Telrasc Is Busy: Alien Tentacle Fantasy Erotica Story | Mommys Toy Shop
- ₙᵢgₕₜfₗₐₘₑ
- 10 hours ago
- 19 min read
Telrasc Is Busy, Act 1 of 5 is an original dark fantasy erotica story featuring alien temptation, tentacle fantasy, bratplay tension, power dynamics, and a glowing underground world where control is never as simple as it seems.
Community Story Note: This original adult fantasy story was submitted to Mommys Toy Shop and published with the author’s permission as part of our erotic stories collection.
This story is intended for adults 18+ and contains explicit fantasy themes. Reader discretion is advised.
Fetishes: Alien-sex, tentacle, fantasy (D&D), bratplay, power dynamic, oral
“What do you mean that the last human shipment didn’t come, Kuthulkhan?”
“I swear, Liege Akmcthuul, we have been intercepted by the Heroes Guild for the past months now, we can't harvest from any of our districts on the surface without an uprising or the guild showing up!”
Actmcthuul pinched the arch above his nasal cavity. He's heard that line for the last couple of years since Telrasc had left. Without her either luring adventurers to his outposts or pinging outskirt towns with little security or communication from the outside world, it's been progressively harder to gather food down to the Underground. Travelling costs, ensuring the Star-Spawn of Cthulhu sent out would successfully come back without altercation–that never was the case. “So how many months of food do we have before famine breaks out, Kthuulkhan?”
“About a fortnight, sir. We have around ten prisoners and twenty thralls we can cannibalize if we are desperate. Do you think we can ration until then?”
“We will have to, unless an opportunity arises. You're dismissed. I need to plot the next harvest.”
The red Star-Spawn bowed his head and dispersed from the yawning cave entrance into the deeper networks of the Dihtilli Caverns. They recently migrated there after their capital was seized by the same annoying party that Telrasc got herself into. She telepathically warned him a day before the raid to evacuate their assets, move into their refuge, deeper inside the Underground, until the Heroes Guild lost interest in the facility, and left. With no obvious signs of “Infestation,” the heroes will think they got there before he could settle, and that there will be no re-infestation, as they put Star-Spawn. Since the heroes' guild has gotten stronger, and Actmcthuul cannot defeat them directly without causing an international crisis at the superpowers’ doorsteps, he has had to plot the recent harvests more carefully. The hive mind helped with coordination more than any mercenary group, but a puppet master can only do so much with their dolls. Chaos ensues from a well-placed ambush, confusion, and the effort to coordinate a defence position through the eyes of six units; it has its limitations.
“As much of a nuisance she can be, her contributions are greatly missed, especially on the brink of famine.”
Actmcthuul rested inside his personal chambers, an underground grotto with bioluminescent water from the neighbouring fungi that blossomed. It was a clean strain, no black spores, no yeasty pollution, no clouds. They were decorative lighting. He divested his regal robes and stepped his feet inside. It was not an acceptable pool. It was a twenty-five-by-twenty-five-foot circle, a foot deep at the center, but with tender care and preparation, it would be one day. All he needed was more power, and his feeding districts to be liberated from the guild, constantly causing-
“Sire, I don't mean-”
“For the love of Aphrodite, what is it?” Actmcthuul groaned under his tendrils, burbling like a belching drunk hungover on impatience.
“You have a visitor,” Kthuulkhan said, daring not to look at him directly. A large wing of water arched behind Actmcthuul’s right arm as his hand slapped the front of his sleek face, pulling the aged cephalopod skin like wrinkles, squeezing the stress out of his tendrils. 'Speak of the devil, and she’ll appear.’ He moaned in his head. He was not necessarily happy about it. It's his adopted daughter, and some days he still regrets rescuing her.
“Mr. Guul, I’m home!” Telrasc barged underneath Kthuulkhan’s loose robes and into the private, well, was private quarters. She was infernal, but for how long she was raised in the underground, she developed a dark purple skin instead of the classic crimson. Her horns were clipped, as well as her tail. “How is my favourite daddy in the whole wide over-and-underworld!”
“Can you stop calling me that? Why must you address me as such every time you come back?”
