mickume/alt_tentacles · Datasets at Hugging Face

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than a human’s, that line the pink organ. It’s long and tapered at the end, thick in a way that yours just
"Stop teasing," you breathe out as Venom swirls the tip of his tongue around the outside of your hole. Thankfully, you had cleaned up at a gym the three of you had stopped at earlier that day.
Just because we’re road tripping doesn’t mean we have to forgo basic hygiene, Eddie,
you had insisted. Venom had been strangely silent on the matter. Maybe he doesn’t care.
Not teasing. Appreciating.
What’s a cornball?
He asks, tip of his tongue darting in and out of you now, making you shudder as he does so. You can feel the very beginning tendrils of an orgasm gathering, knowing that if he keeps up this movement faster and deeper you will surely tumble over the edge.
"It’s a – OH," you start explaining, forcibly cut off as Venom’s tongue enters deeper, the thick shape of it filling you up and stretching you out just like a couple of fingers would. It’s not unpleasant but it certainly wasn’t expected, and you throw your hips back to take more of his tongue, wanting to feel those rough edges all over.
Something nice?
"Yeah, whatever, yeah, something – yeah," you mumble, your hips working in a rhythm against his tongue now, the two meeting like a wave crashing and a wave retreating inward at the same time. The resulting crest is sputtering and powerful, an incomprehensible string of words leaving your mouth.
You liked that,
Venom muses, a statement and not a question. You nod dumbly, your chin digging into the cracked leather of the headrest, sticky and uncomfortable, but your brain is solely focused on the sensation in your ass. One of Venom’s many razor sharp teeth pierces your ass cheek, gentle and grounding as all your focus zooms to that one spot.
"Oh!" You squeak, listening to him giggle, deep in his throat.
Don’t be afraid, his voice sounds like it’s right in your ear, despite knowing that his head is focused in your ass, all deep and caring and fucking hot. We would never hurt you.
"Yes," you agree, blindly going along with what he says, wanting to feel more. You feel one of his appendages, fingers, or tendrils, or whatever shape he’s taken press into you, stretching you open a bit more so he can bury more of his tongue in you. "Yes, okay, right here, more."
We like it when you tell us what to do.
"Make me finish, then."
That can be arranged,
Venom answers, and he dives back down to lick at your ass once more. The sun is setting slowly in the sky, the brightness of it as it dips behind the clouds getting into your eyes and setting the scene aglow. You squeeze your eyes shut, focus on the sensations, put your anxieties out of your mind, and let Venom take you there.
When you get back to the car after a quick restroom stop-off, your "driver" has been replaced or gone back to normal, however he thinks of it. Eddie looks calm, his hands loose around the wheel, with Cathy Dennis playing low on the radio.
"You want me to drive?" You ask him.
Eddie makes a little bit of a face, screwing up his mouth, and shakes his head. "S’alright. I can go for a little bit longer."
No complaints from your end. All things considered, you would rather have the opportunity to curl up for a bit, maybe take a little nap, sit sideways on the seat if you can. You consider yourself pretty resilient but that doesn’t help the lingering feelings of shakiness in your legs. Venom must not have been joking for once when he said experiencing human culture got him excited.
"Didn’t know you were into 90’s dance pop."
"Hm," Eddie says, considering. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well, just, you know, assumed you were more of a grunge kid."
"You don’t think I did the whole rave thing?"
"Just was imagining less braids and pacifiers, more bowl cut."
Eddie throws a glance and cheesy smile at you as he pulls away from the gas station. "Who says I didn’t have a bowl cut?"
You shift in your seat as the car pulls back onto the highway, a sudden familiar slick sensation catching your attention like a fish hook to the lip.
Back when you were bent in half over the center console, you hadn’t been thinking much about consequences. Now you have "consequences" slowly starting to leak into your underwear.
"What about you, though?"
"Huh?" You say, Eddie’s question not at all registering.
"What kind of high school weirdo were you?"
You shift uncomfortably in your seat for reasons completely unrelated to adolescent embarrassments. Or, well, partially unrelated.
"That’s, uh, kind of a loaded question don’t you think?"
"Dish it but can’t take it?"
Aside from the fact that that is demonstrably untrue...
"More like we might be here all day."
Eddie shrugs his shoulders. "We will be anyways, won’t we?"
"Let’s just say I didn’t have a lot of friends who I saw outside of extracurriculars."
"Marching band, maybe?"
You don’t disagree.
"Hmm, and AV club?"
"Please, it wasn’t the 80’s."
"Okay, okay, GSA?"
"I’m afraid I had to make to do with Otaku club."
Eddie shifts in his seat and this time it’s
failing to protest that gives it away.
You start to laugh, just a little, low in your throat. Of course he was an anime nerd. As you laugh, the contracting of your stomach reminds you of how sore you are elsewhere. Eddie shoots you a conspiratorial look, and the mish-mash of feelings there -- Eddie’s good humor, the relaxed worn-out feeling of a drawn-out afterglow, the dirty-secret feeling of your wet underwear -- makes your eyes go glassy and your head go fuzzy for a second.
Eddie’s eyes change as they meet yours. "Listen," he says, "I feel like-- I don’t know."
"No, no. Nevermind. Don’t worry about it."
