone stood around stiffly. This continued for about five awkward minutes.
Then, Castiel cleared his throat. "Well, I trust everything will be fine here."
"Yes. And, uh, thanks." Sam said. Dean mumbled; "Yeah, thanks, I guess."
There was another little pause. "Very well," Castiel said, "I will go now." He turned to leave, but then looked back at Sam and Dean, who glared expectantly at him.
"So? What is it, angel? You gonna go or what?" Dean snapped impatiently.
"Yes," Castiel answered, "it's just that I thought you may want to know..."
"Know what?" Dean said, exasperated.
"That in forty-six months, the babies will be born. Goodbye, Dean. Sam." he nodded at them, and disappeared.
No one made a sound for a long, long time.
Finally, Sam said; "So, Dean, what are we going to do about that?"
"About what?"
"That thing. What he just said."
"What thing that who just said?"
"Castiel."
"Who?"
"Oh, so we're going to be like that, then?"
"Like what?"
"Okay, Dean, okay. So, what do you want to do now?"
Dean cocked his head thoughtfully. "How about we check back into the motel, and then watch some TV?"
Sam nodded. "Yes. Very good idea. Let's do that."
END. THE.
seriously do you need a bucket to puke in really i wont judge here take one anyway dont bother returning it, i have loads at home