She rolled her eyes, coy and cheeky, “Well, it's because you are the only one who took me in after my last family attempted to sacrifice me, I’m eager to show my appreciation.” She bent forward, subtly sticking her tongue out, like a toy asking to be squeezed.
“And harassing me as a sex object is what you call repayment?”
She had a light chuckle as her demonic, inherited canines peeked beneath her upper lip, seeing his skin shift gradually to rampancy from the getting-under-his-skin. She knew he was irate in the right ways to take advantage of him with her reliability. “It's not harassment until you scold me to stop.” She looked at Kthuulkhan, “Is there a library you need to unpack? Or do you want to join us?”
“There is no joining anything, Kthuulkhan; you are both dismissed.”
Kthuulkhan bowed and left, gradually picking up pace. Before his metamorphosis, his former self was rumoured to be quite the prude. Seems very likely; it didn’t matter to her. To many people, the Illithid were necrophagists, authoritarian, parasitic, and a scourge to all life above ground. Ironically, in Telrasc’s eyes at least, it was the opposite. Without Mr. Gruul raiding that Dagon cult for a resupply of thralls and prisoners, she would have bled to death on the altar with her father’s cutlass stemming out of her chest. Death by honour killing from her biological father, and not even past her tenth birthday. Mr. Gruul saved her from the brink, closed her wounds, and kept her on a tight leash even when they returned to his currently seized lair. She was nothing to him until she began never showing signs of escaping or attacking the keepers; she tried to learn telepathy. It was laughable to a fault, as with any child trying to learn psionics. His underlings saw her resembling dancing bonito flakes on an oceanic cuisine, a spectacle character in their food, nothing more. To him, however, he was caught on a good day, whether it was pity or a desire to see this joke of a girl evolve into an even bigger dinner theatre of a failure is ambiguous. But the more he tried to drown her in Illithid history, linguistics, and psionics to the brink of intracranial hemorrhage or an aneurysm, she excelled. Eventually, she earned his trust and freedom as an acolyte on her nineteenth birthday, successfully luring a band of adventurers to his lair on her own volition as a rite of passage. To think her adoption was fifteen years ago, leaving here she is at twenty-four.
“What is it, Telrasc? Why are you here and not keeping tabs on the people who stormed our home?”
She smirked, slacking her Bag of Freezing, heavy with heads that were the remnants of her assailants on the road. It plopped onto the floor, rolling to the side, its buckles held firm. She loosened her gauntlets, boots, armour, and cast prestidigitation to dissolve any impurities or filth from the travel home. Her feet carried arching waves, rippling past Mr. Guul’s legs. The remaining attire she wore was a nightdress, looted off a ghast she encountered on the way over. The ephemeral silk blurred her anatomy, but enough to see the precise curvatures of her shadows. It was v-necked, trailing her cleavage as the dress covered her front and back, while her thighs peeked from the sides. She walked in, feeling the thick water rush up her ankles. “The same reason like any other, Mr. Gruul, I wanted to unload my latest collection on my travels to make room for more, and rest my head somewhere I’m more welcome, and catch up on my favourite squid-”
“While we’re young, stop associating us with those lesser cephalopods. We have a hundredfold more neurons in our heads than the sum of an equation of their average lifespan of one year multiplied by how many there are on the planet as I speak. Do you happen to know, Telrasc?”
“I– I can’t say-”
“Trick question, it's a fool’s errand or a Druid's chore, yet we still have more.”
She stopped striding directly to him, feeling the weight of the waterbed swerve around her ankle, beckoning her to continue. She started to walk around him, like a dog in their bed, before plopping beside their favourite toy.
“You're stressed…”
“Flamilhrim,” He burbled under his tendrils.
“The outposts are unattainable again, aren’t they?”
He wrapped his arms around his chest and turned to his right side, avoiding her gaze. “Of course, your friends have grown more of a migraine every week since you’ve left.”
“I would have tried diplomacy if our way of life wasn’t enslavement and necrophagist reproduction.”
“My way of life, Telrasc. If your life turned out differently, you would have a normal life.”