You were having a nice little moment just a minute ago, but without even saying anything about anything Eddie’s thrown it all up into the air. Also whatever the alien cum situation is, it doesn’t seem to be getting any calmer. Things are starting to tingle and warm in a way you’re not convinced is all you.
You try not to sound agitated when you say, "I mean, okay. But I probably will. If you leave it at that."
Eddie groans a little and you shift uncomfortably. "I just mean I don’t wanna make it a whole thing, but..."
"But you know, if you have questions. You can ask "em."
"Am I supposed to have questions?"
"You don’t-- you don’t have to, but I figured you might since, well."
So cagey, Eddie.
And that’s-- yep, okay-- that is Venom’s head, suspended in the air above Eddie’s shoulder. Shining black strands of symbiote flesh connect it to the skin of Eddie’s shoulder and neck and it bobs around in the space of the cabin. It swivels to face you.
What we mean is that it’s been a while.
We’re sensitive.
"Unbelievable."
"Hungry?" You ask, mostly to Venom. "We just had lunch."
Need meat or else we waste away.
"Meat? What do you mean, meat?"
"Fresh protein," Eddie says, at the exact same time Venom goes on.
Dog, cat, human, rat. Anything alive.
Fresh saliva drips from his mouth onto the center console.
Very lean, but good, juicy organs.
"Once! It was once!" Eddie interjects.
Only bad guys, though. Eddie insists.
"You know," Eddie says, "I’ve changed my mind. Question time is over. No more questions for right now."
Bossy. Whatever happened to "we need to work on communication’?
"No, no, I want to hear him out," you say. "How many people have you eaten?"
We will need an idea of scale.
"You don’t have an exact number?"
That you know of.
What would you say, Eddie? More than ten, less than a hundred?
Eddie says nothing but stares at the road and slowly turns up the volume of the radio.
Venom says like an exasperated partner,
"Oh," Eddie says, pointedly ignoring the jab, "look at that. Cows."
, Venom says, suddenly expanding and growing around Eddie to cover his arms and his right leg. The car swerves wildly and crosses over the yellow line separating the highway in two. You make a noise of surprise and grip madly at the dashboard and door as the car pitches over the edge of the blacktop onto grass. Venom wastes no time leaping from the car and ripping through the wire fence separating him from what you realize is about to be
Eddie is nowhere to be seen inside the cocoon of Venom and it’s something of a comfort as he chases down a cow. The radio sputters. You’re barely holding onto the signal of the classics station and tune into a college station for a university you’ve never heard of but which is surely nearby.
The indie rock isn’t a bad backdrop for your own frustration. Lines about the city tick up with the music only to come crashing back down in the chorus, fitting in nicely along the ebb and flow of heat in your stomach. One moment you’re thinking about the wide blue sky and how much you’d like to be spread out naked on the soft cut grass that rises in little hills across the road and the next you’re shaking your head and turning the volume up higher, higher.
It is when you’re in the middle of this cycle that Eddie finally gets back to the car, looking like he’s just had a 30 minute nap in the grass and a fresh cup of coffee. The whole afternoon has left you with more questions than answers, but for now you feel its best to let them rest. Either it’ll come out in the wash or you won’t be with each other long enough for it matter.
"No complaints," he says, and pulls gingerly back onto the road.
"You ever been here before?" Eddie asks as you pull into St. Louis from the I-55. You’d gotten onto Route 70 back in Indianapolis and that had been the true start to your trek out west. 70 all the way across. Feels a little bit like Kerouac, though after all this time, you don’t quite remember what routes they had taken.
The two of you hadn’t stopped in Indianapolis past a fuel-up and a quick bite to eat; Eddie had seemed touchy and a little like he’d had too much caffeine after the whole ball of paint and subsequent cow eating thing. You wonder if his skin ever feels too tight for him, sharing it with that alien. The difference between the two of them, where one starts and the other ends...it’s difficult to parse.
"No," you say, taking a bite of a Slim Jim. You’d insisted on buying a bunch at the last 7-11 you’d stopped in; luckily, not-quite-meat not-quite-spicy sticks of joy are one of Eddie’s vices, too. "No, haven’t ever been off the east coast, believe it or not."
"No shit," you agree. You’re not bluffing; you’re from New York and your furthest family lives up in Bar Harbor, there’s more of you down in Baltimore. Other than visiting them, you’d never really had the reason, or more honestly, the funds, for travelling. "Why, you been?"
"Yeah," he says, taking a big "ol hunk out of his Slim Jim, like it’s offending him. "Yeah, my dad was a big Mark McGwire fan. Couldn’t let him go after he left the A’s. Wanted to see him play here."
"Aren’t you from Brooklyn? Shouldn’t I be asking if you’re from a Mets or Yankees neighborhood?"
"I’m not originally from Brooklyn," he says, eyes firmly on the road ahead of you, looking for somewhere to pull in.
"Not quite," he says, but doesn’t give you any further information. Okay, fine. Despite your tendency to nervous talk, you don’t have to be forthcoming, either.
Although, you are nervous. Not afraid of Venom, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Eddie hasn’t said anything since this thing with Venom started, and you can’t help but figure you’re just another pawn to him. So what is Venom playing at?
"Golden State, huh."
"That’s basketball."
"Whatever. We sleeping in the car?"
"Figured we’d get a motel, stay a day."

