[This is an old writing prompt from a long-deleted Reddit account I found in my notes; it was supposed to be a series set around a mindless, Blob/Stuff-like amoeba that functioned a lot like a a killer tentacle porn monster, structured like the Stuart Gordon flicks of the 80’s and 90’s. I felt too nervous to continue it then, and honestly feel nervous as hell to put it on the internet now, but I hope there’s someone else out there whose brain works the way mine does. There are some references to SA, as well as a typical 80’s slasher death amidst the sex, but no major triggers or violence past that. If this isn’t tagged correctly, I’d happily resubmit. Enjoy!]
It was five minutes til midnight on a cold November evening when Dr. Taylor Jacobs discovered the end of humanity. Graduating from Miskatonic University a record three years early, she now sat as the youngest chair of MIT’s Department of Biophysics, the envy of her colleagues and peers. Despite her model looks, Dr. Jacobs had an Einstein-like intellect, her interests surpassing sexuality. Despite a series of emotionally detached experiments for a personal study in college, Taylor’s sex life was near nonexistent. Her coworkers thought her asexual, but that wasn’t the case. She just never saw the need for it. Three months of nightly sexual trysts with men, woman, groups, and teachers, not once did Taylor’s mind drift from the data at hand.
It’s this complete lack of interest in sex that led to the collective hushed chuckle among the board when Dr. Jacobs announced her latest project: a self-sustaining organism, not unlike the first amoeba man theoretically descended from, designed to grow and reproduce at an accelerated rate – this being achieved by an insatiable need to procreate. Once stabilized, a grouping of the organisms would be released into a controlled habitat, where Jacobs theorizes she will study the missing link to human evolution within a matter of months. Her reputation preceding her theories, the grant was passed before the board had time to question the morality of such a quest.
Jacobs worked mostly alone, the majority of her calls taken by her receptionist Monica. Jacobs pitied Monica; they were the same age, yet Monica’s life aspirations were… so much simpler. Content with a receptionist’s pay, Monica came in most days carrying the air of a freshly fucked woman suffering from a hangover. From her own experiments, Jacobs knew the signs: an infallible chemical overload of endorphins leading to an “airy” state, a wobble in the knees from dehydration and the tell tale wince of swollen holes while sitting down. Statistically, Jacobs observed Monica was a size queen while simultaneously enjoying frequent anal. Jacobs never found the discomfort to be worth the experience: man is by nature imperfect, size means little to the intricacies of woman.
Much like man, the organism was – in it’s current state – imperfect. Unless contained, the physical growth of the organism would surpass a manageable size; Jacobs kept the organism in an airtight capsule in the center of her lab, tied directly to the main generator. The other glaring imperfection, to both Jacobs and the board, was her inability to produce another organism. Project Zero (dubbed “The Ooze” by the mouthier members of the board) had nothing to procreate with, and was now a 20 million dollar mindless sex crazed amoeba.
Jacobs had lost days of sleep, combing over every book in her study, searching for some hidden spark of inspiration she somehow missed in her quest for genius. Inbetween the medical journals and case studies, Taylor found her dog-eared copy of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde from college, and her sleep deprivated synapses sparked. The only time Taylor Jacobs found romance in her life was the notion of Henry Jekyll’s sacrifice to science – when facing a dead end at every turn, he made the ultimate commitment to his work and used himself.
As Jacobs walked towards the capsule in the center of her lab, the Ooze aggressively flicking and lunging towards her direction within the isolation of its glass prison, the plan raced through her mind. The board couldn’t stop her until it was done. Another experiment to dissociate through. She would be the organism’s first mate, birthing it’s spawn and eventual mate at a lightning rate. Nobody would know the difference. She could conduct the birth herself, alone. She did everything alone.