“You don’t know that, Actmcthuul.”
He sat up. Telrasc was already spreading her legs atop of him and sat on his thighs, cupping his cheeks. There was a stern face on her; he wasn’t nervous, but it was rare that she looked at him with such arrogance. “Your point to prove me wrong?”
She rolled her eyes, instinctively hearing his stubbornness, clicking her lips as she fixed her bangs away from her eyes. “You know this, Mr. Guul. Infernals are bastards at birth. ‘Can't go outside without feeling damned in the public eye. I would have had zero chance of a “normal” life, regardless of my parents’ upbringing. Whether I was born into a cult of Dagon, or at the very best, a commoner, it wouldn’t have mattered.” Her grip around his cheeks tightened. “Akmcthuul, you saved me.”
He was dazed. Normally, thralls would have to be drugged, put under some spell or psionic bind to render them so affectionate to their leashmaster. Nor did he need the spell or the leash. He felt comforted, knowing he had a thrall who was, mostly, low-level management, except for Telrasc’s pushy behaviour when she developed what the surface dwellers called 'Daddy issues'. But there was some disturbance within him. Just how deep was Telrasc’s act? Was this a long con, a long joke where the punchline was forgotten mid-speech, or was this genuine affection for him? She has frighteningly foggy boundaries between her own volition and the extent of his control over her. And for him, this was the most concerning to the collective. She squished his cheeks, feeling the wet rubber of his skin squeak as she pulled her face closer to his, consuming his peripherals. “You’re thinking I'm trying to usurp the collective, aren’t you?”
“...No, I’m debating how we are going to make ten prisoners, and the frozen minds stretch out for another month-”
“You’re thinking I'm a black widow. Despite the dozens of foods I brought home. Freshly cut and flash-freezed too.” She pushed his chest into a splash of bioluminescent blue water and leaned towards him. She rested her left arm around him, cradled the back of his head with her palm, and grazed his loins like brushing kelp.
“I love you, but maybe I’m not getting through to you.”
He shivered, feeling the soft pads of her fingers sliding up and down his shaft underneath the robes and undergarments.
“How about we play a game while Kthuulkhan is busy organizing books?” She slid her tongue around her top teeth before nibbling on her lower lip. He was quiet, focusing on her faint touch grazing his shaft. The fingers blended into a serpent, coiling and twisting its four heads through the loincloth, searching. “I want you to dominate me. I won’t yield as easily as the last time I lived here.
“And why should I give in to your luscious antics?”
“Because maybe that's a part of me you don't have control over. Heh, always needing to keep everything under-”
He snapped his fingers, the click rang and bounced around the chamber, and Telrasc was caught mid-speech; her gaze fizzled into a trance. “You were saying, Telrasc?” She did not respond.
“You see, this is why I chose you. You are so eager to make those around you feel loved and comforted, despite your terrible judgment in character. Now, your contribution will help us survive the next few months, but I need to plan for the days ahead while your friends are nearby. Your further orders are to go back to your party before they suspect you are away.”
“Yes, my liege."
“Do you think you can manage that?”
“Yes, my liege,”
“Off you go, th-” When she saw his eyes pinch in the likes of a smirk, she threw her hands to his wrists and throttled him into the pool, the sides of his head were submerged, but his eyes, nasal cavity and maw were afloat, looking up, Telrasc eclipsing the ceiling.
“I can do so much more than manage that, my liege,” hissing with lust, with him firmly planted in the pool; she chuckled, seeing her master powerless for the time being.
“What, how did you-” She pulled her head close to one of his long facial tendrils, anchored her palm firmly on his chest and guided her tongue from the phallic tip, upwards to the sides of his face. “I told you, I’m harder than the last time you saw me.” She continued,
“They’re all asleep. I poisoned their food with 20 grams of Melowshroom powder; they won’t wake up for a couple of days. They were well watered and fed; they’ve been managed.”
He chuckled in excitement at the gliding abrasion of her tongue, arousing his neurons.
“Finally, that's the only good news I’ve heard all month. Have they relayed the lair clear?”