than a human’s, that line the pink organ. It’s long and tapered at the end, thick in a way that yours just

"Stop teasing," you breathe out as Venom swirls the tip of his tongue around the outside of your hole. Thankfully, you had cleaned up at a gym the three of you had stopped at earlier that day.

Just because we’re road tripping doesn’t mean we have to forgo basic hygiene, Eddie,

you had insisted. Venom had been strangely silent on the matter. Maybe he doesn’t care.

Not teasing. Appreciating.

What’s a cornball?

He asks, tip of his tongue darting in and out of you now, making you shudder as he does so. You can feel the very beginning tendrils of an orgasm gathering, knowing that if he keeps up this movement faster and deeper you will surely tumble over the edge.

"It’s a – OH," you start explaining, forcibly cut off as Venom’s tongue enters deeper, the thick shape of it filling you up and stretching you out just like a couple of fingers would. It’s not unpleasant but it certainly wasn’t expected, and you throw your hips back to take more of his tongue, wanting to feel those rough edges all over.

Something nice?

"Yeah, whatever, yeah, something – yeah," you mumble, your hips working in a rhythm against his tongue now, the two meeting like a wave crashing and a wave retreating inward at the same time. The resulting crest is sputtering and powerful, an incomprehensible string of words leaving your mouth.

You liked that,

Venom muses, a statement and not a question. You nod dumbly, your chin digging into the cracked leather of the headrest, sticky and uncomfortable, but your brain is solely focused on the sensation in your ass. One of Venom’s many razor sharp teeth pierces your ass cheek, gentle and grounding as all your focus zooms to that one spot.

"Oh!" You squeak, listening to him giggle, deep in his throat.

Don’t be afraid, his voice sounds like it’s right in your ear, despite knowing that his head is focused in your ass, all deep and caring and fucking hot. We would never hurt you.

"Yes," you agree, blindly going along with what he says, wanting to feel more. You feel one of his appendages, fingers, or tendrils, or whatever shape he’s taken press into you, stretching you open a bit more so he can bury more of his tongue in you. "Yes, okay, right here, more."