Dr. Jacobs stood now at the center console, the lights of the panel illuminating the curves of her figure underneath her tight maroon sweater. Her breath wavering, she pulled the sweater up over her head, revealing her bare heaving chest, her nipples hard with fear. Would she be able to control the organism? Would she survive the mating process? The progressive size and strength of the organism could not be calculated – Jacobs had reacted too quickly the first moment she realized the growth was faster than expected, sealing the Ooze before she could observe the time in which it grew. During her college studies, one of her partners grew too rough, and Taylor tried to end the session. She was held down and taken by force. An anomaly in her studies, Taylor was by large unaffected. She had already detached and disassociated her way through every other encounter. She thought she could handle the Ooze the same way.
The good doctor unbuttoned her khaki jeans, the zipper pulling apart against the force of her wide hips and ass. She wriggled them down her legs, slipping her feet out of them. Now standing completely naked, Taylor Jacobs set to make history, her breasts and ass jiggling from the force of her hand slamming down on the red “RELEASE” button on the capsule’s control panel.
Despite her intellect, Dr. Jacobs could not comprehend what happened in the two seconds following until her senses caught up and registered the sensations coursing through her body. The second the Ooze broke from its prison, the size and speed it grew seemed as fast as light, growing from the size of a small dog to a small elephant. The small sections of the Ooze which lunged at Taylor within the glass grew into an array of appendages, phallic tentacle-like limbs defying human description and comprehension. A particularly large appendage had thrust its way towards Taylor’s bare vagina as the Ooze grew, reaching a girthy twelve inches as it pushed it’s way into her unprepared hole. Despite being dry, the tentacle provided its own natural lubrication, sliding in with relative ease while stretching and tearing her hole, a deep pain rising through her internal organs has it battered against her cervix. Jacobs gasped to scream, her voice cut short by another tentacle shoving its way down her throat. Taylor gagged, tears streaming down her face. The tentacles lifted her off of her feet by her holes, slowly spinning her body around. Despite the violating sensations in her mouth and her pussy, Taylor observed the Ooze, wide-eyed. Turned so her peach ass was facing the Ooze, Taylor was no longer able to see her Frankenstein’s monster, as a throbbing, slimy tentacle as wide as a cellphone neared her asshole. This time, she received only a millisecond of a warning, as the tentacle secreted its slime into her twitching ass before plunging into it. Now filled completely by the pulsating limbs of the creature, a maddening irony crept through the fog of Taylor’s fear: now she was in an airtight prison.
The Ooze’s limbs expanded within her, it’s inhuman heartbeat stretching her insides with every pulse. She struggled to support herself on her hands and knees, shaking from the pain. She cried, wondering if the Ooze would just fill her inch by inch until it grew big enough to burst her to pieces from within. But before she could wonder any more, the Ooze began to mate.
With a speed and ferocity unlike any man or machine, The Ooze began to pump it’s appendages in and out of Taylor’s holes, sending waves of pain back and forth through her body. Her ass and pussy stretched to their limits, the thin wall inside separating them being stimulated beyond understanding by the two throbbing slime phalluses sliding against it on either side. Another limb wrapped around Taylor’s long blonde hair, grabbing it and pulling her head back as the Ooze mercilessly skullfucked her, any potential screams reduced to a humiliating gag.
Taylor knew her body wouldn’t be able to survive the internal damage from the traumatic force of the brutal breeding she was receiving, and hoped her body would be stable enough to give birth to the Ooze’s mate. She realized that would be mankind’s only hope against the approaching storm. The Ooze would only grow, seeking out a mate whose biological makeup could withstand its lust. Until that moment, The Ooze would end mankind as we know it. As the Ooze-Cock in her throat began to block her airway, her vision began to go black, the blood flow to her brain cut off. Dizzy and delirious, Taylor Jacobs struggled to let out the damning laugh of Eldritch madness between her loud, stifled gags. One variable eluded her college experiments in search of the female orgasm: asphyxiation. And as Dr. Taylor Jacobs died on the floor of her office, bent down on all fours as the Ooze she created triple penetrated her, she had her first and last orgasm. If it weren’t for the slime completely coating her innards, her last observation would have been the uncontrollable creaminess of her pussy as she came, a fountain of uncontrollable squirt her last mark on the world of science.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/uxzq9h/the_ooze_chapter_one_the_violator_in_the_dark