“I did that myself while I was tasked with night watch. Just needed to write on some ashen paper before flame-sending it to the capital to let them know we haven’t disappeared.”
“Will they be sending reinforcements?”
She paused, thinking on the implications of how long she has Mr. Guul to herself again. In a half second, she thought about the possibility that they may send a small squad of guards to fortify their stronghold. “I told them that the area was old and decrepit, most of the technology and anything mind flayer related was vacant, with scarce traces of a raid years ago.”
“And you expect that to work, for them not to suspect? How do you know?”
“Let's say I’m really persuasive with people. Where else did I learn it?” She slid her palm down his chest, raking her nails towards the base of his hips, her fingers mimicking the waves of anemone.
“You’re not hard yet? Am I doing something wrong?”
Mr. Guul’s arms arched around her supporting arms, ripped the ghastly attire from the neck to the waist, almost all became visible, from her cleavage, dampened from the humidity, and erect, to the top of her pelvis, still shrouding her lower waist. The shock of his volition, without his two large tendrils, caught her off guard. “Never mind, I think I’m getting there.” His long tendrils suckled at the base of her glutes, slithering to the branches of her torso. She responded appropriately, loosening his loincloth from the knots and placing both her hands onto his regal staff. “Of all the things you know, I wonder, have you ever embraced a person? Something tells me you’ve been too busy for those kinds of leisure. Am I wrong?”
Mr. Guul’s sleek blue skin flashed red from the cheeks, riveting down to his waist, out of view.
“Never was an importance for me. Perhaps in a past life, but– “
Telrasc already began friskily polishing his stave, feeling the cold blood from his body shift to the organ he rarely attended. “Something tells me you’ve been high-strung, and you never knew the fix until I got home.” She chuckled under closed, gritted, excited teeth as he could hear his nerves in his tendrils twitch and flutter, pulsing life into something neglected and forgotten. His large tendrils, now overlapping her shoulders and snaking beneath her armpits, coiling around her breasts, reminded her of the Land of the Lotus Eaters and the skimpy thespian attire seen on her travels. The sensual opium found there followed, but personalized in a way they dared not try. “Maybe next time I’ll paint myself if you like what you taste.”
“I’ll do the painting.”
“A sweet plum sauce or Worchester?”
“Bring both.” Their eyes reflected the others'. Telrasc rimmed his staff around her sanctuary, feeling his magic carve and renovate emotions anew. Mr. Guul’s two long tendrils gyrated counterclockwise around her areolas. The sleek tips around her nipples, swerving the epicentre, as if erecting two pillars of her devotion. With a stray breeze from the outside chambers in the cavernous wilds, rushing up their legs, she felt the freshly wet trails freeze her spine. The pillars erupted; he reeled her bosom close and leeched firm, she let go of any restraint that concerned her.
He was inside her, finally, inside her. Of all those years of lying about her origin, in the
most twisted, isolated, hierophiliac perception of her mentor, the surface dwellers would‘ve
been a better, more frequent species to fawn, to bond, to lust, to make a family with. Still, they
wouldn’t understand her, not the way this mind-reading squid-man below her could. All of
those worries, those fears of disapproval of her delusion, could be put to rest for the night.
Triumphantly, she sighed in pleasure, “Yes, Daddy– take me however you see fit. Sink your teeth into me-”
Mr. Guul slapped her left glute; his sharp nails dug into her skin as he clenched the singeing, fresh mark. ‘Will she ever stop calling me that?’ he arched his eyes to the center of his forehead, aroused but irate.
He was still baffled that the snapping of his fingers was not enough to control her. ‘She has grown,’ he thought to himself, pleased that his thrall was not as vulnerable as when she first left the hive. He felt a sense of pride that some random collection of someone's plight-
He felt his staff inside of her, her warm embrace swallowing his resolve and sensations, feeling anything below his waist was null, his maw filled with her breast. She started moving, cradling his octopus head like a nursing child, feeling his appetite, long locked away. His two long tendrils climbed their way to her neck, their suckers feeling like the moist pressing of finger pads on her collarbone, and crawling up the crown of her spine. She began moving, feeling him swell as she moved him loose and deeper, the pressure arousing and complementing her eagerness. She began to hasten, Mr. Guul winced from the haste to her humour. Breaking his mouth away from her chest, “Take it easy, Telrasc, you’re going too fast for an old man like me!”