We like it when you tell us what to do.

"Make me finish, then."

That can be arranged,

Venom answers, and he dives back down to lick at your ass once more. The sun is setting slowly in the sky, the brightness of it as it dips behind the clouds getting into your eyes and setting the scene aglow. You squeeze your eyes shut, focus on the sensations, put your anxieties out of your mind, and let Venom take you there.

When you get back to the car after a quick restroom stop-off, your "driver" has been replaced or gone back to normal, however he thinks of it. Eddie looks calm, his hands loose around the wheel, with Cathy Dennis playing low on the radio.

"You want me to drive?" You ask him.

Eddie makes a little bit of a face, screwing up his mouth, and shakes his head. "S’alright. I can go for a little bit longer."

No complaints from your end. All things considered, you would rather have the opportunity to curl up for a bit, maybe take a little nap, sit sideways on the seat if you can. You consider yourself pretty resilient but that doesn’t help the lingering feelings of shakiness in your legs. Venom must not have been joking for once when he said experiencing human culture got him excited.

"Didn’t know you were into 90’s dance pop."

"Hm," Eddie says, considering. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, just, you know, assumed you were more of a grunge kid."

"You don’t think I did the whole rave thing?"

"Just was imagining less braids and pacifiers, more bowl cut."

Eddie throws a glance and cheesy smile at you as he pulls away from the gas station. "Who says I didn’t have a bowl cut?"

You shift in your seat as the car pulls back onto the highway, a sudden familiar slick sensation catching your attention like a fish hook to the lip.

Back when you were bent in half over the center console, you hadn’t been thinking much about consequences. Now you have "consequences" slowly starting to leak into your underwear.

"What about you, though?"

"Huh?" You say, Eddie’s question not at all registering.

"What kind of high school weirdo were you?"

You shift uncomfortably in your seat for reasons completely unrelated to adolescent embarrassments. Or, well, partially unrelated.

"That’s, uh, kind of a loaded question don’t you think?"

"Dish it but can’t take it?"

Aside from the fact that that is demonstrably untrue...

"More like we might be here all day."

Eddie shrugs his shoulders. "We will be anyways, won’t we?"

"Let’s just say I didn’t have a lot of friends who I saw outside of extracurriculars."

"Marching band, maybe?"

You don’t disagree.

"Hmm, and AV club?"

"Please, it wasn’t the 80’s."

"Okay, okay, GSA?"

"I’m afraid I had to make to do with Otaku club."

Eddie shifts in his seat and this time it’s

failing to protest that gives it away.

You start to laugh, just a little, low in your throat. Of course he was an anime nerd. As you laugh, the contracting of your stomach reminds you of how sore you are elsewhere. Eddie shoots you a conspiratorial look, and the mish-mash of feelings there -- Eddie’s good humor, the relaxed worn-out feeling of a drawn-out afterglow, the dirty-secret feeling of your wet underwear -- makes your eyes go glassy and your head go fuzzy for a second.

Eddie’s eyes change as they meet yours. "Listen," he says, "I feel like-- I don’t know."

"No, no. Nevermind. Don’t worry about it."

You were having a nice little moment just a minute ago, but without even saying anything about anything Eddie’s thrown it all up into the air. Also whatever the alien cum situation is, it doesn’t seem to be getting any calmer. Things are starting to tingle and warm in a way you’re not convinced is all you.

You try not to sound agitated when you say, "I mean, okay. But I probably will. If you leave it at that."

Eddie groans a little and you shift uncomfortably. "I just mean I don’t wanna make it a whole thing, but..."

"But you know, if you have questions. You can ask "em."

"Am I supposed to have questions?"

"You don’t-- you don’t have to, but I figured you might since, well."

So cagey, Eddie.

And that’s-- yep, okay-- that is Venom’s head, suspended in the air above Eddie’s shoulder. Shining black strands of symbiote flesh connect it to the skin of Eddie’s shoulder and neck and it bobs around in the space of the cabin. It swivels to face you.

What we mean is that it’s been a while.

We’re sensitive.

"Unbelievable."

"Hungry?" You ask, mostly to Venom. "We just had lunch."

Need meat or else we waste away.

"Meat? What do you mean, meat?"

