Date: Fri, 24 Sep 2021 17:21:54 -0400
From: mr.evan.andrews@gmail.com
Subject: The Blob chapter 1 -- science fiction or fantasy

The Blob
Chapter 1: Boy meets Blob
Evan Andrews 2021


This set of stories is a change from what I've written before in that it is
not a fan fiction. To be honest, it's based off a fantasy I concocted
millions of years ago, updated as the passage of time required.

The story depicts males in sci-fi sexual situations with other males, oh,
and with an alien. If this offends you, if you are underage, or if reading
such is illegal where you are please stop reading now. Thank you.

If you enjoy this story, or even if you hate it, please contribute to
keeping Nifty going at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

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"I swear to fucking God," Gary told himself, "I will never take that
shortcut ever again!"

Sure, the sign said not to go through the loading zone between the biology
and chemistry buildings, but nobody paid attention to that. They did it all
the time, and so had he. It was perfectly safe, and on top of that it was
first summer session. This meant there weren't more than a couple thousand
people on campus. Today, though, after he'd slid between the hedge plants,
they (whoever they were) were on him like yellowjackets on mountain
dew. They crammed a bag over his head, strong armed him across a few feet
of concrete, and tossed him onto the floor of a van. Then they piled on and
incapacitated his wrists and ankles with zip-ties. After that the van
growled to life, and they sped away. At first Gary wrote it off as some
prank, either his friends or some frat boys playing a joke. A half hour
later when the van screeched to a halt, however, he began to worry. The
doors opened, and the college boy smelled jet exhaust. The airport? Why
would they bring him here?

They strapped Gary into a seat, and mere minutes later the plane leapt into
the air. Okay, this whole Mongolian goat rodeo was looking far more serious
than the college boy had first imagined. When he tried to protest, they
gave him a smack on the side of the head and the admonition to "Just sit
there and keep your yap shut".  At first that was easy, but as minutes
turned into hours, Gary was starting to get frantic. Then he felt the
telltale hints they were landing--wherever.

Transferred from the plane to another van, Gary tried struggling against
his bonds again, but a kick in the ribs and the order to "quit it" put an
end to that. He tried to talk to his captors again, but the bag muffled his
voice and made hearing what they said in reply next to impossible. For the
last bit of the trip, the van bumped over a rough road, and Gary got tossed
around, landing once or twice on the ribs that whoever it was had kicked
hours ago. They still hurt. Ouch goddammit.

Once the van finally arrived and came to a complete stop things happened
fast. They (whoever his captors were) cut his feet free from the zip-ties,
hauled Gary's ass out of the van, and started him walking--blind.

"Hey, fuckers," Gary growled when he tripped over—well, god alone knew
what it was he'd tripped over, "I could do this easier if I could see where
I was walking."

"I dunno," said a low voice on his right, the first voice Gary had heard
clearly, "Iago, whadda you think?"

"Sure, Hugo, why not," a higher crisper voice said. "It's not like there's
anywhere he can run after all."

A heavy hand pulled the bag off Gary's head, and he waited for his eyes to
adjust before looking around. That didn't take long because one) the light
was low and two) there wasn't much to see. He was in an underground parking
garage with maybe a dozen other unmarked vans and twice as many (at least)
men in black suits and sunglasses.

"MIBs," Gary thought, and, "Shades? Why the fuck are they wearing shades
underground?"

"Look," Gary said. The MIBs were marching him towards a large, armored
door, and he figured why not try to stall. "I don't know what it is you
think I've done, but I didn't. I'm just your run-of-the-mill student at
Enormous State University. Sophomore. Biology. Intramural cross
country. You know, like totally innocent."

The MIBs grinned, but they didn't react to Gary's protest. They kept
hustling him along, and he kept on talking, getting more and more frantic
as they approached a large security door.

The door guard, when they got there, stared the babbling Gary up and down
and said, "Shut him up" before holding out his hand for the MIBs' IDs.