“Bah! An old man,” She swallowed it, crashing down to his pelvis, grinding her clitoris on his pouch. “You’re just pent up from all the stress,” her hands back onto his chest, softly pinching his nipples as they got colder from the humidity and the stray-gale. “And, as your only regal thrall, I plan to ensure every drop of stress is gone. By body, by lust, by thought; whatever the cost.” She grabbed him by the throat, the air out of his nasal cavity squeaked like a juvenile toy, dog-eyed, blushing, before his head was forcibly thrown onto her chest again. “Now shut the hell up and eat me like it's the end of the world.”
Mr. Guul, heavy with luscious inebriation, mouth full of Infernal breast as her demonic hands wrapped and clenched his head, smothering him close to suffocation. He grabbed her other breast, squeezing it with a lust he never realized he had, probably from the poor soul his body belonged to before metamorphosis. The more he suckled on her, this fanatic that he raised her from his servant to a sleeper lieutenant, the more he felt disgusted but delighted that this was an outcome.
Telrasc winced from the infrequent twitching inside her, melting away in a hot flash. He bellowed, muffled under the soft smothering of her bosom. Her sanctuary snapped closed, gripping his veins and tubes, feeling each globule of vigour erupt and fade into his arteries. The warmth spiked as the last ounce of sensibility was gone. Gripping hard, Mr. Guul felt whatever residual leftover was wrung out.
A loud pop broke the bond between her breasts and his maw, riddled his bite marks tattooed symmetrically around her right breast. Ringed sucker marks speckled all across her spine, neck and waist, like exorbitantly pricy and heavy jewellery. He was panting before looking up to see her frothing for more. He tried to say something, but his head was spinning from the asphyxiation and his overload of sensual play. Her eyes glistened into purple gems; “Samulsht asorel, Bind-allum.”
The shadows around them in the pool blackened as tentacles erupted, grabbed Mr. Guul’s arms and legs and generously coiled from shoulder to wrist, thigh to ankle. “Every drop. Until your stress is gone.” Ensnared, she recoiled to his hips, firmly wringing his staff, getting the excess off before blowing on it; the grime and filth melted away. Polished, she got to work caressing it with her tongue, listening to him dazed and clenched.
The sensation of her finally having her way with him, her tongue licked the red underbelly of the tip, feeling the contrast of smooth flesh and the rugged head. She massaged it with her tongue, constricting when he relaxed, teasing with only the tip of her tongue, tickling the neglected tip, everywhere but the dew that was forming. The tendrils were slacking.
She parted her tongue from it to admire how firm and plum red it regained itself from her care. A thought came to her as her neurons felt the binds squeaking loose, ‘I could bully him some more, then his tadpole-brain won’t be able to manage the raging hormones, and he’ll have to fuck me until it's out of his system. But how long will that be?’ Telrasc bit her lip thinking about it, sure, she had slept with a couple of people on the road, but the idea that the one who protected her from the beginning, becoming her personal sex-slave. The maraschino on top of it, he’ll play ignorant, thinking he’s in control.
“Enough!” A loud ring in her mind shattered the tendrils' frequency, melting into mirages. The psionic eruption, emanating from his high-strung panting, his facial tendrils whipping in random directions, threw Telrasc to her side, “You. Ever since I got you…”
‘Right on cue~’ Her eyelashes shrouded his approach, and as the inside of her lip went numb, she giggled, seeing him with those brazen, brass, golden eyes. He threw her to her backside, wrenched her wrists and planted them arching above her head. The tentacles, snapping at the air, reached to her neck, suckling her throat, popping like gunpowder pellets, snap, crisp, enough to flinch. She wrapped her legs around his back. He placed the base of his penis across her vagina, its head looking at her, frothing, winking in the faint mushroom-light
“Ever since I saved your sorry devil-ass, you have been a good-for-nothing problem child! Always craving attention from anyone willing to spare you a second of attention,” He started grinding it, slowly, making sure all of her labia quivered for him. With one arm, he pinned her hands overhead, groping with his spare. His four smaller facial tendrils slithered and sucking on her neck, leaving rings; the two larger ones coiled her other breast.
