Plague of Strength

If there’s anything I hate about serials, it’s the waiting.  Since I got such insane traffic and positive feedback from the first installment, I suppose there’s no sense in making you wait for the second. If nothing else, it will give people something to bitch about until I finish the next stregnth training and or nutrition article.  I’ll be getting one more out this week, probably on Weds night or Thursday morning, before I travel to Florida for Raw Unity.  Thus, here’s part 2 of the Tunnel (which is easily ten times as fucked up as anything I bet you’ve ever read) to tide you over until that’s done.

Incidentally, when I wrote this bit, I don’t think I had ever heard of tentacle rape- I just came up with the most fucked up thing of which I could think and was fucking a chick who loved pegging at the time.

Th-Thump.

A flash of myself completely restrained. Something soft, warm, and wet, moist with something thick and viscous like mucous wrapped around my wrists and ankles, holding me immobile, off the ground. My clothes ripped from my body by an unseen force, and the sensation of unbelievable strength in whatever is holding me aloft and helpless. I open my eyes and see rippling, pink-hued yet greenish tentacles wrapped around my wrists and ankles, dusted their length with tiny sucking mouths overflowing with crystalline, teeth as long and thin as hypodermic needles gripping my flesh. The skin on the tentacles is glossy, and looks and feels like smoked ham dripping with the kind of mucus you blow from your nose when you’ve got a touch of the flu- clear, with a hint of yellow, and a bit frothy.

I am fascinated by the manner of my restraint, as it defies logic.  The room I’m in is pitch black, filled with air as oily and redolent with smoke as a Tibetan monastery, though rather than buttery, it smells more like cow shit mixed with diesel.  Could I touch anything, I’d imagine everything in the room would be slightly greasy from the smoke, but instead I hang suspended, marveling at the horror of my situation.  Though I see no candles, spotlights, or any other light source, for that matter, I am bathed in an intensely bright light from above, a light so intense it feels as though it’s burning my skin.  As I try to look upwards to discern the source of heat and light, the tip of a tentacle, perhaps the one holding my forehead and causing me to blink away blood, snakes across my lips as a warning.  I know this to be the case, as I can hear a thousand whispered voices in my head, telling me to

 submit


 relax


 relent.

A tentacle that might branch off from the others, or might just be an independent appendage altogether, snakes up my leg, wrapping itself around my thigh and settling on my rock hard dick, stroking it. Loving it with hundreds of tiny mouths. I feel another creeping up my other leg, and begin to gently part my ass cheeks…

I awake with a start.

Th-Thump.

The ride started out as Bret had described- fucking brutal. There were at least three trails intertwined with each other, small cliffs to jump, and nice solid ground. I had a nice sweat going, cheat heaving as I pumped hard on the pedals to pick up speed before a jump. With my iPod cranked, blasting a mix of death metal and punk into my ears, the feeling of the wind in my face, the smell of the forest around me, and the amazing timing I seemed to have today, I was totally in the zone and shredding the trail like never before. Making me look like a rank amateur, however, was Bret, who was jumping hillocks and pulling tricks like he was in the finals of a Moto X competition. We’d been riding downhill for at least 10 minutes when, in spite of the growling and shrieking of the vocalist on my iPod, I heard one of Bret’s ridiculous imitation rebel yells cutoff mid-scream, and saw him catch a tree branch hard in the face.

I slowed and started picking my way through the trees towards him, calling out his name as I went. Because Bret steadfastly refused to wear a helmet, I grew irritated as I closed on what seemed to have been his last position, as I had no interest in carrying his shattered and unconscious body all the way back up the hill to the truck.  As I neared the sound of his moaning, my irascible reverie was cut short by a rustle and a crack. Looking around, I couldn’t figure out what had made that noise, especially so close to me, so I stopped and took off my headphones to listen more closely- I had no interest in becoming some brown bear’s afternoon snack.

That’s when the Earth swallowed me.

Th-Thump.


I don’t remember falling. I don’t remember hitting the ground, either, but a quick glance at my left elbow told me that it did- it was purple and swollen like a softball when I awoke. A quick check told me that since I could bend it without collapsing to the ground in agonizing pain, it likely wasn’t broken, and while nothing else seemed to be either, I was going to go through a bottle of Advil before breakfast on Monday if I wanted to get to the office and get any kind of work done.

That is, assuming I made it out of this hole to get to work. It looked like I’d fallen down some kind of abandoned mine shaft- a really, really old one, by the looks of it. I’d only fallen about 20 feet, and from the looks of my bike, landed entirely on the front wheel and pitched over the handlebars, whereupon I placed all of my trust and goodwill into my left arm and used it to break my fall. The front wheel was fucked, bent into a half circle, but the frame of the bike appeared to be remarkably unharmed, in spite of the fact that it’d absorbed the weight of that fall.  That, however, was the least of my worries, as the walls leading up to the landing site were more or less smooth. Were I a world-class climber, fresh and uninjured, I might have been able to scale that wall… but I’m not. Not even close. Thus, I looked around and noticed that the tunnel led downhill, towards some faint glow of light.

Hardly an intrepid explorer, but cognizant of the fact that I had no real prospect of rescue otherwise, I started my trek down the gentle slope into the bowels of the Earth as the most unwilling and unenthusiastic spelunker in human history.  The walls seemed to have a faint blue glow to them, and were damp rock, rough hewn and set without mortar. Initially, I thought perhaps I was headed toward some sort of power generation station, and had fallen into an old access tunnel or mine shaft. As I continued downward, however, I started to wonder if my initial impression was correct.