Hugo, the big guy, slapped a ham-like palm across Gary's mouth, silencing
him while the guard ran the IDs. When the agents' bona fides had been
established to his satisfaction, the guard turned his attention back to
Gary and gave him a once-over. Not a quick once-over, no, this guy looked
at him like he was sizing up a steak at the butcher shop. Freaked out, Gary
tried to ignore him, and the MIBs, and turned his attention to a dark
window set in the wall alongside the door.

Gary guessed it was one-way glass and that someone (or more than one) on
the other side was watching the whole proceedings, but the glass also
served as a sort of mirror. Gary got his first look at himself since his
morning shower. Even though he was roughed up and disheveled, he was still
young, handsome in a Midwest all-American boy sort of way. He owned a
thatch of fine wheat-blond hair and sported the beginnings of the slightly
darker mustache that guys were starting to wear again. His trim fit
cross-country body was covered in jeans and a polo shirt in ESU's school
colors. He didn't fit any DHS security profile he'd ever heard about, and
yet here he was.

The door guard nodded at last, turned to the panel beside the door, and
slid his own card through the reader before also presenting his right eye
for a retinal scan. The door slid apart like in a sci-fi movie, and the
MIBs were about to push him into the corridor beyond when the guard stopped
them.

"Here," the guard said as he handed Iago a ball gag. "This should free your
hands so you can keep him under control, AND it should be enough to keep
him quiet. After all, we can't upset the eggheads with any reminder of what
they all know perfectly well goes on down here."

"Yo! Dudes! Wait! I can keep my mouth shut!" Gary tried to protest, but
Hugo found the right pressure points to force the blond's jaws open, and
Iago crammed the rubber ball into his mouth before slipping the strap
behind his head.

"Okay, quiet-boy," Iago said as he ruffled the now gagged and silenced
Gary's hair, "Let's go."

Seething with indignation, Gary took pains to pay attention to his
surroundings as they marched him through what seemed a mile of reinforced
concrete tunnels. If he ever escaped... But the corridor was monotony
cubed. They were alone in the hallway, and none of the many security doors
cut into the walls on both sides had signs. (The easily-upset eggheads must
be in there, Gary thought. Doing what he wasn't sure he wanted to know.)
Finally they came to a stop in front of yet another unmarked door. (The
shades, Gary guessed, must allow his handlers to read some otherwise
invisible signage, so he'd need to get hold of a pair...) Iago slid his
card through this door's reader, and it, too, slid open.

Beyond the door things were brightly lit for a change. Surface
lighting. Gary winced before his eyes adjusted. A reception desk that
reminded him of a hospital or doctor's office nurses' station dominated the
lobby. At least he guessed it was a lobby. There was furniture, and even
coffee-maker and snack vending machines. Crap, Gary realized, how long had
it been since he'd eaten last? To the left of the desk a hallway led to
offices, and one to the right led to what looked like examination
rooms. The fuck?

A South Asian man in scrubs behind the desk looked over the desk at the
young blond captive and said to Iago, "New recruit?"

"Yes, sir," Iago said. Gary noticed the man didn't ask for any more
information.

"Okay, let's get him processed. Take him along to Chamber 4 and shut him
in. I'll alert Intake we've got fresh meat."

Recruit? Processed? Intake? Meat? Gary was positive he didn't like the
sound of any of those words (especially when they were used together like
that to refer to him) and he started to struggle against Hugo's meaty
grasp.

"Boy," the big MIB said harshly, "Don't make me incapacitate you, because I
will."

Gary didn't know if Hugo was trying to save him a beating or save himself
the trouble of administering one, but considering the alternatives, the
blond forced himself to calm down—or at least to stop fighting an
unwinnable battle. The MIBs hustled their captive through the medical side,
past maybe a dozen medical exam rooms (several of which had closed doors)
until they came to the end of the hall. Gary had been wondering how a
"chamber" differed from any other room when they came to another metal
door. Unlike the previous security doors, though, this one slid (Yeah,
bonus points for sci-fi ambiance) open as they approached without the MIBs
needing to scan an ID. Beyond the door, the bright lights of the office
gave way to a dim that was dimmer than the rest of the complex. This dim
was also tinged with a reddish hue. Apparently what they did in Chamber 4
was not meant to happen in the full light of day, and Gary was liking this
whole thing less and less.