“Where most people would have died of madness, you just wouldn’t quit—always failing and fumbling day in, day out, the depths of your tenacity! Then you develop these daddy issues, so I send you out to be someone else’s problem, and you still come back for me! Looking at me with those heavy, sultry, bestial eyes, ignoring my lectures as they go in one ear and out the other-”
‘Just shut up with your gaslighting and put it in already!’ She rolled her eyes, and he caught her line of thought. “Gaslighting? Gaslighting‽”
His tentacles snapped free, the two long ones coiling as they guided his tip to her sanctum.
'Oh, you really did it now, Telrasc.’ She giggled, unnerved that he caught on. He barged in, and all she could do was squeeze her legs shut and hold on for as long as she could. The water around them splashed fervently, her hair dancing in the water as she could feel him pulsing, thrusting into her with all his hubris and anger manifesting inside of her. It felt like he was going to burst under the pressure.
“You insolent, reckless, quirky, hypersexual mess of a thrall! You think you have control over me? On the contrary, too contrary!” They could hear the blend of splashing water and their water-drenched skin slapping from the force. Mr. Guul was too eager and thorough. Telrasc couldn’t focus on a spell to break her free, nor did she want to; she knew exactly what game she was playing, and to her recklessness, she was winning.
He arched his thumbs across her collar while his hands held his weight and locked her head from ear to ear; she couldn’t avert her eyes from him. “Bring it! Just try and seize me! Fuck my brains, cleanse me of this lust!” she clenched into the front and back of his torso, feeling the sleek membrane cluster underneath her nails, it only goaded him. ‘Good.’
She heard and saw the sensations inflicted on others as she grew up. At first, she respected it, but was terribly frightened of it. Now that she has learned and adapted to Illithid psionics, the thought of her mentor unintentionally putting her to the final test exhilarated her. It started with the muffling of his tangent on how she was probably the most chaotic thrall he had ever owned in the forty years of his life. The tinnitus, she gritted her teeth and clenched her legs, feeling her vagina contract from the sensation overtaking her. The quivering eruption in her loins, the lightning twitch in her legs, and the cranial vertigo. Then the muscle spasms, the muscular popping sensation in her mind, followed by white flashes and floaters; “Please-please, Guul, I’m so close, please!”
She cut him off mid-lecture, arching her back with a sonorous moan, with her arms supporting her arch. Mr. Guul felt restrained and could not move an inch as his mightiness was embraced as much as she could clench. He kept on, feeling himself crushed against the intensity of her orgasm, “Fine. You want your daddy fantasy,” He got onto his legs and loomed over her at an upward angle, “here it is! Here's your damn fantasy! Take it!”
Telrasc closed her eyes and saw a blizzard of static and orbs as the thoughts threw her into a snowstorm of ecstasy, feeling the moonkissed dew froth and explode into her core. Her vagina cramped, convulsed, and he kept going, thrusting through her hyper-reactive G-spot. She erupted, her voice briefly ringing throughout the room before he kissed her, his tendrils wrapping a soundproof seal around her mouth, feeding off her vocal ecstasy.
She felt light, fuzzy; her senses were jarring and chirping in her head. Her orgasm faded, her voice fluttering into a soft coo. After her convulsions stopped, he released his grip around her, his tendrils twitching sporadically, fatigued. He carried her, wrapping her legs around him. He sat next to the rim, placing her atop his pec.
Playing in her mind, the envisionment of Lua’s reflection on the ocean, she felt one with the thought, rapidly incapacitated by the overwhelming intercourse.
“Star-Spawn's worth redeeming after all.” She fell into slumber. Her fingers clutched him with eagerness, her nails digging into his fresh scratch marks. Mr. Guul waited for sleep to finally come, or for his newfound headache to stop. Minutes went by, and little result came, just the looming thought.
‘She played me for a fool. At least I’m sterile, but–Who’s really in charge now?’
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