"Fresh protein," Eddie says, at the exact same time Venom goes on.

Dog, cat, human, rat. Anything alive.

Fresh saliva drips from his mouth onto the center console.

Very lean, but good, juicy organs.

"Once! It was once!" Eddie interjects.

Only bad guys, though. Eddie insists.

"You know," Eddie says, "I’ve changed my mind. Question time is over. No more questions for right now."

Bossy. Whatever happened to "we need to work on communication’?

"No, no, I want to hear him out," you say. "How many people have you eaten?"

We will need an idea of scale.

"You don’t have an exact number?"

That you know of.

What would you say, Eddie? More than ten, less than a hundred?

Eddie says nothing but stares at the road and slowly turns up the volume of the radio.

Venom says like an exasperated partner,

"Oh," Eddie says, pointedly ignoring the jab, "look at that. Cows."

, Venom says, suddenly expanding and growing around Eddie to cover his arms and his right leg. The car swerves wildly and crosses over the yellow line separating the highway in two. You make a noise of surprise and grip madly at the dashboard and door as the car pitches over the edge of the blacktop onto grass. Venom wastes no time leaping from the car and ripping through the wire fence separating him from what you realize is about to be

Eddie is nowhere to be seen inside the cocoon of Venom and it’s something of a comfort as he chases down a cow. The radio sputters. You’re barely holding onto the signal of the classics station and tune into a college station for a university you’ve never heard of but which is surely nearby.

The indie rock isn’t a bad backdrop for your own frustration. Lines about the city tick up with the music only to come crashing back down in the chorus, fitting in nicely along the ebb and flow of heat in your stomach. One moment you’re thinking about the wide blue sky and how much you’d like to be spread out naked on the soft cut grass that rises in little hills across the road and the next you’re shaking your head and turning the volume up higher, higher.

It is when you’re in the middle of this cycle that Eddie finally gets back to the car, looking like he’s just had a 30 minute nap in the grass and a fresh cup of coffee. The whole afternoon has left you with more questions than answers, but for now you feel its best to let them rest. Either it’ll come out in the wash or you won’t be with each other long enough for it matter.

"No complaints," he says, and pulls gingerly back onto the road.

"You ever been here before?" Eddie asks as you pull into St. Louis from the I-55. You’d gotten onto Route 70 back in Indianapolis and that had been the true start to your trek out west. 70 all the way across. Feels a little bit like Kerouac, though after all this time, you don’t quite remember what routes they had taken.

The two of you hadn’t stopped in Indianapolis past a fuel-up and a quick bite to eat; Eddie had seemed touchy and a little like he’d had too much caffeine after the whole ball of paint and subsequent cow eating thing. You wonder if his skin ever feels too tight for him, sharing it with that alien. The difference between the two of them, where one starts and the other ends...it’s difficult to parse.

"No," you say, taking a bite of a Slim Jim. You’d insisted on buying a bunch at the last 7-11 you’d stopped in; luckily, not-quite-meat not-quite-spicy sticks of joy are one of Eddie’s vices, too. "No, haven’t ever been off the east coast, believe it or not."

"No shit," you agree. You’re not bluffing; you’re from New York and your furthest family lives up in Bar Harbor, there’s more of you down in Baltimore. Other than visiting them, you’d never really had the reason, or more honestly, the funds, for travelling. "Why, you been?"

"Yeah," he says, taking a big "ol hunk out of his Slim Jim, like it’s offending him. "Yeah, my dad was a big Mark McGwire fan. Couldn’t let him go after he left the A’s. Wanted to see him play here."

"Aren’t you from Brooklyn? Shouldn’t I be asking if you’re from a Mets or Yankees neighborhood?"

"I’m not originally from Brooklyn," he says, eyes firmly on the road ahead of you, looking for somewhere to pull in.

"Not quite," he says, but doesn’t give you any further information. Okay, fine. Despite your tendency to nervous talk, you don’t have to be forthcoming, either.

Although, you are nervous. Not afraid of Venom, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Eddie hasn’t said anything since this thing with Venom started, and you can’t help but figure you’re just another pawn to him. So what is Venom playing at?

"Golden State, huh."

"That’s basketball."

"Whatever. We sleeping in the car?"

"Figured we’d get a motel, stay a day."