The new corridor ran horizontal to the one they had been in, and his
handlers pushed Gary towards the right-hand branch. A couple of dozen yards
later this too ended in another lobby, or maybe it was just a wider part of
the corridor since it held no furniture. Obviously people didn't stay here
long enough to need seating. In the left wall, six metal doors of the kind
Gary was sure he'd seen in supermax prison and insane asylum horror
movies. Fuck. So much for any hope of due process. And he still had no clue
why he was here to begin with. Could it be he had simply been in the wrong
place at the wrong time?

Iago opened the fourth door, and Hugo manhandled the once-again struggling
Gary up to the dark opening. With a quick snick from a multitool blade,
Iago cut the zip-tie that bound the college boy's wrists behind his back,
and Hugo immediately shoved the blond in the dark room where he fell onto
his face. The door slammed shut before Gary could spring back to his feet
and make a break for it. Instead he tore the gag out of his mouth and
pounded on the door.

"Let me out of here!" the blond yelled. "Let. Me. The. Fuck. Out!"

Gary hoped he sounded like someone to be dealt with, but he was afraid he
was sounding frantic instead. If Hugo and Iago were still standing out
there, they were ignoring him. Because of course they were. Frustrated,
Gary turned to explore the chamber.

That didn't take long. The room was rectangular, with the door set into one
of the short walls. It and the two long walls had been painted an
uninspiringly dark industrial grey. The far wall, however, unsettled
him. It glowed a rich green (colors not found in nature) and provided to
only light in the room, if you wanted to call this gloom light. Gary gave
the grey walls a manual once over, hoping he'd missed something, like maybe
a loose stone that could be pushed aside to reveal a handy escape tunnel,
or maybe a message scratched in the wall by a former
prisoner. Nothing. Naturally.

Gary looked at the glowing wall again, wondering if he should search it
too, but the very idea of touching its gelatinous surface creeped him
out. He had no idea what he thought might happen if he made contact with
the eerie green, but he was sure he was not up to finding out. At least not
yet. Instead he turned back to the door and pounded on it some more,
yelling. This meant that Gary had no idea that five tentacles had protruded
out of the wall and were reaching towards his unprotected back.

"Let! Me! Out...!" Gary's rant was cut short when one of the tentacles
grabbed him around the neck and started to drag him back towards the green
wall.

"The fuck!?" Gary gasped. The tentacle around his neck made it hard to get
enough air in his lungs to say anything more.

Gary's arms flailed ineffectually but finally he grabbed at the unearthly
flesh dragging him to his fate, using what he knew of wrestling to break
the choke hold. Instead a second tentacle grabbed his right wrist and spun
him around to face the glowing wall. A third tentacle grabbed his left
wrist, and the fourth and fifth caught his ankles. Slowly, with a strength
Gary couldn't resist, tentacles two and three disengaged his hands from the
neck tentacle, and then, all together, they spread-eagled him. Jesus
fucking God almighty!

Held fast this way, Gary could only scream in terror as a sixth tentacle
exuded itself from the wall and reached towards him. He'd once or twice
"accidentally" seen tentacle porn on the internet, and he had no illusions
about what was going to happen next. He clenched his jaw and tightened his
sphincter, but all the things seemed to want was to touch him (for now)
which made him shudder all over. The vile appendage made a careful tactile
examination of the blond's entire body, from the fine hair on his head down
to the toes of his tennis shoes, which it pulled off his feet. At least it
was stayed outside his clothes. Thank God. Gary wasn't sure he could handle
the alien thing doing the same thing with his raw flesh, though he had a
terrible premonition he might have to.