Th-Thump.

I thought I heard someone calling my name a while ago. I was struggling with the snake-worm-Cambrian nightmares at the time, rolling on the ground, probing the holes in my sides and trying to grab hold of a tail, maybe. There was still a lot of pain at the time, and I wasn’t thinking clearly, but I swore I heard Bret calling me.

Th-Thump.

When I saw the first “bug”, I knew I was in deep shit. It was the same size as my neighbors’ Chihuahua. Maybe 4 pounds of black chitin, fangs dripping blood, bits of flesh, and slime, hissing like one of those cockroaches Joe Rogan used to feed to hot broads in bikinis on the television game show Fear Factor. I practically tripped over the thing, cautiously moving toward the clacking sound it made as it ate whatever poor animal happened to fall beneath its jaws. I admit I screamed like a woman when I saw it- it was huge, it was disgusting, and it was obviously carnivorous. Without really thinking about what I was doing, I jumped up and started stomping like I was a Japanese teenager playing the final round on Dance Dance Revolution, doing my damnedest to grind that disgusting nightmare into the ground. My first few stomps took care of its jaws and a couple legs, but I couldn’t seem to destroy its body. It was like trying to crush a rock with my foot. I finally gave up, letting it drag its mangled body away while I took off running back the way I came. It might have been a pitiful sight, had it not just attempted to kill me, using its mandibles and two legs to drag itself into the darkness, leaving streaks of purple and green behind it as it oozed its fluids. Had it been an injured puppy or a mangled kitten, I might have felt some remorse, but instead it was a skin-crawlingly disgusting giant insect, and I felt nothing but pride and hate as I sprinted away from its mashed body.

Bada-thump.

 My cock is still rock hard. I haven’t had wood like this since I took Viagra that weekend in Vegas. Insane.

Th-Thump.

Fucking Bret. I should have known that something was up when I noticed how straight the road was. No man would bother to make a road so straight, especially not in this neck of the woods. Do you think random, toothless, unwashed hilljacks are carving absolutely straight, meticulously maintained dirt roads out of the hilly backwoods of West Virginia? I sure as shit don’t. Only Bret could manage to ignore that kind of weirdness… and only Bret could manage to land me in a situation this fucked up.

Once, in a New Age period of my life, I spent a couple of months studying ley lines. They’re a pretty cool idea, and their existence makes a lot of sense. They’re basically a giant electro-magnetic grid that surrounds the Earth, and it’s thought that the nexuses between the lines are places of great power. The pyramids are on one such nexus, as are Stonehenge, most of the super-old churches, some Roman roads, and a variety of other places hippies run off at the mouth about. Apparently, dudes who cleared shit like telegraph lines and logging roads intuitively followed ley lines, and they sometimes found some weird shit along the way. Ancient people seemed to have an instinctive ability to follow these lines and place structures of importance at the vortexes where ley lines cross, and always had wildly straight roads leading to and from these places. No matter what the obstacles in the way, the roads maintained their straightness, drawing the people on them inexorably toward their destination. As I recall, some of the roads had a negative power, though, leading those on them toward heaven- they were called death roads. That’s what led Bret and I here, I guess.

A fucking death road.

Th-Th-Thump.

I cannot see whatever it is controlling the tentacles violating my body. My ass is now full of its gentle power, and I’ve cum more times than I can count, bloody cum dripping off the tentacle simultaneously masturbating me and eating my cock. I can see the tendons and veins of my cock exposed to the open air as the mouths consume them, yet there is no disgust. No pain. Only indescribable pleasure, and satisfaction as I watch the slow destruction of my genitalia. My cock, once so dear to me, is being slowly eroded under the caress of the tentacle’s teeth, and I relish its diminishment, savoring the exquisite sensation of loss that can only come with the sexual removal of one’s dearest possession. The occasional spurt of blood from my groin is almost like an orgasm, and the torrents of blood pouring down my legs are a sacrament to the internal massage I am receiving, my prostate fully stimulated and my sphincter as relaxed as it could possibly be. I am in heaven.

Thudda-Thump.

Bathed in sweat, I sit bolt upright and check frantically my groin and ass- nothing is violating me, and the puddle of my blood in which I sit is undisturbed, though I can hardly say the same for myself after that bizarre daydream.

Th-Thump.

About ten minutes after running across that bug, I began to calm down again. I stayed vigilant, since that bug definitely looked to be carnivorous, but I stopped spazzing. I didn’t feel too badly about my panic after seeing that thing though, since even Chuck Bronson would be unsettled in my situation. The slight luminosity of the tunnel allowed me to take stock of my surroundings, and examine exactly what the fuck was around me. I had run back the way I originally came, and nothing seemed to be out of place- nothing new, no massive bugs crawling out of the walls. Nor was there a sign of whatever that bug might have been eating, but judging by the size of the carcass, it looked to be at least deer-sized. Anyway, heading back that way was stupid, as I still couldn’t climb out of the hole, and I needed to get out of there before dark, or I’d never find the truck. Thus, I turned around, manned up, and started walking downhill again, toward the massive bug, its prey, and the source of the soft vibration I was feeling and hearing.