18+ Corruption of Champions - Deep Cave/Fungus

(NOTE: Adult Content. Text out of Corruption of Champions.)
The tentacles under your comfortable clothes squirm against you, seeking out openings to penetrate and genitalia to caress. One prods at your groin, circling around your pussy deliberately, as if seeking other toys to play with. The violation of your snatch is swift and painless. The fungus' slippery lubricants make it quite easy for it to slip inside, and you find your very loose, slick fuck-hole engorging with pleasure in spite of your need to escape. The tentacle folds up so that it can rub its stalk over your throbbing button, and once it discovers how large it is, it wraps around it and squeezes. It feels good! One 'lucky' stalk manages to find your backdoor. As soon as it touches your rear 'entrance', it lunges forward to penetrate you. The fluids coating the tentacle make your muscles relax, allowing it to slide inside you with ease.

The rest of the mass continues to crawl up you. They tickle at your belly as they get closer and closer to the underside of your milky tits. Gods above, this is turning you on! Your lower body is being violated in every conceivable way and it’s only arousing you more. Between the mind-numbing smell and the sexual assault you’re having a hard time focusing.

The wet, warm pressure of the fungus' protrusion working their way up your body feels better than it has any right to be. It’s like a combination of a warm bath and a gentle massage, and when combined with the thought-numbing scent in the air, it’s nigh-impossible to resist relaxing a little. In seconds the mass of tentacles is underneath your comfortable clothes and rubbing over your chest and prominent nipples. You swoon from the sensation and lean back against the wall while they stroke and caress you, teasing your sensitive pencil eraser-sized nipple. Moans escape your mouth as your hips begin to rock in time with the tentacles and the pulsing luminance of your fungus-pod. It would be easy to lose yourself here. You groan loudly enough to startle yourself back to attention. You’ve got to get out!

The tentacles that aren’t busy with your volleyball-sized breasts are already climbing higher, and the slime has reached your waist. If anything it actually makes the constant violation more intense and relaxing. You start to sink down into it, but catch yourself and pull yourself back up. No! You’ve got to fight!

What’s happening to you definitely isn’t rape. Not any more. You like it too much. You lean back against a wall of the pod and thrust your flared thighs pitifully against a phantom lover, moaning lewdly as you’re forcibly pleasured. You grab hold of the fleshy walls with your hands and try to hold yourself up, but your legs have the consistency of jello. They fold neatly underneath you as you slide into the ooze and begin to float inside it. It’s comforting in an odd way, and while you’re gasping in between moans, your balance finally gives out. You sink deeper into the fluid and lose all sense of direction. Up and down become meaningless constructs that no longer matter to you.

The thick slime passes over your lips and nose as you sink into the rising tide of bliss, and you find yourself wondering how you’ll breathe. Instinctively, you hold your breath. Even riddled with sexual bliss and thought-obliterating drugs, you won’t let yourself open your mouth when 'underwater'. The lack of oxygen makes your heart hammer in your chest. Before you can pass out, the constant penetration forces a moan from your lips.

A tentacle takes the opportunity to slip into your mouth along with a wave of the slime. You try to cough out the fluid, but there isn’t any air left in your lungs to push it out. The orally-fixated tendril widens and begins to pour more of it inside you, and with nowhere else to go, it packs your goo-filled lungs to the brim before you start to swallow. You relax and exhale the last of your air from your nose as your body calms itself. Somehow you can breathe the fungus-pod’s fluids!

You’re floating in pure liquid bliss. Thoughts melt away before they can form, and every inch of your body is being caressed, squeezed, or penetrated by the warm, slime-slicked tentacles. Nearly every muscle in your body goes completely slack as you’re cradled with bliss. Without your thoughts or stress bothering you, the pleasure swiftly builds to a crescendo.

The wave of need starts out inside your crotch, begging to be let out, but you can’t even be bothered to move your waspish hips anymore. Without your help, release stays just out of reach, but the tentacles working your body seem intent on spurring it on. The one inside your backdoor begins to pump more quickly, and with the added pressure, you cum quickly. Your body twitches weakly, too relaxed to move while it gets off from being double-penetrated.Milk leaks out too, coloring things a little more white.

You orgasm around the tentacles in your vagina and asshole for what feels like hours, though some dim, half forgotten whisper of your mind tells you it can’t possibly have gone on for that long. It feels so right and so perfect that resistance is almost a foreign concept to you at this point. How could you have tried to fight off this heaven? You’re completely limp, totally helpless, and happier than you ever remember. The pulsing lights of your womb-like prison continue their steady beat in time with the tentacles buried in your snatch, soothing you while your body is played like a violin heading towards its latest crescendo.

The steady rhythm of your penetration sends rockets of bliss-powered pleasure up your spinal cord and straight into your brain, where it explodes in orgasm. Your body barely twitches, too relaxed to work up any muscle response, involuntary or otherwise. A moment to rest never presents itself. The cruel fungus never relents. It never slows, unless it’s only the briefest pause to intensify the next thrust. Were you in the open air, away from the strange fluid you’re now breathing, you’d be twisting and screaming with pleasure. Instead you float and cum in silence.

Fluids gurgle and shift inside the pod as they are exchanged. If you were capable of noticing the sound or change, you might wonder if it’s harvesting your sexual fluids, but even those thoughts are beyond you now. You’ve lost yourself to mindless pleasure, and repeated, endless orgasms. The rest of your life is spent floating in an artificial womb, orgasming over and over to feed your fungus prison, and enjoying the pleasure that long ago eroded your ability to reason.