The examining tentacle worked its way back up Gary's right leg and began an
exploration of the mound in his tight jeans. The blond winced and damned
whoever decided men need their jeans this tight this year. This pair was
leaving nothing to the imagination. The examination focused on Gary's cock,
still flaccid with fear, and then slid up, under the waistband of his polo
shirt onto his belly. Gary screamed again as it made a disconcerting tent
in the knit fabric of the shirt and slid north over his tight abs. Another
tentacle joined number six, and at the top of his ribs they separated,
heading for his nipples.

"God damn whoever it was that invented tentacle porn!" Gary thought as the
two unnatural stalks of flesh began to tease his tits. Fuck.

An eighth tentacle slid under his shirt then and slid up to the neck. It
did something, Gary didn't think it cut anything let alone tore anything,
but where tentacle eight touched his shirt the fabric gave way. More
tentacles (Sweet God, how many of these things were there?) reached out and
tore away the remains of what had been a rather expensive shirt, leaving
nothing between his torso and the now insidiously exploring monstrosity. As
tentacles brushed over his exposed skin, the ones that had been busy
teasing his nipples left off that, developed mouths that attached
themselves to his nubs, and began to suck away on them.

"Oh, fuck," Gary moaned. This shit, what? His tits were tightening up. Was
this violation starting to feel good?

When Gary wondered that, he suddenly knew that his cock was getting plump
too. God damn it! He should have ignored his coach and jerked off more
often! Like maybe three times last night? Then maybe he could resist... But
he couldn't.

The new tentacles explored down his chest and belly towards the waist of
his jeans. They stayed there for a while, trying, Gary guessed, to try to
figure out the difference between his skin, the elastic of his designer
briefs, and the denim of his jeans. Eventually they figured it out, and two
slid down to make a detailed survey of what was hidden under his
jeans. When they made it down his legs to his ankles, they pulled the same
trick tentacle eight had with his shirt. Now he could tell they were
exuding some sort of slime that degraded the fabric until it failed and
split. The backup tentacles then tore the remains of his pants away leaning
him naked except for his tighty-whities.

A new tentacle reached towards Gary's now definitely distended briefs and
ran over his hard but still hidden meat. Whatever was behind the tentacles
had learned a trick or two somewhere because it didn't just examine his
shrouded hard-on, it teased it from balls up the shaft to cockhead, further
inciting his raging hormones.

"Oh fuck," Gary moaned as the tip of the stalk teased his hidden
frenulum. "Fu..hu..hu..uck!"

Apparently satisfied with the reaction, the tentacle slid up to Gary's
waist and wormed its way under the elastic in pursuit of the raw flesh of
his cock. He felt the warm raspy flesh connect with his own and cried out.

"Fuck!"

The thing somehow engulfed Gary's junk, both his hard cock and dangling
balls, and the insidious slime began to dissolve the final guard to his
dignity, the pouch of briefs. When it was gone and the clean-up tentacles
has stripped him totally naked, the tentacle that had hold of his junk
began the horrible and inexorable task of pulling him towards the wall.

"No!" Gary screamed and fought, but in short order he felt his body pulled
up tight against the green gelatinous surface, all except for his cock and
balls that was. Those got sucked inside the now pulsating wall of whatever
this thing was.

Gary squirmed; he tried to pull out, but the suction, or whatever it was,
holding his junk inside was too strong. He wanted to beat at wall, but his
fists and feet, hell his whole body was immobilized. All he could do was
use his words. He yelled, screamed, begged, and threatened, but to no
avail. He was caught here like a rat in some perverted glue trap, at the
mercy of this monster.

Suddenly Gary felt something. Something was happening to his cock. He had
no idea how or why, but his hard cock was getting harder still, and his
balls got the idea too and began to pump out the hormones. Nothing was
physically manipulating his sex, so it had to be chemical. Whatever, it was
doing a bang-up job at not fucking him while still getting his cock harder
than he could remember it ever being when he was buried in a mouth or
vagina. Harder, and harder still. The sensations were flooding through his
mind, through his whole body. His conscious mind tried to exert control,
but the sheer pleasure pounding at the gates of his psyche was taking the
blond over body and soul, making him crazier and crazier, and more and more
desperate to blow a load.

"Gotta cum!" Gary screamed, to whom he had no idea. Himself? The wall? "Oh
fuck! Gotta! Please! Cum!"

Gary tried to see if he could fuck the jelly to bring himself off, but in
the same way that nothing physical was manipulating his dick, he could find
nothing physical to fuck against. What else could he do, though? Heinous as
the idea would have been not many minutes earlier, he threw himself against
the wall trying every trick he could think of to get himself off. He
thrust, even though he knew that didn't work. He tried to get his right
hand through the shimmering barrier so he could jerk himself off (but the
barrier refused him). He even kissed the wall and didn't vomit with the
gelatinous flesh under his lips kissed him back. Gross! But wait, was the
kiss pushing him closer to cumming? He'd never been that introspective to
take stock of the steps his body went through before cumming, but...

The pseudo-lips kissing him momentarily grew, well Gary had no idea what
you'd call it. Maybe this was what a cockhead was like when it was in a gay
dude's mouth. The thing (Gary decided it was a pud) forced itself only an
inch or so past his lips, which Gary supposed he could handle. (It wasn't
as if he had a choice). When he relaxed, the pud released a flow of some
sort of fluid into his mouth. Surprised, he swallowed automatically. The
pud then started to feed him a constant flow of goo. Some of it he
swallowed, some of it leaked from his mouth, running down his chin to drip
onto his chest. Not that he cared any more. The more slime the pud fed him,
the calmer Gary got, and the more accepting of this unnatural fate. And
though he didn't notice it, the closer he got to feeling his sperm to the
monster.

What Gary hadn't realized was that fate was about to deal him another
twist. Something out of the green probed his piss-slit before proceeding to
work its way down his urethra. Fuck! The blond didn't know the word
"sounding", and he would have been revolted by the very idea, but the
pud-sap had him in its spell. Gary didn't even notice when the sounding
tentacle implanted something in the inner workings of his sex. The feeling
inside his dick was unlike anything he'd ever imagined. Gary's conscious
mind wanted to freak out like Daffy Duck, but his doped-up mind was down
for the whole thing. Especially if it helped him get off. As the sound
exited the blond's hard dick, the pud shot a new chemical into his mouth.

Gary, clinging to the final shreds of sanity, threw back his head and
finally felt the sap run up his recently abused urethra. At last! At long
blessed last!

Gary's balls churned, his cock pulsed, and his rich boy-cream shot out of
his rod into the enveloping green flesh. And he shot. And he shot some
more. It was possibly the longest orgasm the college boy had ever
experienced. He didn't know his balls could store that much jizz.

"Thank you," Gary sobbed incoherently as the wall released its hold on his
sex. His arms and legs followed, and, exhausted, Gary slid to the floor. He
had no idea what came next, and he couldn't manage to generate enough
give-a-damn to do anything but lie there. As it turned out, he didn't have
to do anything. The door opened and two masked men in green scrubs came in
with a gurney. They lifted the college boy off the floor and strapped him
down on the gurney before wheeling him back out into the lobby.

Gary tried sluggishly to take in his surroundings again. Same bare lobby.
Hugo and Iago leaning up against the wall (Iago was cleaning under his
nails). The two goons pushing the gurney. And... and another young man like
himself not that long ago (zip-tied wrists, gagged, wearing nothing but
green jogging shorts, a yellow string tank-top, knee-highs and running
shoes, and an MIB on either side, of course). This place had hot and cold
running MIBs apparently. As Gary was rolled away, he thought he heard one
of the runner's MIBs say, "Chamber 3, just like the doctor ordered."